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Price 6*. m Ttafoe Monthly Parts, and 7*. 6d. bound in Cloth. 

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Chairman— The Right Hon. LORD BROUGHAM, F.R.S.. Member of the National Institute of France. 
Vice-Chairman- JQHK WOOD, Esq. 

A. Ainger, Esq. 

\Y. Allen, Kmj., K.R. and R.A.S. 

Captain Beaufort, R.N., F.R. and R.A.S., 

Hydrogrnpher to the Admiralty. 
George B i rk beck, M . D. 

0. Burrows, M.I). 

Peter Stafford Carey. Esq., A.M. 

William Cotillion, Esq. 

R. I). Craig, Esq. 

J. F. Davis, Esq., F.R.S. 

H.T. Dela Heche. Esq., F.R.S. 

The Right Hon. Lord Denman. 

Samuel Duckworth, Esq. 

B. F. Duppa, Enq. 

The Right Rev. the Bishop of Durham, D.D. 

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

T. F. Ellis. Esq., A.M.. F. R.A.S. 

John ElllotHon, M.D.. K.R.S. 

George Evans, Eatu M.P. 

Thomas FaJconer, Esq. 

1. L. Goldsmid, Esq., F.R. and R.A.8. 

Treasurer- WILLIAM TOOKE, Esq., F.R.S. 


The Right Hon. Lord Nugent. 

W. S. O'Brien, Esq.. M.P. 

The Right Hen. Sir Henry Par n ell, Bt . M.I 

Richard Qualn, Esq. 

Dr. Roget, Sec. R.S., F.B.A.3. 

Edward Rom Illy, Esq., A.M. 

R. W. Rothman, Esq., A.M. 

The Right Hon. Lord John Russell, M.P. 

Sir M. A. Shee, P.R.A., F.R.S. 

The Right Hon. Earl Spencer. 

Sir G. T. Staunton, Bart., M.P. 

John Taylor. Esq. F.R.S. 

Dr. A. T. Thomson, F.L.S. 

Thomas Vardon, Esq. 

J as. Walker, Esq., F.R.S., Pr. lust., Civ. Lug. 

H. Waymouth, E*q. 

Thos. Webster, Esq.. A.M. 

J. Whlshaw, Esq., A.M., F.R.S. 

The Hon. John Wrottesley, A.M., F. R.A.S. 

J. A. Yates, Esq., MJ\ 

AUon % Staffordshire— Rev. J. P Jonee. 
Anglesea—Rer. R. Williams. 

Rer. W. Johnson. 

Mr. Miller. 
Barnstaple. Ban era ft. Esq. 

William Grlbble, Esq. 
Belfast— Dr. Drumraond. 
Birmingham— J.Corrie,Esq.F.R.S. Chairman. 

Paul Moon James, E*q., Treasurer. 
RHdport— J nmeu Williams, Esq. 
Bristol— J. H. Sanders, Esq., K.G.S. Chairman. 

J. Reynolds, Esq., Treasurer. 

J. R. Estlln, Esq., F.L.S., Secretary. 
Calcutta— James Young, Esq. 

C. H. Cameron. Esq. 
Cambridge— Rer. Jamea Bowstead, M.A. 

Rer. Professor Henslow, M.A., F.L.S. & 

Rer. Leonard Jenyns, M.A., F.L.S. 

Rer. John Lodge, M.A. 

Rer. Professor Sedgwick, M.A., F.R.S. 
& G.8. 
Canterbury— John Brent, Esq., Alderman. 

William Masters. Esq. 
Cantm— Wm. Jardine, Esq., President. 

Robert I nails, Esq, Treasurer. 

Rer. C. Rridgman. ) 

R ev. C. G u txlaff, [ Secretaries. 

J. R. Morrison, Esq., J 
Cardigan— Rer. J. Blackwell, M.A. 
Carlisle— Thomas Barnes, M.D., F.R.S. E. 
Cam artton— It. A. Poole, Esq. 

William Roberta, Esq. 
Chester— Henry Potts, Esq. 
C hiehest§r- John Forbes, M.D., F.R.S. 

C. C. Dendy, Esq. 
Cookermouth—Ker. J. Whltridge. 
Corfu— John Crawford, Esq. 

' Mr. Plato Petrides 
Coventry— Arthur Gregory, Esq. 
Denbigh— John Madocks, Esq. 

Thomas Erans, Esq. 
Dirty-Edward Strutt, Esq* M.P. 


Devonport and Stonenouse— John Cole, Esq. 

— Norman, Esq. 

Lt.Col. C. Hamilton Smith, F.R.9. 
Dublin— T. Drumtnond. Esq. R.E., F.R.A.3. 
Edinburgh— Sir C. Bell. F.R.S.L. and E. 
Etruria— Jos. Wedgwood, Esq. 
Exeter— J. Tyrrell, Esq. 

John Mil ford. Esq. (Coaver.) 
Qlamorgant/nre— Dr. Malkln, Cowbrldge. 

W. Williams, Esq., Aberpergwm. 
Glasgow — K. Flnlay, Esq. 

Profeiisor Mylne. 

Alexander McGHgor, Esq* 

James Couper, Esq. 

A. J. D. DOrscy. Esq. 
f7«emr«y— P. C. Lukls, Esq. 
Hull— J. C. Parker, Esq. 
Leamington Spa — Dr. London, M.D. 
Leeds— J. Marshall, Esq. 
Lewes— J. W. Woollgar, Esq. 
Liverpool Loc. As.—W. W. Currle, Esq. Ch. 

J. Mulleneux, Esq.,7*reofarer. 

Rer. Dr. Shepherd. 
Maidenhead— R. Goolden, Esq., F.L.S. 
Maidstone— Clement T. Smyth, Esq. 

John Case, Esq. 
Malmesbury—R. C.Thomas. Esq. 
Manchester Loc. Ae.—G.W. Wood, Esq., Ch. 

Sir Benjamin Heywood, Bt, Treasurer. 

T. W. Wlnsunley, Esq., Hon, Sec. 

Sir G. Philips, Bart., M.P. 

BenJ. Gott, Esq. 
Masham — Rer. Georre Waddington, M.A. 
Merthyr Tydvil—J. J. Guest. Esq., M.P. 
Mine hinhamp ton — John G. Ball, Esq. 
Monmouth — J. H. Moggridge, Esq. 
Neath— -John Rowland, Esq. 
Newcastle— Rer. W. Turner. 

T. Sopwith, Esq.. F.G.S. 
Newport, Isle of Wight— Ab. Clarke, Esq. 

T. Cooke. Jun., Esq. 

R. G. Kirkpatrick, Esq. 
Newport PagneU—J. Millar, Esq. 

Newtown, Montgomeryshire— Vf. Pitch, Esq. 
Norwich— Richard Bacon, Esq. 

Wm. Forater, Esq. 
Orsett, Essex— Dr. Corbet f, M.D. 
Oxford— Dr. Daubeny, F.K.S. Prof, of Chens. 

Rer. Prof. Powell. 

Rer. John Jordan, B.A. 
Posth, Hungary — Count Ssechenyl . 
Plymouth— H. Woollcombe, Esq., F.A.M., Ch, 

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

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

G. Wlghtwlck, Esq. 
Presteign— Dr. A. W. Daris, M.D. 

Rer. P. K wart, M.A. 
Ruthin— Rer. Uie Warden of 

Humphreys Jones, Esq. 
Rpde. I. of Wight— Sir Rd. Simeon. Ilu 
Salisbury— Rev. J. Barfltt. 
Sheffield— J. H. Ahrahama, Esq. 
Shepton Mallet— G. F. Burroughs, Esiq. 
Shrewsbury— R. A.SIsney, Esq., M.P. 
South Pet her ton— John Nlcholelte, Ksq. 
St. Asaph— Rer* George Strong. 
Stockport— H, Marsland, Esq., Treasurer. 

Henry Con pock. Esq., Secretary. 
Sydney. New South JPafc«-W1111asn M. Man- 
ning, Esq , Chairman of Quarter Sessiouj. 
Tavistock— Rer. W. Erans. 

John Rundle, Esq. 
Truro— Henry Sewell Stokes, Esq. 
Tunbridge Wells— Dr. Yeats, M.D 
Vttoxeter— Robert Blurton, Esq 
Virginia— Professor Tucker. 
Worcester— Dr. Hastings, M.D. 

C. H. Hebb.Esq. 
Wrexham— Thomas Edgworth, Esq. 

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

Major William Lloyd. 
Yarmouth— C. E. Rum hold, Esq. 

Dawaon Turner, Esq. 
York— Rer. J. Kenrick. M.A. 

J. Phillips, Esq., F.R.S„ F.G.S. 

THOMAS COATES, Esq., Secretary, No. 59, Lincoln's Inn Pekk, 

London s Printed by William Clowes and 80ns, Stamford Street* 

Digitized by 



Amur? StTXDAY, 471.' 

Alriea, progress of discovery in, 41, 54 

uncertainty of life in, 64. 
Agriculture, of the Milanese, 240 ; in 

the vale of Hoanuco. 240. 
Alexander, 133, 141, 158. 
All-Saints, day of, 419. 
Almanac. Mokthlt, for 1839 : Jan., 

1: Feb., 33; March. 73, April, 121; 

May. 161; June, 201; July, 249; 

August, 289 : Sept., 337 ; Oct., 377 ; 

Nov., 417; Dec., 465. 
Lmber, origin, nature, and uses of. 10. 
Amphitheatre, Soman, at Dorchester, 

Amusements on the ice, 416. 
Andrew, St., 419. 
Angermauland, 200. 
Animals, intelligence of, 72. 96; advan- 
tages of migrations of, 376. 
Archangel. 393. 
Architecture, domestic. 356. 
Arques. Normandy. 453,481. 
Artisans in Persia, 196. 
Asbestos cloth. Ore-proof, 411. 
Ash-Wednesday. 35. 
Assumption dav, 295. 
Astrakhan, 429- 
Augustin, St., 167. 

Bagpipe, a Kaffir chiefs opinion of the, 

Ba.iJ.Ans, English Romantic; The 
Spanish Ladys I.cve, Nut-brown 
Maid. 17; William, of Cloudeslie. 
Robin Goodfellow, 44 :— EngUsh His- 
torical : Birth of St. George, St. 
George and the Dragon, 94. 103; 
Chevy Chase, Sir Andrew Barton, 
"~ 143; King Henrv and the 
Miller '" 

199; Lord Willoughby, Mary Am- 
bree, 209; Mary Ambrre. Siege of 
Cadix, 219; The distracted Puritan, 
Sale of Rebellion' b Household-stuff, 
246; Lilliburlero, Jemmy Dawson, 

Baltic Trade, the. 321. 

Banian Hospital at Surat, 286. 

Barbodoes. 329. 347, 35 1. 

Barnabas. St.. the Apostle, 904. 

Bartholomew, St., 295; Fair, 343. 

Bedford. 181. 

Bees, habits of, 220: Namaqna Bee 

, hunters, 355; bee-hunting in Austra- 
lia, 484. 

Belgium, notes on. by an nn travelled 
Englishman. 322, 336,351. 

Betvotr Castle. 217. 

Brans, Summer. 249; British, 265. 
289. 309.337. 377, 417, 465. 

Blenheim, Oxfordshire, 317. 

Bohemian women, 445. 

Bommereng. Australian, the, 496. 

Books, the company of, 236. 

Bordeaux. 492. 

Bosehman, the, mode of procuring fire, 
355; mode of fishing, 376. 

Bremen. 257. 

British Museum, the, 2 ; on Easter 
Monday, 147. 

Buoys, eeonoaieal. in Sweden, 480. 

Butterfly, the, on Mont Blanc, 48. 

•■a, the sensation of. the thermometer 
not an indication of. 504. 

Collins, memoir of, 205. 

Colonists, a hint to. 328. 

Commerce, self-extending powers of. 

Cookery, art of, among the aborigines 
of Australia. 460. 

Copper-mines of Cornwall. 32. 

Cordage, on the materials and manu- 
facture of. 494. 

Cork and the cork-tree, 210. 

Corn Trade of Northern Europe, 221 ; 

Corpus Christ! day, 204. 

Crime and its Suppression, 17* . 

Cromwell, Oliver, 340 ; Richard and his 
wife, 461. 476, 486, 490. 

Crossing a river, 300 ; singular manner 
of. 196. 

Cuckoo, the, 124. 

Czerny George, of Servia, 179. 

Datvt, the. in California, 236. 
Dancing-mania, the, 439, 454. 
David's, St.. day, 76. 
Death, Black, the, 478. 
Decr-stalkiug in the Highlands, 105, 

Denys, St., 384. 
Dog-days, the, 251. 
Dover Castle, Roman antiquities in. 

Ducks, canvas. back, 403. 

Eaolx, Harpy, the, 441. 

Earth, structure of the surface of the, 

Earth-worm, utility of the, 127. 

Easter Sunday and Monday, 127. 
- *™ «..«. ..«-«., HUW s „ c Eccentricity, 280. 
Iter of'Mansfield, 1/?: King Ed- £*«*"»& % h S^of.361 
rd and the Tanner of Tarn worth, &*??"* IV., Chapel <* on Wakefield 
. ...... . . ,- . Bridge, 49/- 

Eggs, petrified basket of, 463. 

Electricity of Animal Life, 48. 

Elizabeth, Queen. 75. 

Ember Week, 167. 

Employment of time, 328. 

England, seasons of, eight centuries 
ago. 339. 

Erie Canal, the, 262. 

Evils, solace for, 360. 

Exposure to the sun. 155. 

Faculties, simple nnd composite, 120; 
mental, improvement of the, 414. 

Falcons, flight of, 132. 

Feasts, Royal, public, in the East, 88. 

Fence. Norwegian, 272. 

Field-mouse, the, 440. 

Fine Arts, in Italy, study of the, 112. 

Fire Insurances, 2. 

Fishery, Sturgeon, in the Oural, 408 ; 
mode of Ashing in Australia, 435. 

Foot-ball play at Derby, 131. 

France, commercial capabilities of, 60 ; 
gigantic map of, 2/0 ; iron instru- 
ments in. 480. 

Frederic the Great. 292. 

Fruits, preservation of, 382 ; West In- 
dian. 504. 

Fundamental Truth. 312. 

Furness, West Flanders, 185. 

: Jan., 
April, 128; 

Cabool, description of, 56; fruits and 

wines of, 180. 
Cadiz. 172. 
Calzjtdasl, MoWtht.t, for 

8 ; Feb.. 40 ; March, 80 

May, 168; June. 208; 

August. 296; Sept.. 344; Oct., 384; 

Nov.. 424; Dec.. 472. 
Camel's Thorn, the, 240. 
Canal of Mahmoodeyeh, 147. 
Candlemas-day, 35. 
Castle Howard, Yorkshire, 113. 
Cat, singular intelligence of a, 196 

Turkish predilection for a, 440. 
Cattle, mode of feeding, in Madagascar. 

216; usefbl precursors in a new 

country, 475; immense herd of, 496. 
Caviare, 152. 
Cecilia, St., 419. 

Cedar-Swamp, American, an, 272. 
Cedars, the, of Lebanon, 140. 
Cemeteries, 489. 

Character, a good, value of. 280. 
Chatsworth, Derbyshire, 349. 
Cheerfulness, 24. 
Christmas-day. 471. 
Cigar-making at Seville, 312. 
Climate, effects of cultivation on, 352. 
Coal-mines of Bohemia, 312. 
Cocoa-nut, delicious beverage afforded 

Gardens, Dutch, 136. 

Geology, effects of, on manufactures and 

man, 232; Geology and Agriculture, 

Genoa, 281. 

George's. St., day, 127. 


fishery at Lofoden Norway, 310, 

July, 256; I Goat, the, in Norway and South Africa, 
~ ~* 396. 

Goose, Canadian, the, 448. 

Greek Drama, on the. 188 ; JEsehylns, 
194; Sophocles, 212; Euripedes,223. 

Gun-flints, 272. 

Gunpowder treason, the, 419, 420. 

Habtts. prudential, the source of com- 
fort and contentment, 376. 
Hamburgh, 97. 
Hampden House and Church, Bucks, 

Hare, sagacity of a, 43. 

Harvest, 343; Harvest-home, 295. 

Havre-de-Grace, 81. 

Renography, 186. 

Henri IV. of France, 467. 

Heriot, George, 100. 

Highlands, the, destitution In, 132. 


Holbein, 436. 

Holland, commerce of, 372. 

Holly, the, 4. 

Home, 116. 

Horse-shoes, 21. 

Human Frame, powers of the, 283. 

Hyder AH, 409. 

Impbo WIS atom, 145. 

Indians, the North American, 329. 

Industry, secondary branches of. in the 

remote parts of Sweden, 495. 
Innocents, Holy, day of, 471. 
Ireland, Railways for. 115. 
Island fortress, an. 320. 
Ivory, origin, nature, and uses of, 230. 
Ivy, 496. 

John, St.. the Baptist, 204 ; the Apos 

tie. 471. 
Jones, Sir William, 121. 

Kaffirs of Bactria, the, 14. 
Kara Hissar. 153. 
Knowle, in Kent, 57. 
Knowledge, 84 ; genera), use of, 300 ; 
permanent value of, 323. 

Lamm as-dat. 295. 

Language, the Tahitan, softness of. 

328; the English, predominance of 

Saxon in, 430. 
Lavender, and its uses, 442. 
Lawrence, St., 295. 
Life in Bogota, 308; comparison of 

savage and civilized, 409, 443; the 

necessaries of, 408. 
Lincoln, the city of, 233,244. 
Llama, the, and its silk-wool, 457. 
Loaf, quartern, manufacture of a, 396. 
L0KD0K, public improvements in, 505 . 

watching and lighting of, 12; the 

Fire of, 343; Lord Mayor's day, 419. 
Long Vacation, the, 204. 
Longest Day, the, 204. 
Loon, the, and mode of hunting, 319. 
Luke, St., the Evangelist, 384. 

Machineby, benefits of, 496. 

Malta aid the Maltese, 229, 241, 276, 

Man, his progress developed by the 
variety of his wants, 320 ; quantity of 
food consumed by a, 435 ; means by 
which his mind acquires its full 
powers, 464. 

Mango, the, 416. 

Manners and customs iu Westmoreland 
and Cumberland, 227; of our ances- 
tors, 268. 

Manuscripts, progress of the art of illu- 
minating, 28, 52, 68, 92, 108, 117, 148, 

Marching, 147. 

Mark, St., the Evangelist, 127. 

Mnrquetrv and Mosaic, 431. 

Martin, St., 419. 

Matthew, St., the Apostle, 343. 

May-day customs, 164. 

Meditation, 67. 

Medusa? of the Gieenlaud seas, 312. 

Melons of Bokhara, 216. 

Michael, St., 343. 

Micklegate Bar. York, 193. 

Middleton, Sir Hugh, 36. 

Midsummer eve, 204. 

Mind, Godfrey, the Swiss artist, 404. 

Mining, morals of, 240. 


Mississippi, valley of the, 215. 

Mogul Dynasty in Hindustan, the, 237. 
273, 286, 301 , 907, 313, 345, 364, 385, 

Money and Iron, 371. 

Morccomb or Morecnmbe Bay, 362. 

Muleteer of Spain, the, 27. 

Municipal Government, 339, 423; pre- 
paration for the Annual Elections, 

Music, Vocal, cultivation of, 56. 

Musical Instruments: the Virginal, the 
Harpsichord, and the Piano-forte, 
50, 62 ; on the production of musical 
sounds from metallic springs, 406. 

Musk Deer, 225. 

Nabwat.. or Nabwhalk, the, 500. 
Natural Progress of a country, 16. 
Nature's workmen, 264. 
Navigation, submarine, 87 ; Steam, 

progress of, 91. 
Navy, British, the, 70. 
New Forest, the, notes on, 357* 367, 

460. 475. 498. 
New Zealand cultivator, a, 443. 
New Year's Dav, 7- 
Niti, the Pass of, 267. 
Normnndv, wood-cutters and forests 

of, 401.' 
Norway. 353, 367; corn-mill, 392 

salt-work near Tunsberg, 484. 
Notm of thk Month : Feb., 35 

March, 76; April. 127; May, 167 

June, 204 ; July, 251 ; August, 295 

Sept, 343; Oct., 384; Nov., 419 

Dec, 471. 


OasxnvATiOK, 300 ; early habits of, 235. 
Or«an. Church, the. 315. 334, 357. 
Ornithologist, young, the. 233. 
Orphans among the Irish Poor, self- 

Biipjortiue Institutions for, 171. 
Otter, the, 252. 

Owl, domestication of the, 243. 
Oxen, in South Africa, training of, 392. 

Palrstikk, 284. 

Parliamentary Voters, preparation o 
the Annual Lists of, 207, 250; elec- 
tors, registration of, 291. 

Partial Views of things, 312. 

Patrick's St., day, 76. 

Patterns, on designs for, 20. 

Perfumes, on, 386. 

Peruvian Jars, 388. 

Peter's St., day, 204. 

Philip. St., and James, St., Apostles, 

Plato] 85. 

Plessis les Tours, a visit to, 324. 

Poitiers, 433. 

Political Economy, spread of intelli- 
gence in, 136. 

Portugal, commercial history and re- 
sources of, 137, 151. 

Potash, manufacturing, 328. 

Potatoes, cultivation of, 264. 

Pounds, Mr. John, "The Gratuitous 
Instructor of Poor Children," 67. 

Prevention rather than Puuishment, 

Property, rationale of, 352. 

Provincial Business, management of, 
78,83. • -» 

Public Improvements, 505. 

Quakers' Yearly Meeting, 166. 
Quarter- Sessious, objects, use, and con 
stitution of the, 5, 38; Borough, 23V 

Rattlesnakes and their use in Ame- 
rica. 47. 

Reading and Reflection, 308 ; reading 
aloud, 232; right method of reading, 
320; to read profitably, 448. 

Recreations for the People, 9; necessity 
of, 376; amusement of the working 
classes, 416. 

Registration of Marriages, Births, and 
Deaths, 298. 

Rhine, the, notes on, by an untravelled 
Englishman, 370, 389. 

Rich nnd Poor, 27. 

Rivers Lune nnd Eden, the. 154. 

Roads, 220. 

Robiu, American, the, 302. 

Rockets, their history and uses, 374; 
their manufacture and flight, 394. 

Rook, the, 33. 

Royal Academy, the. 167. 

Ruins, 11. 

Russian Empire, the, 444; agriculture 
and manufactures, 449, 462; com- 
merce, 488. 

Salt-Licks and Salt-springs, and bor- 

iug for salt in North America, 437. 
Sauer-kraut, mode of preparing, 348. 
Savoy and the Savoyards, 31 2, 
Sculpture, 450. 
Scurvy, new cure for, 408. 
Sense of Duty, 64. 
Sheep, shearing of, 201; washing of, in 

mountain districts, 391. 
Shell-fish of the Antediluvian world. 

Shells, progress of clean iug, 274. 
Shepherds of Mont Perdu, 59. 
Shrove Tuesday, 35. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, 380. 
Silk-worms, rearing of, in the Dcccan, 

Simon, St., and Jude, St, the Apostles, 

Singing, on, 66. 

Stars, enormous distances of the, 3. 
Statues, bronse, on casting, 483. 
Stephen, St., 471. 
Sulphur, preparation, nature, and uses 

of, 26. 
Superstition, Persian, 114. 
Swallows, arrival of, 161. 
Swithin, St., 251. 
Sword-blades, Damascus, 138. 
Sword-dancing in Northumberland, 111. 
Sword-fish, Ashing for the, at Messina, 


Tapoa, Sooty, the, 169. 
Tur-mnking in Sweden, 452. 
Tea-cup, history of a, 102, 110, 135, 191 . 
Tea-drinking in Koondoz, manner of* 

136 ; Tea-cakes. 408. 
Terms, Law nnd University, 125. 
Thinking, on, 48. 
Thomas, St., the Apostle, 471. 

Digitized by 


INDEX (Continued.) 

Thomas-a-Becket, 351. 

Titles, American, 488. 

Tobacco-pipes, on, 60S. 

Towns in England, classes of, 30. 

Trajan's Palace in the Lake of Nemi, 

Truth, 328. 

Tunis, scenes and customs in, 339 ; the 

beyship of, sketches in, 413. 
Turkey, Municipal Institutions in, 283 ; 

commerce in, 197. 

Tyranny and Vice under a mask, 408. 

Ultramarine, on, 258. 

Valknttnjc's, St., day, 35. 

Vegetable Life, variety and extent of, 

Venice, 305. 
Vine, cultivation of the, 187. 

Walxttt-trki, uses of the, 104. 

War. effect* of, 282. 

Wealth, National, elements of, 275. 

Wensley Dale, or the Vale of Ure, 303. 

Whirlpools. 183. 

Whirlwinds, waterspouts, moving pil- 
lars of sand, causes of, 112. 

Win i Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, 

William III., the landing of, 419. 

Wilton House, 862. 

Winchester, Hospital and Church of 

St. Cross, 425, 446. 
Woolsthorpe Manor-house, 260. 
Woolwich, 65, 89, 105. 
Workhouse, English, economy of an, 


Yarraktok, Andrew, 330. 

Zkbra-Hottor, Hemrick; the Nama- 




Entrance to the Public Walk at A rapt - 

hill, Bedfordshire, 9. 
The Watch, with " cressets" and * bea- 

cons."— Grouped from Hollar, 12. 
Bay of Glengariff, Ireland, 25. 
Knowle House and Park, Kent, 57. 
Woolwich:— Military College. 65. 

Royal Horse and Foot Artillery 

Barracks, 89. 
Repository and Rotunda, 105. 
Tomb of Queen Elizabeth, Westminster 

Abbey, 77. 
Edinburgh :— Heriot's Hospital, from 

the Castle Hill, 100. 
High School, Calton Hill. 361. 
South frout of Castle Howard, York- 
shire. 113. 
Bedford School, 181. 
Mtcklegate Bar. York, with the arrival 

of a Royalist baggage-train, 193. 
Half-armour of a general officer, and 

pikeman, archer, and musketeer of 

(he Elizabethan period, 209. 
Belvoir Castle, 217. 
Lincoln, 233. 

Newptrt Gate, Lincoln, 244. 
Restoration of Newport Gate, 244. 
Sir Isaac Newton's birthplace, 260. 
The room in which Sir Isaac Newton 

was born, 261. 
Wilton House, 269. 
Blenheim Palace, 31?. 
City of Worcester.— From an print, 

341. ' 

Chotsworth House, 349. 
Interior of old English cott.gc, 356. 
Mansion of Strathneldsay, 369. 
Amphitheatre at Dorchester, 397. 
House of tho Gunpowder conspirators 

at Lambeth.— From an old print, 421. 
Church of St. Cross, near Winchester, 

Koro-in lighthouse, church, and trench 

in Dover Castle.— From a sketch 

taken in 1839, 4?3. 
Manor-house of Hampden, and church 

where John Humpden lies interred, 

Entrance to the Catacombs of the Ce- 
metery at Highgatc. 489. 
Edward IV.'s Chapel on Wakefield- 

bridge, 49/. 
London : — 

SL Peter's Church, Park-street, 
Sonthwark, 505. 

Club Chambers, Regent- street, 506. 

Trinity Church, Blackheath Hill, 507. 

Bridge. &c.,over the Thames Junc- 
tion Railway and Paddington Ca- 
nal, 508. 



Portland Vase, figure from the bottom 

of, 1. 
Junction of the rivers Tchadda aud 

Quorra, 41. 
Mirage in the plains of Mexico, 49. 
Marseilles, 60. 

Havre de-Grace and Cape la Heve, 81. 
Hamburgh, from the Elbe, 97. 
Oporto. 137- 
Al'cum Kara Hissar, or the Black 

Castle of Oi.ium, 153. 
Cadis, 172. 

Fumes, West Flanders, 181. 

View of the large theatre at "Pompeii 

Plan of the Greek theatre, 189. 
Male tragic mask. — From Townley 

Gallery, 190. 
Female ditto.— From the same, 190. 
Comic and tragic masks combined-rdo., 

Tragic scene.— From a painting found 

at Pompeii, 190. 
Smyrna, 197. 

Valletta, in the Island of Malta, 229. 
Town-hall, Bremen, 257. 
City and harbour of Genoa, 281. 
Venice, 305. 
Plessis-les-Tours, 324. 
Bridgetown, Barbadoes, 329. 
Bergen, Norway, 354. 
Weighing-house, formerly called St. 

Antony's Gate, at Amsterdam, 372. 
Peruvian Jars, 388. 
Port of Archangel, 393. 
Forest of Brotonne, Normandy. 401. 
Tower of skulls of Christians on the 

Island of Gcrba, 413. 
Astrakhan, from the sea, 429. 
Poitiers. — From a recent French print, 

Cronstadt, 444. 

Odessa, on the Black Sea, 449. 
Castle of Arques, Normandy : — 

The Gateway Towers. — From 

drawing in 1839, 453. 
Ruins of the Keep. — From the 
same, 481. 
Bordeaux, and bridge over the Garonne. 



The Hollv (Ilex aauifolium), 4. 

A Rookery, 33. 

Highinnd shepherd and dog, 73. 

Cuckoo in hedge-spnrrow's nest, 124. 

Cedars on Mount Lebanon, 140. 

British Birds:— 
Swallows : Mnrtin, or Window-Swal- 
low (Hirundu urbica); House or 
Chimney Swallow (II. rustica); 
Swift (Cijpselus aptts); Sand Mar- 
tin (#. ripar in), 161. 
Warblers: Nightingale, Blackcap, 
Wren, Redbreast, Sedge-Warbler, 
Whitethroat, 249. 
Buntings t Common Bunting, Yellow- 
hammer, male and female. Black- 
headed Bunting, 265. 
Pipit Lark, Woodlark, Thrush, Black 
bird, Skylark, (male aud female), 
and nest, 289. 
Finches: Grey Linnet. Greater Red- 
pole, Goldfinches (male and fe- 
male), Siskins, or Aberdevines, 309- 
Pied Fly-catcher (Muscicapa luc- 
tuosa, T»mm.), Spotted Fly- 
catcher {Mmcicapa Orisdla), Linn.) 

The Fieldfare (7\rrd*«f pilaris, 
Linn.), Redwing (T. Iliaeus, Linn.), 

Tits: Greater Tit (Pans major'). 
Blue Tit (P. ctrrulev*). Coal Tit 
(Plater), Marsh Tit (P. palustris),\ 

The Curlew (Scolopax armtata, 

Linn.), Qodwit (& trgocevhala), 

Vane, or Stint (Tria/o nnclus), 


The Sooty Tapoa (Phalangista JUlt- 

gmota), 169. 
Sheep-washing, 201. 
Musk-deer (hloschu* moschiferns), 225. 
The Otter (Lutra vulgaris), 26S. 
The Harpy Eagle (Harpya destructor, 

The Llama (Zoological Gardens), 457 
Spearing the Narwal, 501. 


Ballads, Old English, Romantic, and 

Historical :— 

The Spanish Lady and the British 
Captain, 17. 

William of Cloudeslie and his family 
in Euglewood Forest, 44. 

" Next day did many widows come, 
Their husbands to bewail." 

Chevy Chase, 129. 

Tlio King and the Miller of Mans- 
field, 177. 
Portraits and Busts :— 

Sir Hugh Middleton. — From painting 
by Cornelius Jaussen, 37. 

Queen Elizabeth.— From painting by 
Zucchero, 76. 

Plato.— From an antique bust, 85. 

Bas-relief from Flaxman's monu- 
ment to Sir William Jones, 121. 

Alexander.— From n coin in Bodleian 
Library, Oxford, 133. 

Collins, his monument in Chichester 
Cathedral.— From the bas-relief by 
Flaxman, 205. 

Sophocles— bust, 219. 

Timnr Bee.— From a miniature 
painted in India, 237. 

Baber.— From ditto, 273. 

Hnmaioon Shah.— From ditto, 301 

Acbar.— From ditto, 313. 

Jelmnghire. — From ditto, 345. 

Aurunjrxebe. — From ditto, 364. 

Nadir Shah.— From ditto, 385. 

Hvder Ali.— From the same, 409. 

Oliver Cromwell.— From a picture by 
Walker, in British Museum, 340. 

Sir Philip Sidney. — From a painting 
by Sir Anthony More, 380. 

The Gunpowder Conspirators. — From 
n print published immediately after 
the discovery, 420. 

Dorothy, wife of Richard Cromwell, 

Richard Cromwell. — From a minia- 
ture by Cooper, 476. 
Illvmikatsd MSS.:— 

Title-page of Charlemagne's Bible, in 
British Museum, 28. 

Initial Letter.— From Cott. MS., 52. 

Canute and his Queen. — From ' Re- 
gister of Hyde Abbey,' 53. 

Initial Letter.— From MS. of 10th 
century, 53. 

Anglo-Saxon ornament, 63. 

Initial Letter.— From MS. of 11th 
century, 68. 

The Witenagemot.— From Cott. Ma, 

Noah building the Ark.— From Colt 
MS., 70. 

Anglo-Saxon Entertainment— From 

Harl. MS., 70. 
Dinner-party.— From Cott. MS., 70. 
Initial Letter, 92. 

First Vision of Henry I.— From MS. 
in Corpus Christi College, Oxford, 
Second ditto — From the snme, 92. 
*' When Adam delv'd and Eve span," 

From Cott. MS., 92. 
Reconciliation of fiecket with Henry 
II.— From a Psalter in British 
Museum, 93. 
M Just a plaiaance." — From French 
MS., " Life of St Grael," in British 
Museum, 94. 
Coronation of Louis le Gros.— From 
French MS., **Lcs Gestes des Roys 
de France," in British Museum, 94. 
The Duke of Bedford and St. 
George. — From the Bedford Mis. 
sal, 108. 
Initial Letter. 108. 

The French Knight and the Author 
of the Metrical History of Richard 
II.— From MS. in British Museum, 
W. Curteys, Abbot of St. Edmunds- 
bury, presenting John Lydgate's 
translation of "The LegentU of St. 
Edmund and St. Fremuml." — From 
Harl. MS, 118. 
Christan de Pisan presenting her 
book to the Queen of France. — 
From Harl. MS., 148. 
The goddess Diana.— From Harl. 

MS.. 149. 
The Dance in the "Garden of Plea- 
sure." -From the " Romance de la 
Rose."— Harl. MS.. 149. 
Shooting at Butts. — From " Imagi- 
nacion devraye noblesse." — Royal 
MS., 156. ' 

Public washing-grounds in 1582.— 
From Harl. MS., 157. 
Six Patterns for figures, 20. 
Autograph of Queen Elisabeth. — From 
Harl. MS., 78. 

L'lmprovisateur Napolitaiu." — From 
a picture by L. Robert, 145. 
Bringing in the May- pole, 164. 
Dance of milkmaids, 165. 
Costume of the Grand-Master of the 
Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. 
(Knights of Malta), 241. 
Costume of the Grand-Marshal of the 

Order, 241. 
Maltese Lady wearing the " FsJdetta," 

and attended by her servant, 276. 
English sailors and Maltese calesae,297. 
An Oriental Migration, 284. 
Bedouin encampment 285. 
Tunisian costume : a barber of Gabis— 
a moorcss of Gabis, in her house- 
dress — a sailor of Girba, 332. 
An Arab of Tunis, 333. 
Children at play.— From a design bv 
Godfrey Mind, 404. * 

Amusements for Children.— From the 

same, 405. 
Henry VIII. granting a Charter to the 

Barber-surgeons, 436. 
Petrified basket of eg«s, 464. 
Mountain Laplanders on their snow 
skates descending the mountains, aud 
tho Norwegian Skiclobere, 468. 

Digitized by 



or tub 

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[January 5, 1839. 


[From the bottom of the Portland Vase in the British Mostnm,] 

A Monthly Almanac in a periodical work, or as a 
separate publication, could not have been issued five 
years ego, witbout paying to the revenue fifteen shillings 
per annum for eacb copy as stamp duty. The duty upon 
almanacs was abolished in 1834, and consequently the con- 
sumption of almanacs has been trebled, but no one has pub- 
lished a Monthly Almanac ; and indeed such a separate 
publication would scarcely repay the trouble and expense 
connected with, its issue. But as a portion of a periodical 
work, a Monthly Almanac may be highly useful ; and 
we purpose therefore to give one for January in this, the 
first number of the ' Penny Magazine' for 1839 ; and to 
continue the series in the Monthly 'Supplements.' An 
Almanac, rightly considered, is a text for the most 
amusing and instructive comment. An Almanac directs 
us to the observance of periods connected with our 
•octal duties ; — an Almanac has relation to all the 
wonderful phenomena of the heavenly bodies:— an 
Vol,- VIII. 

Almanac leads us to the consideration of the changes 
of the Seasons and to the Natural History of the Year ; 
an Almanac has reference to the customs of our ancestors, 
which shed so rich a light over the whole history of their 
social arrangements'; an Almanac directly or incidentally 
notices great Historical Events— or points out the eras 
which were rendered illustrious by the lives of those who 
have given enduring impulses to the course of the 
world's thoughts and actions. An Almanac, then, sup- 
plies a boundless field of interesting subjects for our Mis- 
cellany — subjects which have a natural connexion, but 
are yet individually instructive. Our readers, from this 
short explanation, will understand that we are not going 
to repeat what they may find in the Almanacs issued by 
the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge ; but 
that in giving then a Monthly Calendar, which may be 
found very convenient to all classes, we take the oppor- 
tunity of appending much that we hone will be useful 
and agreeable as connected with the Calendar. 


Digitized by 



[January 5 f 


The British Museum opens on January 8, after the 
Christmas vacation of seven days. During the last year 
a new reading-room, in the northern portion of the 
building, has been erected, which was opened last autumn. 
In consequence of the frequent losses of valuable books, 
some new regulations have been adopted with a view of 
preventing the evil. Readers are now required to return 
the books to an attendant, from whom they receive the 
ticket they had given him when the books were applied 
for, and they are held responsible for the books while the 
ticket remains in thf hands of the attendant. The arti- 
cle* in the. New Egyptian Room, of which we have 
spoken in No. 424, are now arranged, but no descriptive 
account has yet appeared, if we except the very imperfect 
catalogue in the ' Synopsis.' The bronzes, &c. of the 
Townley, Payne Knight, and other collections, which 
have been for some time inconveniently exhibited in a 
small room, have not yet been described in the ' Synop- 
sis,' although we believe a volume descriptive of them is 
in course of preparation ; and the Portland Vase still re- 
mains unseen in the little anteroom at the head of the stairs. 
We believe that few persons are aware of the existence of a 
figure on the under part of the base of this vase. This is a 
small head moulded in the same material employed for the 
other figures which surround the vase ; but it appears to 
have been fixed on to the blue glass, after it was cold, by 
a cement ; whereas the other parts have been apparently 
run into the groundwork whilst in a state of fusion. Bar- 
toli, who described the vase in 1699, when it was in the 
possession of the Barberini family, considers the sculp- 
ture to represent an ancient philosopher in a Phrygian 
cap, with his hand in an attitude " expressive of his in- 
ability to give utterance to the virtues of Alexander 
Severus," in whose tomb the vase was found, and to whom 
the subject of the figure has beenjsupposed to relate. 
Dr. King and Mr- Marsh, whose essays on the Portland 
Vase will be found in the eighth volume of the* Archaeo- 
logia,' consider the figure to represent Harpocrates ; but 
they do not attempt to account for the introduction of 
that personage in the position in which he is found. As 
this figure cannot be seen whilst the vase rests on the 
table, we would suggest its suspension over a mirror, 
from which the under part might be viewed, enlightened 
by the reflection of light from the glass. Such a con- 
trivance has been resorted to with success for the same 
purpose, one of the admirable copies by Wedgwood 
having been the subject of the experiment. We believe 
it is not generally known that Wedgwood only manufac- 
tured thirty of these vases ; and after selling these at 25 
guineas each, he broke the mould, that the price might 
not be deteriorated by the article becoming commun. 
We cannot but regret that so beautiful a specimen of the. 
skill with which all the Wedgwood productions were 
manufactured should have been sacrificed to the aristo- 
cratic spirit of scarcity and high prices ; but we are 
more inclined to excuse the conduct of the tasteful and 
enterprising manufacturer, from the very liberal spirit he 
manifested in the production of all his other noble works. 
The British Museum is open every Monday, Wednes- 
day, and Friday, from 10 o'clock in the morning, until 4 
in the winter, and until 7 in summer ; the only times at 
which it is closed being between the 1st and 7th January, 
the 1st and 7th May, and thejst and 7th September ; and 
on Ash- Wednesday, Good-Friday, and Christmas-Day. 


Suspens* and anxiety are the most painful states in 
which an individual can be placed. Their long continu- 
ance inevitably destroys both health and happiness, and 
renders success in life difficult, if not hopeless. The 
capitalist, the merchant, the shopkeeper, and the labourer, 

would not pursue their respective a^cations, unless rea* . 
sonable securities existed which guaranteed to each the 
fruit of* his exertions. Without the general security was 
well assured in a nation, society would, in the end, sink 
into its primitive and barbarous elements, and the. law of 
the rapacious and the strong would be substituted for that 
of justice and equality. To protect from the evils of un- 
certainty as many interests as possible is the sure means 
of promoting individual happiness and national advan- 
tage. More ample scope is then given for the develop- 
ment of schemes of industry and enterprise, and the 
resources of a country are, as a matter of course, propor- 
tionally increased. Owing to the frequent occuiTe/»ce of 
wars and civil commotions on the Continent, persons pos- 
sessing property have not so extensively enjoyed the 
security which insurance against loss by fire affords, as 
in this country, where no foreign invasion has occurred 
for nearly eight centuries. In the United Kingdom 
above 600,000,000/. of property is insured in the differ- 
ent joint-stock companies established for that purpose ; 
yet the advantages of insurance are still not so widely dif- 
fused as they might be. The impolitic duty, or government 
tax, may be one cause of this, but doubtless it will be dimi- 
nished ; and another is the want of information as to the 
general principles on which systems of insurance are based. 
This is a subject to which a brief space may with propriety 
he given at the period when the renewal of insurances must 
be provided for. 

A manufacturer may have a great portion of his capi - 
tal invested in buildings, such as work-rooms and ware 
houses. The work-rooms may be well furnished with 
improved and costly machinery, and the warehouses with 
the productions of his skill and labour. At such a mo- 
ment, the fruit of years of exertion may be destroyed in 
a single night, and he may be left in a state of hopeless 
ruin. * But for the plan of fire insurance, what a state of 
perpetual alarm such a man would experience ! Would 
he not employ great caution in laying out his capital, and 
would there not be strong inducements to do so on a less 
extended scale ? As this was contracted, the ratio of his 
profits would perhaps decrease, and he would be excluded 
from many markets by the difference between the cost of 
articles, when produced only in small quantities, and 
when manufactured in larger proportions. In the latter 
case, a return of 3 or 4 per cent, would amply repay for 
the outlay of capital, and in the other perhaps 10 per 
cent, would be required for the same purpose. A shop- 
keeper is similarly placed. Supposing he were unpro- 
tected against loss by the occurrence of a fire on his pre- 
mises, he would be inclined to keep a smaller stock by 
him. He would therefore lose the advantage of making 
his purchases on a large scale, and would not be so well 
enabled to supply his customers on the most advantage- 
ous terms ; and by the necessity of putting perhaps a 
higher price on some of his goods, he might deprive 
many consumers of the power of purchasing them. In 
addition, the support of himself and family depending 
on the property invested in his stock, they might, in a 
moment, be deprived of the means of existence. 

The destruction of a manufactory, or a shop with its 
stock, ruins a single individual. If the loss were distri- 
buted among several, it would be proportionally less to 
each, and would be diminished as the number of indivi- 
duals was increased, until it occasioned not only no in- 
convenience, but was almost imperceptible. On this view, 
capitalists unite to insure property against loss by fire at 
a small annual cost. The consequences, when a fire 
occurs, are diffused over a wide surface, and a calamity 
which individuals could not singly sustain is rendered 
comparatively light, being borne by a great number, who 
had associated for the purpose of mutual protection. 

The risks from fire are calculated from a very wide 
range of facts. Before a safe system could be formed, it 
was requisite to obtain data founded on extensive obscr* 

Digitized by 




ration continued for a considerable length of time. A 
single town, possessing 1000 houses, has perhaps one 
fire during one year ; but it would not follow, from that 
single fact, that there would occur one fire in that place 
every twelve months. If, however, the sphere of obser- 
vation was extended to 100,000 houses, and continued 
for twenty years, a very close approximation to the annual 
number of fires might be obtained. A degree of certainty 
would be reached of sufficient accuracy for the calcula- 
tions of an insurance office, on a scale which would enable 
the capitalist to avoid loss, and would extend the advan- 
tages of the office to parties insured at the lowest possible 
premium consistent with its stability. It is an undoubted 
fact that a number of events which appear as if occur- 
ring by accident, will, when viewed in the mass, as- 
sume a regularity and consecutiveness which admit of 
their number being estimated beforehand with an extra- 
ordinary degree of certainty. The number of suicides 
and accidental deaths, ana the modes in which they 
respectively occur, are each susceptible of being averaged 
for any given period. Even the number of letters put 
into the post-office without any address forms an average 
which scarcely varies. 

The ancients made a deity of Chance, to express their 
notion of the influence upon the affairs of men of some 
unknown, incalculable, capricious cause, appearing to 
defy every exertion of foresight and prudence. They ac- 
quired this belief, which many unthinking people still 
entertain, from the observation of particular and detached 
events, instead of comparing and arranging a large num- 
ber of events that are submitted to the same physical 
laws. Such an investigation will at once indicate that, 
with reference to any extensive series of facts of a similar 
nature, the succession of any one particular fact is in- 
variably the same. Thus, for instance, the probabilities 
of throwing any particular number with a die or dice are 
mathematically certain ; and if the experiment were made 
for a sufficient succession of throws to afford an average, 
the practical results would exactly correspond with the 
theoretical. These calculations (which form the doctrine 
of chances), as applied to commercial purposes, have 
produced the most beneficial results to individual property 
and public wealth ; and they moreover afford that calm- 
ness and stability of mind which constitute the most salu- 
tary difference between commercial adventure and gaming. 

insurances against fire are effected by joint-stock com- 
panies. The government duty is no less than 200 per cent. 
for common risks; for instance, if a person pay to an in- 
surance office 15$. for insuring 1000/. worth of property, 
the duty amounts to 30s. The conditions on which the 
various offices insure are inserted on the back of every 
policy, which it is important that the insurer should pro- 
perly understand, as it is generally conditioned that losses 
are paid " according to the exact tenor of the printed pro- 
posals." Policies of insurance may be annual, or for a 
term of years at an annual premium. A policy is not 
assignable. When any person, however, dies, his in- 
terest in it remains in his executors respectively, provided 
they procure their right to be endorsed on the policy. 

Insurances are divided into common, hazardous, and 
doubly hazardous. The Charge for insuring property of 
the first description is now usually Is. 6rf. per cent. ; 
the second, 2s. 6d. ; and the third, 4s. 6rf. 

Common insurances include buildings covered with 
slate or tiles, and built on all sides with brick or stone, 
and wherein no hazardous trade or manufacture is carried 
on, or hazardous goods deposited ; goods deposited in such 
buildings, such as furniture, plate, jewels in private use, 
apparel, and printed books ; liquors in private use, mer- 
chandise, stock and utensils in trade, not hazardous ; and 
farming stock. 

Hazardous insurances include buildings of timber or 
plaster, or not wholly separated by partition- walls of brick 
Off stone, or not covered with slate or tiles, and thatched 

barns and outhouses having no chimneys, nor adjoining 
to any building not having a chimney ; and buildings 
falling under the description of common insurance, but 
in which some hazardous trades are carried on, such a? 
oilmen, soap-boilers, stable-keepers, and* others; or ii 
which hazardous goods are deposited, as tallow, pitch 
tar, hemp, flax, resin, and turpentine ; hay, straw, and 
unthreshed corn ; apothecaries' stock, and oil ; and wine 
and spirituous liquors as merchandise. 

Doubly hazardous insurances comprise all thatched 
buildings having chimneys, or adjoining buildings having 
one; and all hazardous buildings in which hazardous trades 
are carried on, or in which hazardous goods are de- 
posited. Insurances may also be made by special agree- 
ment on risks to which certain products are exposed by 
the use of steam-engines, kilns, ovens, &c, and they may 
be insured from the raw material through the various 
processes which they undergo. Gunpowder, and build- 
ings in which it is made, cannot be insured on any terms. 
Losses on hay or corn by natural heat will not be made 
good ; but if property of this description is destroyed by 
lightning, the policy is valid. 

To encourage the removal of goods in cases of fire it 
is usual to allow the reasonable charges attending the 
same, and make good the sufferer's loss, whether de- 
stroyed, lost, or damaged by such removal. The terms 
on which the various offices effect insurances may be ob- 
tained at the different establishments. 

We shall conclude with a few observations, which, if 
any individual should be weak enough to think an in- 
surance premium is money thrown away, we would 
entreat him earnestly to reflect upon. Jn the certainty 
of property there is a very remarkable augmentation of 
value. In comparing two advantages, one of which 
should be permanent, the other uncertain, in its duration, 
the capability of undisturbed enjoyment at once deter- 
mines the measure of good. The possession of property 
which is placed beyond destruction or injury from the 
effects of accident contributes essentially to the happiness 
of life, and to the moral dignity of individual character. 
The possessor of personal property, by the system of as- 
surances, gives to his stock the same stability as that 
possessed by the landed or funded proprietor ; and he is 
thus enabled to preserve that equanimity, which in all 
human affairs invariably results from building upon the 
reasonable certainties of just calculations, rather than 
trusting for an escape from possible evils to the mere 
casualties of fortune. The man who risks the loss of his 
ship by tempests, or of his stock by fire, because thfc 
chances are against such destruction, when he may put 
himself entirely above the chance by a very small con- 
tribution, has no claim to the character of a wise or 
prudent member of a community in which judgment and 
prudence are more than ever necessary to provide for the 
'wants of the passing day, and to guard against the acci- 
dents of evil fortune. 

Enormous Distances of the Stars. — The only mode we 
have of conceiving such intervals at all is by the time which 
it would require for light to traverse them. Now light, as 
we know, travels at the rate of 192,000 miles per second. 
It would therefore occupy 100,000,000 seconds, or upwards 
of three years, in such a journey, at the very lowest esti- 
mate. What, then,- are we to allow for the distance of those 
innumerable stars of the smaller magnitudes, which the te- 
lescope discloses to us ! If we admit the light of a star of 
each magnitude to be half that of the magnitude next above 
it, it will follow that a star of the first magnitude will re- 
quire to be removed to 362 times its distance to appear no 
larger than one of the sixteenth. It follows, therefore, that 
among the countless multitude of such stars, visible in tele- 
scopes, there must be many whose light has taken at least 
a thousand years to reach us ; and that when we observe 
their places, and note their changes, we are, in fact, reading 
only their history of a thousand years' date, thus wonder 
fully recorded,— Sir /. UerscheU 

Digitized by 



[January 5, 

[The Holly (//•* aqmfo/ium).] 

In England the Holly is much cultivated in gardens and 
pleasure-grounds, ana also in hedge-rows ; and as it is in 
the height of its beauty during the present season, when its 
bright red-coloured berries present themselves in abun- 
dance, we shall take the opportunity of giving some ac- 
count of it. 

Although in the summer its leaves are not so lively as 
those of most of the surrounding trees, yet in winter, 
when its neighbours are only bleak and naked figures, 
the Holly, clad in its glossy green, presents itself re- 
freshingly to the gaze, and when enlivened by the bright 
beads of red which grace its form, it imparts a degree of 
cheerfulness to a prospect which without it would appear 
most dreary. 

The most distinguishing features of the holly are its 
leaves, and the manner in which they are arranged on 
the branches. Southey, in his pretty poem on this plant 
(the whole of which we have before given in the * Penny 
Magazine, 9 vol. i., p. 224), has well described this, and 
the utility of the arrangement. 

" O reader ! hait thou ever stoed to gee 
The holly-tree? 

The eye that contemplates it well perceives 
Its glossy leaves 

OrdeVd by an intelligence so wise. 
As might confound an atheist's sophistries. 

Below a circling fence, its leaves are seen 

Wrinkled and keen ; 

No grazing cattle through their prickly round 

Can reach to wound ; 

But, as they grow where nothing is to fear, 

Smooth and unarm' d the pointless leaves appear." 

In fact, at a certain height, above which the cattle cannot 
reach, the leaves are not furnished with those strung 
thorny points which render it so hazardous to pluck a 
branch from the lower part of the tree. 

Of the holly there are sixteen species, and the varieties 
produced, distinguished chiefly by their leaves, are very 
numerous. The common holly (Ilex cupiifolium), re- 
presented in the engraving, is found in almost all 
countries, warm and cold. In England it abounds, 
and in many places attains a growth of considerable 
height. Some "at the holly-walk, near Frensham in 
Surrey, are mentioned by Bradley, as having grown to 
the height of 60 feet; and old hollies of 30 and 
40 feet, with clean trunks of considerable diameter, 
are to be met with in muny parts of the country."* 
Evelyn planted a holly hedge in his garden at Say's 
Court, Deptford, in 1610, which he afterwards speaks of 
as being 400 feet in length, 9 feet high, and 5 in diameter, 

* 'Library of Eutertaining Knowledge Vegetable Sut) 

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and he notices with great pride its splendid appearance, 
especially when garnished with its own natural coral. 
There are some very fine trees in Windsor Great Park. 
This tree is much used in manufactures, the timber be- 
ing very white and compact, adapting it well for many 
purposes in the arts, but, as it is very retentive of its 
sap, and warps in consequence, it requires to be well 
dried and seasoned before being used. It takes a durable 
colour, black or almost any other ; and hence it is much 
used by cabinet-makers in forming what are technically 
called strings and borders in ornamental works. When 
properly stained black, its colour and lustre are not 
much inferior to those of ebony. For various purposes of 
the turner, and for the manufacture of what is called 
Tunbridge ware, it is also much used ; the bluck handles 
of metal teapots are of this wood, and coach-whip- 
handles are frequently manufactured from the branches. 
Next to box and pear-tree, it is the best wood for en- 
graving upon, as it is close and stands the tool well. The 
slowness of its growth, however, renders it an expensive 
timber. The bark of the holly contains a great deal of 
viscid matter ; and when macerated in water, fermented, 
and then separated from the fibres, it forms bird-lime. 
It is also employed as a medicinal agent, the leaves and 
bark possessing febrifugal powers of a strongly marked 
character ; the roots and the bark are said to be diuretic 
and expectorant, but the berries have the character of be- 
ing poisonous, producing purgative and violent emetic 

In the Christmas season large quantities of the branches, 
are brought to London, and used throughout the country, 
to decorate the houses. It is then designated " Christ- 
mas," and, by many, though erroneously, " mistletoe." 
The mistletoe is a parasitical plant growing on the oak 
and other trees, and bearing a white berrv. It is in 
every respect different to the holly, yet but little will be 
found in London at Christmas, the holly being, by the 
majority of those who traffic in such matters, given and 
received as the mistletoe appropriate to the established fes- 
tivities of that merry season. 


I. Court, how constituted and assembled. 
Justices of the peace are magistrates assigned to keep 
the peace within a certain county or some other district, to 
which they are appointed with authority to act judicially 
in the investigation and suppression of crime. They have 
authority in all criminal cases to take the necessary 
examination, and upon such examination o determine 
whether a party accused shall be committed for trial ; and 
in most cases to ascertain finally the guilt or innocence of 
the party, in some cases upon their own judgment upon 
the evidence, and in others by the verdict of a jury, and in 
the case of guilt being established, to award the punish- 
ment affixed by law to the commission of the offence. 
The judicial authority and powers of justices of the peace 
extend also to some cases of a civil nature. Besides 
these judicial powers, justices of the peace have duties to 
perform, in respect of which they are not invested with 
suy judicial discretion. In these matters they are said to 
act, not judicially, but ministerially, i.e. as servants of the 
crown, authorized and required to do certain official acts. 
The commission by which justices of the peace are ap- 
pointed generally conlains a clause by which the kingt 
states, that in exercising the powers thereby conferred on 
the parties to whom it is directed, he chooses that A.B., or 
C. D., or E. F., or G. H., &c, shall be one ; and the magis- 
trates so specially designated are usually called justices of 

* 'Penny Cyclopadia,' vol. xii., p. 443. 

f ' King ' is used as being the usual style. Of course under 
the present reign * Queen ' is substituted in all such instances 

the quorum, from the circumstance that m the commis- 
sion, when in Latin, the clause ran thus, " quorum 
A. B., vel C. D., vel E. F., vel G. H., &c, unum esse 

Public meetings of the justices for the purpose of 
discharging the duties of their office for the whole dis- 
trict for which they are appointed are called courts of 
general session of the peace, and as several statutes 
require that justices should hold these sessions four times 
in the year, or oftener if need be, the four meetings 
held in obedience to these statutes are called courts of 
general quarter-session of the peace, or, for brevity, 
" Quarter-Seas*, ns." The quarter-sessions are now by 
statute directed to be held in the firet week after the 
11th of October, the first week after the 28th of Decem- 
ber, the first week after the 31st of March, and the first 
week after the 24th of June, subject however to a power 
in the justices to alter the second period to any day be- 
tween the 7 th of March and the 22nd of April, in order 
to avoid the interference of the quarter-sessions with the 
Spring Assizes. But the statutes requiring quarter-ses- 
sions to be assembled at these periods have been held to be 
merely directory, so that quarter-sessions held in other 
weeks than those prescribed by the legislature, though 
irregular, are not void. When the business of the quar- 
ter-sessions is not terminated within the time allotted for 
the purpose, or it is expected that other matters will arise 
before the next quarter-sessions, the usual course is to 
adjourn the court to a subsequent day, and so from time 
to time, if necessary. 

It is competent to two justices of the district, one being 
of the quorum (under the words " or oftener, if need be"), 
to convene at any time an original general session of the 
peace ; and where no adjournment has been made, or the 
enlarged term has been suffered to expire without a 
further adjournment, and matters arise which it would be 
inconvenient to postpone to the next quarter-session, no 
other course is open/ But no business could be transacted 
at such general sessions which is specially directed by 
any act of parliament to be transacted at the quarter- 
sessions. In the precept to convene a quarter-session the 
justices may appoint any place within the county or dis- 
trict for holding it. 

Sessions of the peace convened for the execution of some 
part or parts only of the justices' district are called special 
sessions ; and sessions limited to the business of a sub- 
division of the district are called petty sessions. 

Sessions are usually held under a precept from two 
justices, directed to the sheriff, requiring him to return 
a grand jury before them or their fellow-justices at a 
certain time, not less than fifteen days from the date of 
ftie precept, at a certain place ; to give notice to all 
stewards, constables, and bailiffs of liberties, to attend and 
do their duty at such time and place; to proclaim 
throughout the county, &c, that a session will be held, 
and to attend them himself to do his duty. Without 
such a precept no person is bound to attend, but if the 
necessary parties attend, and the business is regularly 
transacted, the proceedings will be valid : so if the ses- 
sions be held at a different place from that mentioned in 
the precept. The precept once issued, the holding of 
the session cannot be stopped except by writ of superse- 
deas out of Chancery. The assembling of a general ses- 
sion of the peace during the continuation of a general 
quarter-session of the peace by adjournment has been 
considered as having the effect of superseding and putting 
an end to such general quarter-session. 

When a general sessiou or general quarter-session of the 
peace has been duly summoned, the following parties are 
bound to attend at the time and place appointed ; — 

First : all justices of the peace ; and, but for the 
quorum clause, the court could not be held unless 
every justice named in the commission were present. 

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[January 5, 

If a sufficient number (two) do not appear, no court can 
be held, nor can any adjournment be made. In such case 
a new session should be summoned ; and it would seem 
that a general session of the peace so summoned, or held 
under such circumstances without a summons, would be 
a legal general quarter-session of the peace. 

Secondly : the custos rotulorum of the county, who is 
bound to be there, by himself, or by his deputy, the clerk 
of the peace, to produce the rolls of the sessions. 

Thirdly : the sheriff, by himself, or his under-sheriff, 
to return the precept and panels of the jurors, i.e. the 
lists of persons liable to serve on the grand or petty jury, 
to execute process, receive fines, &c. 

Fourthly : the several coroners. 

Fifthly : the constables of hundreds, or high-constables, 
and other officers to whom any warrant returnable at the 
sessions has been directed. 

Sixthly : all bailiffs of public leets (hundreds) or pri- 
vate leets (liberties or franchises). 

Seventhly : the keepers of gaols, to bring and receive 

Eighthly : the keeper of the House of Correction, to 
give in a calendar and account of persons in his custody. 

Ninthly : all persons returned by the sheriff as jurors. 

Tenthly : all persons who have entered into recogniz- 
ances (i.e. engagements, under a penalty, to the king), to 
answer charges to be made against them, or to prosecute, 
or to give evidence upon charges against others. 

Necessary witnesses not bound by recognizance may 
be compelled to appear at the sessions by writ of sub- 
poena issued by the clerk of the peace or from the 
crown office in the Court of King's Bench, either of which 

Frocesses may be served upon the witness in any county, 
f the witness be in prison, whether he be bound by re- 
cognizance to appear or not, his attendance can be pro- 
cured only by a writ of Habeas corpus ad testificandum, 
which may be granted by a judge of one of the superior 
courts, upon an affidavit stating the confinement of the 
person whose evidence is wanted ; that he is a material 
witness ; that the trial is about to take place at a certain 
time and place, and cannot be safely proceeded in without 
his testimony ; with such other circumstances, if required, 
as may show the necessity for the application. This 
writ is directed to and served upon the person in whose 
custody the witness is detained. 

Persons summoned on grand or pettty juries at the 
quarter- sessions must be between 21 and 60 years of age, 
and possessed of 10/. a year in lands or rents, or 20/. a 
year in leaseholds for an unexpired term or terms of at 
least 21 years, or who, being householders, are rated to 
the poor on a value of not less than 30/. in Middlesex, 
and not less than 20/. in any other county, or who occupy 
houses containing not less than 15 windows, and must 
not be peers, judges, of the superior courts, clergymen, 
Roman Catholic priests, dissenting ministers following 
no secular employment but that of schoolmaster, ser- 
geauts or barristers at law, doctors or advocates of the 
civil law actually practising, officers of courts actually 
exercising the duties of their respective offices, coroners, 
gaolers or keepers of houses of correction, members or 
licentiates of the College of Physicians, actually practis- 
ing, surgeons being members of one of the royal colleges 
of surgeons in London, Edinburgh, or Dublin, and actu- 
ally practising, certificated apothecaries actually practis- 
ing, officers in the army or navy on full pay, pilots 
licensed by the Trinity House, masters of vessels in the 
Buoy and Light service, pilots licensed by the lord war- 
den of the Cinque Ports or under any act of parliament 
or charter, household servants of the sovereign, officers of 
the customs or excise, sheriffs' officers, high constables, or 
parish clerks. 

II. — Jurisdiction of the Court. 

The Court of Quarter-Session has jurisdiction in cer- 

tain civil matters under different acts of parliament : it 
has a criminal jurisdiction, to be exercised partly ac- 
cording to the rules of the common law, and partly in 
particular modes prescribed by different acts of parlia- 
ment ; it has an administrative authority in certain county 
matters ; and it has power to fine and imprison for 

1. Civil Jurisdiction. — The greater part of the 
civil business of the sessions comes before the justices 
there as a court of appeal from the decisions of individual 
justices acting under different acts of parliament which 
give them authority to decide, subject to the revision 
and correction of their fellow-justices assembled in 
quarter-session. This appellate jurisdiction is exer- 
cised over orders made by justices in matters connected 
with the administration of the poor-laws, the vagrant 
laws, the highway acts, and a variety of other Rtafeutes. 
Besides this appellate jurisdiction the sessions have 
original jurisdiction to do whatever may be done by 
two justices, except where the statute authorising two 
justices to act gives an appeal to the sessions. This ori- 
ginal jurisdiction in civil matters is most usually exercised 
in cases of apprenticeship. 

2. Criminal Jurisdiction according to the course of 
Common Law. — The authority of the justices to try felo- 
nies and those misdemeanors which are not by any 
statute directed to be decided in a summary manner is 
founded upon the royal prerogative of establishing courts 
for the administration of justice. The courts so esta- 
blished, though confirmed in general words by act of 
parliament, cannot without a special enactment proceed 
in any other course than that allowed by the common 
law, as the prerogative does not extend to the taking 
away from the subject his right to be tried according to 
the rules of the common law. The commission of the 
peace gives to the justices jurisdiction over almost all 
felonies, but it is not the practice to try capital offences 
at the sessions. 

3. Criminal jurisdiction exercised in particular modes 
prescribed by statute. — In this branch of their jurisdic- 
tion the sessions act principally as a court of appeal over 
penal convictions made by individual magistrates. In 
criminal matters in which the mode of proceeding differs 
from that prescribed by the common law, the justices in 
quarter-sessions have also an original jurisdiction in 
whatever may be done by two justices, unless an appeal 
be directed to be made to the sessions. 

4. Administrative authority. — The sessions have, to a 
certain extent, jurisdiction over the county stock arising 
from the county-rate or other sources. 

5. Authority in cases of contempt. — The quarter-ses- 
sions, being a court of record, have authority to fine and 
imprison for contempts committed in the face of the 
court, and no other court can inquire into the fact of the 
contempt, or the reasonableness or propriety of the fine or 
imprisonment ; but for this or any other act which can 
be shown to proceed from malicious or corrupt motives 
the conduct of the justices is liable to be questioned by 
information or indictment. 

III. — Mode of proceeding at Sessions. 
The justices being assembled, the session is usually 
proclaimed by the crier of the court. The commission of 
the peace and the royal proclamation against vice and 
immorality are then read by the clerk of the peace : the 
sheriff then makes his return to the precept or precepts 
directed to him; persons having occasion to take the 
oaths of qualification, indemnity, &c, are then called 
upon, and the oaths are administered to those who are 
in attendance by the clerk of the peace. After this 
it is usual for the clerk of the peace to call over the 
constables of hundreds and parishes, &c. ; and upon 
their not answering as the names of their respective hun- 
dreds, parishes, &c. are called out, which is commonly 

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done a second and third time where the constables do not 
answer, the court sets a fine upon the defaulters. The 
panel, or list of names returned to serve on the grand-jury, 
is then called over. The number called and sworn 
should not be more than 23, nor less than 13, though 12 
may be sworn, if more cannot be had. Those who do 
not answer to their names are liable to be fined ; but 
when a sufficient number appear, it is not usual (though 
in order to ensure a full attendance it might be conveni- 
ent,) to .call over the rest of the names returned. The 
grand-jury, being complete, are sworn to inquire for the 
king and the boay of the county, and to secrecy. Procla- 
mation being made to keep silence, a charge is delivered by 
the chairman. As the class of persons from whom the 
grand-jury are taken are not presumed to be acquainted 
with many legal distinctions upon which the propriety or 
impropriety of finding a bill of indictment, and thereby 
sending the party to his final trial before a petty jury, 
will depend, the chairman, who is in possession of the 
depositions taken in the course of the preliminary exami- 
nations, and is thereby enabled to foresee the legal ques- 
tions which are likely to arise in the grand-jury room, 
explains those points of law to which it is necessary the 
attention of the grand-jury should be directed. The 
delivery of the charge is properly considered as the most 
favou»-able opportunity for making observations upon the 
activity or inactivity of magistrates and peace-officers, as 
weli as upon subjects more immediately connected with 
the duties of the day, and of explaining such alterations 
in the law as have been effected since the preceding ses- 
sions. In order that this and the various other duties of 
a chairman may be performed in an efficient manner, it 
is usual, in some counties, to select for a permanent 
chairman a magistrate possessing legal knowledge and 
experience, and an acquaintance with forms and techni- 
cal proceedings, coupled with that decision and authority 
which result from the exercise of these qualities ; and it 
has been justly observed by Mr. Dickenson, in his work 
on Sessions, that " unless the chairman possess these re- 
quisites, the jury (grand and petty) can receive no infor- 
mation, inexperienced advocates will run riot, and the 
county wiU not feel that respect for the court which it is 
both desirable and useful that it should do." 

When the grand-jury, have received their instructions 
from the chairman and have retired to their room, it is 
usual, where the business expected to be brought before 
the sessions promises, if heard by the whole court, to 
occupy more than three days, to divide the court, and 
apportion the business under the provisions of 59 George 
III., c. 28. When the nature of the business will allow 
of such a course, the most natural distribution of the 
various subjects over which the justices in quarter-ses- 
sions have jurisdiction seems to be that one division of 
ihe court should take that portion of the butiness which 
requires the intervention of a jury, with all motions, and 
other incidental matters relating thereto, while the other 
division is occupied with the exercise of the summary 
jurisdiction given to justices, whether original or by way 
of appeal. 

%* This art'ele has run to a greater length than was antici- 
pated, but it will Le completed in the succeeding Supplement. 


In England there has long existed a very poetical custom 
— originating probably from the " passing-bell," which 
was formerly tolled to announce the departure of a mortal 
to another world — of " ringing out the old year " with 
the funeral note of the great church-bell. There is some- 
thing particularly solemn in the dull tolling of the bell 
as the silent hour of midnight approaches, and to English- 
men, who have been accustomed from infancy to associate 
such a sound with scenes in which death is present in all 

its gloom and sorrow, it is calculated to awaken thoughts 
of a pure and holy character. Another year is about to 
be added to those which have already passed over us, 
and the question naturally arises — Have we employed our 
time diligently and profitably ? Our thoughts revert to 
the many scenes in which, during the last twelve months, 
we have been engaged, and we ask ourselves if we have 
acted during that time as we would wish to have acted. 
The hour is fitting for reflection, and we think there are 
few who, as they listen to the 

" Midnight bell 
That, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
Beats on unto the drowsy race of night," 

would not avail themselves of that hour to cast all evil 
intenflons from their hearts, to fortify themselves with 
good resolves, and to return thanks to the Disposer of all 
Good for the benefits derived at his hands. 

But a proper degree of cheerfulness is not inconsistent 
with the due performance of our moral and religious 
duties ; and as the last stroke of twelve ceases to vibrate 
on the ear, a joyous peal from all the bells of the neigh- 
bouring churches announces the birth of a new year, 
which we may hope will afford us as much happiness, 
tinged with as little sorrow, as the errors of humanity will 
admit of. 

New- Year's Day was observed as a holiday by the 
Romans, and nearly all nations in modern times celebrate 
the occasion with great joy and festivity. In England 
from an early period it has been customary for friends 
to exchange gifts at this season, wishing each other " a 
happy New Year," a practice also common in France and 
other countries, and probably derived from the Romans, 
among whom a similar custom existed. Many Roman 
relics are mentioned by Fosbroke in his ' Encyclopaedia 
of Antiquities,' as existing to prove the custom. Among 
them is an amphora, or wine-jar, having an in- 
scription <m it, denoting that it was a new-year's present 
from the potters to their patroness ; another piece of pot- 
tery, inscribed, " A happy New Year to you ;" and a me- 
dallion, representing Janus, with a motto, " Wishing a 
happy New Year to the emperor Commodus." The most 
usual presents appear to have been figs and dates covered 
with leaf-gold. 

In England new-year's gifts were interchanged be- 
tween all classes, and the day devoted to visits and con- 
gratulatory addresses. In the household accounts of our 
early monarchs, the expense of new-year's gifts to the 
courtiers generally formed a considerable item ; and 
the presents from the nobility were often of great value. 
But from the time of Henry VIII. this friendly inter- 
change of presents and good wishes appears to have 
assumed somewhat of a debasing character, the present 
being esteemed according only to its worth in pounds, 
shillings, and pence ; and the tokens of friendship given 
in return being considered as an acknowledgement for 
value received ; for the new-year's accounts of even our 
kings and queens were made up with a view to the ulti- 
mate balance of gifts given and accepted. This inte- 
resting custom is now nearly fallen ihto disuse (it can 
scarcely be recognised in the exactions of servants, from 
their masters' tradesmen and customers, of Christmas 
boxes), and in London few seem to think that such a 
practice ever existed. 

With our ancestors the eve and morn of the new year 
were observed with peculiar honour and ceremony, and it 
was at this time that the famous wassail-bowl performed 
its perambulations around the village. In many parts of 
England it was customary for some of the prettiest girls to 
form themselves into a company, and walk in grand pro- 
cession through the village, bearing a bowl of ale decked 
with garlands of flowers, &c, stopping now and then at 
the doors of their friends, wishing them health and a 
happy New Year. In other districts this ceremony was 

Digitized by 



[January 5, 1839. 

performed by the male part of the inhabitants, who, how- 
ever, not only congratulated their friends verbally, but 
generally made good use of the contents of the wassail - 
bowl in drinking to their health and happiness. In both 
cases there were generally some songs or carols chanted 
by the company, some of which have been preserved ; 
Brand has priuted one, which was, about thirty years 
ago (and it may be still), sung in Gloucestershire. 

" Here's to Filpail,* and to her long tail ; 
God send our measter ub never may fail 
Ufa cup of good beer. I pray you draw near, 
And oar jolly wassail you then shall hear. 

Be here any maids ? I suppose there be some ; 
Sure they will not let young men stand ou the cold 

stone ; 
Sing hey O, maids, come trole back the pin, 
And the fairest maid in the houxe let us all in. 

Come, butler, come, bring us a bowl of the best ; 
I hope your soul in Heaven will rest ; 
But if you do bring u« a bowl of the small, 
Then down fall butler, bowl, and all. 

Wassail I wassail ! all over the town ; 
Our toast it is white, our ale it is brown ; 
Our bowl it is made of a mapliu tree. 
We be good fellows all. I drink to thee. 

Here's to * * * *,t and to his right ear ; 
God send our maister a happy New Year, 
A happy New Year as e'er he did mju. 
With my wassailing-bowl I drink to thee. 

Here's to * * * *,* and to his right eye ; 
God send our mistress a good Christmas pye, 
A good Christmas pye as e'er shu dul see. 
With my wassailing-bowl I drink to thee." 

* The name of a cow. t The names of horses. 

Wc may readily suppose that after such an exordium 
there would be quite a scramble among the maids for the 
honour of being the first (the fairest) to let them all in, 
and the wary butler would take especial good care that 
no inferior beverage should incite his guests to break his 

The term w T assail appears to have been derived from 
the Saxon " waeshael," be in health. " Washeile " and 
" drincheil " being the words used by them in quaffing to 
each other, similar to our " Here's to you !" and " I'll pledge 
you;" customs derived from our early Saxon ancestors. 
The wassail-bowl was not only employed in its proces- 
sion through the village or town, but was much used 
in the house by the jovial parties who assembled round 
the cheerful fire to celebrate the advent of the new year. 
The enlivening contents are described as commonly con- 
sisting of that mixture known by the name of Lamb's- 
wool, being wine or ale w r armed, well sugared, and 
sprinkled with nutmeg, and having toast and roasted 
crab or apples, stuck round with cloves and spices, float- 
ing in it. Many were the songs and good-humoured joke3 
which circulated among the merry guests on the occa- 
sion ; and though there might be neither much wit nor 
much philosophy, the hearty laughter which enlivened 
the party wouTd testify that neither was required to 
render them merrier and happier than they were, although 
we might perhaps wish them to be a little more refined 
in their jokes. 

Many places in England yet preserve their local cus- 
toms in reference to tins season. Of those of Hereford- 
shire we have given an account in the ' Penny Magazine' 
for 1836, p. 430. 

* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Uiieful Knowledge is at 59; Lincoln*! InO Fields. 
Printed by Wiiliam Cpowbi and Soks, Stamford Street, 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[January 12, 1839. 


[Entrance to the Public Walk at AmpthilL] 

"People should be guarded against temptation to unlawful 
pleasures by furnishing them the means of innocent ones. In 
every community there must be pleasures, relaxations, and means 
of agreeable excitement ; and if innocent are not furnished, resort 
will be had to criminal. Man was made to enjoy, as well as 
labour, and the state of society should be adapted to this prin- 
ciple of human nature.'* — Dr. Channino. 

In a former number of our Magazine (vol. ii., p. 340), 
alluding to the hope expressed in the Report of the Com- 
mittee of the House of Commons on Public Walks, that 
" the time is arrived when an earnest and growing interest 
in all that relates to the welfare of the humble classes is 
taking possession of the public mind," it was observed, 
" In such a feeling every large amelioration of our social 
condition must begin. Most anxiously therefore do we 
trust that persons of wealth and influence will unite to 
carry into effect the recommendations of this Committee." 
We " have now the pleasure of recording an instance 
where a distinguished individual has himself bestowed on 
one town the benefits so earnestly desired for all. To 
Lord Holland we believe the public is indebted for the 
Vol. VIII. 

first donation of this kind, and it will be appreciated 
accordingly ; not so much for the costliness of the gift, as 
for the value of the example. Attention is becoming 
gradually directed to the subject, which involves not only 
the health and comfort, but, as our motto clearly shows, 
the morality of the poorer classes ; and this noble dona- 
tion requires only to be generally known to give a 
further impulse to the public mind, we would almost say, 
to find benevolent and enlightened imitators. 

The Alameda (so called from the Spanish word 
Alameda, a walk planted with trees) is situated a 
short distance from the town of Ampthill, in Bedford- 
shire, and was presented to the inhabitants of that 
place by Lord Holland, for their use as a public pro- 
menade. It was begun in or about 1821, but part of the 
land it now occupies did not then belong to his lordship, 
and consequently until this portion was obtained, partly 
by purchase and partly by exchange (in 1825), the Ala- 
meda was not completed. A handsome entrance, of which 
the above engraving gives the best description, opens into 


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LJanuakt 12, 

the walk, "which is about three furlongs in length, and 
planted with thriving lime-trees, promising in a few years 
to form overhead a beautiful green canopy of quivering 
and rustling leaves — 

" With seats beneath the shade, 
For talking age and whispering lovers made ;" 

where the weary and the sad, the restless and the contem- 
plative, the hopeful and the despairing, may alike feel, 
and grow better and happier from the feeling, that 
" man," in the words of our motto, " was made to enjoy, 
a* well as to labour." 

Ampthill contains a population of 1688 persons. Its 
distance from London is about 45 miles. The neigh- 
bourhood possesses several points of interest, in addition 
to the Alameda. On either side of the south-west part of 
the walk the lands are let in small allotments to the poor 
for gardens, at a very low rent. A cross in Ampthill 
Park marks the. site of the castle in which Catherine of 
Aragon, queen of Henry VIII., resided whilst the sub- 
ject of her divorce was pending. Houghton Park, united 
to Ampthill Park, contains the remains of Houghton 
House, built by Sir Philip Sidney's sister, the Countess 
of Pembroke. The park and mansion are now the pro- 
perty of Lord Holland. 

A foot-path from the town runs through the Alameda 
to the Little Park Hospital, which was very liberally en- 
dowed in 1 690, by Mr. Jolin Cross, for twelve poor men 
and four women. It is in contemplation to build a 
school on the British and Foreign principle, adjoining the 
entrance to the walk, for which purpose Lord Holland 
and others have offered liberal subscriptions. 

Before we conclude this paper we beg to offer a few 
suggestions to the consideration of those who may be 
anxious to assist in the promotion of innocent and healthy 
opportunities of recreation for the people. 

Free public baths seem even more indispensable than 
free public walks, inasmuch as that the employments of 
the poor generally necessitate some kind of exercise, how- 
ever partial or insufficient, whilst the almost universal 
neglect of personal ablution is without any such remedy. 
Aud those to whom a bathe in the river or in the canal is 
a luxury fully appreciated, can only enjoy it in public 
places- — the indelicacy of which needs no comment — or 
deprive themselves of all pleasure, and not improbably of 
all benefit, by the fatigue of a long walk. 

Grounds intended for the industrious poor should be 
within an easy distance of their homes. In the great 
towns it can scarcely be expected that there should be 
open ayailable spaces sufficiently large ; but by forming 
the public grounds not only close to, but extending here 
and there all round the town, no portion of its inhabit- 
ants can be very distant. The hard-working artisan or 
labourer, depressed in spirit by the anxieties of his con- 
dition., and fatigued in body by its toils, is little disposed 
to take a long and unattractive walk in the hope that at 
the end of it he may have a short and pleasant one. Thus 
circumstanced he will but too often spend the day in the 
unwholesome atmosphere of his confined room, or the 
smoky limits of a public-house, regardless of the invi- 
gorating breeze, the pleasant verdure, and the clear ex- 
panding sky. To say such a man is unfit for the bene- 
fit he neglects, is to the philanthropist the most con- 
vincing appeal for immediate and earnest assistance. 

^May it not be advisable to provide convenience for 
simple and cheering refreshments, including tea, coffee, 
&c, famished at the lowest possible cost ? Instrumental 
music would be delightful and most attractive, and do 
something for the cultivation of the old English musical 
taste. Here and there portions of ground should be set 
apart for manly and youthful sports, which, witnessed 
again in England, would once more revive in the poor 
man** heart its old character of " merrie." The seats 
should be very numerous, and some covered, as places of 
refuge from tie puddeu showers of our tickle climate. 

Young and happy spirits are sufficiently grieved at the 
loss of the day that was to be " so fine," without giving 
them the additional pang of witnessing their spoiled 
finery, hardly earned and harmlessly worn. Trees, it 
need scarcely be observed, shelter from the storm only to 
expose to the lightning. 

And lastly, may not something b'e done to accomplish 
these important ends in all the great towns of the empire 
where there are municipal bodies, by the united efforts of 
the inhabitants and their representatives in the town- 
councils ? Even within the last few months money has 
been voted by a local council for a prize for the racing- 
course. Unless, therefore, the training of horses is of 
more importance than the well-being of men, assistance 
surely may be hoped from that and similar sources. The 
outlay would generally be large, but the impulse given 
by spirited and patriotic individuals, the novelty of the 
affair, and the real advantages contemplated, would 
doubtless induce the majority of the burgesses to contri- 
bute each his share, and unite all parties in the agree- 
ment to levy a borough-rate for the regular after-expenses, 
which certainly would be too small to be felt by any one. 
And thus a great good would be effected, and a per- 
manent pleasure created for all within the sphere of its 
influence ; who would leave as an heir-loom to posterity 
their grateful remembrauces of the men to whose talents 
and energies they had owed so much. 


The origin of amber was for many centuries a matter of 
serious discussion among naturalists. It was successively 
referred to all the three kingdoms of nature : some main- 
taining that it was an animal matter similar to bees'-wax, 
and secreted by a peculiar kind of ant inhabiting pine 
forests ; others referring it to the pine itself, as a gum 
oozing out in a liquid state, and afterwards solidifying ; 
and others, again, declaring it to be a fossil mineral, whose 
origin was antediluvian. But the circumstance of insects, 
leaves, &c. being found in amber soon led to the irresistible 
conclusion that it must have been fluid, or at least viscid 
to allow the introduction of any extraneous bodies, and to 
maintain them in that state of perfect preservation in 
which the organic tenants of amber are found to be. 

Amber was long held in high repute, as a rare, costly, 
and elegant ornamental substance ; but other and more 
brilliant gems have in great measure superseded its use 
in Europe, although it is very highly esteemed at the 
present day among Oriental nations, and forms one of 
the most lucrative articles of commerce in Turkey, where 
most of the European amber is sold. The American 
merchants also buy large quantities of it ; but how they 
dispose of it we are not aware. 

Amber possesses several of the properties of the vegeta- 
ble resins ; its taste is resinous, and the smell similar to that 
of turpentine ; its colour is yellow of various shades, but 
it is occasionally whitish and brownish. It is usually 
transparent when polished, and this is one of its most 
valuable properties as an ornamental substance ; but pieces 
are often met with which are opaque or clouded, and 
these, it is said, can be rendered transparent by baking 
them in sand, or digesting them in hot rape oil. It is 
inflammable, and exhales, in burning, a white, pungent, 
aromatic smoke. It is rather heavier than water. It 
becomes powerfully electrified by friction, and hence 
gave the name to the important modern science of elec- 
tricity, from elektrorty the Greek word for amber. 

Amber is found in nodules in the sand and clav for- 
mations. These nodules vary in size from that of a nut 
to that of a man's head, but the latter size is very rare. 
It is also met with on some sea-coasts, and near the 
mouths of some great rivers. It has been found in Sicily, 
Poland, Saxony, Siberia, aud Greenland; also in our 
own country, on the Yorkshire coast. Even some of our 

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clay pits We yielded it: for instance, in. one near 
' St. George's Hospital, Hyde Park Corner, excellent spe- 
cimens have been found. But the situation in which it is 
obtained in most abundance is in East Prussia, along the 
coast of the Baltic, between Memel and Danzig, especi- 
ally along the shore near Konigsberg, and from Gross- 
dirschheim to Pillau. 

Amber can seldom be obtained by mining operations ; 
although pits are occasionally sunk in sandy downs to 
the depth of more than 100 feet, where amber is found 
in small quantities. The usual mode of searching for it is 
to. explore the sea-coasts after storms, when the amber is 
found in nodules rounded by the sea in a manner 
similar to pebbles on the sea-shore. If this search be 
unproductive, men clothed in dresses of leather wade 
up to their necks in the sea, searching for the amber with 
long poles, to the ends of which nets are attached. This 
is rather dangerous employment, in consequence of the 
violence of the waves ; so that the men go in bands, to 
afford mutual assistance. Should this second plan be un- 
productive, they recur to a third, which is the most hazard- 
ous of all. They arm themselves with iron-hooks attached 
to long poles, and go in boats to explore the precipitous 
cliffs of the coast. These they carefully examine by 
detaching loose masses with their hooks ; but it happens 
not unfrequently that the boats are dashed against the 
cliffs, or that large masses of loose rubble fall upon them, 
with occasional sacrifice of life. When, after a storm, 
much lignite is seen floating on the sea, amber is gen- 
erally found most abundantly. 

It is said that the Prussian government derives an 
annual revenue of 17,000 dollars from this article. The 
larger pieces are, as is the case with precious stones, most 
esteemed : a piece of one pound weight will readily meet 
with a purchaser for 50 dollars. A short time ago a 
piece was found weighing 13 pounds; 5000 dollars were 
at once offered for it ; but, according to the opinion of 
some Armenian merchants, its value for the Constantino- 
politan market was at least 35,000 dollars. 

It is not always certain that larger pieces offered for 
sale are naturally large, as a process of cementation is 
sometimes adopted. Small pieces are joined by smooth- 
ing the surfaces, adding a layer "of linseed oil, and press- 
ing them together over a charcoal fire. In the Museum 
of Dresden large specimens are shown, which are said to 
have been built up in this way. Some years ago a large 
mass was found in the stomach of a slaughtered sheep, 
in Germany. This mass was composed of smaller masses 
which the animal must have swallowed with its food : the 
sutures or joinings were visible, but the whole was quite 
hard and firm, the cementation having been effected by 
the heat and the juices of the stomach. 

When amber is found with lignites, portions of exter- 
nal vegetable matter are quite distinct, and the bark of 
trees can be distinctly traced ; hence it is reasonably in- 
ferred that the amber was formed during the lifetime of 
these fossil vegetables by oozing out in a manner similar 
to our cherry-tree gum. Indeed many external charac- 
ters indicate that it was once soft or fluid. Pliny describes 
it as a resinous juice oozing from old pines and firs, and 
discharged by them into the sea. In our own day 
Sir D. Brewster concludes, from optical evidence, that 
amber is of vegetable origin. 

The extraneous bodies enclosed within amber cannot 
leave a doubt of its once fluid or viscid state. Insects, 
or portions thereof, leaves of beautiful structure resem- 
bling fern, drops of clear water, metallic masses, por- 
tions of sand, pebbles, and stones, are the chief sub- 
stances which are found in amber. In its fluid state the 
insects were probably attracted by its smell, and, lighting 
upon it, found themselves entangled. Some evidently 
straggled hard for their liberty, since legs or wings are 
often all that remain of them ; while in other specimens 
the insect is entire, and in § beautiful state of preserva- 

tion, fresh portions of amber having evidently been formed 
over the insect after it had been entangled. Among the 
flies thus entangled, the four- winged, such as the bee and 
wasp, and the two-winged, such as gnats, &c, are most 
common ; then come insects of the spider tribe, and the 
beetles with shelly or horny wing-cases. The German na- 
turalist and chemist Schweiger observes, that all the insects 
found in amber are such as inhabit trunks or barks of 
trees ; that they have not as yet been identified with existing 
species ; and that they more resemble the insects of the 
tropics than those of the temperate zone. 

Some rare specimens of amber, enclosing masses of 
native gold and silver, are exhibited in Bome of the Ger- 
man cabinets : at least, masses exist in amber whose lustre 
causes them to be ranked as the noble metals ; but con- 
siderable doubt exists on the subject, and the specimens 
are too valuable to be broken open in order to decide the 

Many yellow masses containing insects are sold to the 
curious in such matters at a high price, as fine specimens 
of amber. These are, in general, only imitations in com- 
mon copal ; but it is difficult to detect the imposition, on 
account of the striking resemblance of this resin to amber. 
In the British Museum there are two fine specimens con- 
taining insects, — the one marked Amber, the other 
Copal ; but the eye can detect no difference between the 
two. Copal is softer than amber, but both take a fine 
polish, so that it is difficult to distinguish between them by 
inspection merely. It is not uncommon for the vendors 
of crude amber to join pieces of copal to the lumps, or to 
enclose a lump entirely in that resin. The purchasers of 
the article can generally tell the unadulterated ware by 
the fracture, — that of amber being conchoidal, or shelf- 
like, and that of copal having no determinate character. 
But the surest test is, to place a morsel upon a red-hot 
iron, when any one at all acquainted with the pungent 
odour of the white smoke of amber would not for a mo- 
ment confound that of copal with it. 

Amber is used for making trinkets, such as necklaces, 
bracelets, and ear-rings ; also for snuff-boxes, and the 
luxurious kinds of tobacco-pipes. For these purposes the 
nodules are split on a leadeu plate at a turning-lathe, and 
smoothed into shape by whetstones ; they are polished 
with chalk and water, or a vegetable oil, and finally 
completed by rubbing with flannel. During these pro- 
cesses the amber becomes so hot and so highly electrical 
as to be liable to be shattered to pieces. Hence it is 
necessary to work with a number of pieces alternately ; 
each piece being taken up and put aside a great number 
of times. The workmen, too, are subject to nervous 
tremors, in consequence of so frequently handling these 
highly excited electrics. 

By the action of nitric acid, amber is converted into a 
viscid mass which has the odour of musk, and is sold 
under the name of artificial musk. 

The coarse kinds of amber are used in making some 
kinds of varnish, which are very strong and durable, — 
among which is the celebrated black varnish of coach- 

By distillation an acid, called (after the Latin and 
French name for amber) succinic acid, is obtained, 
which is a useful test in the hands of the scientific 

Ruin*. — Ruins, in some countries, indicate prosperity ; 
in others, decay. In Egypt, Greece, and Italy they record 
the decline and fall of great empires ; in England, Scotland, 
and Wales they mark abolition of feudal tyranny, the 
establishment of popular freedom, and the consolidation of 
national strength. The lawless power formerly dispersed 
among petty chiefs is now concentrated in the legal magis- 
trate. The elegant villa has succeeded to the frowning 
castle. Where the wild deer roamed, the corn now waves : 
the sound of the hammer has drowned the war-cry of the 
henchman.— Anderson $ Guide to the Highland*. 

C 2 

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[January 12, 


1 [The Watch, with « cressets " and " beacons." — Grouped from Hollar.] 

There are two things especially necessary for the pre- 
servation of order and the prevention of crime in a large 
city. The first of these is an effective system for the 
surveillance of all transactions occurring in the open 
streets, to the end that obstructions may be removed, 
improper persons prevented from assembling, &c. The 
second, that a sufficient light be afforded in the night- 
time; for although this is as much an ornament to a large 
city as a convenience to the inhabitants, it is perhaps of 
more utility in preventing the perpetration of crime than 
even the establishment of the watch. The institution of 
a watch in cities is of very remote antiquity ; it may be 
traced to the earliest times of Rome, and Greece, and of 
Eastern nations ; but in the early ages the establishment 
appears to have been more of a military character, con- 
sisting of sentinels appointed principally to prevent sur- 
prise from without, or tumultuous proceedings within ; 
and we have no proof that such an establishment was 
considered necessary in times of peace. In modern cities 
a custom similar to that adopted by the ancients appears 
to have prevailed from an early period, but the establish- 
ment of a night-watch for the prevention of fires, rob- 
beries, &c. is of a more modern date ; and the practice 
of calling out the hour, which in the last century was a 
distinguishing feature in the duties of the night watchmen 
in England, appears to have been derived from Germany, 
where the custom prevailed in the sixteenth century or 
perhaps earlier. Montaigne, who travelled in the latter 
part of the sixteenth century, thus mentions the practice as 
existing in Germany : — u The watchmen," says he, 
" went about the houses in the night-time, not so much 
on account of thieves as on account of fires and other 
alarms. When the clocks struck, the one was obliged 
to call out aloud to the other, and to ask what it was 
o'clock and then to wish him a good night." 

We believe one of the earliest notices of a regular 
watch in England is to be found in the * Statute ot 
Winchester,' enacted by Edward I., which directs that 
" from henceforth all towns be kept (that is to say, 
" watched ") as it hath been used in times passed, that Is 
to wit, from the day of Ascension unto the day of St. 
Michael : in every city, six men shall keep at every gate ; 
in every borough, twelve men ; every town, six or four, 
according to the number of the inhabitants of the town ; 
and shall watch the town continually all night, from the 
sunsetting until the sunrising." If any pursuit be 
made for a suspected person, the watch are empowered 
to call up any of the inhabitants, and follow him with 
hue and cry. But this provision for the security of a 
city can scarcely be considered more than that made by 
all nations in warlike times to prevent an attack or sur- 
prise from an enemy. The watch were only appointed for 
the gates of the town, where they acted in the capacity 
of sentinels, and we are not aware that they were in the 
habit of patrolling the streets, &c, like the watchmen of 
a later age. 

In 1263 a standing watch appears to have been first 
appointed for the City of London. This was effected in 
consequence of the disorderly proceedings of many 
dissolute persons, who, under the pretence of being part 
of the foot-patrol (temporarily appointed for the security 
of the city during the troublesome times of Henry III.), 
committed many robberies and other misdemeanors; 
but from various complaints made afterwards to the cor- 
poration this watch could not have been very effective, 
and was probably of small extent, and similar to that 
provided by the Statute of Winchester noticed above. 
In the sixteenth century it was customary for the lord 
mayor on Midsummer-eve, or the vigil of St. John the 
Baptist, to proceed in grand Procession through the 

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streets for the purpose of setting the city watch. Stow 
has given a description of this procession on the occasion 
of the visit of Henry VIII. to the city in 1510. This noc- 
turnal march was illuminated hy nine hundred and forty 
cressets and large lanterns fixed at the ends of poles, and 
carried over the shoulders of the watchmen, serving in a 
slight degree to light the streets through which they 
passed. (See the cut in page 12.) 

This periodical procession probahly did not exhibit 
the true state of the city watch on ordinary occasions ; 
and after having been laid aside for some time, and 
revived by Sir John Gresham in 1547, it was at length 
finally abolished in 1 569. Of whatever extent the watch 
was at this time, it must have been extremely inefficient, 
for allusions to the bad regulations of the city abound in 
writers of the sixteenth century. The disastrous conse- 
quences of the great fire in 1666 appear to have infused 
some spirit into the members of the corporation, for after 
that event they issued several orders for the preservation 
of the city and the peace of the inhabitants. The act 
issued by the common-council for this purpose in 1687 
is entitled " An Act for Preventing and Suppressing of 
Fires within the City of London." It divides the city 
into four equal portions or quarters, which are ordered 
to be each provided with " eight hundred leathern buckets, 
fifty ladders, and so many hand-squirts of brass as will 
furnish two for every parish." The watch are directed 
to meet at eight o'clock every evening, and " as soon as 
they are met together, one out of every watch shall be 
sent the rounds into every part of the ward ; and at his 
return another shall be sent out, and so successively all 
night long, without intermission, until seven the next 
morning." One of the provisions of this regulation is 
curious — " Item, That every householder upon any cry 
of fire shall place a sufficient man at his door well armed, 
and hang out a light at his door if in the night-time ; 
upon default whereof every party offending shall forfeit 
twenty shillings." 

These regulations however do not appear to have been 
rigorously enforced, and must have been found inadequate 
to the desired end. As the city, after it had been re- 
built, increased in extent, more efficient measures were 
required, and in 1705, in the reign of Queen Anne, an 
act of common-council was passed for regulating the 
city watch, which, after repealing all previous acts, 
directs that each ward should provide a certain number 
of men to watch the city during the night (the whole 
amounting to 583). But this was not a regular body of 
men, accustomed to their duty, and remunerated by a 
fixed salary, but consisted of the citizens and shopkeepers 
themselves, who were obliged to perform the duties of the 
office in rotation, or provide a substitute, upon pain of being 
fined. They carried lanterns, and were armed with 

With regard to the lighting of streets, we may observe 
that it is only in modern times that the practice appears 
to haye been resorted to to any great extent. It would 
appear, from allusions in ancient writers, that the streets 
of Rome were in some degree illuminated in the night- 
time ; but this appears to have been so partial, and the 
allusions to the practice are so obscure, that it is very 
improbable that that city served as an example for the 
modern methods of* lighting. 

Of modern cities, Paris was the first in which the mu- 
nicipal authorities made any regulations for lighting the 
itreets. Beckmann states that it was in the beginning of 
the sixteenth century, when the city was much infested 
with street robbers and incendiaries, that " the inhabit- 
ants were, from time to time, ordered to keep lights 
burning after nine in the evening, before the windows of 
all the houses which fronted the street. This order was 
issued in the year 1524, and renewed in 1526 and 1553; 
hut in the month of October, lbb& t falots were erected 
at the corners of the streets, and where the streets were 

of great length, three were appointed to be hung up 
in different quarters. These lights had, in a certain 
tain measure, a resemblance to those used in some mines, 
for we are told, in the Grand Vocabulairc Franpoise, 
that/a/of is a large vase filled with pitch, resin, and other 
combustibles, employed in the king's palace and houses 
of princes to light the courts. At that period there were 
in Paris 912 streets ; so that the number of lights then 
used must have been less than 2736." In 1667 the 
lighting of the city of Paris was much improved, the open 
falots being exchanged for lanterns, and the police aug- 
mented and put on a better footing ; but the streets were 
only lighted during the four winter months, and then 
only when the moon was not visible. In 1671, however, 
an order was made that the lanterns should be lighted 
from the 20th October to the end of March, and even 
during moonlight ; and shortly after, the lamps which, 
to the present day, are employed in those streets of Paris 
where gas is not yet used, were introduced. 

It was probably from the example set by the Parisians 
that the citizens of London were incited to a similar im- 
provement of their own city. 

Previous to 1716 no systematic attempt appears to 
have been made to light the streets. Before that time 
all persons who had business from their homes were 
compelled to carry torches, that they might not be in total 
darkness. But although this might prevent a fall, it was 
found of little protection against the attempts of thieves, 
who, lurking in obscure corners, unnoticed by ihe ineffi- 
cient watch, would spring out upon a passenger, and 
easily strip him of all his property before his cries could 
bring the constables to his assistance. Robberies, assaults, 
and even murders were of such frequent occurrence, that 
it was necessary, and not unusual, for pedestrians to be at- 
tended by servants, armed with clubs, to repel an attack. 

In 1716 an act of the common-council of London was 
passed, ordaining " That all housekeepers whose house, 
door, or gateway does front or be next unto any street, 
lane, public passage, or place of the said city, or liberties 
thereof, shall, in every dark night, set or hang out one or 
more lights, with sufficient cotton-wicks, that shall con- 
tinue to burn from six o'clock at night till eleven o'clock 
of the same night, on penalty of one shilling." 

Those who were assessed to the poor were exempt from 
this regulation, but were charged six shillings for the 
expense of lighting those places which were in darkness. 
The rest of the city was lighted by the authorities of the 
several wards, who were indemnified for the expense by 
part of the sums received for the poor. But this plan, 
however superior to the total want of system which pre- 
vailed before it was brought into operation, was still 
greatly insufficient for the proper illuminating of the 
streets. The lampB were only required to be lighted 
from six to eleven o'clock, and this only on dark nights, 
or when the moon was receding from the full ; the nights 
between the sixth after the new moon and the third after 
the full were deemed to be " light nights," and on those 
no lamp was to be seen in the streets of London except 
those carried by the passengers, or charitably displayed 
from the house of a private citizen. 

In 1735 the lord mayor and common-council applied 
to parliament for a power to enable them the better to 
lighten the streets ; and an act was published accordingly, 
empowering them to levy a rate from the inhabitants of 
from 10 s. to 20s. per annum, according to the rent of 
their respective houses, for erecting and maintaining a 
number of glass-lamps to be lighted and kept burning 
from sunset until sunrise. The number of lamps thus 
set up in the city of London amounted in 1736 to nearly 
five thousand, and including the liberties and outskirts, 
probably to about 15,000. In 1744 another act of par- 
liament was obtained authorizing the lord mayor and 
court of common-council to assess the inhabitants at a 
rate not exceeding sixpence in the pound of the yearly 

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[January 12, 

rent of their houses, &c, for the better support of the 
means provided for lighting the city. 

In the interval between the passing of these two acts, 
there had been an application to parliament from the 
common-council for an act empowering them to provide 
for the security of the city by assessing the inhabitants 
for the support of a body of men who should be em- 
ployed in constantly watching the city. This act, the 
9th George II., came into operation in 1737, and one of 
the provisions declares that no person paying rates for 
watching shall be liable to be appointed to any watch or 
ward, as hitherto had been the case according to the pro- 
visions of the old law of Edward I., called the ' Statute 
of Winchester,' to which we have before alluded. Since 
the period at which this act came into operation, several 
improvements have been made, both in the system of 
lighting and in the forms of the lamps, but they all sink 
into insignificance before the grand improvement made 
by the introduction of gas. 

Gas was introduced for the illumination of the streets 
of London in the early part of the present century, and 
at first, owing to the want of proper management and 
ignorance of the best methods of preparing the gas, seemed 
likely to fail in its anticipated effect of surpassing the old oil 
lamps in brilliancy and economy. Many absurd rumours 
were circulated by interested persons with respect to its 
deleterious influence on the atmosphere, the danger of 
the pipes bursting, &c, which were too readily listened 
to by the public. At the same time an improved oil 
lamp was introduced, which far excelled the old in the 
brilliancy of the light and the construction of the glass 
lump, both of which surpassed in appearance the new 
gas-lights. Some of these lamps yet stand in Grosvenor- 
square, where they appear to be cherished by the aristo- 
cratic inhabitants as an invaluable relic of olden manners. 
When we contrast the dim spark which, adopting Milton's 
idea, seems to darken the surrounding space, with the 
bright and clear flame of the gas-lamps surrounding the 
inner circle of the square, we wonder what on earth 
could have made the people hesitate in deciding on their 
respective merits. But the gas-light of those days was 
a very different thing to what it is now : instead of being 
dazzled by the brilliancy of the flame, the people were 
only amused at a pale blue light bobbing up and down 
over the orifice of the tube from whence it issued ; and 
the spectator would have looked upon it as a chimera of 
the imagination to be told that the faint stream of light 
he then saw would one day acquire the dazzling bril- 
liancy in which it now shines in the most fashionable as 
well as the most pauperised streets of the metropolis. 

While we are speaking of the old lights of Grosvenor- 
square, we may notice those curious appendages to many 
of the old gateways of houses in that quarter, the uses of 
which have excited the curiosity of all the antiquarian 
errand-boys, and perhaps that of others of a higher 
grade, in the habit of visiting that district. The objects 
to which we allude are those large iron ornaments to the 
railings, in the form of a candle extinguisher, which look 
as if destined to put out all the candles of a house at 
once. These really are extinguishers ', and, by the foot- 
men and chairmen (we do not allude to those individuals 
with a bundle of rushes at their backs, but those — now 
almost unknown — who, always associated in couples, 
carried a small carriage without wheels, called a u chair," 
between them), were used to put out their torches 
after they had attended their master or mistress home, 
in those days when a lamp was only occasionally to be 
met with in the streets. Such were the conveniences 
and inconveniences attending the " lights of other days ' " 
Such a revolution has since been effected in the con- 
dition of the streets of London, owing, in a great mea- 
sure, to the introduction of an effective system of police, 
and the perfect light which gas has afforded through- 
out the city, that the violent assaults and misdemeanors 

which were formerly perpetually occurring, are now 
scarcely ever heard of; almost the only disturbances 
that take place being private quarrels of individuals 
and the occasional violence of an anti-temperance man. 
Few populous cities are so clear of those " who thieve by 
night " as the enlightened city of London. 


In the midst of the lofty mountains bordering on the 
northern limits of A Afghanistan dwells a singular race of 
people, utterly unlike, in religion, manners, and com- 
plexion, all the nations by which they are surrounded. 
They are celebrated for their beauty ; have ruddy com- 
plexions, blue eyes, and fair hair : they drink wine, sit 
on chairs, use tables, and worship idols ; while all their 
neighbours are dark men with black eyes and hair, who 
abhor wine, sit and eat on the ground, and are zealous 
Mohammedans. Their language is as different from 
that of their neighbours as is their appearance ; and all 
these circumstances, coupled with the fact, that the 
antient Greek kingdom of Bactria was near to and pro- 
bably included the very spot now inhabited by these 
people, long induced a belief that they were in fact de- 
scendants of the Macedonian conquerors. This very 
interesting account excited the Hon. Mr. Elphinstone, when 
resident at Caubul, about thirty years ago, to make in- 
quiries concerning them : he saw some of their body, and 
gave a curious detail of their customs and country in his 
'Account of Caubul;' and in the present year Capt. 
Burnes has published at Calcutta a considerable addition 
to the knowledge before obtained of this insulated race, 
as well as a vocabulary of their language. It is unfor- 
tunate that no European has yet endeavoured to see 
these people in their mountain fastnesses; and the 
accounts of Mohammedans are to be received with some 
allowance, on account of the murderous enmity which 
exists between them and the idolaters ; but Mr. Elphin- 
stone and Capt. Burnes saw many of this race in Aff- 
ghanistan, where they were detained as slaves ; and the 
Mohammedans who have ventured among them appear 
to have been liberally disposed ; in fact, the very circum- 
stance of their voluntarily visiting the Kaffirs evinces a 
greater freedom from prejudice than the general body of 
Mussulmans can be allowed credit for. 

The Kaffirs inhabit narrow but rich and beautiful 
valleys, producing abundance of grapes, and feeding 
large flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. These valleys 
are surrounded by snowy mountains and deep pine forests, 
and are divided by some lower hills covered with goats. 
" The ascent to their country from Caubul leads along 
frightful precipices, and through deep and narrow hollows, 
where the traveller is exposed to danger by the pieces of 
rock that roll from the mouutains above him, either 
loosened by rain and wind, or put in motion by the goats 
and wild animals that browse on the cliffs which overhang 
the roads." The country is traversed by roads or paths, 
well constructed, and the numerous rivers and torreuts 
are passed by bridges, either built of wood or formed of 
ropes* in some degree resembling our modern suspension 
bridges. Their valleys are well peopled ; one is men- 
tioned as containing above ten villages, the chief of which, 
named Cumdesh, contained five hundred houses. All 
their villages are built on the steep slopes of hills, so that 
the roofs of one line of houses form the street in front of 
the line immediately above it. The whole body is di- 
vided into tribes, according to the valleys they inhabit, 
each of wjbich has its peculiar name; yet they have 
nothing clannish in their character : their divisions are 
merely geographical, and, according to an expression of 
their own, they look upon all those as their brothers who 
wear ringlets and drink wine. The Mohammedans call 
them Kaffirs, or infidels, and this name appears to have 
been adopted by themselves as a national appellation. 

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In their domestic habits the Kaffirs are social and 
cheerful : they are fond of wine, which they drink to 
excess, but are never made quarrelsome by the indulgence ; 
probably what a Mussulman considers an excessive quan- 
tity may be otherwise in our estimation : they take it out 
of silver cups, which are the trophies of their success in 
war, and are reckoned the most precious of their posses- 
sions. Their chief food is butter, cheese, milk, bread, 
and flour puddings: to this is usually added a little 
meat, and the meal is concluded with walnuts, grapes, 
apples, or almonds. At dinner they use a table shaped 
like a drum or large barrel, and their stools are of the 
same form ; though in each house they have a bench 
with a high back, like what is found in country kitchens 
in some parts of England, called a settle.* They never 
willingly sit on the ground, like other natives of Asia ; 
and if compelled to do so, they stretch out their legs like 
Europeans. They are exceedingly hospitable ; the people 
of a village come out to meet a stranger, carry his baggage, 
and conduct him to their village with many welcomes. 
When there, he is invited to visit every person of note in 
the place, and at each house he is pressed to eat and 
drink. Their favourite amusement, in which they pass 
much of their time, is dancing : all ages and sexes dance. 
Their motions are rapid, and they use many gesticula- 
tions^ — raising their shoulders, shaking their heads, and 
flourishing their battleaxes. Sometimes they form a 
circle of men and women alternately, who join hands, and 
move round the musicians for some time in a sort of 
roundelay ; then all spring forward and mix together in 
a dance. They very often accompany the musicians 
with their voices, moving all the time with great vehe- 
mence, and beating the ground with much force. Their 
music is generally quick, but varied and wild, and the 
usual instruments are a tabor and pipe. Burnes was 
informed that men aud women always separated in 
dancing, and that the dances of one sex differed from 
those of the other. He also understood that they had a 
sort of guitar of two strings. Most probably both ac- 
counts are true of different tribes, as the nature of the 
country necessarily secludes the various portions of the 
population, and the vicinity of strangers may modify par- 
ticular customs. In winter they frequently meet at each 
other's houses, have drinking parties, and sit round the 
fire talking of their exploits. A Mussulman who had 
visited several of their villages told Capt. Burnes that 
they were a very merry race, quite free from care ; and 
" he hoped he should not be considered disrespectful 
when he stated that he had never seen people more re- 
sembling Europeans in their intelligence, habits, and ap- 
pearance, as well as in their hilarious tone and familiarity 
over their wine." 

The Mohammedans frequently invade the territories of 
the Kaffirs in small parties to carry off slaves, and more 
than once several chiefs have confederated to make a 
general attack upon their country. On one occasion 
many powerful Khans, with their followers, succeeded in 
meeting in the heart of the country; but they were 
nnable to keep their ground, and they finally retreated 
after suffering great losses. These constant persecutions 
have naturally excited great detestation of Mussulmans ; 
aad though die Kaffirs never originate a war, they often 
retaliate with desperate fury after an attack, when no 
quarter is given nor prisoners taken. Their chief glory 
is to slay a Mussulman, and a young. Kaffir is deprived 
of various privileges until he has performed this neces- 
sary exploit ; he is compelled to remain bareheaded ; he 
is not allowed to flourish his battleaxe over his head in 
the dance ; when he marries, his food is given to him 
behind his back ; and his daughter is not allowed to wear 
ornaments in her hair. Their honours increase with the 
number of enemies they have slain: in their solemn 
• According to Burnes, the table is made of iron rods, like a 
tnpod : both forms ace probably used by different tribes. 

dances each man wears a turban, m which is stuck a 
long feather for every one he has despatched; and the 
number of belts* he wears round his waist is regulated 
by the same rule. A man who has killed many Mo- 
hammedans is privileged to erect a high pole before his 
door, in which holes are made to receive a pin for every 
one he has killed, and a ring for every one he has 
wounded. But all authorities agree in declaring that it 
is only in regular warfare that Mussulmans are injured. 
Elphinstone 6ays, " Though exasperated to such fury by 
the persecutions of the Manomedans, the Caufirs are in 
general a harmless, affectionate, and light-hearted people. 
Though passionate, they are easily appeased : they are 
merry, playful, fond of laughter, and altogether of a 
sociable and joyous disposition. Even to Mussulmans 
they are kind when they admit them as guests; and 
though Moolagh Nujeeb (a Mussulman sent by Elphin- 
stone to explore the country) was once obliged to be kept 
by the other Caufirs out of the way of a drunken man 
of their nation, he was never threatened or affronted on 
account of his religion by any man in possession of his 

The religion of the Kaffirs is curious : they believe in 
one god, whom they call Imra, or Dogham ; but they 
have also many idols of wood or stone, representing great 
men of former days, to whom they pay a sort of inferior 
adoration, believing that they intercede for them with 
god. This species of canonization has been frequently 
granted in recent times to such men as have exercised 
largely the virtues of liberality and hospitality, to which 
the Kaffirs attach great reverence. The number of 
inferior gods is thus very great, but many are peculiar 
to separate tribes. 

It does not appear that there would be any difficulty 
in a European going through their country : besides the 
Mohammedan sent by Mr. Elphinstone, he received 
much information from a Hindu who had visited the 
country ; and Capt Burnes has conversed with several 
persons, both Mussulman and Hindu, who have performed 
the same journey : he states also that travelling jewellers 
often pass through their mountains in search of precious 
stones, for which the adjoining country of Badakshan has 
long been celebrated. One of these persons has been 
engaged by Capt. Burnes to repeat his visit, and has 
received instructions respecting copies of inscriptions, 
which are known to exist, and other matters of interest. 
This man had not yet returned when Capt. Burnes 
forwarded his account, but we may probably derive im- 
portant information from his researches. 

Under all the circumstances it does not appear to be 
an improbable notion that these people are really de- 
scended from the antient Greeks : their manners and 
appearance are quite European, and their religion, such 
as it is, resembles the old polytheism of Greece as much 
as anything else we know of. The strongest argument 
against their Greek descent is their language, which is 
utterly unlike Greek, except in a few words which 
are common to Zend, Greek, and Sanscrit. But even 
that fact is not decisive, for we may be assured that 
the Greeks who inhabited Bactria must, in most 
cases, have taken wives of the natives of the country, 
which would in the course of time eradicate the original 
tongue. The vocabulary given by Burnes contains 
chiefly words whose origin we know not, but there 
are several quite Persian, though usually of an older 
form, allied to the Sanscrit or Zend. The numerals 
are modern Persian with but little change. A number 
of sentences, which follow the vocabulary,. have a decided 
affinity to the languages of Hindustan. 

Whatever may be their descent, it were much to be 
wished that some means should be taken to communicate 
with tins interesting people, whose virtues, though in a 

* Elphinstone has « bells," which is probably a typographical 

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[January 12, 1839. 

state of illiterate barbarism, have won for them the de- 
clared respect of their avowed enemies and the persecutors 
of their religious belief. It is not impossible that the 
recent march of our Indian army may bring some intel- 
ligent officer into the nearer vicinity of the Kaffir race 
than has hitherto been granted to any European : from 
such an event much information would undoubtedly be 


Jf we look back through a period of eighteen hundred 
years to the state of Britain at the Roman invasion, we 
find a wild country inhabited by a people as wild. " We 
have," says the * Pictorial History of England,' " a 
country covered in great part with marshes, without 
towns, except such forest fastnesses as have been found 
even amoug the rudest savages (although those of the 
Britons may have been more artificially defended from 
hostile assaults), aud in all probability without any roads, 
except some two or three great tracks, sufficing rather to 
point the way from one locality to another, than to serve 
as the means of convenient communication. We have 
a people, in fight at least, showing themselves naked or 
half naked — without books or letters — without any arts, 
as far as our evidence goes, save the simplest and rudest 
— without even other habitations, apparently, than mud 
hovels, not reared for permanent occupation, but hastily 
put together to be crept into for a few months or weeks, 
and then possibly to be abandoned or set fire to on the 
approach of an enemy, or on any other occasion that 
might make it convenient for their occupants to shift their 
quarters. Thus, in the impressive sketch of Tacitus, the 
day following the fatal batlle of the Grampians is described 
as having displayed to the views of the victors a vast silence 
all around, the hills a wide expanse of loneliness, houses 
smoking in the distance, not a human being to be met 
with anywhere by the parties sent out to scour in all di- 
rections. This indeed was in the wilder regions of the 
north ; but we can hardly doubt that in the wars between 
the different tribes, which we are told raged incessantly, 
even in the southern parts of the island, the people must 
have been accustomed, in like manner, to fly for safety to 
the woods, when a hostile band, too strong to be resisted, 
swept the country, and, without hesitation, to leave their 
slight and miserable dwellings to be ransacked and 
trodden under foot. We learn, even from the brief nar- 
rative of Ceasar's campaign, that the natives made for the 
woods, and hid themselves there after every defeat, and 
that it was from the woods they came forth whenever 
they ventured again to attack the invaders. In short, 
they evidently were, in the greater part, a people living 
in the woods, which probably covered part of the 
country, and in which, as has just been noticed, we are 
expressly told that the only groups of cottages they had 
that could be called towns or villages were all hidden. 
These are the habits of mere savages, in as far as the cli- 
mate of a high latitude will allow. On the other hand, 
we find coexistent with all this rudeness many indica- 
tions of a much more advanced social state."* 

Here we have indicated one of the causes which raised 
the ancient Britons above the purely savage state in which 
the aborigines of some countries are found on their being 
first visited by a more civilized people. The climate 
compelled them to the exercise of several useful arts, as 
they could not have existed without clothing of some 
kind. Thus, at that early period, they could not be 
mere rovers over the surface of the country, a habit which 
prevents a people rising above the savage state. It would 
be too large a task to trace in this place the successive 
gradations by which the British people have been raised 
to their present position ; but there is ample employment 

,' \?£*orial H » tor y° f England,' yoI. i., book L, ch. vh\, p. 
1 35— .«« History of the Condition of the People." 

ror the Teflccting mind in contrasting their state now with 
what it was at so distant a period. The happiest posi- 
tion in which either a people or perhaps an individual 
can be placed is one surrounded by " superable difficul- 
ties :" energies are called into action which otherwise 
would have lain dormant, and their constant exercise con- 
stitutes in time a feature of the national character. 
Bishop Heber was told, in reference to the indolence of 
one of the native tribes of Ceylon, that it chiefly arose 
from their wants being supplied with scarcely any exer- 
tion. " Give a man," said the Bishop's informant, " a 
cocoa-tree, and he will do nothing for his livelihood : he 
sleeps under its shade, or perhaps builds a hut of its 
branches ; eats its nuts as they fall, drinks its juice, aud 
smokes his life away."* Had protection from the wea- 
ther or food and clothing been as easily obtained by our 
remote ancestors, it would have been in vain that we 
should have looked in the present day for those marks of 
improvement and those stupendous works of past gene- 
rations which now everywhere present themselves. 

The labours of each generation effect so much towards 
enabling their posterity to devote themselves to other im- 
provements. In a new country everything has to be 
done. Transplant a hundred families to a fertile territory 
which has never been trodden by the foot of man, and a 
considerable period must necessarily elapse before it 
could present those appearances which distinguish a 
country that has long been peopled. The first care would 
be to provide food. A rude shelter from the weather 
would be erected, hastily in the first instance, from ma- 
terials collected on the spot. Little regard would be paid 
to internal convenience, and less to external appearances. 
There would not be time to study these matters in the in- 
fancy of the settlement. When the crops had been gathered, 
and plenty began to abound, some improvements could 
be made. The necessity of labouring to provide against 
immediate and pressing wants would for a time be sus- 
pended, and, in the leisure arising from this cause, im- 
provement would be sure to originate. As. the offspring of 
the early settlers became distributed over a wider extent of 
country, it would become necessary to construct roads, 
which must be rendered capable of bearing the constant 
wear aud tear of increasing traffic. At every successive 
advance of the population new improvements would be re- 
quired, without which a check would perhaps be given to 
the general prosperity. Sometimes the well-being of the 
community is accelerated by some happy inventiou ; oftener 
it happens that " necessity is the mother of invention." 
Regular stages are observable in the progress of im- 
provement; and that invention which is adapted to a 
highly advanced state of society is not b.oueht to light 
at a time when its advantages could not be realized. 
Thus the pack-horse, travelling on paved causeways or 
over less artificial paths, was succeeded by good turn- 
pike-roads and the heavy stage-waggon ; afterwards came 
the more economical mode of transport by canals ; and 
now we have Che rapid transit of goods and passengers 
by costly and magnificent railways. The labour em- 
ployed in maintaining good roads could not have been 
afforded when there was no more internal traffic than 
sufficed for the employment of travelling pack-horses j 
but the improved state of the roads facilitated traffic, 
and occasioned it to increase, until canals were re- 
quired for the conveyance of the immense quantity of all 
kinds of commodities which it was necessary to transport 
from one part of -the country to another. Judging from 
the experience of the past, there seems to be no physical 
obstacle to the continued progress of society. 

Heber's ' Journal,' vol. iii., p. 146. 

•»• fite Office or the Society for the DifTuiion of Useful Knowledge it a£ 
59, Lincoln'* lun Fields. 

Printed by William Clows* and Soot, Btiunfcird Street. 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[January 19, 1839. 

No. VI. The Spanish Lady's Love.— -The Nut-brown Maid. 
" Listene these lays, for some there bethe 

Of love which stronger is than dethe ; 

And some of scorne, and some of guile. 

And old adventures that fell while." 

[The Spanish Lady and the British Captain.] 

Lovx — true love-Ms the subject of the ballad of the 
4 Spanish Lady,' and of * The Nut-brown Maid :' in 
each the natural order of wooing is reversed : the gentler 
sex seizes on the privileges of the sterner, and the heroine 
urges her suit with eloquence as well as ardour. They 
differ much, nevertheless, in their natures : the Spanish 
dame is chivalrous and high-souled ; the English Inaid, 
gentle, tender, and submissive : the former maintains, 
irith much grace and dignity, the modesty and pride of 
the female character ; the latter seeks her lover's heart 
by a humility allied to meanness, and a deference which 
implies deficiency of spirit. When told, at last, that the 
man she loves is the husband of another, the Spanish 
lady ceases to press her suit, but retires from the scene 
with a dignity at once becoming and decorous : not so 
the English maid ; when told that her lQyer admires other 
ladies, and that, at the most, she can but hope for the 
share of a heart ever inconstant and changeful, she becomes 
Vox* VIIL 

more earnest, more humble, and more impassioned ; re- 
solves to follow him wheresoever he goes ; nay, says she 
is willing to act as a menial to any lady he loves. There 
is a visible want of decorum in the conduct of the Nut- 
brown Maid : our heart is more with the Spanish Lady : 
the poet who wrote the former seems slightly acquainted 
with the delicacy of woman's nature; the humblest 
virgin in the land would have disdained to lower herself 
like this high-born person. 

A west of England tradition says that the ballad of 
* The Spanish Lady's Love ' had its origin in an adven- 
ture which one of the Popham family had in Spain in 
the time of Queen Elizabeth. In the storming of a city 
the lady became a captive : her picture and pearl neck- 
lace were long to be seen at Littlecot in Wilts, the seat of 
the Pophams. A Staffordshire legend makes the same 
claim in behalf of Sir Richard Levison of Trentham, a 
distinguished naval officer in the days of the Armada, 

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[January 19, 

find who was at the attack on Cadiz ; but this legend 
has neither portrait nor necklace to support it, and points 
in vain to his effigy in brass in the church of Wolver- 
hampton. The ballad, however, may tell its own story. 

" WiU you hear of a Spanish Lady, 
How she wooed an Englishman ? 
Garments gay, as rich an may be, 
Decked with jewels she had on. 
Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 
And of birth and parentage of high degree/ 1 

Though the minstrel refrains from sayine how this 
lady happened to become prisoner to the English knight, 
he fails not to inform us that she fell in love with him; 
and when public orders came for the release, without ran- 
som, of all the Spanish ladies on whom the chance of war 
had fallen, she alone was sorrowful, and desired to con- 
tinue in a bondage which, to her heart, was pleasing. 

" Gallant Captain, show some pity 
To a lady in distress ; 
Leave me not within this pity, 
for to die in heaviness. 
Thou ljast set this present day my body free, 
Bu| uVy heart in prison still remains with thee." 

" Lady," replied he, " how canst thou love a mail who 
is the foe of thy country ? r fhy {air words th r QW doubts 
on thy sincerity." " Oh ! no," she said, " \ am sincere : — 
" Blessed be t^e time and season, 

That you came on Spanish ground; 
If our foes you may be termed, 
Gentle foes we have you found. 
With our city you have won our hearts each one ; 
Then to your country bear away what is your own." 

" Refrain from tears, I pray you, fair one," said the 
Englishman, " and think no more of me ; you will find 
lovers, and store of them : Spain abounds m handsome 
cavaliers." Cl That is true," replied the lady \ " but the 
Spaniards are & fierce and jealous people ; while English- 
men are found to be kind by the whole world : so — 

'( Leave me not unto a Spaniard, 
You alone enjoy my heart ; 
J. am lovely, young, a*id tender, 
Love is likewise my desert. 
Still to serve thee day aud night my mind is prest, 
The wife of every Englishman is counted blest/ 

" I would not be permitted," replied the soldier, " to 
take a lady with me from Spain ; it is forbidden by the 
chiefs of our army : it would hring disgrace upon me : it 
may not be don6." " i it can be done, and that 
easily," replied the lady. " \ 6hall change my dress, 
and go with you in tfre disguise of a page." As she 
said this, she looked anxiously in his face: he was 
moved: he knew not well what to urge against her 
romantic proposal — he tried poverty. 

" I have neither gold nor silver, 
To maintain thee in this case ; 
And to travel is great charges, 
As you know in every place.* 9 
* My chains and jewels, every one shall be thy own, 
And the five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown." 

" Since neither the fears of poverty nor of land- 
travel can daunt thee," said the Englishman, " think of 
the dangers of the sea: you little know how rough the 
passage is. Should a storm arise, what would become 
of you?" "Well and truly may I say," was her 
answer, u that the sea has no terrors for one ready to 
lay down her life for love ;" and a gleam of hope 
lightened her face as she spoke. It would have spoiled 
a fine ballad, but it would have been more generous, had 
the knight given his real reason for refusal at the outset. 

a Courteous lady, leave this fancy, 

Here comes all that makes the strife ; 
I in England have already 
A sweet woman to my wife, 
1 will not falsify my vow for gold or gain, 
Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.* 9 

At this unlooked-for downfall of all her hopes the 
&r Spaniard neither tore her hair, nor screamed, nor 

drummed on the floor with her morocco slippers, nor 
raged, nor raved, nor swooned, nor shed a tear ; she 
conducted herself in a way as delicate as it was high-souled. 
" O ! how happy is that woman 
That enjoys so true a friend ! 
Many happy days God send her ; 
Of my suit I make an end. 
On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, 
Which did in love and true affection first commence." 

The Englishman was silent, but he could not well be 
unmoved at this : it is to be hoped he raised her from the 
ground while she continued to address him. 
" Commend me to thy lovely lady, 
Bear to her this chain of gold ; 
And these bracelets for a token, 
Grieving that I was so bold. 
All my jewels, in like sort, take thou with thee, 
For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me." 

As she said this she took the chain of gold from her 
neck, unclasped her bracelets, and, laying them at his 
feet, said, " I will give my body to a nunnery, and my 
future days to prayer \ and the burthen of my prayers 
will be for you and your beloved lady. 

" Thus farewell, most gallant captain, 
farewell too my hearths content; 
Count not Spanish ladies wanton, 
Though to thee my love was bent, 
Joy an $ prosperity go still with thee!" 
" The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." 

If the ballad of ' f he Nut-brown Maid * has a hap- 
pier conclusion than * The Spanish Jiady,' it offends 
our feelings more sensibly during the progress of the 
narrative. Prior says the poem is three hundred years old : 
it is that, at least, now : we know of no copy older than 
the one in Arnold's * Chronicle,' minted about the year 
1520. But if no antiquarian has hitherto settled its age, 
it is as certain that no family legend lays claim to * The 
Nut-brown Maid ;' no tradition has localized the ballad ; 
and no poet has been named as its author. The 
hero of the tale says he is son of the pari of Westmore- 
land, and we must take his word for it. 

The minstrel begins by saying that woman's incon- 
stancy is the common complaint of men who are unac- 
quainted with the nobleness of her nature and her 
warmth and fidelity of attachment : to show that she 
loves as strongly as she loves truly, he instances ' The 
Nut-brown Maid,' and opens the scene by a moonlight 
interview with her lover, who comes with a feigned tale 
of sorrow and disaster to prove her constancy. He states 
his case clearly. 

" It standeth so, a deed is do, 

Whereof great harm shall grow ; 
My destiny is for to die 

A shameful death, I trow. 
Or else to flee, the one must be, 

None other way I know ; 
But to withdraw, as an outlaw, 

And take me to my bow. 
Wherefore, adieu, my own heart true! 

None other rede I can ; 
For I must to the greenwood go, 
Alone, a banished man. 

" Ah !" replied the Nut-brown Maid, " what is 
human joy ? it is as changeable as yon moon ; no sooner 
light than it is dark. But let fortune change as she 
will, I shall not falter : we part not thus." " It is all 
in vain," said her lover, " I must go where woman will 
prove too tender a comrade." This does not alarm her. 

" Now sith that ye have shewed to me, 

The secret of your mind ; 
I shall be plain to you again, 

Like as ye shall me find. 
Sith it is so that ye will go, 

1 will not stay behind ; 
Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid 

Was to her love unkind. 
Make you ready, for so am I, 

Although it were anon ; 
For in my mind, of all mankind 

I love but you alone/' 

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1839 J 


" Take good heed," said he, " lest people should not 
call this love, hut wantonness. Rather than your purity 
should he suspected, I would go alone to the wild wood, 
and live as I best may." 

" Though it he sung by old and young 
That I should be to blame, 
Their'g be the charge that speak so large 

In hurting of my name. 
For I will prove that faithful love, 

It is devoid of shame j 
Inyour distress and heaviness 
To part with you the same. 
And sure all tho' that do not so, 

True lovers are they none ; 
For in my mind, of all mankind J 
I love but you alone." 

" Alas," said the lover, " you know not what you offer : 
banishment is a sad destiny : the savage woods have no 
painted ceilings, neither are holland sheets in their 
bowers. What is the comfort of wild fruits and cold 
water, to one accustomed to spiced meats and choice 
wine. Besides, you will have to bend a bow, learn to 
live under the greenwood tree, and be in continual terror 
of wild animals and wilder men." A faithful heart 
is pot easily daunted : she replies— 

u 'Mong the wild deer, such an archere 

As men say that ye be, 
We may not fail of good vitail * 

Where is so great plentie. 
And water clere of the rivere 

Shall be full sweet to me ; 
With which right hele I shall right wele 

Endure, as ye shall see. 
And ere we go, a bed or two 

I can provide anon ; 
For in my mind, of all mankind 

I love but you alone." 

"That is not all, nor yet the worst," answered he ; 
"you must cut these fine tresses close by your ears, your 
rich ktrtle close by the knee: you must bear my bow 
and carry my arrows, ay, and be ready at once to go to 
the greenwood with one for whose head much gold is 
offered." a I am ready," she said ; " but O ! my mother, 
I fear for you : what will you think of her whom you 
nursed so tenderly ! But day-light is at hand ; you will 
be discovered; so let us fly." "Nay, nay," thus he 
interposed; u you are, I fear, a light-o'-love; soon hot, 
soon cold : as ye have said to me, so would ye, I dread, 
offer to others." 

" If ye take heed, it is no need 
Such words to say to me, 
For oft ye prayed, and long assayed, 
Or I you loved perriie. 
And though that I of ancestry 
A Baron's daughter be, * 
Tet have you proved how I have loved 

A Squire of low degree. 
And ever shall what so befal, 

To die therefore anon; 
For in my mind, of all mankind 
I love but you alone." 

He replies with the greatest composure to these touch- 
ing words in which she asserts her love and faith. 

« A Baron's child to be beguil'd I 

It were a cursed deed 

To be fellawe with an outlaw ! 

Almighty God forbid f 
Tet better were the poore Squire 

Alone to forest yede, 
Than ye should say, another day, 

That by my cursed deed 
Ye were betrayed : wherefore, good maid, 

The best rede that I can 
It that I to the greenwood go 

Alone, a banished man." 

" For whatever befels me," replied the maid, " I shall 
not upbraid you ; but if you go and leave me behind, 
then truly may I look upon myself as forsaken and 
betrayed. If you are so unkind, I have nothing left 
to do but lie down and die on the spot where you leave 
me." The lover now changes his system of persuasion, 


and assigns reasons for her remaining at home, which 
would have been sufficient for any lady of our days. 
•• If that ye went, ye should repent, 
For in the forest now 
I have purveyed me of a maid, 
Whom I love more than you: 
One far more fair than ever ye were, 

I dare it well avow ; 
And of you both, each should be wroth 

With other, as I trow 5 
It were mine ease to live in peace. 

So will! if lean; 
Wherefore I to the wood will go 
Alone, a banished man." 

Now it is the opinion of all poets, save Prior and the 
writer of this ballad, that no lady who respected her own 
charapter, who had any sense of true delicacy, or in- 
herited that honest pride which, like a divinity, keeps 
women from folly, would have listened for a moment to 
an insult such as this. The Nut-brown Maid, instead of 
resenting his perfidy and turning from him with scorn 
and loathing, humbly offers to go halves with this lady 
of the greenwood, and be kind and courteous. 

" Though in the wood I understood 

Ye had a paramour, 
AU this may nought remove my thought 

But that I will be your: 
And she shall find me soft and kind, 

And courteous every hour, 
Glad to fulfil all that she will 

Command me to my power. 
For had ye lo ! an hundred mo 

Of them, I would make one ; 
For in my mind, of all mankind 

I love but you alone." 

The lover had now proved to the uttermost the faith 
and affection of the maid. His proud birth, which he had 
hitherto kept concealed, and his high and honourable in- 
tentions disguised *in his simulated tale of poverty and 
banishment, were now to be told ; and he tells them with 
a brevity uncommon to the rest of the composition. 
" Mine own dear love, I see thee prove 
Faithful, kind, and true j 
Of maid and wife, in all my life, 

The best that I ever knew. 
Be merry and glad, be no more sad, 

The case is changed newe ; 
For it were ruth, that for your truth 

Ye should have cause to rue. 
Be not dismayed, whatever I said 

To you when I began ; 
I will not to the greenwood go, 
I am no banished man." 

" Ah," exclaimed the maid, an unbeliever in her turn, 
" were I sure these words were true, I would be happier 
than a queen : but men have recourse to many wiles 
when they desire to break their promises and vows : if 
j that be so, then my situation is worse than it would have 
been with my love in the greenwood, and I am but the 
more wretched." He interrupted her : 

* Ye shall not need no more to dread, 

I will not disparage 
You, God defend, sith ye descend 

Of so great lineage. 
Now understand, to Westmoreland, 

Which is mine heritage, 
I will you bring, and with a ring, 

By way of marriage, 
I will you take and lady make 

As shortly as I can : 
Thus have you won an earl's son, 

And not a banished^ian." 

" Now," said the minstrel, as he concluded his strain, 
" have I not proved by example that women in love are 
meek, kind, and constant; let us therefore no longer 
accuse them of being variable, but love them and esteem 
them. And since we desire that women should be meek 
and obedient, let us remember our own duty, and obey 
God and keep his commandments." 



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[January 19, 


[From a Correspondent] 


It ought to be needless in a country like England to 
say anything of the importance of patterns. Beauty of 
form and colour mechanically impressed on the cheapest 
stuff may find its way into the home of a cottager, and 
the attraction of a well chosen pattern may obtain a pre* 
ference for goods in a foreign market, and lead to com- 
mercial results of the greatest consequence. There is 
now a School of Design at Somerset House, but we are 
still far behind the enterprise of the Prussian government 
and the instruction afforded by their " Gewerbe-Anstalt," 
or institute of arts and manufactures. 

It has often appeared to us that without going very 
deeply into the principles of the subject, our paper-stainers, 
carpet-makers, and other artificers might materially im- 
prove their patterns by attention to a few simple points. 
When a pleasing combination of colour is sought in a 
pattern of any kind, it is much more likely to be obtained 
by treating the colour as so many mere spots or portions 
of a geometrical figure, and by disposing them solely 
with reference to effect, than by beginning at the other 
end, and thinking it essential to imitate some definite ob- 
ject, such as a leaf or flower, which is often very ill 
adapted to the purpose, and after all is badly executed in 
detail. The general effect is thus marred, and no excel- 
lence of the part produced sufficient to compensate for 
its loss. The present fashion of worsted work as executed 
by ladies often displays still more perverted ingenuity 
and misapplied labour. Whole pictures, requiring for 
their proper effect, either of composition or colour, the 
most delicate half-tints and softened shadows, are executed 
in little inharmonious square patches with the most la- 
boured accuracy, and when finished are greatly inferior 
to a coloured print. The patterns best adapted to 
this kind of work are such as are given in Jigs. 1 
and 2. "I 

fy. 2. 

in which a skilful arrangement of geometrical figures 
almost makes the pattern. The more complicated of the 
two is copied from an antient marble pavement at Pom- 
peii, engraved in Sir William Gell's work, and, if properly 
filled up with colour, would be admirably adapted to 
worsted work. The second is much more simple, and is 
taken from a piece of work of the kind alluded to ; it is 
executed in dark purple and straw colour. The princi- 
pal of the patterns which we have advocated above is 
visible especially in Eastern work, such as Turkey and 
Persian carpets, and Cachemere shawls — thick, close pat- 
terns, strongly contrasted in colour, so small in the details 
that nothing but the general effect is apprehended by the 
eye, and that any portion of it, however minute, is, as 
to colour, complete in itself. Figure 3 represents 
a part of the border of a Persian rug, and contrasts ad- 
vantageously with many of our carpets, in which a long 
straggling sprig or branch meanders in curves of two or 
three feet span along the whole drawing-room. When a 
stuff of this kind is cut by furniture standing on it, or 
interrupted by folds, the small portions are equally ugly 

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effect. In vases, or any curved surface, which is some- 
times seen in profile, this error is totally destructive of all 
form, for the general outline of the vase is deformed by 
the projection of the object in relief. 

Fig. 3. 

and unintelligible, while to appreciate the general effect, 
if any is aimed at, it ought, from the size of the pattern, 
to be seen at a distance of 100 feet. 

All this may be further illustrated by a reference to 
stained glass. ~We hold that such productions as Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's window at New College are completely 
founded in error. A picture in glass is, after all, little 
better than a picture in worsted ; both possess hardly any 
merit, except in the difficulty to be overcome from the 
material employed. Stained glass, as applied to build- 
ings, is an accessory meant to enhance the effect of the 
architecture by relieving the uniformity of the walls, and 
bearing out the richness of the architectural sculpture by 
a corresponding brilliancy of colour. This object Beems 
always best attained when the windows consist of a mere 
set of geometrical designs, like those produced by a ka- 
leidoscope, or, at any rate, of such figures as, being com- 
posed of small and bright pieces of positive colour without 
any attempt at shading, lose their resemblance to any 
specific object, and assume, at a little distance, the ap- 
pearance of a mere pattern. 

The antients indeed, with their peculiar sense of beauty, 
by a modified imitation of the details of natural objects, 
produced arabesques and mouldings at once beautiful in 
themselves and perfect in their general effect, as in the 
examples riven beneath. 

Figt . 4 and 5. 

When both ends can be attained, the work is of course 
of the highest excellence. All we maintain is, that in 
many modern articles of dress and decoration the most 
important object is lost sight o£ while even that which is 
of less consequence can, from the very nature of the ma- 
terial, be but imperfectly secured. 

Another branch of manufacture in which great want of 
taste is visible, and in which the principle of decoration 
often seems entirely misunderstood, is plate. Some per- 
sons conceive that richness, produced by an exaggerated 
relief of surface, is all that is needed, and that excellence 
of ornament is to be found in the vicious style of Louis 
XV., where the accessories entirely overpower the general 

Fig. 6. 

The opposite error to this is to imagine that fine Greek 
forms, which are beautiful in the dead surface of pottery 
or bronze, will be equally effective in silver ; forgetting 
that every catching light and reflected object cuts to 
pieces and annihilates the breadth which is necessary to 
characterize the form. The object may indeed be frosted, 
but then it is deprived of that brilliant metallic surface 
which constitutes the peculiar spendour of plate. There 
is only one mode of preserving the form and metallic 
surface, and at the same time giving the requisite rich- 
ness ; and that is by either chasing in very low relief, or 
engraving on the surface of plate a small thickly-set 
rich pattern, which shall, as it were, present to the light 
a number of metallic points of equal relief, and suffi- 
ciently numerous when seen together to give the requisite 
breadth, while the inequality of the surface prevents the 
action of the cutting lights and reflections which would 
destroy the form. Perhaps some of the Moorish patterns, 
such as are used in the stucco of the Alhambra, would 
answer the purpose better than any other. 


Those who are not directly concerned with the manage- 
ment and employment of horses are, generally speaking, 
but littleaware of the large share of attention which has 
been bestowed upon that apparently insignificant article, 
a horse-shoe :-— -yet its importance to the noble animal 
to whose foot it is attached, and therefore to the owner of 
the animal, is by no means inconsiderable. Nature has 
given to the foot of the horse a certain degree of expan- 
sive or spreading power, which lessens the shock received 
by placing the foot suddenly to the ground. But the 
material of the hoof is such, that friction will gradually 
wear it away ; and the difficulty arises, how to protect the 
hoof from the wear without destroying or rendering nu- 
gatory the elasticity of the hoof. A modern writer ob- 
serves, " While the horse-shoe affords to the foot of the 
horse that defence which seems now to be necessary 
against the destructive effects of our artificial and flinty 
roads, it has entailed on the animal some evils ; it has 
limited or destroyed the beautiful expansibility of the 
lower part of the foot; it has led to contraction, al- 
though that contraction has not always been accompanied 
by lameness. In the most careful fixing of the best shoe, 
and in the careless manufacture and setting on of the bad 
one, much injury has often been done to the horse." (The 
Horse, * Library of Useful Knowledge.') 

In order to understand the necessity for a shoe to the 
foot of a horse, it will be desirable to say a few words 
respecting the formation of the hoof. This consists of a 
hard crust or rim which nearly surrounds the lower part 

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January 19, 

of the foot, and which is formed entirely of horny fibres 
without the smallest degree of sensation: this casing, 
called the crusty is attached to the coffin-bone, the lowest 
hone in the leg of a horse, and upon it the horse is sup- 
ported. Within the cavity of the hoof is a wedge-shaped 
substance called the frog, which was formerly supposed to 
he merely a sheath to protect the internal and softer parts 
of the foot from injury : consequently farriers were accus- 
tomed to make the horse-shoe so thick as to keep the frog 
from touching the ground. But recent observations, 
and particularly those of Mr. Colman, of the Veterinary 
College, have led to the opinion that the frog is designed 
to assist the horse in his movements, by pressing on the 
ground, and, through the means of its elasticity, remov- 
ing part of the pressure from the hoof; hence it follows, 
that if this be a correct view of the object of the frog, it 
ought to be allowed (when the animal is shoed) to rest 
upon the ground. Nothing can be more really and truly 
scientific than such an inquiry as this, since the purpose 
for which nature formed any part of an organized being 
is precisely that to which it can be best applied. 

There is historical testimony that, before the use of 
metal horse-shoes, the hoofs of the poor animals became 
worn away during fatiguing journeys, and much suffer- 
ing was occasioned. When Mithridates was besieging 
Cyzicus, he was obliged to dispense with the use of liis 
cavalry, because the hoofs of the horses were entirely 
spoiled and worn out. Diodorus Siculus also, in de- 
scribing the progress of the army of Alexander the Great, 
states, that on one occasion the hoofs of the horses had 
become, by uninterrupted travelling, totally broken and 
destroyed. Other passages have been collected by Beck- 
mann, which prove that no shoes — such as we now have 
them — were used for the horses by the antients, and that 
the want of them occasioned the wearing away of the 
hoof, and the consequent laming of the animal. 

The value of a horse to man is too sensibly felt to 
allow such a ruinous destruction of the hoof to pass alto- 
gether unnoticed or unremedied. Accordingly, various 
modes of protecting the hoof have been devised, prior to 
the use of metallic shoes. At some periods the hoofs of 
camels and horses were protected by shoes or coverings 
made of strong ox-leather, aud similar to the shoes worn 
by the people themselves. Oxen and mules, when their 
hoofs became injured by wear, were sometimes provided 
with shoes made of strips of a particular plant of the 
hemp kind, woven or plaited together. It is stated by 
Xenophon, that the horses employed in some of the snow- 
clad districts of Asia had a kind of sock drawn over the 
foot as a protection. A plan similar to this is, in our 
own day, resorted to by the Russians at Kamtschatka, 
for the preservation of the feet of the dogs which draw 
their sledges over the ice, or which catch seals on the ice. 
A kind of shoe is bound round the foot, and is so con- 
trived that the claws may project through small holes. 
These contrivances are, perhaps, intended as much to 
protect the foot from cold as for any other purpose. 

In many parts of the world horses are still used with- 
out metallic shoes to their hoofs ; various contrivances 
being employed in lieu of them. Kaempfer, in his ' His- 
tory of Japan' (and we have no doubt that the descrip- 
tion will apply equally at the present time), says, " The 
horses' shoes are made of straw, and are fastened with 
ropes of the same to the feet of the horse, instead of iron- 
shoes, such as ours in Europe, which are not used in this 
country. As the roads are slippery and full of stones, 
these shoes are soon worn out, so that it is often necessary 
to change them. For this purpose those who have the care 
of the horses always carry with them a sufficient quantity. 
They may however be found in all the villages, and poor 
children who beg on the road even offer them for sale ; so 
that it may be said there are more farriers in this country 
than in any other ; though, to speak properly, there are 
none at alL" 

At what period horse-shoes (such as we now have 
them) were introduced is by no means easily determined ; 
but Beckmann, who has examined the subject industri- 
ously, mentions the ninth century as the earliest on which 
he can depend. It is stated, indeed, that the emperor 
Nero, when he undertook short journeys, was drawn by 
mules which had silver-shoes ; while those of his wife, 
Poppaea, had shoes of gold. But these shoes seem to 
have been a kind of plait of gold and silver strips, cover- 
ing the hoofs, and not a metallic shoe beneath it. Horses* 
shoes are mentioned by some early historians, who, in 
enumerating the men travelling with the armies in their 
campaigns, make no mention of farriers ; but say that 
each rider, when necessary, put shoes on his own horse. 
Had shoes fastened with nails been in use in those times, 
this mode of fixing them on, and the absence of farriers, 
could hardly be looked for. 

It is related that when Boniface, marquis of Tuscany, 
one of the richest princes of the time, went to meet Bea- 
trix, his affianced bride, about the year 1038, his whole 
train were so magnificently decorated that his horses 
were shod with silver. The nails even were of the 
same material, and when any of them dropped out they 
became the property of the finder. This appears to us ex- 
travagant enough; but it is said that in much more 
modern times an English ambassador to the court of 
Paris had silver shoes to his horse, and caused them to 
be so slightly fixed on, that they soon came off, and be- 
came the property of the wandering spectators : we may 
doubt, however, whether the horse would not be respected 
quite as much as the ambassador. 

The practice of shoeing horses appears to have "been 
brought to England about the time of William the Con- 
queror. It is said that Welbeck in Nottinghamshire be- 
longed to a Saxon chief named Gamelbere, who held it 
on condition of shoeing the king's palfrey whenever he 
should lie at the manor of Mansfield; and that if he 
should lame the palfrey, he should give the king another, 
worth four marks. William the Conqueror is also said 
to have given the town of Northampton, as a fief, to a cer- 
tain person, in consideration of his paying a stated sum 
yearly for the shoeing of his horses ; and it is believed that 
Henry de Ferrers, who came over with William, and 
whose descendants still bear on their arms six horse-shoes, 
received that surname because he Was entrusted with the 
inspection of the farriers. 

The shape of tne common horse-shoe is so well known, 
that the horse-shoe has given a name to the shape itself. 
It consists of a piece of iron bent round to the form of 
the hoof. The best British iron is (or ought to be) em- 
ployed for this pur Jpose ; and small pieces of steel are 
occasionally attached to a part which is more than usu- 
ally worn. The width and thickness vary according to 
the strength and age of the horse, the purpose in which 
he is employed, whether for draught, riding, &c, and 
the particular opinion*) of the person who has the direc- 
tion of the shoeing of the horse. These opinions are ex- 
tremely opposite : some think that the shoe should press 
flat on the ground, and be equally thick in every part ; 
some advocate a convexity of surface, and a variation of 
thickness in different ports ; while various minor details 
are also keenly contested 

The common form of horse-shoe is formed from a bar 
of iron about an inch and a quarter in width, and three 
quarters of an inch in thickness ; and is forged into its 
proper form by two men who assist each other. The 
shoe is fastened on by eight or nine nails, to receive 
which holes are made through the iron. A sunken groove 
is also forged, to admit the heads of the nails : these 
grooves have to be formed by the hammer. It has been 
proposed to give the bar of iron the necessary grooved 
surface by drawing it between two rollers whose surfaces 
have pins and ridges inserted, by which the groove and 
the nail-holes axe made. Another proposition has been 

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to cast than in plaster of Paris moulds, and afterwards 
anneal them. But we do not believe that either of these 
plans has been much adopted. 

Various forms of horse-shoes are required for different 
purposes. A horse, while at grass, will frequently have 
slight shoes to protect the front edge of the hoof, but to 
allow the sides liberty to expand in their natural way, 
and Mr. Coleman invented an expanding shoe, which is 
in considerable use, for horses employed either in draught 
or riding. Sometimes the shoe is carried quite round the 
hoof; at other times its outer edge is turned up so as to en- 
close or confine the edge of the hoof. For heavy draught- 
horses two points or projections stand out from the back of 
the shoe, and are turned downwards,; these assist the animal 
in obtaining a sure footing, when drawing a heavy load ; 
the weight of a shoe for one of the largest draught-horses 
sometimes amounts to seven pounds ; but for carriage 
and saddle horses the weight generally varies from twelve 
to twenty ounces. 

The opinion that the frog was intended as a protection 
to the inner part of the foot of a horse, and that it ought 
not, therefore, to touch the ground, led to the practice of 
making the heel of the shoe high, in order to protect the 
frog, but the construction is now generally such as to 
allow that part to touch the ground. Indeed it has been 
thought by some that the whole cavity of the hoof should 
be filled with some substance which would give au elastic 
bearing. * Mr. Dickenson proposed to fill up the whole 
vacant space with sponge, which he confined iu its place 
by a piece of leather. Mr. Rotch has proposed an In- 
dian-rubber casing for the hoof, with an iron plate be- 
neath it. This casing being brought to the requisite 
form when moist and pliant, remained so when dry. 
Sometimes a strip of leather is placed between the hoof 
and the shoe, to counteract in some degree the rigidity 
of a metallic shoe. Mr. Perceval, in order to get rid of 
the necessity of employing nails (which are driven through 
the shoe into the hoof, and which must necessarily break 
away the substance of the hoof more or less), devised a 
mode of fastening the shoe to the hoof by straps and sandals 
which passed over the hoof in various directions ; but 
it appears to us very doubtful whether such a mode of 
fastening would be adequate to the severe usage to which 
a horse's shoe is necessarily liable, and which is such 
that a shoe seldom lasts more than a month, sometimes 
only a few days. 

The mode of fitting the shoe to the hoof of a horse 
varies under different circumstances ; but it may be done, 
generally speaking, without giving pain to the noble ani- 
mal, unless the farrier be culpably negligent. 

There have been many minor improvements suggested, 
both in the form and in the mode of fixing on ; but the 
foregoing will give a general idea on the subject. 

After one of the long and victorious wars in which the 
emperor Trajan was engaged, and which are perpetuated 
by history and the various monuments which he erected 
to gratify the national vanity, wishing in the intervals 
of peace to give himself up to the pleasure of retirement, 
he selected Lake Aricinus (now the Lake of Nemi) as 
the scene of his retreat from the cares of government. 
This lake is at the distance of about fifteen miles from 
Rome, in the vicinity of the Appian Way, and is sur- 
i rounded with hills covered with trees and always verdant, 
\ the atmosphere is salubrious and temperate, the soil fertile, 
and the scenery most beautiful, boasting, among other at- 
tractions, of the grotto and fountain of Egeria, so cele- 
brated in the time of Numa Pompilius. The lake itself 
is very deep and the water clear as crystal. It was here 
Trajan caused to be constructed a ship or bark of an im- 
mense size, composed of the most durable and expensive 
\ timber, on which a palace, decorated and adorned in a 
j magnificent manner, was erected* The roof was sup- 

ported and ornamented with massive oeams of brass; 
the pavement was inlaid with stoues of the most varied 
and beautiful colours ; and the Egerian water was con- 
ducted by leaden pipes into the vessel, where it formed a 
refreshing fountain. The shores of the lake were laid 
out in gardens, planted with a diversity of trees and shrubs, 
and intersected with serpentine walks ; everything that 
the imagination could suggest was effected to improve 
end assist the natural beauties of the place. The bark 
was moored in the centre of the lake, and was built with 
the greatest strength and soUdity ; the planks were of ex- 
traordinary thickness, and fastened not only by nails, of 
which great quantities were used, but also by smaller 
planks inserted in grooves and secured in the most effectual 
manner : the outside was sheathed with plates of lead, of a 
double thickness where exposed to the action of the water, 
and between the planks and sheathing was placed a woollen 
cloth saturated with oil and pitch in order to preserve the 
timbers from the water, which would otherwise have 
caused their speedy decay. The whole structure was 
most magnificent and well fitted for the retirement of a 
prince. It was however in succeeding ages, and during 
the tyranny and misgovernment, the wars and troubles, 
the barbarian inroads, and the factious dissensions which 
ravaged Italy and the tributary states, and which caused 
the fall of the mighty Roman empire, neglected and suf- 
fered to fall into decay. Time and storms gradually 
reduced it to ruins, and it eventually sunk to the bottom 
of the lake, where it still remains imbedded and almost 

One or two attempts were however made, some cen- 
turies ago, to raise it from its obscurity, but, from the 
imperfect machinery resorted to for this purpose, they ended 
in failure. It was visited by an Italian named Alberti, in 
the fifteenth century, and in the succeeding century by 
Captain Francesco de' Marchi, a gentleman of Bologna, 
who descended with Guglielmo da Lorena in a kind of 
diving-bell invented by the latter. Marchi has given a 
description of this descent, together with a slight account 
of the instrument by which it was effected, in his valua- 
ble work on Military Architecture.* 

This machine he states to have been a round tub-like 
vessel made of oak, two fingers thick, five palms long, 
and three wide, open at one end, and the other securely 
fastened ; it was guarded with six hoops of iron, and at 
the open end or lower portion with one of lead, in order 
that it might sink easily ; the outside was pitched and 
greased with tallow to make it water-tight ; and it was 
provided with a thick piece of glass (set in so 
closely that the water could not possibly leak in), through 
which the person descending might see the objects in the 
water. This instrument appears to have been placed 
over the head of the diver, who was supported by 
iron bands attached to the interior, winch, clasp- 
ing the shoulders, held him firmly, but allowed the 
use of his arms. For greater security there was also 
attached a girth, which, descending down the back, 
passed between the legs, and was fastened in front by a 
buckle, which could be easily and speedily unclasped. 
In this manner the person rested astride on the band at- 
tached to the machine ; but as nothing passed below the 
middle of his arms, he was enabled to work under the 
water, though, as the writer adds, in a very ineffi- 
cient manner, owing to the want of sufficient light 
and the confined space. The means by which any 
one descending was able to breathe under the wa- 
ter so as to remain there a considerable time Mar- 
chi does not divulge, an oath prohibiting him from 
so doing having been administered to him by Guglielmo 
da Lorena before he would allow him to descend. He 
however declares that there was no breathing-tube or air- 
hole whatever communicating with the atmosphere above. 
To the top of the instrument were fastened three iron 
* Sea Marchi* ' Delia Architettura Militaie,' 

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[January 19, 1830. 

chains, terminating in a ring tied to a rope, which 
descended from a crane fixed to a floating raft made of 
casks, in which was an opening in the centre to draw up 
the machine upon a signal given by means of a cord, 
whenever the person inside wished to ascend. This ma- 
chine appears to have been of considerable weight, as one 
man was unable to carry it, though under the water it 
did not seem, says Marchi, to weigh more than forty 
pounds, by reason of the air enclosed in it. It was 
rather a dangerous as well as awkward machine, 
as, unless the person kept it very steady and per- 
fectly upright, it would upset, and the water imme- 
diately rushing in, the diver, if he was not a good 
swimmer, and not particularly expert in disengaging 
himself from such a clumsy affair, stood a tolerable 
chance of being drowned. 

Marchi, in his account of his descent, states that it was 
then (a.d. 1535) 1340 years or more since the bark was 
submersed, at the spot where it then remained sunk, at a 
great depth, by the eastern edge of the lake. On the 
15th of July, 1535, being a clear day with bright 
sunshine (which enabled them at the bottom of the lake 
to see sufficiently well to work with different tools, as 
hammers, chisels, &c, though from their being under 
water they could not be used with any great force), Gugli- 
elmo da Lorena and himself descended in turns, the 
former, who was the first to make the attempt, staying 
about an hour, at the expiration of which time the cold 
obliged him to ascend. On Marchi preparing to descend, 
Lorena advised him to stop his ears with cotton greased 
with musk and other odorous materials; but he did not 
do so, as he wished to try if, when under the water, he 
could hear when he was called ; he had descended not 
much more than half a dozen yards when they shouted 
out to him, but he heard nothing, although when 
they beat some stones with hammers a little way under 
the water the noise was so loud that, as he says, it hurt 
his ears. On striking the stones with greater force above 
the water, the sound was not distinguishable beneath. 

He gi ves, in such a grave manner as to be quite laughable, 
an account of the annoyance he experienced in his descent 
from a quantity of very small fish called " Latterini," appa- 
rently the same as those so well known amongst us as " Tit- 
tlebats," or " Sticklebacks." They were not bigger than 
his little finger, but they thronged about him in such 
great multitudes (attracted, he supposed, by the smell of 
some bread and cheese which he carried with him, very 
circumstantially informing us that he had four ounces of 
the former and one of the latter), that he was not only as- 
tonished, but became rather frightened. He had on de- 
scending stripped himself to his doublet, not wishing to 
be encumbered with the large trunk-hose worn at that 
time. The lower part of his body, being thus undefended, 
was exposed to the assaults of these u bloody-minded 
fishes, who began to prick him in every part," and though 
he drove them away frequently with his hands, they, 
nothing daunted, " being," as he says, " in their own 
proper element," returned as often to the attack ; he, 
however, seized the biggest and most audacious, and 
carried the sanguinary little monster to the surface, and 
" the bystanders declared that it would take not less than 
thirty of them to weigh a pound of twelve ounces." 

In his descent he suffered great pain in Lis ears, which 
seemed " as if a steel dagger was passed through 
his head from one to the other, the blood streaming from 
his mouth and nose;" upon using the tools he took down 
with him, the bleeding and pain increased so much that 
he was obliged to return to the surface. When he came 
out of the instrument he found his doublet stained 
with blood, but untouched by the water from the 
middle of his arm upwards ; his cap also, which was of 
crimson silk with a plume of white feathers, was quite 
dry ; this his friends, who had accompanied him, took 
from him as a memorial. There were present, besides 

G. da Lorena and two servants, Leonardo da Udine, a 
clever architect, and his son Tisiphonte. 

Having stuffed his ears with cotton, he descended again, 
and tying a rope to the vessel, drew up as much wood as 
would load two strong mules : the wood was of various 
sorts, viz. larch, pine, cypress, &c; among these he found 
Borne pegs of oak so black, from time and the action of 
the water, that they appeared like ebony. He also re- 
covered several iron nails much diminished in size by 
rust, and also brass nails which were quite perfect and so 
bright that they seemed to have been just made ; they 
were very long, large at one end and diminished gradu- 
ally to the other, " like the pipe of an organ." The 
vessel was covered on the outside with leaden-plates, 
doubled in some places, and fastened to the planking 
with brass nails with ornamental heads raised in the 
shape of a star; between the leaden plates and the planks 
he found a thick woollen -cloth saturated with a composi- 
tion which smelt strongly and was very inflammable, 
being the protective covering before described. The 
pavement withinside he describes to have been of a kind 
of brick of a beautiful crimson colour, on which were 
lying large pieces of red cement, and many pieces of 
leaden -pipe used for conducting the water from the 
fountain of Egeria to the vessel. He observed also several 
anchors, and chains with pincers or clasps, which he 
supposed to have been used by a former visitor in an 
attempt to raise the bark. He could not enter the inside 
of the vessel on account of the cumbersomeness of the 
diving-machine and the danger of falling, in which case 
there would be some risk of his being drowned, but he 
contrived by cords to measure the bark, which he found 
to be, in English measure, about 500 feet in length by 270 
in breadth and 60 in depth.* If we compare these di- 
mensions with those of a British " man-of-war," we shall 
have some idea of the immense size of this floating vessel, 
and of the importance of the building erected on it. The 
length of a " first rate" ship of 120 guns is about 205 feet 
(or two-fifths of that of Trajan's floating palace), and the 
breadth is 53 feet, being less than one-fifth the dimen- 
sions of the bark which has been the subject of the 
present paper. When we consider that this building, 
although in ruins, has yet remained untouched for 
ages, and must present us with at least the plan or 
ground-work of a palace designed fpr the retirement of 
a prince celebrated for his magnificent taste, we cannot 
but regret that no proper effort has been made to rescue 
the vessel from its present position, or at least to sur- 
vey the interior. There is no doubt that in the present 
improved state of mechanical science such an attempt 
would be attended with success, and the many valuable 
remains which would probably be brought to light would 
not only prove a valuable acquisition to antiquarian 
cabinets, but might enrich the architect, the sculptor, 
perhaps the historian, with desirable, although unex- 
pected, materials for the prosecution of their several 


Cheerfulness. — Cheerfulness, which is a quality peculiar 
to man— a brute being capable only of enjoyment — opens, 
like spring, all the blossoms of the inward man. Try for 
a single day, I beseech you, to preserve yourself in an easy 
and cheerful frame of mind ; be but for one day, instead of 
a fire- worshipper of passion and hell, the sun worshipper of 
clear self possession ; and compare the day in which you 
have rooted out the weed of dissatisfaction, with ih at on 
which you have suffered it to grow up, and you will find 
your heart open to every good "motive, your life strength— 
encd, and your breast armed with a panoply against every 
trick of fate ; truly you will wonder at your own improve- 
ment.— J. P. Richttr. 

* See Brotier's f Tacitus,' and Eustace's 'Italy.' 

Printed by William Clowm and Sow, SUratord Street, 

Digitized by 




Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[January 26, 1839 


[Bay of Qlengariff^— From an original drawing.] 

Glengariff ( w the rough glen'*) is a very romantic spot 
on the southern coast oflreland. From Bantry it is about 
nine miles in a straight line across the. bay, and by land, 
from the same town, about eleven miles. Most travellers 
who have been attracted to the Lakes of Killarney by 
their natural beauties, and the legendary tales connected 
with them, have wandered thence to the scarcely less 
famed and perhaps more beautiful scenes around 
Glengariff. The entrance to the little Bay of Glen- 
gariff is protected by a small island, on which has 
been erected a martello tower, crowning the prospect 
with one of the most picturesque objects in landscape- 
scenery. The bay is surrounded by hills clad in the 
richest verdure, here bending by a gradual declination 
towards the sea, and there rising from the waters with 
the most high and majestic appearance. The brightest 
hues of nature are reflected in the still bosom of the deep 
— the yew, the holly, and the arbutus giving a peculiarly 
graceful appearance to the nearer hills; the various- 
coloured heaths brighten up the middle distance ; and 
in the extreme verge of the prospect the huge forms of 
the higher mountains, but faintly seen, appear like 
spirits rising into the clouds. All tourists spuak in 
raptures of Glengariff and the surrounding scenery, the 
Vol. VIII. " 

natural beauties of which have been much improved by 
the taste and enterprise of Lord Bantry and his brother 
Colonel White, who possess large estates in the neigh- 
bourhood. Both are Protestants, but their Catholic 
neighbours do not on this account suffer themselves to 
neglect testifying that respect which their conduct inspires ; 
yet in one of the "White-boy" conspiracies these gentle- 
men had a narrow escape with their lives. They were 
attacked in a long deep glen, by a party of Irish, who, 
having rolled down a vast mass of rock exactly across 
the road they were passing, assailed them from the 
heights above. Their horses, however, climbed a steep 
projecting rock, and then flying with their best speed, 
soon carried them from all danger. The climate of this 
part of Ireland is extremely mild and healthy, the most 
tender plants surviving throughout the winter, even in 
the open air. Like most beautiful or romantic parts of 
Ireland, Glengariff boasts its fairy legend. In one part 
of the small but delightful Bay of Glengariff, the sea 
being protected from the wind by a projecting point of 
land, there is a constant calm ; and other peculiarities of 
this spot have rendered it the object of one of the fairy 
superstitions of the south of Ireland. It is called the 
Bog of Glengariff Bay. The lively author of • Sketches 


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[Jakuary 26, 

in Ireland ' has described this, and we cannot injure 
his recital by any condensation. The author is enjoying 
an excursion in the bay, when, the boatman draws his 
attention to the bog ; — " ' And what is the bog ? * 
' Oh ! that part of the bay which stretches in a straight 
line across from yonder point — that's the bog ; an un- 
lucky place. If a vessel is becalmed in any part of 
the bay, it is sure to be there ; her anchor drags, if 
she anchors there ; there is no take of fish in it ; nets are 
torn, boats upset, men drowned ; — it is an unlucky place.' 
'And what's the matter with it? Why should the shore 
be unlucky, of that lovely point, wooded almost to the 
water's edge?' 'Why that's what ails it — it is the 
fairies' pass. The king of the fairies makes this part of 
the bay his high-road, when, tired of hunting and dancing 
through the hills of Muskerry and Joclearagh, he chooses 
to change his quarters and go into Bear ; and often, just 
at Hollontide, when the herrings are shoaling into the 
bay, this little queer king, with a leather hunting-cap on 
his head, comes to yonder point, and crying " Tally-ho !" 
he and thousands upon thousands of tiny green men, 
riding upon little grey horses, are observed dashing across 
the water, as if it was firm land, and up they go in the 
light of the moon-beams to Slieve Goul (Sugar-loaf 
mountain), in a wild, riotous, rushing rout. Bad luck 
to the poor fisher that is out on the water that night ! 
it's little chance he has for one week after. If the 
whole bay was swarming with herrings, he knows he 
has no business to go looking after them.' 

" One night, in this way, Florence O'Dpnohoe was a 
fishing, and it's not many years ago — October never gave 
a brighter or more promising hour for a take of fish ; — 
the herrings cast up a shining from the deep, as if they 
desired to out-dazzle the moon-beams. All was still and 
quiet, except here and there you could hear betimes the 
plunging of a porpoise. It was Florence's first night to 
be out, and he had just taken a fine cod, and as it was 
the first-fruits of his fishing, with all due solemnity he 
spit into its mouth for luck — taking also care to make a 
sign of the cross on the hook, for grace, before he cast it 
out again. Thus all was well and promising, when of a 
Budden he heard the shrill ' Tally-ho ! ' that sounded as 
clear as if it came through a silver pipe \ and looking up, 
he saw a troop of little green men, mounted on cattle not 
bigger than cats,waving their hunting-caps over their heads, 
and dashing from the point across the water, cantering 
away over the sea as if it had been a curragh or a hill-side. 

" Florence drew in all his hooks, he pulled up all his 
nets, and putting back to land, he went home sorrowful 
enough to his cabin. And what was worse than all, lie 
dare noj give liis soul {he satisfaction of casting one 
hearty curse after the green king of the good people, as 
he rode ju his riot up the side of Slieve Goul. There- 
fore let no one venture, while the fishermen are out in 
Glengariff Bay, to cry « Tally-ho !' for the moment that 
dangerous word is uttered, every man puts about, and 
gives up fishing." * 


" Of what use can sulphur possibly be, except to make 
matches ? " is not an uncommon question. It will hi 
readily admitted, however, that sulphur has numberless 
other uses, when we state, that although an enormous 
quantity of the article is produced in our mining districts 
for home consumption, yet so great is the demand for it, 
that between sixteen and seventeen thousand tous are 
annually imported from Sicily. 

Before we point out the uses of sulphur, let us inquire 
into the modes of obtaining it, and into its general nature 
and properties. 

Sulphur is an abundant article in the neighbourhood 
* « Sketches in Ireland/ by the Rev. Cspsar Otway, p. 371. 

of volcanoes. It is widely diffused throughout the mineral 
kingdom, but is more abundant in some places than in 
others. In Iceland it is found in combination with gyp- 
sum ; at Conil, near Cape Trafalgar, it occurs in a crys- 
talline form ; at Urbino in Italy, at Aragon in Spain, 
and at Lauenstein in Hanover, large quantities are found. 
Beds of sulphur are very numerous in the tertiary blue 
clay of Sicily, a country which has supplied the greater 
part of Europe with sulphur for centuries, without any 
sensible diminution of its own stock. 

The principal scene of the mining operations in Sicily 
is near Catolica. The sulphur appears in veins of various 
colours, mixed with clay and gypsum. The general 
appearance is that of a shining grey colour, but large 
pieces are found which are red and transparent, and are 
called by the workmen virgin sulphur. Large black 
patches also appear, consisting of a chemical combination 
of clay and sulphur: these patches contaiu beautiful 
crystals of sulphate of lime of various colours — yellow, 
violet, grey, and black. 

The preparation of sulphur in Sicily, for exportation, 
is a very simple affair. Large cauldrons are formed in 
an elevated mound of earth, each cauldron being about 
seven feet in diameter and five feet deep. Large masses 
of the sulphur-stone are piled up round the edge of each 
cauldron, and gradually inclined so as to meet in a point 
at the centre ; thus forming a sort of conical mound or 
cover over eacii cauldron. The spaces between the large 
masses are filled up with smaller lumps, and these again 
with dust of the same material. A quantity of straw is 
then spread over the mound and ignited ; the straw 
burns, and the fire soon extends to the interior ; so that 
the sulphur, as it melts, flows down into the cauldron. 
After this process has continued for about eight hours, 
the melted sulphur is drawn out at an aperture in the 
lower part of the cauldron, and received into wooden 
moulds which have been previously wetted to prevent the 
sulphur from adhering to them. In about a quarter of 
an hour the sulphur becomes solid, and is then fit for 
exportation. In this state it is called block sulphur, and 
sometimes massive or native sulphur. 

Vast quantities of sulphur are procured in the mining 
districts of Cornwall, under the name of roll sulphur, 
from the cylindrical shape in which it is cast. Most 
metals, in, the state in which they are dug from the earth, 
contain sulphur. The iron and copper pyrites, which so 
greatly enrich England, are compounds of those metals 
and sulphur. In the smelting of copper-ore, the sulphur 
is separated from the metal, melted in earthen pots, and 
cast into wooden cylindrical moulds which give it the 
form of rolls. 

Another form in which sulphur is obtained is that of 
a powder, called flowers of sulphur. The sulphur is 
melted in a vessel called an alembic. At a temperature 
of about 600° the sulphur rises in the form of vapour, 
which being collected in the upper part of the alembic, 
cools down into the form of flowers of sulphur. This 
process is called sublimation. Products obtained in this 
way were supposed by the alchemists to resemble the 
flowers of plants; hence the name: but the peculiar 
resemblance which they saw, or fancied they saw, is not 
very clear.* 

Sulphur is an elementary body; that is, the chemist 
has never been able to resolve it into simpler parts. We 
need scarcely refer to its pale yellow colour, as it is so 
well known. Its weight is about twice that of an equal 
bulk of water. When rubbed with a piece of warm 
flannel, it becomes negatively electrified. One curious 
consequence of this property is frequently noticed by the 
druggist : in grinding a piece of roll sulphur in a dry 

* It has been suggested that the term flowers of sulphur should 
be flour of sulphur, in consequence of its resemblance to ground 
corn, and that the term originated thus. Such, however, does nit 
appear to be the case. 

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± 839.] 


Wedgwood mortar, the resulting powder adheres with 
considerable force to the mortar, arid will not fall out 
when the mortar is inverted : the reason is, the sulphur 
becomes negatively electrified by friction, and the mortar 
positively electrified; and according to a well-known 
law of electricity, two bodies in opposite electrical states 
attract each other. Hence the adhesion of the sulphur 
to the mortar. 

Sulphur is insoluble in water and in alcohol ; but hot 
oil and some of the alkalis will effect its solution, tt is 
very brittle. If a roll of sulphur be grasped by a warm 
hand, it will often break to pieces in consequence of its 
unequal expansion by heat. When exposed to a heat a 
little above that of boiling water, it melts ; at 230° it is 
almost ^as liquid as water; by raising the temperature up 
to 600°, its colour changes from a light to a deep yellow, 
then to orange yellow, then a shade of red comes over it, 
then brown, and at its boiling" point its colour is brownish 
red ; but the most remarkable circumstance is, that in- 
crease of temperature, so far from rendering sulphur 
more fluid, as is the case with most other bodies, actually 
thickens it, and produces a thick viscid mass : thus at 
230° sulphur is quite liquid, and can be poiired out of 
the vessel containing it ; at 338° it begins to be viscid ; 
at 428° it becomes quite thick ) .and from 464° to 500° 
the vessel containing it may be turned upside down, and 
the sulphur will not flow out ; as it approaches the boiling 
point, it becomes less viscid. These remarkable facts 
have not been explained. When sulphur is pure, it boils 
away at about 600°, and leaves no residue. 

If a quantity of sulphur be melted in a pipkin, and 
then set aside to cool, the surface will soon become solid. 
If we make two holes in the crust, near the edge, but 
oppo-ite to each other, and incline the vessel, the melted 
sulphur will flow out into any other vessel placed to 
receive it, and air will enter at the other hole. On allow- 
ing the pipkin to cool gradually for a few hours, we shall 
find, on breaking open the mass, that the interior crust i$ 
composed of an immense series of small and beautiful 
crystals. By operating in this way with 50 or 60 lbs. of 
sulphur, M. Mitscherlich obtained crystals of sulphur 
half an inch in thickness ; but, in general, one or two 
lbs. of sulphur will be quite sufficient to make this 
experiment in a familiar way. 

Flowers of sulphur, being its purest form, is largely 
employed in medicine. It is often mixed with sugar, 
and formed into lozenges, or it is mixed with manna, 
cassia, &c, or combined with potash or lime. In all 
these and in many other forms it is taken internally. For 
external applications it is formed into ointments. When 
combined in a certain proportion with mercury, it forms 
a black, tasteless compound, known to the alchemists 
under the term Ethiop's ndncral — a term sometimes 
still retained in pharmacy. Combined with mercury in 
another proportion, it forms the valuable pigment ver- 
milion, or cinnabar. Flowers of sulphur is also used in 
enormous quantities in the manufacture of gunpowder 
and fireworks. 

Perhaps almost the only use for roil sulphur is mr 
tipping matches, and here the consumption 13 by no 
means trifling. It has been calculated that the London 
match-makers employ between three and four tons of roll- 
sulphur annually. Although many of the instantaneous- 
light matches do not exhibit ttie colour of sulphur, yet 
that substance formstfce basis of most of them. 

When a match is ignited, a suffocating odour is pro- 
duced : this results from a compound of sulphur with 
the oxygen of the atmosphere : it is called sulphurous 
acid, and possesses certain bleaching properties which 
make it valuable in the bleaching of wool, straw bonnets, 
and some kinds of silk. Pliny informs us that the 
ancients employed burning sulphur for whitening wool. 
If a red rose be held in the fumes ef a burning match, 
it will be bleached ; but the red colour will be restored 


by plunging the rose into cold water. Roll-sulphur is 
very impure, and cannot be used in bleaching, since it 
would stain as well as bleach the goods. Block-sulphur 
is generally used for this purpose. 

By burning block-sulphur in a peculiar manner, sul- 
phuric acid results, of which many thousand tons are 
produced annually in this country for supplying the 
wants of a large number of trades. 

Sulphur is also employed in forming beautiful medal- 
lions or casts from medals, &c. Moulds for the general 
purpose of casting are also sometimes made of sulphur, 
m the same manner as the plaster-moulds described in 
' The Pennv Magazine,' No. 419. 

Rich and Poor.— Besides those who work for their living 
some at a higher rate and some at a lower, there are others 
who do not live by their labour at all, but are rich enough 
to subsist on what they, or their fathers, have laid up There 
are many of these rich men, indeed, who do hold laborious 
ofhees ; as Magistrates, and Members of Parliament But 
this is at their own choice, They do not labour for their 
subsistence, but live on their property. There can be but 
lew such oersons, compared with those who are obliged to 
work for -their living. But though there can be no country 
where all, or the greater part, are rich enough to live with- 
out labour, there are several countries where all are poor • 
and in those countries where all are forced to live by their 
labour, the people are much worse off than most of the la- 
bourers are in this country. In savage nations, almosfeverv 
one is half-starved at times, and generally half-naked. iBut 
in any country in which property is secure, and the people 
industrious, the wealth of that country will increase • and 
those who are the most industrious and frugal will gain 
more than such as are idle and extravagant, and will lav by 
something for their children, who will thus be born to a 
good property. Young people who make Rood use of their 
time, and who are quick at learning, and grow up indus- 
trious and steady, may, perhaps, be able to earn more than 
enough for their support; and so have the satisfaction of 
leaving some property to their children. And if these, 
again, should, instead of spending this property, increase it 
by honest diligence, prudence, and frugality, they may in 
time, raise themselves to wealth. Several of the richest 
families in the country have risen in this manner from a 
low station. It is, of course, not to be expected that many 
poor men should become rich ; nor ought any man to set 
bis heart on being so : but it is an allowable and a cheering 
thought, that no one is shut out from the hope of bettering 
his condition and providing for his children. And would 
you not think it hard that a man should not be allowed to 
lay by his savings for his children? But this is the case in 
some countries ; where property is so ill-secured, that a man 
is liable to have all his savings forced from him, or seized 
upon at his death : and there all the people are miserably 
poor; because no one thinks it worth his while to attempt 
paving anything. There are some countries which were 
formerly very productive and populous, but which now, 
under the tyrannical government of the Turks, or other 
such people, have become almost deserts. In former times 
Barbary produced silk; but now most of the mulberry-trees 
(on whose leaves the silk-worms are fed) are decayed ; and 
ho one thinks of planting fresh trees, because he has no se- 
curity that he shall be allowed to enjoy the produce.— Les- 
sons in Money Matters. 

Muleteer of Spain.— The muleteer is the general medium 
of traffic, and the legitimate traverser of the land, crossing 
the Peninsula from the Pyrenees and the Asturias to the 
Alpuxarras, the Serrania de Ronda, and even to the gates 
of Gibraltar. He lives frugally and hardily: his alforjas 
of coarse cloth hold his scanty stock of provisions ; a leathern 
Uottle, hanging at his saddle-bow, contains wine or water, 
for a supply across barren mountains and thirsty plains. A 
mule-cloth spread upon the ground is his bed at night, and 
his packsaddle is his pillow. His low but clean-limbed and 
sinewy form betokens strength • his complexion is dark 
and sunburnt; his eye resolute, but quiet in its expression, 
except when kindled by sudden emotion ; his demeanour is 
frank, manly, and courteous, and he never passes you With 
out a grave salutation— a Dios guarde a usted \ n " Va usted 
con Dios, Caballero!" " God guard you! God be with you 
Cavalier V— Washington Irving. 

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[January 26, 

the third or fourth century. A few of the earliest of 
these we may here slightly notice. There is one in the 
library of the Vatican : it is part of a Virgil, profusely 
acUrned with cotemporary miniatures, which have been 
stated to have been executed previous to the time of Con- 
stantine the Great ; indeed Mr. Ottley, whose judgment in 
all matters connected with art few would be inclined to 
dispute, referred them to a period not much later than 
that in which Virgil himself flourished : at any rate it 

appears extremely probable, from what that writer has 
advanced (see c Arcnaeologia,' vol. xxvi.), that this MS. 
was produced within a century after the death of that 
poet. In the Lansdowne Collection in ' the British 
Museum {No. 834), a fac-simile copy of a portion of 
this MS., with the drawings by Bartoli, is preserved ; 
and if we may rely upon the accuracy of these copies, it 
is impossible not to be struck with the great beauty of 
many of the compositions, which are not inferior in many 

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respects to gome of the celebrated productions of the 
* Italians of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. 

The Vatican also possesses an early MS. of Terence, 
which, besides being adorned with representations of the 
different scenes represented in the plays, has at the com- 
mencement a portrait of the author. Though some dif- 
ference exists among antiquarians as to the date of this 
MS., we believe we shall not be far from the truth when, 
adopting the late Mr. Ottley's opinion, we ascribe it to a 
period antecedent to the time of Constantine. 

Lambecius, in his ' Commentary on the Imperial Li- 
brary at Vienna,' has described a MS. Roman calendar 
decorated with pictures, to which he assigns the date of 
354, in the time of Constantine, the son of Constantine 
the Great. This he mentions as one of the most beau- 
tiful and extraordinary books in the Vienna Collection. 

In our own country we can show a curious illustrated 
MS. of a date nearly as early a3 those of the Vatican 
Library. This has been described by Ottley in the 
* Archiologia,' and he adduces various circumstances to 
prove it to have been written in the second or third 
century. It is a copy of Cicero's Translation of the 
Astronomical Poem of Aratus, with figures of the con- 
stellations, many of which are drawn in colours. 

These specimens of pictorial talent partake of the 
classical character of the writings they were designed to 
illustrate. The action of the figures is appropriate to 
the passions they are supposed to represent, the colouring 
is natural, and the draperies are disposed with much of 
the grace observed in the productions of the Grecian 
sculptors . But as literature declined, the art of illustrating 
MSS. appears to have declined also, or rather to have 
reflected the Gothic character which the writings of the 
dark ages exhibit. It was not until the thirteenth century, 
or the commencement of the fourteenth, that the art 
revived from the depression it had undergone in common 
with most other elegant arts ; although in the interval 
the pencil had been frequently engaged in the task of illus- 
trating and ornamenting the labours of the caligraphist. 

Although, for design, the specimens of pictorial art in 
the period from the fifth to the twelfth century are 
incomparably inferior to the productions of a previous 
age, they are extremely rich in colour and intricacy of 
ornamental work. They are interesting also as exhi- 
biting the costume, the architecture, the sports, the various 
civil and religious ceremonies, the portraits of many emi- 
nent individuals, and the manners and customs of the 
people in the different periods at winch the various draw- 
ings were executed. For these reasons they are extremely 
interesting to all who value the antiquities of the dark 
ages; and latterly they have been frequently referred 
to for the purpose of illustrating obscure archaeological 

As the subject of illuminations to manuscripts is one 
with which the generality of our readers are perhaps but 
partially acquainted, it is our intention to devote a few 
pages of our Magazine to a brief statement of the pro- 
gress of the art, from the period of its first introduction, 
of which we have spoken above, to its decline, in conse- 
quence of the introduction of wood-cuts, engravings, and 
printing, in the fifteenth century. We know not from 
what the term " illuminations," as applied to the capital 
letters and miniatures employed in the illustration of 
MSS., originated, but it was introduced by antiquarians 
of the last century, and is now generally employed by 
all persons in speaking of the subject. 

We have already stated that the Greeks and Romans 
of the first and second centuries excelled in the taste and 
classic character which they imparted to their drawings 
for MSS., and it was to these artists that the illuminators 
of other countries looked for instruction. In Ireland, 
however, an independent school for the illumination of 
manuscripts appears to have existed in the sixth century, 
and it is probably to the instruction there received that 

we owe the excellence which the illuminations of Anglo- 
Saxon MSS. of the two or three following centuries dis- 
play. A most splendid specimen of the state of this art 
at the commencement of the eighth century has escaped 
the ravages of time, and accidents by land and sea, and 
is now preserved in the British Museum : this is the 
celebrated copy of the Gospel?, in Latin, with a Saxon 
interlinear translation, known as the ' Durham Book,' or 
c St. Cuthbert's Gospels,' which was written and illumi- 
nated by Eadfrith, bishop of Lindisfarne, who was ap- 
pointed to that see in 698, and who died in 721. There 
is a figure of one of the Evangelists at the commence- 
ment of each of the four books, drawn with much care, 
though in a style strongly partaking of that of the Roman 
school in its decline. Besides an elaborately executed cross 
composed of a variety of patterns interlaced and knotted 
together in a most puzzling but determinate manner, 
there Is also at the beginning of each Gospel a large 
initial letter, a copy of one of which we have prefixed to 
the commencement of the present notice. Sir F. Madden, 
iu the Introduction to Mr. Shaw's elegant and accurate 
delineations of ancient 'Illuminated Ornaments,' has 
described the production of this Irish or Hiberno-Saxon 
School of Illuminations as characterised by an extreme 
intricacy of pattern, and interlacings of knots in a diagonal 
or square form, sometimes interwoven with animals, and 
terminating in the heads of serpents or birds. With this 
description the illuminations in the ' Durham Book ' 
strongly accord. Notwithstanding the almost total absence 
of any graceful or classical figures in the ornaments of 
this school, the elaborate finish they received and the 
splendour of their appearance caused them to be admired 
and copied by the illuminists of France, Germany, and 
some parts of Italy, although in this latter country the 
Lombardic MSS. still retained much of the classical 
character for which Italy had so long been renowned. 

The initial letter which we have copied not only shows 
the peculiar style adopted by the illuminists of the seventh 
and eighth centuries, but serves as a specimen of one of 
the earliest illuminated initial letters with which we are 
acquainted ; for although books were illustrated by pic- 
tures long before the seventh century, the artists do not 
appear to have considered it necessary or ornamental to 
enlarge or beautify the first letter of the MS. until that 
period. From the seventh to the eleventh century they 
were often drawn of large dimensions, varying from three 
or four inches to a foot in height. The arrangement of 
the title to this notice will sufficiently explain the manner 
in which they appear on the pages of old manuscripts. 

It was in the cloister that the art of the painter or 
illuminator was chiefly exercised, a particular chamber 
being devoted to the sole purpose of transcribing and 
illuminating manuscripts. There, during the day, ex 
cept when called to the performance of his religious 
duties, and often *t the solemn midnight hour, would the 
silent enthusiast labour in the production of those splen- 
did works of pictorial and calligraphic art, which, after 
the lapse of ten or twelve centuries, still exist to excite 
the admiration and wonder, though not perhaps all the 
superstitious awe, with which they were viewed during 
their author's lifetime. 

Thus did the monks, or those at least who had had 
experience of the vanities and follies of the world, pass 
their time ; and such pursuits were not only encouraged, 
but practised by the greatest dignitaries of the Church. 
St. Dunstan, in particular, was celebrated for his profi- 
ciency in the art of copying and illuminating manu- 
scripts ; and other celebrated names have been handed 
down to the present day as professors of the same 
study, which was held in the highest respect and 
estimation. New Minster, or Hyde Abbey, at Winchester 
was particularly celebrated for the beauty of the illumi- 
nated manuscripts which thence were issued to the 

Digitized by 




[January 26, 

The art was mucn patronized by the rich and influen- 
tial men of the time, and great feintis expended in the 
acquirement of such literary treasures. Sir Frederick 
Madden remarks upon this subject : — " The patronage 
afforded by Charlemagne and his grandson Charles 
the Bald, to the art of illuminating M8S., caused a 
greater number of beautiful volumes to be executed 
during the eighth and ninth centuries than at any other 
period, perhaps, that could be named. It is presumed 
that Italian or German artists (Who worked after the 
models of the Greek school) were chiefly employed ; and 
as a splendid instance of the mechanical skill thus exer- 
cised, the Bible of Charlemagne, preserved in the church 
of St. Paul at Rome, is probably not to be equalled, even 
at the present day. It affords also a decisive proof that 
the taste and execution displayed in ornamental acces- 
sories of MSS. did not decline in the same manner as the 
higher branches of composition and colouring."* 

Another Bible, formerly possessed by Charlemagne, is 
now in the Library of the British Museum, and in our 
next paper we shall attempt a slight description of it. 
The border to the title-page has been Copied oh a reduced 
scale, and forms an^ appropriate ornament to the com- 
mencement of our notice. 

J,To be continued.] 


The changes which have been going on in England for 
the last three or four centuries have caused a great in- 
crease in the population of the towns. Many of them, 
which were formerly insignificant, contain at present as 
many inhabitants as a dozen towns of an earlier period, 
and a few which were buried in obscurity have risen into 
gigantic importance. In the present notice we have en- 
deavoured to classify the various descriptions of provincial 
cities and towns. 

First, there are the ancient Cathedral Cities, which have 
been for centuries the seats of bishops, and where the 
mother church of each diocese is of course situated. The 
dean and chapter have also their residences here, and as 
some of these places are divided into twenty or thirty 
parishes, there is also a numerous body of parochial 
clergy. The streets are usually narrow, for they were 
formed when it was an important object to concentrate 
the population within a very limited space for the sake of 
protection and defence. Ever since the law triumphed 
over the spirit of turbulence and disorder, and life and 
property became as secure in the distant hamlet as in the 
walled city, the population has generally remained sta- 
tionary. The activity of the manufacturing spirit for the 
most part is unknown. There is something in these old 
cities which carries the mind back to the middle ages, but 
the illusion is far less perfect than that which the ap- 
pearance of some of the old towns in Normandy 
creates, so actively has the spirit of improvement 
been at work in England. Blackstone erroneously 
tells us that " a city is a town incorporated, which is or 
hath been a bishop's see." But Sherburn, and Dor- 
chester in Oxfordshire, were once the seats of bishops, 
and yet are never called cities. " Certain large and 
ancient towns, both in England and other countries, are 
called cities, and they are supposed to rank before other 
towns. On what the distinction is founded is not well 
ascertained. The word seems to be one of common par- 
lance, or at most to be used in the letters and charters of 
sovereigns as a complimentary or honorary appellation, 
rather than as betokening the possession of any social 
privileges which may not, and in fact do not, belong to 
other ancient and incorporated places which are still 
known only by the name of towns or boroughs. On the 
whole, we can rather say that certain of our ancient towns 
are called cities, and their inhabitants citizens, than show 

* Introduction to Shaw's ' Illuminated Ornaments/ p, 10, 

why this distinction prevails, and wh«tt are the criteria 
by which they are distinguished from other towns. 
These ancient towns are those in which the cathedral of 
a bishop is found; to' which are to be added Bath and 
Coventry, which, jointly with Wells and Lichfield, occur 
in the designation of the bishop in whose diocese they are 
situated ; and Westminster^ which in this respect stands 
alone."* It was during the Saxon Heptarchy, more 
than a thousand years ago, that the present diocesan 
distribution of England was made. At the Conquest, 
Canterbury and York were archiepiscopal sees ; and the 
following cities were the central places of bishops' dio- 
ceses : — London, Winchester, Chichester, Rochester 1 , Sa- 
lisbury, Bath and Wells, Exeter, Worcester, Hereford, 
Coventry and Lichfield, Lincoln, Norwich, and Durham. 
In 1 109, Henry I., to gratify the abbot of the ancient 
Saxon foundation at Ely, freed him from the authority of 
the bishop of Lincoln, and erected Ely into a bishopric. 
The same king founded the see of Carlisle in 1 133. No 
other change was made until Henry VIII., in 1541, 
erected six new bishoprics, the means for making pro- 
vision for the bishops being derived from the dissolution 
"of the monastic establishments. The sees of Oxford, 
Peterborough, Gloucester, Bristol, Chester, and West- 
minster were then founded. The last see was only sepa- 
rated from the diocese of London about nine years, namely, 
from 1541. The bishoprics of Gloucester and Bristol 
have been united since 1836. In that year the see of 
Ripon was created, and in the month of October last 
an order in council appeared, creating Manchester a 
bishop '6 see whenever a vacancy shall occur in either of 
the sees of Bangor and St. Asaph, which are to be united. 

The seat of an episcopal see is generally the county- 
town, though there are exceptions, as Peterborough, Chi- 
chester, Rochester, and Ripon. But as there are forty coun- 
ties in England, and the number of English bishops does 
not exceed twenty- two, including the two archbishops, there 
are also many County Tenons which have no cathedral or 
minster, nor bishop and dean and chapter, but differ from 
other towns of perhaps similar size in consequence of the 
public business of the county being transacted there. Here 
are the county gaol, the lunatic asylum, the infirmary, and 
the court-house in which the judges hold their assize at Lent 
and Midsummer. The smaller the county-town the more 
prominent do these establishments and their officers become, 
the latter occupying something like the same position as the 
clergy and the officers of the church in a cathedral city. 
The county-town is frequently resorted to by the aristocracy 
and gentry for various purposes of pleasure and business. 
The most able professional men reside in it, aud here 
the wealthiest banking firm is perhaps established : there 
are the best supplied shops ; the most fashionable tailors 
and milliners ; the most skilful artisans ; — nearly every- 
thing which is to be found in the metropolis, with a close 
approach to metropolitan perfection. The county balls, 
the annual races, and the assembling of the county yeo- 
manry, and other similar occurrences, relieve the county- 
town from the quietness which it would otherwise experi- 
ence. In many instances, however, it has happened that 
a place of former insignificance has sprung up with all its 
interests flourishing in pristine vigour, while those of 
the older town have decayed. In some instances the 
assizes are held alternately at two towns in the same 
county, both being equally entitled to the privilege, and 
the convenience of the shire being promoted by the 

Many towns, as Nottingham, Hull, and Southampton, 
are counties in themselves, and are called by Blackstone 
Counties Corporate. In some the judges hold separate 
assizes for the " county of the city or town." 

Another class of towns is the Corporate Towns. The 
cathedral city and the county-town may be, and they usu- 
ally are, incorporated places ; but the number of iuunici- 
* ' Penny Cyclopaedia/ art. City, 

Digitized by 





pal boroughs which are not included in these two classes 
is about 140. They present every variety in size and 
character, from the newly-incorporated towns of Man- 
chester and Birmingham, to the most ancient of 
the small boroughs. The origin of the municipal consti- 
tution of our ancient boroughs is interwoven with the 
earliest circumstances of English history, and their regu- 
lations and bye-laws were established in practice long 
before they were settled by law. 

Tfyere are in England 181 Parliamentary Cities and 
Borovghs, which return 306 burgesses to parliament. 
By the art for Amending the Representation of the 
People, passed in 1832, 56 places which had become too 
insignificant to have a disproportionate share of political 
influence were disfranchised, and 30 other boroughs were 
to return only one member in future instead of two. 
Many of the new parliamentary boroughs belong to 
none of the three preceding classes of towns. 

The great Seaports and Naval and Military Arsenals 
are closely connected with the commerce and power of 
the country. Most of these places have become of im- 
portance within the last two centuries — since, in fact, we 
possessed a navy and a numerous commercial marine. 
The great seaports of Liverpool, Hull, Bristol, Newcastle, 
and the other seaport towns of England, amounting in 
all to about forty, offer to the most experienced 
observer something calculated to excite reflection, and 
some improvement worthy of being transplanted to other 
similar places. The great arsenals and dock-yards of 
Portsmouth, Plymouth, Pembroke, and Sheerness are 
rich in the mechanical application of science, art, and skill. 

Towns of secondary and lower degrees of importance 
may be classed generally as Market Twvns. The petty 
sessions of the peace are usually held in towns of this 
class, and many of them have become the centre of the 
Poor-Law Unions, the guardians holding their weekly 
meetings there on the market-day. Some of these towns, 
although not possessed of the parliamentary franchise, 
have been raised in importance since the passing of the 
Reform Act, being selected as places for the nomination of 
knights of the shire and polling-places ; and in some very 
small towns the revising-barnsters hold their courts for 
passing the lists of persons entitled to vote for the elec- 
tion of members of parliament. The greatest possible 
variety exists amongst this class of towns. Some are the 
centre of an agricultural district, and their trade consists 
in exchanging the productions of the town for the pro- 
duce of the country ; the farmer and the housewife, after 
having sold their corn and cattle, or butter and eggs, ex- 
pending a portion of their receipts with the grocer, 
draper, and other tradesmen. Others are conveniently 
situated between a district of production and one of 
extensive consumption, and dealers are largely engaged in 
transferring corn and grain of all kinds, and the produc- 
tions of agricultural industry generally, from one district 
to another, their extensive warehouses forming a promi- 
nent feature in the town, which is the centre of their opera- 
tions. Again, some towns are situated at the mouth of a 
river, or at the head qf its tidal navigation, and there is 
either a direct trade with foreign countries, or foreign and 
colonial merchandise is brought from some other porL 
But the circumstances which regulate the external cir- 
cumstances of towns of inferior importance are too nu- 
merous to admit of even generalization ; although, however 
insignificant a place may be, it is always an interesting 
inquiry to trace the leading causes which have contributed 
to form a community, and still continue to sustaiu its 
internal welfare. 

The growth of the great Manufacturing Towns pre- 
sents in a significant form the combined results which 
are produced by the union of large physical and moral 
resources when directed to industrial objects. The very 
appearance of these seats of the great staple branches of 
industry— of the cotton manufacture, the woollen manu- 

facture, and the manufactures of stuffs and worsteds, of 
linen, silk, hardwares, and cutlery — produces a singular 
effect upon the stranger who witnesses for the first time 
the quantity and density of the smoke, emitted from their 
tall chimneys. 

The cotton manufacture has been created within the 
last fifty years, and all those towns in which it is carried 
on have assumed altogether a new character and appear- 
ance within this period. Manchester, the great centre 
of the cotton trade, in which the value of the cotton goods 
produced is at least equal to two- thirds of the total value 
of all the cotton goocls manufactured in Great Britain, is 
surrounded byAshton, Bolton, Bury,Blackbum, Stockport, 
Wigan, Preston, and many manufacturing villages. The an- 
nual value of the cotton manufacture exceeds 30,000,000/. ; 
it employs a capital of upwards of 34,000,000/., above 
one-fourth of which is invested in machinery and 
mills ; it gives employment to a million and a half of 
people, and supplies many European countries and the 
vast continents of North and South America, and parts 
of Asia, with manufactured productions. The industrial, 
social, and moral aspects of the population of the great 
Lancashire cotton district are in every way worthy of 
attention. To persons not conversant with the gigantic 
operations of the cotton trade, the facts which may be 
related of its extraordinary progress are scarcely credible. 
Six years ago it was thought that it had reached nearly 
its utmost limits; but while in 1832 the quantity of 
cotton wool admitted for home consumption did not 
exceed 269,616,640 lbs., it amounted last year to 
378,019,680, the quantitv admitted in the previous year 
having been 363,684,232 lbs. The total official value of 
the exports of cotton yarn and cotton manufactured goods 
is now about 50,000,000/. annually. Since 1835, the 
steam-power employed in the cotton manufactories of 
Lancashire and pheshire has been increased from 24,597 
horses' power to 39,974, or 62 per cent. Between 1801 
and 1831 the increase of population in. Manchester, 
Sal ford, and the suburbs was 109 per cent. ; and since 
1831 the increase has probably been still more rapid, it 
being calculated that for every additional horse power in 
steam-engmes the services of six individuals are re- 
quired.* Leeds, Halifax, Huddersfield, and Rochdale, 
the principal seats of the woollen cloth manufacture, 
have nearly doubled their population in the thirty 
years ending 1831, having amounted in the aggregate 
to 171,210 in 1801, and to 341,760 in 1831. Bradford 
is the principal town in which the stuff ano) worsted 
manufacture is carried on: the population, which 
amounted to 29,704 in J 801, had reached 76,996 in 
1831 ; and the increase has since been very large, 700 
new houses having been built in 1833. We cannot do 
more than allude to Norwich, the seat of the bomba- 
zeen manufacture ; Leicester and Nottingham, of the 
hosiery and lace trades; Macclesfield and Perby, 
of silks ; the towns in Staffordshire and Warwickshire, 
with their manufactures of hardware and earthenware ; 
and Sheffield, with its cutlery, silver plate, and hardware 
manufactures. From 1821 to 1831 the increase of the 
population of Birmingham was 54 per cent., having been 
raised from 106,722 to 146,986 ; and it is now supposed 
to be 180,000. Sheffield increased 40 per cent., from 
65,275 in 1821, to 91,692 in 1831, and it is now behoved 
to amount to at least 120,000. In these large towns 
the number of new houses building is generally from 400 

* The introduction of this additional amount of steam-power 
in cotton manufactories since 1835 (15,377 horse-power), presup- 
posed the employment of 93,262 «' mill-hands;" and taking into 
account the unemployed members of their families, as well as the 
families of other classes of workmen whose services will be re- 
quired, there will bo a demand consequent upon this extension of 
steam-power of a$ least 200,000 persons. B'lt for the improve- 
ments constantly taking place in machinery it would have been 
I impossible that the cotton-trade could have reached its present 
importance, as the demand for workmen could not have been sup- 
plied fast enough. 

Digitized by 




[January 26, 1839. 

to 600. Further illustrations of the increase of popula- 
tion in the large manufacturing towns are unnecessary, 
but we may show by a more general view the changes 
which have taken place in those counties in which manu- 
factures are principally carried on. The increase of 
population from 1700 to 1831 was 154 per cent, for 
England ; but for the county of Lancaster the rate of 
increase was eight hundred per cent. ; for Warwickshire, 
251 per cent.; Staffordshire, 250; Nottinghamshire, 
246 ; Cheshire, 212 ; and in Durham, Monmouth, Wor- 
cester, and Salop, the increase varied from 119 to 136 
per cent. The total population of ten manufacturing 
counties was 2,529,000 in 1801, and 4,406,000 in 1831. 
It is evident that these counties must present greater 
and more frequent instances of change, and, it is hoped, 
in many respects, of improvement, than those parts of 
England in which the progress of population has been 
much less rapid. Lancashire, which had a population of 
only 166,200 in 1700, contained 1,335,800 inhabitants 
m 1831, and it now contains above 1,500,000; but 
while the population of this county has been increased in 
the proportion of 800 per cent, in 130 years, that of the 
agricultural counties has only increased 84 per cent, in 
the same time. In the manufacturing districts almost 
alt public buildings for religious, charitable, educational, 
commercial, scientific, and literary purposes have sprung 
up within the last half century. In 1*194 a poor's rate, 
assessed on property in Manchester at the rate of bs. 
in the pound, • produced only 9270/. : in 1834 the sum 
of 44,396/. was raised from an assessment of 2$. 6d. 

We have said that the existing relations of society in 
the great manufacturing towns of the North of England 
are deserving of attention, and we might have asserted 
that it was a duty to investigate the tendency of those 
peculiarities in which they differ from other communities. 
In an agricultural village or town situated in an agricul- 
tural district there is usually found a variety of grades, 
but each exists in just proportions; and though there is 
a great difference between the two extremities of society 
in these places, vet the links which connect them together 
are separately almost imperceptible. There is the rich 
resident landowner in the immediate vicinity, and in the 
town the clergy, the members of the legal and medical 
professions, bankers, and the richer class of tradesmen ; 
also the middle class of tradesmen and the small shop- 
keepers. The ranks of the labouring class are nearly 
as diversified, comprising the skilled artisan and the man 
who has little more than the command of his animal 
powers. There is great fixedness in a community like 
this. The larger number of families have been connected 
with the same place, have perhaps been engaged in the 
same pursuits for many generations. The history of 
each family, its fortunes, its virtues, or vices, are known 
to the neighbourhood. In respect to the industrious pur- 
suits of such a community, employment seems to have 
sprung up because there were people to be employed. 
But very different is the position of a manufacturing 
town. Social gradations do not exist in the same pro- 
portions, and the employed constitute relatively a much 
larger class than in an agricultural town. So great has 
been the demand for * hands,' that individuals and whole 
families have immigrated from other districts, and an 
incongruous population is furnished by the poorest dis- 
tricts of Ireland* and the most pauperized parishes of 
England. The means of subsistence abound; but a 
population hastily collected together can scarcely be 
expected to possess a home, in the true sense of 
the word. A single manufacturer sometimes employs a 
thousand or fifteen hundred persons, and it is impossible 
* In Lancashire there are about 200,000 Irish and their imme- 
diate descendants. In the ten years from 1801 the immigration 
from Ireland and various districts in England amounted at least 
to an annual average of 4560 persons; from 1811 to 1821 it rose 
to 8800; and from 1821 to 1831 the number of immigrants had 
reached 1 7.000 f «r annum. 

that he should know anything of their individual charac- 
ter. Therefore, the operative classes, isolated in the 
streets of cottages in which they dwell, are under the 
influence of only that sort of public opinion which exists 
amongst persons exactly in the same circumstances as 
themselves. The only ties which connect them with any 
other part of the community are those which subsist 
between employers and employed, and these are, from 
obvious causes, purely commercial. Seldom or never are 
the two classes found co-operating for any public object. 
Most of the large towns not being incorporated, the ele- 
ments of self-government can scarcely be said to exist ; 
whereas the social organization of such a community 
should be constructed with a view to promote the union 
of different classes, and to counteract their natural ten- 
dency to become isolated, each seeking its own separate 
advantage. This evil might be corrected in some degree 
by the incorporation of the manufacturing towns, and the 
larger the population of each, the more numerous should 
be its municipal divisions, for by this organization only is 
it possible to create a community in which public opinion 
and social responsibilities can be properly felt ; and it 
would really appear that in the very large manufacturing 
towns these are the only circumstances under which those 
kindly feelings which should subsist amongst the various 
orders of society can be practically maintained and kept 
constantly in a wholesome state of activity. The exercise 
of some sort of municipal power conjointly with other 
ranks would also give the operative classes practical ideas 
on the subject of good government. 

The last class of towns are as distinct as possible in 
character from those we have just noticed. They are 
simply Pleasure Taivns ; for though sqme few persons 
do resort to such places on account of broken health, 
the majority are in search of pleasure, amusement, and 
relaxation. Brighton, sometimes termed a city of palaces, 
contained a population of only 7300 in 1801, which had 
been increased to 40,300 in 1831. Cheltenham had 
increased from 3076 to 23,000 in the same period. The 
number of towns of the same class has much increased 
within the last half century. A century ago the world 
of fashion chiefly resorted to Bath and Tunbridge Wells. 

The Copper Mines of CornvcalL — At a meeting of the 
London Statistical Society, a most interesting communica- 
tion was read by the chairman (Sir C. Lemon, Bart.), on 
the Origin and Progress of the Copper-Mines of Cornwall* • 
Copper, probably the produce of mines more especially 
wrought for tin, was known at an early period, though iti 
quantities not answering to the demand; for in the time o>f 
Henry VIII. a prohibition was issued against its export. 
Tne amount of wages to the miners arid others for 1836 wa_s 
calculated at 482,116/., and for 1837 at 408,700/. In two 
mines only, in 1836, the number of 4067 persons were em- 
ployed to raise 32,500 tons of ore, including 2369 men, and 
1705 women and boys. In 59 mines there was a return of 
lu,624 men, and 7292 women and children. The average 
per head of pay per month was 5\s. 6d. for the men, and 
\4s. 6d. for the women. In 1837 there were employed 
19,035 persons, of whom 11,282 were men, and 7743 women 
and boys. In 152 mines nearly the total estimated number 
of the population at work gave a total of 27,186 persons. 
In 1836 the consumption of timber was 36,407 loads, which, 
at four trees to a load, is equal to 144,000 trees. If these 
trees grew at ten feet apart they would cover 330 acres of 
ground, and if they were 120 years old it would require the 
produce of 39,600 acres of Norwegian forest to supply the 
mines of Cornwall. The annual consumption of gunpowder 
is about 300 tons, and, at the price of 1836, of 44/. per ton. 
the value consumed per annum is about 13,200/. The 
deaths from causes which might be easily obviated are very 
numerous, proceeding from accidents by gunpowder, and 
the diseases of the chest, arising almost entirely from the 
effect of ascending from the greatest depths with exhausted, 
strength : taking between the ages of 10 and 60, these were, 
in 1836, as 294 to 158. — Journal of Statistical Society. 

Printed Uy William Glowxs and Bow, Stamford Street. 

Digitized by 


#*ontf)i£ Stuppltmtnt of 



Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


December 31, 1838, to January 31, 1839. 



[A Rookery.] 

The spring is now drawing nigh, with its balmy airs and 
its fresh vegetation ; the . buds will soon appear on the 
branches, and the birds begin to sing ; the snowdrop and 
the crocus will bring their glad tidings ; all about us the 
stir of a new life will be heard to rustle ; the great busi- 
ness of Nature — production — recommences. 

And who enjoy the excitement of the season more than 
our old friends the rooks ? what voices tell half so loudly 
the importance of the coming time ? They now return 
from their winter habitation to the old quarters — the 
rookery, examine the old nests, repair or build them 
anew, whilst the instinct of providing for their future 
progeny animates and directs their exertions. After 
pairing has taken place, if there remain an odd bird, and 
Mr. Mudie says there is never more than one in a rookery, 
he flies off, it is supposed to find some bird of the opposite 
sex similarly circumstanced : and it is believed that from 

VOL.\HI. ' m 

pairs thus formed new rookeries date their birth. The 
following anecdote, from ' Bracebridge Hall,' of the rook's 
method of obtaining materials for the nest, says much for 
their ingenuity and something for their cool impudence. 
" When the birds were building, a stately old rook would 
settle down upon the head of one of the ewes, who, seeming 
conscious of the condescension, would desist from grazing, 
and stand fixed in motionless reverence of her august 
burden ; the rest of the rookery would then come wheel- 
ing down in imitation of their leader, until every ewe had 
two or three cawing and fluttering and battling upon her 
back;" anxious doubtless to obtain their wool at the 
cheapest market. It has been frequently noticed that 
some one unhappy or offending pair vainly attempts to 
*build a nest, for no sooner have a few sticks been put to- 
gether, than a detachment, probably of the rook police, 
comes and demolishes the whole. The nests being 

Digitized by 




[January 31, 

finished, when the liens "begin to lay, the cocks feed 
them ; who, says Mr. White, u receive their bounty with 
a fondling tremulous voice and fluttering wings, and all 
the little blandishments that are expressed by the young 
while in a helpless state. This gallant deportment of 
the males is continued through the whole season of incu- 
bation." The nests are not very warmly lined, although 
in so exposed a situation, but the hens sit constantly to 
protect their young from the cold. In the roamings of 
the parent bird for food, should he fell beneath the " mur- 
derous gun," doubtless the other rooks attend with kindly 
solicitude to their wants. Though not eminent for its 
musical capabilities, Mr. White says, " rooks in the breed- 
ing season will sometimes in the gaiety of their hearts 
attempt to sing, but with indifferent success." The female 
lays four or five eggs. When the youug are sufficiently 
strong, their education begins by the parents' flying re- 
peatedly to and fro between the nest and some near 
branch, calling at the same time in a language we may 
easily translate, " See how easy it is !" Doubtfully, and 
with a kind of mental head-shake, we may imagine the 
young ones to look on ; but at last the thing really ap- 
pears so easy, they must, they will try. A preparatory 
flutter on the edge of the nest, and the branch is reached ; 
the feat is accomplished : and before long round and 
round it goes, giddy with delight, at the new power it 
has obtained and is enjoying. They now begin to find 
their own food, and when they no longer need assistance 
from their parents, they are dismissed to shift for them- 
selves. An old bird has been seen to buffet heartily a 
young one, who being perhaps too lazy to forage for itself, 
wished to impose on the parental good-nature. Yet is 
the love of the rook for its young a marked trait in its 
character. When seeking food for them, it will, if un- 
successful in the day, still persevere until it has obtained 
its object ; though there are times when all its endeavours 
are in vain. " In the hot summer of 1825," says Mr. 
Knapp, " many of the young brood of the season perished 
from want ; the mornings were without dew, and conse- 
quently few or no worms were to be obtained, and we 
found them dead under the trees, having expired on their 
roostings. It was particularly distressing — for no relief 
could be given — to hear the constant clamour and impor- 
tunity of the young for food. The old birds seemed to 
suffer without complaint, but the wants of their offspring 
were expressed by the unceasing cry of hunger and pur- 
suit of the parents for supply, and our fields were scenes 
of daily restlessness and lament." Mr. Jesse observes, 
that " at the time when the young ones are shot, accord- 
ing to the common annual custom, it is melancholy to 
watch the old birds sit apart on the neighbouring trees, 
waiting until the ' sport' is over, and they may return to 
their young, if there be any left for them to return to." 
After the young have fully taken wing, there is a general 
desertion of the rookery until October, when the rooks 
return for a short time, perhaps to examine their nests, 
and then again remove for the winter. 

The character of this most clerical-looking of birds, 
with its glossiest of coats and its gravest of aspects, has 
stood generally but low, and particularly so in the esti- 
mation of one person at least, who, from his position, 
ought to have been qualified to judge more correctly. In 
Dr. Rees's * Cyclopaedia' it is said, " There are everywhere 
in many of the northern and other counties of the king- 
dom numbers of such detestable nurseries of these mis- 
chievous and rapacious vermin" &c. Again, u Though 
rooks fly from these despicable abodes" &c. ; and the 
whole notice is written in the same spirit : the personal 
spite of the epithet applied to the poor bird's nest is so 
inexpressibly ludicrous, that one can scarcely speak of the 
ignorance and bad feeling of the writer in the terms they 
deserve. And what is it the rook does to merit such 
reckless denunciations ? When the young wheat is ger- 
minating, if it can find no other food, it does what all of 

us would do, it takes some to keep off starvation. From 
Gesner to Linnaeus it has been called corn-eater and 
corn-gatherer ; ' the fact being, it will not touch grain 
unless compelled. Under such circumstances it will also 
dig up newly set potato-cuttings. In autumn it exhibits 
more epicureanism of taste. A ripe pear or cherry tree 
will fall under contribution, and an unlucky walnut-tree 
be nearly stripped of its fruit. To these charges the rooks, 
we fear, must plead guilty ; but they may reasonably add, 
that their utility ought not altogether to be forgotten, and 
that frequently they are the most deserving thanks when 
the most abused. 

In White's ' History of Selborne * we find the follow- 
ing passage : — " Anatomists say that rooks, by reason of 
two large nerves which run down between the eye3 into 
the upper mandible, have a more delicate feeling in their 
beak than other round-billed birds, and can grope for 
their prey when out of sight." From this circumstance 
Mr. White thinks that the flocks of daws and starlings 
frequently following a flock of rooks do it from the same 
motive that the lion follows the jackal — the more certainly 
to find their prey. In frost, says Mr. Mudie (whose 
observations we abridge), the rook examines weirs, em- 
bankments, and dams, to see if insects are there doing 
any damage. When the compost is being spread over 
the field, he looks anxiously to see that no insects are 
among it to eat up the young plants. When the swollen 
stream leaves the meadow, he picks out the noxious germs 
it may have left behind. In autumn, by a curious instinct 
distinguishing the sickly plants, he delves down to the 
root for the caterpillar there at work. In short, so valu- 
able are his services, that, Mr. Selby says, wherever he 
has been extirpated or banished the most serious injury 
to the corn and other crops has followed from the devas- 
tations of the gnat and the caterpillar. Then, doing all 
this, who is there will say the labourer is not worthy of 
his hire ? 

" Early to bed and early to rise" is the rooks' maxim, 
and they do their best to instil it into their neighbours. 
If the labourer is not forth with his plough in good time, 
their noise soon awakens him as they fly cawing and 
clamouring about the field for their breakfast of fresh 
worms he provides for them in the new-made furrow. 
The rook is decidedly social and unselfish. If they are 
pressed for room in the rookery, he will allow a pair to 
build in the same fork of a branch with himself. 
With dignified condescension he will also permit jack- 
daws and starlings to associate with him, and occasionally 
a sparrow to build under his august protection. In the 
winter, having been distressed for food, he has perhaps 
trespassed on the sea-gulls' shoreward domains ; the gull 
now returns the visit in the fields, and both pick together 
very fraternally. Mr. Jesse mentions a circumstance that 
proves the rook to have a depth of feeling we should 
scarcely credit. He observes, the flock are much dis- 
tressed when one of them is killed or wounded by a gun. 
Instead of being scared away, they hover over, uttering 
cries of distress. If wounded, the sufferer is animated in 
his exertions to escape by their flying to and fro gently 
before him, and by their cries and exhortations. " I 
have seen," he says, " one of my labourers pick up a 
rook so wounded, which he had shot at for the purpose 
of putting up as a scare-crow in a field of wheat, and 
while the poor wounded bird was fluttering in his hand, 
I have observed one of his companions make a wheel 
round in the air and suddenly dart past him so as almost 
to touch him, perhaps with a last hope that he might still 
afford assistance to his unfortunate mate or companion." 

Their knowledge of the gun, or at least their idea of 
injury from an instrument of such appearance, is unques- 
tionable ; but that they also take the alarm at the smell of 
gunpowder is, we believe, now considered a popular error 
When feeding, the rooks set a sentinel, who executes the 
duties of his post so well, that it is difficult to get within 

A fc 

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shot. They have also a language, for by tne sentinel's 
cry they understand not ouly the danger, but the quarter 
from whence it is to be apprehended, as they prove by 
flying in an opposite direction ; unless we are to suppose 
their vision to be so accurate and instantaneous, that the 
moment their attention is arrested by the alarm being 
given, they see its cause. 

In feeding on worms, they have been observed to beat 
and break them into pieces before devouring them. In 
hot summers they will look for grasshoppers in the hedge 
sides when pressed by hunger. In winter the same cause 
induces them to resort to the sea-shore, where the peri- 
winkle is their favourite food. They break the shell by 
rising with it a sufficient height into the air, and then 
dropping it on the hardest place they can find. In one 
very severe winter Mr. White mentions their resorting to 
dunghills close by dwelling-houses. 

According to Mr. Mudie, the full-grown rook weighs 
about nineteen ounces. It measures from tip to tip of the 
outspread wings about 38 inches, and is about 19 inches 
long. Its coat is of the most beautiful shade of glossy 
black, and a rich blue tint is perceptible on the sides of 
the neck. Its scientific name is Corvus Frugilegus. 

In contrast to the quotation from Dr. Rees's work, we 
will conclude with a sweetly poetical passage from Mr. 
White's ' Selborne.' " The evening proceedings and ma- 
noeuvres of the rooks are curious and amusing in the 
autumn. Just before dusk, they return in long strings 
from the foraging of the day, and rendezvous by thou- 
sands over Selborne-down, where they wheel round in the 
air, and sport and dive in a playful manner, all the while 
exerting their voices, and mHking a loud cawing, which, 
being blended and softened by the distance that we at 
the village are below them, becomes a confused noise or 
chiding ; or rather, a pleasing murmur very engaging to 
the imagination, and not unlike the cry of a pack of 
hounds m hollow echoing woods, or the rushing of the 
wind in tall trees, or the tumbling of the tide upon a 
pebbly shore. When this ceremony is over, with the last 
gleam of day they retire for the night to the deep beechen 
woods of Tisted and Ropley. We remember a little girl 
who, as she was going to bed, used to remark on such an 
occurrence, in the true spirit of physico-theology, that the 
rooks were saying their prayers ; and yet this child was 
much too young to be aware that the Scriptures have 
said of the Deity that " He feedeth the ravens who call 
upon him." 

February 2, Candlemas Day, so called from the an- 
cient custom of carrying lights in procession in honour of 
the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin Mary, cele- 
brated by the Romish Church on this day. On Candle- 
mas Day, the rosemary, mistletoe, and other emblems of 
the merry Christmas times, were removed from the halls 
and windows of our ancestors, and the Christmas brand, 
to which allusion has been made in vol. vii., p. 439, 
having been lighted and allowed to burn until sunset, was 
then quenched and preserved for the succeeding year. 

Shrove-tide was in olden times a season of much feast- 
ing and sportiveness, in which the people indulged in 
order to console them for the fasts and mortifications of 
the ensuing Lent. A kindred spirit to the author of the 
'Anatomy of Almes* (Stubbs), seized with a sudden frenzy 
of alliteration, has personified Shrove Tuesday as " sole 
Monarch of the Mouth, high Stewarde to the Stomach, 
First Favourite to the Frying-pans, greatest Bashaw to the 
Batter-Bowles, Protector to the Pancakes, First Founder 
i>f the Fritters, Baron of Bacon-flitch, Earle of Egge- 
basketB. and (for a magnificent conclusion) the most 
Corpulent Commander of those Cholleriche things called 
Cookes."* The disgusting practice of beating and 
throwing at cocks, which was formerly a favourite pas- 
time with the; English at this time, is now, we are happy 
* « Vox Graculi/ 4to., 1623, p. 55. 

to say, totally abolished ; and with it many other Shrove- 
tide customs more honoured in the breach than the ob- 
servance. The old riotous proceeding in which school- 
boys indulged at this season, called " barring out," is 
stili however connived at in some parts of the country ; 
and the very ancient practice of tossing and eating pan- 
cakes on Shrove Tuesday is not yet quite fallen into des- 
uetude. There have been several attempts to explain the 
derivation of the word pancake, but the best we have met 
with may be found set forth in a lively little work en- 
titled * Cambridge Crepuscular Diversions,' published in 
1837. The author has also made several other whim- 
sical but learned attempts to trace the derivation:-— 
" Well then, the silent young gentle- 
man, who sat at my left, at length spoke ; he was a 
better sort of gourmand, and this accounted for his 
silence, for his fish had not till now been despatched ; 
and the last bonne-bouche vanished almost simultane- 
ously with his taciturnity. He gave it for his decided 
opinion, that pancake owed its title to the fact of its be- 
ing a sort of panacea, a general remedy for the ill effects 
of fasting, a stock of solid nourishment laid in to prevent 
starvation during the days of abstinence that follow Shrove 
Tuesday ; a panacea, in fact, as good food always is, 
against the unpleasant symptoms that follow the going 
without any at all. He quoted something from Pliny to 
prove this, and something, I think, from Lucan, but I 
forget what ; at all events he thought that he had well 
proved his point ; and in the height of his self-compla- 
cency rubbed his hand famously, and called to the waiter 
to bring ' a plate of pancakes, lemon, and brown sugar/ 
which feeding upon, he relapsed into his original silence. 
Of all the other conjectures that I can remember, there 
is but one other good one. A man, who did not set up 
for a classic, asserted that pancakes were bread seals, for 
he traced the derivation from the French, pain, bread, 
and cachet, a seal, being, as he asserted, merely bread 
which had taken the circular form of a seal from the 
shape of the machine in which it was cooked : a modem 
etymology which sounded quite tame after the ancient 
ones we had been treated with. 

" While we were all wondering at the many derivations 
the word would bear, and quite undecided which to se- 
lect ; one of our party exclaimed with some vehemence, 
' Who shall tell me why this is called a pancake ?' 
When a rough jocund voice behind me humbly answered 
with a smile, ' Why my wife and I calls 'em pancakes 
'cause they be cakes frizzed in a pan/ 9 and turning 
round, I traced the sound to the lips of a waiter, generally 
the most forward among his fellows, and who, hearing 
this exclamation, with none of our previous discourse, 
simply set the matter at rest, and outwitted us and all 
our classic eruditions. You may imagine we looked at 
each other and wondered till we smiled, and smiled till we 
all joined in a general laugh at ourselves and each other." 

February 13, Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, 
was so called from the ancient ceremony of blessing 
ashes on that day, with which the priest afterwards 
signed the people on the forehead in the form of a cro&s, 
saying, " Remember that ye have come from dust, and 
unto dust shall ye return." Lent continues until Easter 
Eve. The name is derived from the Saxon Lengten, 
signifying spring, the time of the year in which it is ob- 

February 14, St. Valentine's Day.— In the year 1821, 
there were 200,000 letters above the average quantity 
passed through the Twonenny Post-office alone, on this 
day. Before the interchange of the poetical epistles 
known as Valentines was introduced it was the practice 
for gentlemen to consider the first lady they saw on the 
morning of St. Valentine's Day as their sweetheart or 
Valentine, to whom they were expected to make a present. 
These Valentine gifts are often mentioned by old writers 
as a source of great expense; some are mentioned by 

F 2 

Digitized by 



Pepys end others of the reign of Charles II.,' as consist- 
ing of jewels, &c, worth hundreds of pounds. 

This custom, divested of its costly accompaniment, is 
still pursued by many persons in London and some parts 
of the country, and will be remembered, long after it has 
fallen into disuse, from the allusion to it in * Hamlet,' where 
Ophelia sings — 

« Good morrow! His St. Valentine'! Day* 
All in the morning betime, 
And 1 a maid at your window, 
To be your Valentine !" 

It was also usual, when a party of ladies and gentle- 
men met on this day, to write their names on pieces of 
paper, which, divided into two parcels, the ladies drew 
for the gentlemen's names and the gentlemen for the 
ladies' ; those drawn together being considered Valen- 

These have all succumbed to the practice of sending 
poetical letters adorned with pictures, some satirical, some 
loving, and nearly all nonsensical. 


[January 31, 


February 20, 1608. On this day was commenced an 
undertaking which, taking all the circumstances into 
consideration, can scarcely be considered unworthy of the 
lavish praise bestowed upon it — the formation of the New 
River. The author of the History of Middlesex, in the 
* Beauties and Antiquities of Great Britain,' speaks of it 
as " one of the most extensive works of the kind which 
the history of the civilized world can anywhere furnish. 
I question if the celebrated aqueducts in antient Rome 
equalled in magnitude, most assuredly not in extent, the 
beneficial effects of this undertaking." 

In the reigns of Elizabeth and James, powers had been 
obtained bythe citizens of London to bring a new supply 
of water to the City from some eligible part of Middlesex 
or Hertfordshire ; " although," as a writer in the * Bio- 
graphia Britannica' admirably remarks, " they had already 
sixteen common conduits," in addition to the river Thames. 
And here the project, it appears, would have ended, the 
original movers in the affair being deterred by the diffi- 
culty and expense, but for the appearance of a new actor 
on the scene, whose genius and energy of character 
prompted him to attempt the undertaking single-handed. 
This was Hugh Middleton (or Mydelton), a " citizen 
and goldsmith" of London. He was the" sixth son of 
Richard Middleton, Esq., the governor of Denbigh Cas- 
tle, during the successive reigns of Edward VI., Mary, 
and Elizabeth. Middleton's early life we may presume to 
have been passed in his native country Denbighshire, where 
his family possessed rank and influence : Chirke Castle, 
an ancient and interesting baronial residence, belonged 
to the Middletons. Here he engaged in various mining 
adventures, and was successful enough to bring into 
operation the working of a valuable copper-mine ; " Some 
say," adds the c Biog. Brit.' " a silver one." From 
Denbighshire he appears to have removed to the metro- 
polis and there settled as a goldsmith. In the possession 
of great wealth, the result probably of his mining specu- 
lations, the subject of the formation of a New River to 
London soon arrested his attention. On the 28th of 
March, 1606, he offered to the city to undertake on his 
y, and at his own cost, the entire manage- 

ment of the Work. His offer was accepted, and the 
necessary powers made over to him on the 21st of April 
following. Four years were allowed him for the execu- 
tion of his task. On the 20th of February, 1608, as we 
have already stated, he began, full of hope and determi- 
nation, stimulated, doubtless, by the very obstacles that 
to others had seemed insurmountable. The full extent of 
these we cannot now fully appreciate. The knowledge of 
the agencies and appliances of science, if not of science 

itself, has wonderfully increased since the period in ques- 
tion; and the poorest mechanical plodder might probably 
now accomplish with ease, that which to the genius of 
Middleton was an arduous task, requiring the undivided 
and unremitting exertion of all its powers. 

Two springs, one at Chadwell near Ware, the other at 
Amwell, both in Hertfordshire, were chosen by him, after 
long search and deep consideration, to form by their 
junction the river he proposed to convey to London. Owing 
to the many turnings and windings he was compelled to 
make, partly perhaps owing to natural difficulties, and 
partly perhaps to the many interferences of influential 
landlords he could not but submit to, the distance by the 
river amounted to nearly thirty-nine miles, whilst by the 
ordinary route it was but nineteen. He had to cut through 
all kinds of soil, " now oozy and muddy, now rocky and 
hard ;" here his trench descended thirty or forty feet, 
" whereas," says Stow, in his c Survey,' " in other places it 
required a spnghtful arte againe to mount it over a valley 
in a trough betweene a couple of hils, and the trough all 
the while borne up by woodden arches, some of them 
fixed in the ground very deepe, and rising in heighth 
above twenty-three feet." Drains and sewers had to be 
provided for, and innumerable bridges to be made. Still - 
the work proceeded prosperously in spite of *11 these ob- 
stacles, and in spite of the sneers and the contempt, the 
prejudices and the hatred of Ins enemies. Bitter indeed 
must have been the mortifications he endured, from the 
many powerful interests opposed to him, and from the 
bigotry that, considering innovation synonymous with 
evil, resolutely opposes every good if it happen at the 
same time to be new. Nelson, in his * History of Isling- 
ton,' 'says, he was so harassed by interested parties, as 
to be unable to complete his labours within the allotted 
time. The corporation was then applied to for an exten- 
sion of the period, which was granted. Scarcely was the 
delay and expense attending this application over, but a 
more appalling difficulty arose — the want of funds. His 
own splendid fortune was entirely sunk, and with it, in all 
probability, the fortunes of his friends and connexions, 
many of whom were mixed up with him. He again ap- 
plied to the city, in vain ! The king (James) was his last 
resource; fortunately a sufficient one. On the 2nd of 
May, 1612, James covenanted with Middleton to bear 
an equal share of the expense, past and future, in con- 
sideration of being entitled to half the property. The 
work now rapidly progressed, and in the following year 
was completed. The 29th of September (Michaelmas 
day) was chosen to commemorate the occasion by a pub- 
lic ceremony. On this < day, Sir Thomas Middleton, 
Hugh's brother, was elected to serve as Lord Mayor for 
the ensuing year, and a proud day it must have been for 
both. There were present, beside Sir Thomas and his 
brother, the then Lord Mayor, " worthy Sir John Swinar- 
ton," "the learned and juditious Sir Henry Montague, 
Maister Recorder," and many members of the corpora- 
tion. In the ' Biog. Brit.' there is an interesting account 
of the ceremony, from which we extract the following 
with its sounding commencement. 

" Perfection (which is the crowne of all inuention) 
swelling now high with happy welcomes to all the glad 
well-wishers of her admired maturity, the father and 
maister of this famous worke, expressing thereby both 
his thankfulnesse to Heaven and his zeale to the Citty of 
London, in true joy of heart to see his time, travailles, 
and expenses so successively greeted, thus gives enter- 
tainment to that honourable assembly. 

* * * « 

" A troope of labourers to the number of three score or 
upwards, all in green cappes alike, bearing in their 
hands the symboles of their several employments in so 
great a businesse, with drummes before them, marching 
twice or thrice about the cesterne, orderly present them- 
selves before the mount! and after their obeysance— 

Digitized by 





" Long have we labourM, long desirM and praid 
For this great worke's perfection, and by th* aide 
Of Heaven and good men's wishes, 'tis at length 
Happily conquered by cost, art> and strength ; 
And after five yeares deere expense in dayes, 
Travaile and paines, besides th' infinite wayea 
Of malice, envy, false suggestions, 
Able to daunt the spirits of mighty ones 
In wealth and courage, this, a worke so rare, 
Ouely by one man's industry, cost and care, 
Is brought to blest effect, so much withstood; 
His onely aime, the cittie's generall good." &c. Ac. 

At the conclusion of the speech " the floud-gate opens, 
the streame let into the cesternc, drummes and trumpets 
giving it triumphant welcomes, and for the close of their 
honourable entertainment a peale of chambers." The 

" cesterne " here mentioned is the reservoir at the New 
River Head. 

It may naturally be concluded that Middleton's dif- 
ficulties were now also brought " to blest effect," and 
that the remainder of his lite would be spent in the 
honourable enjoyment of the fruits of his great labours. 
He had conferred an inestimable benefit on his country*; 
what had he done for himself ? Brought poverty to his 
own hearth ! For eighteen years after the completion of 
the New River no dividend was returned, and iu the 
nineteenth, when the first was made, it amounted on each 
share but to 11/. 19*. Id. A single share has since 
that time sold for 14,000/. ' The consequence to Sir 
Hugh Middleton (for we find him knighted about 
this period) was to compel him to sell his shares, which 

[Sir Hugh Middleton. — From a Portrait by Cornelias Janssen.] 

were afterwards distinguished as the " Adventurer's 
shares," and begin the world auew ! A numerous family 
(there is a monument mentioned by Lysons to u Mary, 
sixth daughter and twelfth child of Hugh Middleton") 
must have incalculably enhanced the bitterness of this 

. Ajb a surveyor and engineer he would not remain un- 
employed. At this period we may judge the work in 
the Isle of Wight to have been executed, of which men- 
tion is made in the following extract : — " Alteration of 
the armes of Hugh Midleton, of London, goldsmith, 
*hom the king had made a baronet (October 19th, 

1622), for these following reasons and considerations :— • 
1. For bringing to the city of London with excessive 
charge and greater difficulty a new cut or river of fresh 
water, to the great benefite and inestimable preservation 
thereof. 2. For gaining a very great and spacious 
quantity of land in Brading Haven is the Isle of Wight, 
out of the bowelles of the sea ; and with bankes aud 
pyles and most strange defensible and chargeable moun- 
taines, fortifying the same against the violence and fury 
of the waves. 3. For finding out, with *a fortunate and 
prosperous skill, exceeding industry, and noe small 
charge, in the county of Cardigan, a royal and rich 

Digitized by 




[January 31| 

myne, from whence lie hath extracted many silver plates, 
which hare been coyned in the Tower of London for 
current money of England. W. Camden, Clarenceux, 
November 1, 1622." (Harleian Misc.) 

Thus honours were not wanting to gratify his honest 
ambition. The king by special warrant relieved him 
from the URual heavy fine (1095/.). But there appears 
no record of his doing what would have been but an act 
of generous justice, giving Sir Hugh, with the title, the 
means of enjoying it with content and dignity. 

In the succeeding reign Charles I., expecting a fresh 
call from the Company instead of a dividend, re-granted 
to Sir Hugh the whole of James's share, on condition of 
a fee-farm rent of 500/. per annum being assured to the 
crown from the profits. The deed was dated Nov. 18, 
1636. Beyond this period the shares would soon begin 
to increase in value, we may hope in sufficient time to 
enable Sir Hugh to spend his last days in a cheerful and 
honourable independence. Of his death, as of his birth, 
the date seems to be unknown : 1631 and 1636 are men- 
tioned by different writers ; the first is evidently wrong, 
and we can find no proof of the truth of the second. 
Lady Middleton, the mother of the last Sir Hugh, re- 
ceived from the Goldsmiths' Company 20/. per annum, 
so we may judge the family owed to their eminent an- 
cestor little besides an imperishable name. 

One trait illustrative of his firm independent character 
is worth recording. In his arrangement with King James 
he would not permit the monarch to have any power over 
tbe management of the undertaking. He felt in his own 
mind a strength that neither required or would bear con- 
trol. He knew too well the fickleness and corruption of 
the king's courtiers to trust an affair of such magnitude 
in their hands, too well the weakness of the king to be- 
lieve their influence would not overpower his. The re- 
sponsibility rested where he wished, on himself. The 
plan, the toil, the skill, and the anxiety had been all his 
own : with no unbecoming pride he took due care that 
the success should be his also. 


[Concluded from No. 434.] 

1. Course of proceeding in Trials for Felonies. — The 
prosecutors and witnesses bound by recognizance or 
summoned by writs of subpoena, &c, are sworn in court 
to give evidence upon the respective indictments. The 
bills of indictment, being engrossed on parchment, are 
taken to the grand jury with the names of the witnesses 
indorsed thereon, and such witnesses are called into the 
grand-jury room, and are separately examined by the 
grand jury. No other persons are allowed to be present, 
and the grand jury are bound by their oath not to dis- 
close what passes. Each bill as it is found, that is, 
decided by the grand jury to be supported or unsupported 
by the witnesses so examined, is delivered into court 
by the grand jury, with an endorsement stating that 
the bill is true generally or in part, or that the bill is not 
true. In either of the former cases the gaoler brings his 
prisoners to the bar, and each is arraigned by being called 
upon to hold up his hand in order that the court may know 
his person. The indictment is then read, and if demanded 
by the prisoner, this is done so slowly as to enable him or 
his solicitor to take a copy as the officer proceeds, as he 
does not appear to be entitled to demand a copy in any 
other way. The officer then addresses the prisoner thus : 
" How say you, A. B., are you guilty of the felony whereof 
you stand indicted, or not guilty ?" If the prisoner plead 
guilty, it is usual for the chairman or the officer to explain 
the consequence of his plea, and sometimes to state that 
no mitigation of punishment is to be expected from that 
course being taken. If the prisoner still persist in plead- 
ing guilty, it appears to be unreasonable to entreat him, 
as is sometimes done, to withdraw his plea. The plea of 
guilty being recorded, the court may immediately give 

judgment, but it is not unusual, in cases where the sen- 
tence is discretionary, to examine witnesses as to the cir- 
cumstances of the offence. The prisoner may plead not 
guilty, or he may plead in abatement of the indictment, 
as that his name or surname, or his addition or place of 
abode, is misstated, or he may plead in bar, that he haa 
been already acquitted or convicted upon the same charge, 
or that he has obtained a pardon, &c. If the prisoner 
plead " Not guilty," he is taken to have put himself upon 
the country for his trial, and a jury is called from the 
list of names returned by the sheriff. This jury, being 
impanelled merely to try the particular case, is called a 
petty jury, as contradistinguished from the grand jury, 
whose duties extend over a wider field. Upon a plea 
in abatement the prosecutor may confess the matter 
pleaded, upon which judgment is given that the indict- 
ment be auashed, and if the grand jury be not discharged, 
it is usual to send up a fresh bill in which the mistake is 
corrected ; or the prosecutor may reply, in the name of 
the crown, denying the matter pleaded in abatement, and 
concluding witn a prayer that it may be inquired of by 
the country, in which case a jury is impanelled to try 
the truth of the matter alleged. The same course is 
pursued with respect to pleas in bar, except that if the 
prosecutor confess the matter pleaded, the indictment is 
not quashed, but the prisoner has judgment of dismissal, 
and no other indictment can be preferred. So if the 
prosecutor reply, denying the truth of the matter pleaded, 
and the jury find a verdict for the prisoner. If the ver- 
dict upon a collateral issue, whether on a plea in abate- 
ment or in bar, be for the crown, the prisoner is Btrll 
allowed to plead " Not guilty" to the indictment, or, as 
it is called, to plead over to the felony. If a prisoner 
refuse to plead at all, a plea of " Not guilty" is entered 
for him. When a convenient number of prisoners are ar- 
raigned, the jurors summoned for the petty jury are called 
on their panel in the same manner as the grand jury, and 
as soon as twelve appear, the prisoners are informed of 
their right to challenge, which they may exercise separately 
if they please. A challenge is either to the array or to the 
polls. The former is an objection to the whole jury, and 
is founded upon some irregularity or impropriety in 
the awarding or in the executing of the jury-process ; 
the latter consists in objections to individual jurymen, 
and may be either for cause or without cause. The jury, 
being completed, are sworn well and truly to try, and to 
make true deliverance between the king and the prisoner 
at the bar. A proclamation is then made requiring those 
who are bound so to do by recognizance, to come forth and 
prosecute and give evidence. All the prisoners except one 
(or more to be tried upon one indictment) are put from 
the bar, and the clerk of the peace charges the jury, 
stating that the prisoner stands indicted by the name of 
A. B., for (stating the offence in the indictment), and 
that he has been arraigned and has pleaded not guilty, 
and that their charge is to inquire whether he is guilty 
of the felony or not, and to hearken to the evidence. 

Counsel employed by the prosecutor are allowed, a* 
representing, indirectly, the attorney-general, to state to 
the jury the facts which, they are instructed, can be 
proved; but the opening speech is commonly omitted 
where the case is simple and likely to be understood from 
the statement of the witnesses as they proceed, more es- 
pecially where there is a great pressure of business. The 
prosecutor himself can only be examined on oath like 
another witness. He is never allowed personally to ad- 
dress the jury ; and therefore where no counsel is engaged 
for the prosecution there can be no opening speech. In 
such case the duty of examining the witnesses devolves 
upon the chairman, who is generally apprised of the facts 
which the witnesses can prove from the depositions, which 
are, or ought to be, returned to the sessions by the ma- 
gistrates before whom they were taken. 

Under 6 and 7 W. IV., c. 114, persons held to bail 

Digitized by 





or committed to prison for any offence are entitled to 
require and have on demand, from the person who has 
the lawful custody thereof, copies of the examination of 
the witnesses upon whose depositions they were held to 
bail or committed, on payment of a reasonable sum not 
exceeding three halfpence for each folio of 90 words. But 
if the demand be not made before the first day of the 
sessions, such copy is not to be delivered unless the chair- 
man be of opinion that it can be made and delivered 
without delay or inconvenience to the trial. The chair- 
man is however authorized, if he think fit, to postpone 
the trial on account of such copy not having been pre- 
viously had by the party charged. This statute also 
authorizes all persons, at the time of their trial, to inspect, 
without fee or reward, all depositions (or copies thereof) 
which have been taken against them and returned to the 
court before which the trial is had. 

On the case for the prosecution being closed, if the 
court be of opinion that the felony charged has not been 
established, and that the prosecution has failed in point 
of law, it is the duty of the chairman not to recommend, 
but to direct the jury to acquit. If the court be of 
opinion that a primd facie case has been made out, the 
prisoner is asked what he has to say in answer to the 
charge, which he may do either personally or by his counsel. 
The prisoner himself may mate any assertions he thinks 
proper, whether he be in a condition to prove them or 
not ; but when counsel are employed, it is their duty to 
abstain from stating any matters which they have not 
reason to believe from their instructions can be proved 
by legal evidence. Where witnesses are called for the 
prisoner, the counsel for the prosecution is entitled to 
reply, but this right is seldom exercised where witnesses 
are examined merely as to the character of the prisoner. 
If no witness be called for the defence, there can in 
general be no reply, unless the prosecution be really 
carried on by the crown. If however counsel assert any 
fact or state the contents of any document which is not 
already in evidence, although he afterwards decline to 
prove the facts, or to produce or call for the writing, 
the counsel for the prosecution is entitled to reply ; but 
he cannot reply upon the mere assertion of the prisoner 
unsupported by proof. 

The case on both sides being closed, the chairman 
addresses the jury, stating in plain and untechnical lan- 
guage the substance of the charge, and directing their atten- 
tion to the precise issue (question) to be tried, and to the 
evidence as applicable to that issue. In cases of contradic- 
tory testimony it is sometimes necessary to read over the 
whole of the evidence from the chairman's notes, and 
this is always done when requested on the part of the 
prisoner or by the jury ; but in general a clearer im- 
pression is conveyed by presenting to the jury only 
the substance of the evidence. If the jury cannot 
agree upon their verdict, a bailiff is sworn to keep 
them without meat, drink, fire, or candle, to suffer no 
one to speak to them, and not to speak to them himself 
except to ask whether they are agreed. Upon the jury 
coming back, the prisoner is brought to the bar, and the 
foreman delivers the verdict, which is recorded. When 
the prisoner is found guilty, he is called upon to say why 
judgment should not be passed upon him. The prisoner 
or his counsel may point out any defect in the indictment 
which shows that judgment thereon would be erroneous, 
and that judgment therefore ought to be stayed or arrested. 
If no such objection be successfully taken, the pri- 
soner, in cases where the sentence is discretionary, may 
state circumstances in extenuation of his offence, or show 
his previous good character, &c. 

Where the sentence is discretionary, the chairman con- 
raits his brother justices as to the amount of the punish- 
ment to be awarded. Proclamation being made for 
silence, the prisoner is placed at the bar, and sentence is 
pronounced by the chairman, after which the prisoner is 

removed by the gaoler. Where the jury return a verdic 
of not guilty, the prisoner is immediately set at liberty, 
unless there be some other charge against him. 

2. Course of proceeding in trials for Misdemeanors.—* 
An issue upon an indictment for a misdemeanor is called 
a traverse j a term applicable to every denial of a matter ot 
fact contained in a ministerial record, or which has been 
found for the crown by an inquest or jury summoned on 
behalf of the crown for the purpose of making a prelimi- 
nary or ex-parte inquiry. A traverse to an indictment 
for a misdemeanor is a denial of the offence charged ; as 
the term is, howera 1 , generally used, it means not only 
this denial, but also the deferring of the trial to the next 
sessions «r to the next term, or to the next assizes, as the 
case may be. 

Traverses are seldom tried until the felonies have been 
disposed of; after which defendants bound by recogni- 
zance at the preceding sessions to prosecute their tra- 
verses at these sessions are called into court, the course 
being for a party indicted for an assault or other misde- 
meanor to appear and plead not guilty, and traverse the 
indictment at the session at which the bill is found, and 
to enter into a recognizance to prosecute his traverse at 
the next quarter-sessions, unless he has been arrested or 
held to bail on that very charge, in which case the tra-r 
verse may be tried at the sessions at which the bill is 
found, and it may be so tried in other cases by consent 
of parties. A traverser must obtain from the clerk of 
the peace a transcript of the record or proceedings and a 
venire facias, i.e. process to summon a jury and get it 
returned ; and though called a defendant, yet being to a 
certain extent an actor complaining of the finding of the 
jury, he is bound, like traversers of other ministerial 
records, to give notice of trial to the prosecutor. At the 
sessions he must enter his traverse with the clerk of the 
peace, and appear personally at the bar. By omitting 
any of these things he will forfeit his recognizance. 

As the indictment is not read by the officer of the 
court in the presence of the jury, as in cases of felony, 
it is usual for the junior counsel for the prosecution to 
open the substance of the indictment. After which the 
senior counsel opens the case to the jury ; but if there be 
no counsel there can be no opening speech, and as the 
chairman has no depositions before him, he can merely 
call upon the witnesses whose names appear upon the 
back of the indictment to be sworn, and make their own 
statement. It is not necessary, as it is in cases of felony, 
that the verdict should he given in open court, or even in 
the presence of the defendant. In other respects the 
course of proceeding is nearly the same as in felonies. 
If the defendant he found guilty, the court awards im- 
prisonment, or sets a fiue in proportion to the offence, or 
pronounces such other punishment as the law directs. 

3. Course of proceeding upon Appeals. — No appeal 
lies to this court, except where it is expressly directed ; 
but in most cases in which a summary jurisdiction is 
given by statute to individual magistrates their decision 
is allowed to be brought before the sessions by way of 
appeal. Notice of appeal is generally required, and not 
only is the appellant restricted to the grounds of objec- 
tion stated in his notice, but the court itself is precluded 
from noticing any other defects. Subject to this restric- 
tion, it is the duty of the court to hear the case as if no 
previous decision had been come to. It is therefore usual, 
though the practice varies in different counties, for the 
party who has to establish the affirmative of the fact in 
issue, and who is, generally Bpeaking, tlje respondent, ts. 
the party resisting the appeal, to begin. The following 
course is commonly pursued : — The senior counsel for 
the respondent states the case, which the witnesses are 
then called to support; the evidence is then summed 
up by the respondent's second counsel. The senior counsel 
for the appellant then opens his case, and calls his wit- 
nesses ; and the appellant's second counsel sums up ; after 

Digitized by 




[Januar? 31, 1830. 

which the respondent's senior counsel replies. The whole 
case, both as to law and fact, is then decided by the votes of 
the majority of justices present, whether they have heard the 
whole case or not, and the order or other matter appealed 
against is eirtier confirmed or discharged. Where, upon 
the hearing of an appeal, points of legal difficulty arise, 
it is usual for the court to direct a special case to be 
stated for the decision of the Court of King's Bench. 
But it is in the discretion of the justices to grant or refuse 
a special case; and if none be stated, the King's Bench 
has no jurisdiction to review the judgment of the quarter- 
sessions, except where it proceeds as a court of criminal 
jurisdiction according to the course of. common law, in 
which case a writ of error lies from the sessions to the 
King's Bench. In stating the special case all matters 
of fact must be directly asserted. It is not enough to 
state evidence leading to a conclusion of fact ; the con- 
clusion must be drawn in the case itself. Where the 
case is insufficiently stated, the King's Bench will send 
it back to be restated, upon which the sessions must pro- 
ceed to rehear it as if it were entirely new business. It is 
most usually granted in cases of settlement and rating, 
but it may be granted in all cases of orders and convic- 
tions where the certiorari {i.e. the process whereby the 
proceedings are to be removed into the King's Bench) 
is not expressly taken away by statute. The King's 
Bench will take no cognizance of a special case reserved 
on an indictment at sessions ; the proper course in cases 
of legal difficulty upon indictments is to direct a special 
verdict to be found. A bill of exceptions will not lie to 
the justices in sessions. If justices refuse to receive evi- 
dence which is legally admissible, the King's Bench ^vi]l 
grant a mandamus requiring them to rehear the appeal 
and receive the evidence. But if the justices entertain 
doubts as to the admissibility of evidence, the least ex- 
pensive course to the parties is to grant a special case. 

Where, upon the affirmance of a conviction at the sessions 
the justices, from being divided in opinion as to their 
power to issue process for the apprehension and punish- 
ment of the party convicted according to the sentence and 
the tenor of the conviction, or for any other reasons de- 
cline to issue such process, they may be compelled to do 
so by a mandamus, unless there appears to have been un- 
reasonable delay in applying for execution of the sentence. 

4. Course of proceeding in matters relating to the 
County-rate. — It is usual to devote the first day of the 
session exclusively to the assessment, application, and 
management of the county-rate and funds in aid thereof. 
Formerly the justices performed this part of their duties 
with closed doors. But now, by 4 and 5 W. IV., c. 48, 
all business relating to the county stock, &c. is directed 
to be transacted publicly in open court, after two weeks' 
notice, in two newspapers, of the day and hour at which 
such business will commence. An adjournment of the 
sessions ought to be made by as many justices as are 
necessary to hold and constitute the court, viz. two, one 
of them being of the quorum. The court cannot be ad- 
journed by the crier in the absence of the justices. 

Persons coming to the sessions, either to prefer bilk 
of indictment or to give information or evidence against 
another, or to tender a fine upon an indictment against 
himself, whether voluntarily or as bound to appear by 
recognizance, are privileged from arrest upon civil process 
during their stay, or on their journey to or from the sessions. 
If a party so privileged be arrested during his attendance 
at the sessions, the justices of the peace have power to dis- 
charge him ; and whether arrested in going, staying, or 
returning, he may obtain his discharge upon application 
to the court out of which the process issued. 

Those particulars in which the course of proceedings 
at Borough Quarter- Sessions differs from that pursued at 
County Sessions will be noticed in a future article. 


Day of 




Sundays and 
Remarkable Days. 

Eq. Time. 

High Water, 
London Diidge. 


of the 


Clock bof. 


2. Camllemaa-day. Scotch quarter-day. 



h. m 
7 4*2 



1 F 

<Sal.Fwh.lwg. in Scotld. 
\ Fhea.&Par.uhoot. end. 

m. s. 
13 52 

h. m. 
4 47 

h. m. 
3 53 

h. m. 
4 8 




Ssjcoffctima Sunday 

7 40 
7 39 

14 7 

4 48 
4 50 

4 26 
4 57 

4 41 

5 11 

Proper Lessons, Morning. 

a Sh 

Feb. 3 Sexagesima . Geo. 3 . . Mark 3 

4 M 



7 37 

14 13 

4 52 

5 30 

5 45 

„ 10 Quinquagesima „ 9 to v. 20 „ 10 



• • 

J 35 

14 18 

4 51 

6 1 

6 14 

„ 13 Ash Wednesday Nb.U „ 13 

6 \V 


• • • 

7 34 

14 23 

4 56 

6 32 

6 49 

„ 17 1st in Lent Gen.19 to v. 30 Luke 1 to v. 39 




7 32 

14 26 

4 57 

7 6 

7 30 

» 24 2 „ „ 27 ,, 7 



Half Quarter. 

7 30 

14 29 

4 59 

7 57 

8 26 



Qninquageiima Sunday. 

7 29 
7 27 

14 31 
14 33 

5 1 
3 3 

9 4 
10 33 

9 47 
11 15 

Proper Lessons, Eyknino. 


Feb. 3 Gen. 6 . 1 Cor 15 

11 M 


• • • 

7 25 

14 33 

5 5 

11 59 

„ 10 ., 12 2 Cor. 6 

12 Tu 


Shrove Tuesday. 

7 23 

14 33 

5 7 


1 5 

„ 13 Numb. 12 „ 9 

13 W 


Aih Wednesday. 

7 21 

14 32 

5 9 

1 30 

1 54 

„ 17 Gen. 22 „ 13 

14 Th 



7 19 

14 30 

5 10 

2 15 

2 37, 

„ 24 , 34 Ephes. 1 

15 F 

16 S 


Camb.Lent Term div. n. 
1 Sunday in Ltnt. 

7 17 
7 16 
7 14 

14 28 
14 25 
14 21 

5 12 
5 1J 

5 16 

2 56 

3 35 

4 14 

3 18 

3 55 

4 32 

17 Su 


18 M 

19 Tu 

20 W 

21 Th 

22 y 

23 S 


EmUr Welk. 

• • • 

• • • 

2 SuwL in Lett. S. Matt. 

7 12 
7 10 
7 8 
7 6 
7 4 
7 1 

6 59 

14 16 
14 11 
14 f> 
13 58 
13 51 
13 43 
13 34 

5 18 
5 20 
5 21 
5 23 
5 25 
5 29 

4 53 

5 33 

6 15 

6 59 

7 57 
9 16 

10 58 

5 13 

5 54 

6 37 

7 24 

8 30 

10 8 

11 47 

Last Quarter 6th day, 6h. 41m. aflern. 
New „ 14th day, 3h.28m. mora. 
First Quarter 20th day, 7h. 50m. aftern. 
Full „ 28th day, 8h. 36m. morn. 


of Day. 





24 Su 

25 M 


6 57 

13 24 
13 15 

5 30 
5 32 


1 23 

'26 Tu 


• • • 

6 55 


h. m 

h. m. 

h. m. 

h. m. 

J27 W 


• • • 

6 53 

13 4 

5 34 

1 47 

2 5 


9 4 

1 20 

5 44 

6 45 

16' 15" 



• • • 

6 51 

12 53 

5 36 

2 25 

2 42 


9 22 
9 40 
9 58 

1 33 

1 56 

2 14 

5 37 
5 31 
5 21 

6 52 

7 1 
7 9 

16 14 
16 13 
16 12 



10 17 

2 33 

5 13 

7 17 

16 11 



10 37 

2 53 

5 2 

7 26 

16 10 

V The Offiee of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge Is at 59, Lincoln's Inn Fields, 


,rrtnUd by Wnxun Cwruand So** Stamford Street. 

Digitized by 




Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[February 2, 1839. 


[Junction of the Rirers Tchadda and Qtiorra. — From an ordinal r rawing.] 

Thb progress of geographical knowledge is of the most 
vital importance to a commercial country like England. 
Before the products of our manufacturing industry can 
find their way into new and distant markets, and any 
trade estabhjhed on a proper footing, it is necessary to 
be well acquainted with the nature of the demand which 
is likely to arise, and also of the commodities which will 
be offered in exchange by the native traders. Thus the 
blunder of exporting skates to a region in which ice is 
never seen arose out of gross ignorance of geography. 
But something more is needed than an acquaintance with 
the physical geography of the countries whose commer- 
cial wants it is intended to supply. The habits and 
wants of the inhabitants must be studied, and the tastes, 
even of the most savage people, consulted. Before, how- 
ever, any extensive commercial operations can be under- 
taken, the way must be prepared by travellers who make 
their way through the wilderness and the desert to un- 
known regions, encountering the suspicion and perhaps 
Hostility of barbarous tribes. These pioneers must be 
Vol. VIII. 

possessed of great energy, constant presence of mind, 
cheerfulness amidst difficulties and dangers, an open and 
candid manner, and tact in converting passing incidents 
into the means of cementing friendship and strengthening 
confidence ; to which must be added a robust frame, 
capable of enduring fatigue and hardships. Then, after 
these first travellers have penetrated into the heart of a 
country, and have given a rough and incomplete outline 
of its most striking features, exciting wonder rather than 
communicating exact knowledge, their labours require to 
be followed up by other travellers, who go to examine, at 
greater leisure, the condition of the country, its capa- 
bilities, and productions. They attempt to gain a more 
intimate knowledge of the social condition of the inhabit- 
ants, their arts and policy, their origin and relation to 
other races, their language and religion, and general in- 
tellectual capacity. They observe the disposition of the 
population and the resources of the country with refer- 
ence to the prospects of commercial intercourse ; if a new 
and more beneficial direction can be given to industry by 


Digitized by 

Google _ 



[Februab* 2, 

the supply of commodities which are produced with great 
waste of time and labour, and they point out the new objects 
of exchange which may be created when labour is more 
economically directed. The first appearance of the tra- 
veller in the unfrequented regions of Africa is calculated 
to promote commercial objects, for he must constantly 
keep up au appearance of traffic to avoid the suspicion of 
tile natives, who are not capable of appreciating the views 
with which he comes amongst them. The beads, brace- 
lets, needles, trinkets, ornaments, and other articles, are 
bartered for provisions ; for commodities which hate an 
exchangeable value, or they are required to conciliate 
good-will. By this means new commercial paths are 
in time opened, consuls are then appointed to watch over 
the rising interests of the trade, and a permanent market is 
opened which spreads its civilizing influences far and wide. 

It is creditable to the people of this country that, in 
their ardour for the promotion of geographical science, 
they have been stimulated as much by a desire to extend 
the boundaries of science, to enlarge the knowledge of 
nature, and to become conversant with the wonders of 
creation in every clime, as by the commercial spirit 
which it might be presumed would more peculiarly in- 
fluence them. But in the dreary regions of the North 
Pole, and under the burning sun of Africa, our expe- 
ditions have had a scientific rather than a* Commercial 
character. An account of our attempts to explore the 
interior of Africa may be regarded as one of the most 
interesting chapters in" the history of British enterprise. 
Before, however, giving a brief notice of some of these 
undertakings, we shall just glance at the progress of 
maritime discovery in that quarter of the globe. 

In the time of Herodotus, and long afterwards, the 
general opinion was that Africa did not extend so far 
south as the equatorial line. There existed, however, a 
tradition that Africa had been circumnavigated by the 
Phoenicians about six centuries befote the Christian era ; 
but if the southern promontory of Africa had really been 
reached, it is difficult to conceive how so erroneous an im- 
pression could have prevailed as to the extent of the con* 
tinent. It is, therefore, most probable that such a voyage 
had never succeeded; and, indeed, the circumstances 
under which it was prosecuted, according to the accounts 
which have come down to us, only add an additional 
feature of improbability to the story. Turning to modern 
times, we find, at the commencement of the fifteenth 
century, that Europeans were only acquainted with that 
portion of the western coast of Africa which extends 
from the Straits of Gibraltar to Cape Nun, a line of 
coast not exceeding six hundred miles in length. The 
Portuguese had the honour of extending this limited ac- 
quaintance with the outline of the African continent. 
Their zeal for discovery in this direction became truly a 
national passion, and the sovereigns and princes of Por- 
tugal prosecuted this object with singular enthusiasm. 
By the year 1471 the Portuguese navigators had advanced 
2£° south of the Line. In 1484 Diego Cam reached 22° 
south latitude. The next navigator, Bartholomew Diaz, 
was commanded to pursue his course southward until he 
should reach the extremity of Africa, and to him belongs 
the honour of discovering the Cape of Good Hope, the 
name given to it at the time by the King of Portugal, 
though Diaz had named it Cabo Tormentoso (the Cape of 
Tempests). The Cape of Good Hope was at first fre- 
quently called the Lion of the Sea, and also the Head of 
Africa. In 1497 Vasco de Gama set forth with the intention 
of reaching India by sailing round the Cape of Good Hope. 
After doubling the Cape, he pursued his course along the 
eastern coast of Africa, and then stretched across the ocean 
to India. The Portuguese had now ascertained the 
general outline of Africa, and the position of many of the 
principal rivers and headlands. With the exception of 
a portion of the coast from the Straits of Bab el Mandeb 
to Mukdeesha, situated in 3° north latitude, the whole of 

the coast had been traced by the Portuguese, and their 
zeal and enthusiasm, which had at one period been 
treated with ridicule, were at length triumphantly re- 
warded, about four years before Columbus had achieved 
his great discovery, which, with that of Vasco de Gama, 
amply repaid a century of speculative enterprise. This 
interesting combination of events had a sensible effect 
upon the general mind of Europe. The Portuguese soon 
formed settlements in Africa, and began to acquire a 
knowledge of the interior of the country. They were 
followed by the French, and afterwards by the English 
and the Dutch. 

It is chiefly within the last fifty years that discoveries 
in the interior of Africa have been perseveringly and sys- 
tematically prosecuted. In 1788 a Society was established 
in London with the design of encouraging men of enter- 
prise to explore the African continent. John Ledyard, 
an American, was the first person selected by the African 
Association for this task, and he set out in 1788 with the 
intention of traversing the widest part of the continent 
from east to west, in the supposed latitude of the river 
Niger. Unforturatfely he was seized at Cairo with a 
fever, of which he died. He possessed few scientific 
acquirements ; but his vigour and powers of endurance, 
mental and bodily, his indifference to pain, hardship, and 
fatigue, would have rendered him an admirable geogra- 
phical pioneer. " I have known," he said, shortly 
before leaving England for the last time, '* hunger and 
nakedness to the utmost extremity of human suffering ; 
1 have known what it is to have food given as charity to 
a madman, and have at times been obliged to shelter 
myself under the miseries of that character to avoid a 
heavier calamity. My distresses have been greater than 
I have ever owned, or ever will own, to any man. Such 
evils are terrible to bear, but they never yet had the 
power to turn me from my purpose." Such was the 
indomitable energy of this man, the first of a long list of 
victims in the cause of African discovery. Mr. Lucas, 
who was despatched by the Association to supply the 
place of Ledyard, was compelled to return home in con- 
sequence of several of the countries through which he 
would have to pass being engaged in hostilities. In 
1790 Major Houghton, an officer who was acquainted 
with the customs of the Moors and Negroes, proceeded 
to Africa under the auspices of the Association, and had 
made considerable progress in the interior, when, after 
having been treacherously plundered and left in the 
Desert, where he endured severe privations, he reached 
Jarra, and died there in September, 1791, it being 
strongly suspected that he was murdered. The next in- 
dividual on whom the Association fixed was Mungo 
Park, who proceeded to the river Gambia in 1795, and 
thence set out into the interior. The great object ac- 
complished during his journey was that of successfully 
exploring the banks of the Niger, which had previously 
been considered identical with the river Senegal. In 
1804 Park set out upon his second journey, which was 
undertaken at the expense of the government. The plan 
of former travellers had been to accompany rne caravans 
from one part of the country to another ; but in this ex- 
pedition Park required a party of thirty-six Europeans, 
six of whom were to be seamen and the remainder soldiers, 
it being his intention, on reaching the Niger, to build 
two vessels, and to follow with his party the course of the 
river. If the Congo and the Niger were the same stream, 
as was then supposed, he anticipated little difficulty in 
his enterprise ; but if, as was also maintained, the Niger 
terminated in swamps and morasses, many hardships and 
dangers were expected in their subsequent progress. 
Park at length reached the Niger, accompanied only by 
seven of his party, all of whom were in a state of great 
weakness from the effects of the climate. They built one 
vessel, and on the 17th of November, 1805, were ready 
to embark on the river, previous to which Park sent 

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despatches to England. His party was now reduced to 
five, his brother-in-law having died a few days before. 
Park's spirit, however, remained undaunted. " Though 
all the Europeans who are with me should die," said he, 
in his last letters to England, " and though I myself were 
half dead, I would still persevere; and if I could not 
succeed in the object of my journey, I would at least die 
in the Niger." He embarked, therefore, with the inten- 
tion of sailing down the river to its mouth, wherever 
that might be; but after passing Timbuctoo and several 
other cities, he was killed in the Niger, at a place called 
Boussa, a short distance below Yaouri. No part of his 
journal after he left Sansanding has ever been recovered. 

In 1797 the African Association h*4 engaged Mr. 
Hornemann, a German, who left Cairo in September, 
1798, with the intention of carrying into effect the objects 
of the Association by proceeding as far southward and 
westward as he could get. In his last despatches be 
expressed himself confident in being able to succeed in 
reaching a greater distance into the interior than any 
other European traveller i but after reaching Bornou, no 
certain intelligence was ever afterwards heard concerning 
him. Mr. Jlornemann learned many particulars which 
had not before been known in Europe respecting the 
countries to the east of Timbuctoo. Mr. Nicholls, who 
was next engaged, arrived in the Gulf of Benin in 
November, 1804, and died soon afterwards of the ifever 
of the country. Another German, Boentzen, was next 
sent to Africa. He had bestowed extraordinary pains in 
making himself acquainted with the preraibng language, 
and, throwing off his costume, proceeded in the character 
of a Mussulman, but unhappily was murdered by his 
guides on his way to Soudan. The last traveller sent 
out by the Association was Burckhardc, a Swiss. He 
spent several years in acquiring a knowledge of the lan- 
guage and customs of the people whom he intended to 
visit, and, like Mr- Boentzen, assumed the characteristics 
of a Mussulman* He died at Cairo in 1817, his travels 
having been chiefly confined to the Abyssinian countries. 

In 1816 an expedition was sent out by the government, 
under the command of Captain Tuckey, to the river 
Congo, under the idea, in which Parjt had coincided, that 
it and the Niger were the same river. Captain Tuckey 
ascended the Congo for about 280 miles. At the same 
time, Major Peddie, and, after his death, Captain Camp- 
bell, proceeded from the mouth of the river Senegal as 
far as Kakundy. In 1817 Mr. Bowdich explored the 
countries adjoining Cape Coast Castle. In 1820 Mr. 
Jackson communicated an interesting account of the ter- 
ritories of Timbuctoo and Houssa, from details which he 
had collected from a Mussulman merchant. In 1819 
and in 1821 the expeditions of Messrs. Ritchie artd Lyon, 
and of Major Laing, showed the strong and general inte- 
rest on the subject of African geography. In 1822 the 
important expedition under Major Denham and Lieut. 
Clapperton set forth. After crossing the Desert, the 
travellers reached the great inland sea or lake called the 
Tchad, the coasts of which to the west and south were 
examined by Major Denham. This lake, from 400 to 
600 feet above the level of the sea, is one of the most 
remarkable features in the physical geography of Africa. 
Lieut. Clapperton, in the mean time, proceeded through 
the kingdom of Bornou and the country of the Fellatahs 
to Sockatoo, situated on a stream supposed to run into 
the Niger. A great mass of information respecting the 
countries eastward of Timbuctoo was the result of his 
expedition. As to the course of the Niger, very little 
intelligence was obtained which could be depended upon : 
the natives stated that it flowed into the sea at Funda, 
though what place on the coast was meant still remained 
a conjecture. Soon after his return to England, Clap- 
perton was sent out by the government to conduct a new 
expedition, and was directed to proceed to the scene of 
his former adventures. Having reached the Niger at 

Boussa, where Park was killed, he passed through various 
countries, and reached Sackatoo, where he died ; and 
Lander, his friend and servant, commenced his return to 
England with Clapperton's journals and papers. Major 
Laing, meanwhile, had visited Timbuctoo, and trans- 
mitted home accounts of this famous city, where he spent 
some weeks ; but on his return he was murdered, and 
his papers have never been recovered. We have not 
space to allude to the many well-executed expeditions 
which have proceeded from Cape Town, for the purpose 
of exploring South Africa, but have confined ourselves to 
those exertions which had for their object the elucidation 
of the question concerning the course and termination of 
the Niger, and were consequently directed to Central Africa 
The termination of the Niger had long been one of 
the most interesting problems in African geography, and 
we have now reached the rJeriod when, on this point, facts 
were substituted for conjecture and hypothesis. The 
river had first been 6een by Park, near Sego, the capital 
of Barobarra. It was called by the natives the Joiiba, 
or " Great Water ;" and Park described it as "flowing 
slowly {to the eastward." He followed the course of the 
riw ft>r about 300 niiks, and was told that a journey of 
ten days would bring him to its source. At Sackatoo 
Lieut. Clapperton found that it was called the Quorra, 
by which name it is known in the most recent maps, it 
having received the name of the Niger, in the first in- 
stance, from its supposed identity with the Nigir of the 
ancients. The want of information concerning the course 
and termination of this mysterious river, until determined 
by actually proceeding down its channel to the sea, was, 
as may be supposed, a fruitful source of speculation 
amongst geographers. By some it was supposed to flow 
into the Nile ; others imagined that a great central lake 
received its waters. Major Rennel, an authority of great 
weight, came to the conclusion that, after passing Tim- 
buctoo, the Niger flowed a thousand miles in an easterly 
direction, and terminated in a lake or swamp ; others 
supported the opinion that its waters were lost in the 
and sands of the Desert ; while the Congo was said by 
many to be its outlet. Major Laing, by ascertaining the 
source of the Niger to be not more than 1600 feet above 
the level of the sea, proved that it could not flow into the 
Nile; and Denham and Clapperton demonstrated that it 
did not, as had been supposed, discharge itself into the 
Lake of Bornou. These opinions, and the manner in 
which expeditions for the purpose of ascertaining the fact 
were baffled in their attempts, kept alive speculation, and 
created an object of ambition in an interesting depart- 
ment of knowledge. 

ITo bo continued/) 

Sagacity qfa Hare.— -A. harbour of great extent on our 
southern coast has an island, near the middle, of consider- 
able size, the nearest point of which is a mile distant from 
the mainland at high-water, and with which point there is 
frequent communication by a ferry. Early one morning in 
spring two hares were observed to come down from the hills 
of the mainland towards the sea-side, one of which, from 
time to time, left its companion, and proceeding to the very 
edge of the water, stopped there a minute or two, and then 
returned to its mate. The tide was rising, and after waiting 
some time, one of them, exactly at high-water, took to the 
sea, and swam rapidly over, in a straight line, to the opposite 
projecting point of land. The observer on this occasion, 
who was near the spot, but remained unperceived by the 
hares, had no doubt they were of different sexes, and that it 
was the male who had swam across the water, as he had 
probably done many times before. It was remarkable that 
the hares remained on the shore nearly half an hour ; one 
of them occasionally examining, as it would Beem, the stato 
of the current, and ultimately taking to the sea at that pre- 
cise period of the tide called slack- water, when the passage 
across could be effected without being carried by the force 
of the stream either above or below the desired point of 
landing. The other hare then cantered back to the hills.— 
Mr. Yurrell, in Loudon's Magazine, vol. v. 

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No. VII. William of Cloudeslie.— Robin Goodfellow. 

" Listene these layes. fur Rome there be the, 
Of love winch stronger is than (let he , 
And some of scorne, and some of guile 
And old adventures that fell while.** 

[Wi'liam of Cloiu'eslie and l«i« Family in Englewood Forest.] 

* William of Cloudeslie' is a ballad of rustic chivalry, and 

* Rubin Goodfellow' one of rustic superstition : the chivalry 
of the one has been applauded by the heroic and the high- 
bom ; the superstition of the other has found imitators 
and believers among the classic and the polite ; while 
both have long found favour with that vast body of 
mankind who are pleased and charmed, they scarcely 
know why, and who never inquire the cause. Both 
these ballads are of English growth, and both are pecu- 
liar to this isle : rustics, indeed, of distant lands have 
achieved hardy adventures, and bards of other climes 
have thrown the veil of genius over gross beliefs, 
and purified them into poetry ; yet the features and 
lineaments of the parentage speak of the origin of all. 
A sun-dial was never truer to the latitude for which it was 
formed than these two ballads are to the deeds and beliefs 
of England. 

The first relates the adventures of three noted archers 
and outlaws who €welt of old in Englewood in Cum- 
berland, defying the king, and shooting and eating 
his deer. They were men of great resolution, great 
bravery, and unequalled, save by Robin Hood with whom 
they had contended, at the bow. They had high feelings 
too, were quite unacquainted with fear, and not unaided 

by the light of letters ; for the full success of one of their 
sternest adventures is made to depend on their ability to 
write and read. The second ballad is the triumphal 
song of that domestic spirit Robin Goodfellow, in which 
he relates all his master-strokes of joyous mischief, and 
chuckles as he recals them to mind. He is the Puck 
of Shakspere, the Drudging Goblin of Milton, the 
Brownie of Scottish belief, and is surpassed by none of 
these active spirits in deeds of merriment or mischief. 

The exploits of Adam Bell, Clym of the Cleugh, and 
William of Cloudeslie, are often alluded to in our old 
dramas ; and in our own days Sir Walter Scott has bor- 
rowed and worked upon some of the chief incidents. The 
ballad is alike popular on both sides of the Tweed. The 
scene is laid in the spring. " It is merry," says the min- 
strel, " to live in the forest when the leaves are green and 
the deer abundant ; for then a strong bow, a long arrow, 
and a skilful hand, furnish a plentiful table." Of this 
the three yeomen of Englewood were well aware. 

" And one of them was Adam Bell, 
The other Clvm of the Cleugh J 
The third was William of Cloudeslie, 
An archer good enough." 

They had been outlawed for killing the royal deer 

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two were single men, but Cloudeslie was married, and 
his wife Alice and his three children lived in Carlisle, 
a plsye of strength, with high walls and a strong castle. 
Now the green leaves, the clear streams, and the choicest 
deer, could not hinder the heart of poor Cloudeslie from 
wandering to his home, and he resolved, contrary to the 
advice of his comrades, to visit his own fireside. 

" He took his leave of his brethren two, 
And to Carlisle is he gone, 
And there he knocked at his own window 
Shortly and anone. 

Where be you, fair Alice, he said, 

My wife and children three ? 
O quickly let in thine own husband, 

William of Cloudeslie. 

Alas., then ! said the fair Alice, 

Aud sighed wondrous sore ; 
This place hath been beset for youl 

This full half year and more." 

u Since I am come," replied the outlaw, " I wish I 
could get in, and when in, get some meat and drink, for 
I come to be merry." Alice undid the door, placed meat 
and drink before him, and was happy, for she loved him 
as she loved her life. These sentiments were not shared 
by an old cripple woman who lay in a corner, and over- 
heard what passed. She forgot that she had been kept 
there seven years from charity, and coveted the gold which 
the capture of her benefactor would bring. She was an 
impostor as well as mendicant : — 

" Up she rose, and away she goes, 
Evil may she speed therefore ; 
For she had set no foot on the ground 
For seven years and more. 

She went unto the justice-hall 

As fast as she could hie : 
This night, she said, is come to Carlisle 

William of Cloudeslie." 

The justice rose rejoicing. " Dame," said he, " thou 
shalt not have thy labour for nought," and bestowing on 
her " a gown of scarlet and grain," he summoned his 
men, and, surrounding the house of the outlaw, proceeded 
to force his way in. Cloudeslie heard the heavy tread of 
armed men in the street, and Alice, looking from a 
wicket, perceived the sheriff with his band. " Go into my 
chamber, my husband," she cried, " for there thou wilt 
be surest." Now the chamber of his wife was a strong 
room, and, with his sword and bow and his three chil- 
dren, he took refuge there, while Alice with a poleaxe in 
her hand kept the door, and exclaimed, " The first who 
comes shall die." 

" Cloudeslie bent a right good bow 
That was of a trusty tree, 
And smote the justice upon the breast, 
But his arrow buratUn three. 

A curse on his heart, said William then, 

This day thy coat did on ; 
For had it been no better than mine, 
' It had gone near thy bone." 

"Yield thee, Cloudeslie," exclaimed the justice, glad 
of his escape, " and yield also thy bow and thy arrows." 
" A curse on the heart of him," said the outlaw's heroic 
wife, " that gives my husband such counsel." 

" Set fire to the house, said the sheriff, 
Sith it may no better be, 
And burn we therein William, he said, 
With his wife and children three." 

The sheriff's men set fire to the house; the heart 
of Alice failed when she thought on her children. 
" Alas ! " she said, " and must we all perish ?" Cloudeslie 
opened a back window, lowered his wife and children into 
the street, and then said to his enemies, " You have now 
got all my treasure ; for Christ's love, do them no harm ; 
work all your vengeance on me." Having said this, he 
continued to discharge his arrows, till the rising fire 
burned his bow-string : then, with a sword in one hand, 
his buckler in the other, he leaped into the street, and few 
lived who withstood him. 

•< There might no man abide his strokes, 
So fiercely on them he ran ; 
But they threw windows and doom on him, 
And took that good yeoman." 

" Now," cried the sheriff, " Cloudeslie, thou shalt be 
hanged at last. Shut the gates of Carlisle, and see that 
no man enter : then make a pair of new gallows, and let 
me see if Clym of the Cleugh, or Adam Bell, or even the 
devil himself, who has cared for thee so long, shall take 
thee out of my hand." Now it happened that a little boy 
who kept the town's swine saw the gallows erected, and in- 
quired who it was for. " For a apod yeoman," replied a 
sympathizing Cumbrian, " called William of Cloudeslie." 
" I shall away," muttered the boy, and began to run as 
he spoke—" I shall away and tell this to Adam Bell and 
Clym-o'-the-Cleugh, and hear what they say to it." He 
found those bold outlaws pursuing their calling. 

" Alas, then ! cried the swineherd boy, 
Ye tarry here all too long ; 
Cloudeslie is ta'en and doomed to death, 
And ready for to hong. 

Alas, then ! said good Adam Bell, 

That erer we saw this day ; 
Cloudeslie had better have tarried with us, 

As often we did him pray. 

He might have dwelt in the green forest 

Under the shadows green. 
And have kept both him and us at rest, 

Out of all trouble and teen." 

As he said this he bent his bow, slew a fat buck, 
and added, " There, child, take that for thy dinner, but 
bring me mine arrow, for erelong I shall need it. We 
go to redeem Cloudeshe, or die in the attempt." When 
they reached Carlisle they found the gates shut, and a 
resolute porter within. 

" Up then bespake him Clym-oMhe-Cleugh, 
■ A wile through will us bring : 
Let us say we be two messengers 
Straight come now from our king. 

Said Adam, I have a letter written, 

So let us wisely worke : 
We will say we have the king's own seal ; 

The porter I hold no clerke.* 

They went boldly up, and beat loudly on the gates, at 
which the porter marvelled, and exclaimed, " Who are 
you that make all this din ?" " We be messengers from 
our king," said Clym-o'-the-Cleugh, in a tone of autho- 
rity. " False porter !" exclaimed Adam Bell ; " here 
is the royal letter : let us pass on to the sheriff, that we 
may the sooner return to our king." 

" Here cometh none in, said the porter, 
By him that died on tree, 
Till a false thief be hanged high, 
Called William of Cloudeslie. 

Then up and spake he Clym-o'-the-Cleugh, 

And swore bv Mary free, 
If thou keep us a moment more without, 1 

Like a thief hanged shalt' thou be." 

The porter undid the gates, and as he bowed, hat in 
hand, to the imaginary seal of the king, they wrung hiB 
head about, tossed him into a hole, seized on his keys, 
and spake merrily — 

" Now I am the porter, said Adam Bell, 
See, Clym, the keys are here ; 
The one worst porter to merry CarliUe 
They have had this hundred year. 

Then they bent there their good yew -bows, 
And looked their strings were sound, 

And the market-place of merry Carlisle 
They beset in that stound." 

There they saw the gallows prepared, the justice with 
his "quest of squires" who had condemned their 
comrade, with Cloudeslie himself on a hurdle, bound 
hand and foot, a rope round his neck, while over him the 
shadow of the tall gibbet fell. He looked up and he 
looked around, but saw no comfort near ; yet his soul 
was undaunted and free. 

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[February % 

« The justice called to him a lad : 
Cloudeslie's clothes shalt have j 
So take the measure of yond yeoman, 
That thou raayest make his grave. 

I have seen as great marvel, said Cloudeslie, 

As between this and prime, 
That he who maketh a grave for mo 

May lie himself therein." 

This augury waa soon to be fulfilled. Two arrows 
from the bows of Adam Bell and Clym-o'-the-Cleugh 
settled all earthly accounts with both sheriff and justice; 
the citizens fled in terror ; while Cloudeslie, on his bonds 
being cut, wrung by main force a pollaxe from the hands 
of one of his guards, and spared none who stood in his 
way. " These three, " says the old ballad-maker, 
" fought like hardy men and bold : many a gallant sol- 
dier they overcame, and moistened the leathers of their 
shafts in many a gallant heart. 

" Then was the out-horne of Carlisle blown, 
The bells backward did ring, 
And many a mother there cried Alas'! 
And wives their hands did wring. 

Then came the mayor armed all in haste, 

With a pollaxe in his hand, 
And many a strong man with him was, 

There in that stoure to stand." 

All opposition was in vain : though the mayor fought 
stiffly, and cried, as with his axe he clave Cloudeslie's 
buckler, " Keep fast the gates there; we shall have 
them," he was overmastered; the wicket was gained; 
the three gallant outlaws passed forth unhurt ; and Adam 
Bell, locking the postern, exclaimed, 

" Have here your keys now, mayor of Carlisle, 
Mine office I here forsake ; 
And if ye go by my counsel, 
A new porter ye will make. 

He threw the keys then at their heads, 

And bade them well to thrive, 
And all that letteth a good yeoman 

To come and comfort his wife." 

When William of Cloudeslie and his comrades arrived 
at their haunts in Englewood, they found Alice weeping 
with her children. The meeting was rapturous. "Now," 
said she, "my heart is free from woe, since thou art 
safe." " Dame," replied Cloudeslie, " Forget not in 
thy joy to thank my two brethren." " How you 
talk !" said Adam Bell, who loved not to hear even 
of his best deeds ; " the meat on which we must all 
sup is yet running afoot." The supper ran not long 
afoot. But as they sat feasting under the forest-tree, Cloud- 
eslie suddenly started up. " We have done a bold deed 
and a brave one," he said ; " yet we are not sure the 
king will accept the slaughter of a sheriff and a justice, 
and a score or two of citizens, as good service. Let us 
hurry to London, and obtain our pardons before the tale 
of our exploits is related by unkinder lips than our own." 
No sooner said than done. They hastened to court, knelt 
before the king, told their names, and sued for pardon. 
" Ye be false thieves," said the king, " and I vow to God 
ye shall be all hanged." Cloudeslie arose and said : " My 
liege, we came to you freely ; all we ask is to pass freely — 
pa*s with our bows in our hands out of London ; and should 
you live a hundred years, we will ask no further grace." 
" You speak boldly," said the king : " And I think," 
said the queen, " Cloudeslie speaks well. Your Majesty 
promised me the first boon I should ask — I ask it now — 
the lives of these three yeomen. What gallant guards- 
men they would make." " It is granted, madam," re- 
plied the monarch. " You might have had towers and 
towns for the asking, and all you have desired is the lives 
of three north-country thieves. Go wash, fellows, and 
dine — I admit you into my guard — you are freely par- 
doned." This was spoken in good time, for it was 
hnrdly uttered till tidings came of the death of the she- 
riff and the justice, and the slaughter of many good citi- 
zens, and his majesty discovered that he had not only 

A k 

pardoned, but admitted into his body-guard, three 
outlaws — 

« Who broke his parks and slew his deer, 
Of all they chose the best i 
Such perilous outlaws as these three 
Walked not by east nor west," 

Robin Goodfellow, the Robin Hood of the invisible 
world, cared for no sheriff's power, and sued for no 
king's grace, yet he had to answer for more lawless deeds 
than all the outlaws of England. To his love of merri- 
ment all the laughable distresses of man and woman 
were attributed ; and to his love of mischief all the evil 
for which no mortal author could be found was at once 
set down : the loiterer on an errand of mercy; the sloth- 
ful in household labours ; the wife who forgot her duty 
to her husband ; the husband who mistook his neigh- 
bour's bed for his own ; the shepherd negligent of his 
flock ; the ploughman cruel to his horses ; or the dairy- 
maid who neglected her cows or her churn, were all alike 
amenable to the laws of this domestic deity : and their 
punishment, sometimes severe and always ludicrous, took 
place in the sight of all. Yet, though Robin was here 
and there and everywhere, he was always invisible. 
Milton, it is imagined, had once a glimpse of him, 
when he, 

** Stretched out all the chimney length, 
Basked at the fire his hairy strength ;" 

and some of our northern peasants assert that they have 
seen, when ten men's tasks were invisibly wrought, a 
hairy hand, an unearthly head, and heard a portentous 
laugh, which either belonged to the Brownie, or to no 
one else. As he has never sat to any one for his portrait, 
we must turn to his actions ; and of these no one has 
given so good an account as himself, in the ballad which 
bears his name. 

This strain is entitled, in the old black-letter copies, 
* The Merry Pranks of Robin Goodfellow.' It is very 
old, and the author is unknown. It begins by Robin, 
in imitation of other heroes, claiming a high rank 
for the chief to whom he performs the part of prime mi- 
nister : he declares he is sent from Fairy Land by King 
Oberon, to work his will and execute his laws on earth, 
and, above all, to make sport and merriment. For this 
he is well fitted : he moves like lightning ; nothing escapes 
the quickness of his sight ; and his chief delight lies in 
misleading those who are returning home from graceless 

(t Sometimes I meet them like a man, 

Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound ; 
And to a horse I turn me can, 

To trip and trpt about them round ; 
But if to ride, my back they stride, 

More swift than wind away \ go ; 
O'er hedge and lands, through pools and ponds, 

I whirry, laughing, Ho, ho, ho !" 

"Besides," continues Robin, **when lads and lasses 
are merry over their possets and junkets, I slip among 
them unseen, and eat their cakes and sip their wine ; and 
when they wonder at the quick decrease, I blow out the 
candles, kiss the maids, and laugh to hear them cry 
' Ho ! what rough lip is this ?' " 

* When house or hearth doth sluttish lie, 

I pinch the maidens black or blue ; 
The bed-clothes from the bed pull I, 

And lay them naked all to view. 
Twixt sleep and wake I do them take, 

And on the clay-cold floor them throw : 
If out they cry, theu forth I fly, 

And loudly laugh out Ho, ho, ho !" 

u Yet," said he, " when I wish to please the maids, I 
card their wool while they sleep ; I spin their flax ; I 
grind flour in the hand-mill ; I dress their hemp, and trim 
the house; and when one of the rosiest awakens and 
would catch at me, away I bolt with a laugh, which 
arouses the whole household. But, when I find slut- 
tish and unthrifty queans who love idleness and gossip 

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ing,- I set them together by the fears, and leave them 
scratching and scolding." 

" When men do traps and engine* net 

Iii loop-holes where the vermin creep, 
Who from their folds and houses get 

Their dudks and geese, their latnbs and sheep, 
I spy the gin, and enter in. 

And seem a vermin taken so 
But when they there approach me near, 

I leap out, laughing Ho, ho, hd !*' 

His employment is however now and then more poetic 
than that of pinching sluttish maids, or thrashing at night 
a ten-men's task, or supping the curds and cream which the 
dairy-maid had prepared in secret for a lover who wooed 
for cake and pudding. 

"By wells and rills in meadows green 

We nightly dance our hey-day guise, 
And to our fairy king and queen 

We chant our moonlight minstrelsies : 
When larks 'gin sing, away we fling* 

And tubes new-born ileal as we go. 
An elf in b«d we leave instead, 

And wend us, laughing Ho, ho, ho I" 

Robin Ooodfellow was once a spirit in extensive em- 
ployment. The printing-machine has expelled him from 
the imaginations as well as from the houses of men, over 
which he held rule since Merlin was born of a hag, and 
fiends and ghosts haunted darksome and suspicious 
places — a period laid down by himself, and to which the 
historian of things shadowy can find no objection, since 
it rests solely on belief. 

A. C. 


[From a Correspondent.] 

Thi Rattlesnake is understood at present to belong pecu- 
liarly to the continent of America ; from whence occa- 
sionally it is imported (for exhibitions, &c.) into this and 
several other European countries. From the poisonous 
nature of its bite it is held in abhorrence above all the 
other species of snakes common to North America. There 
are, however, vast regions of that country where Rattle- 
snakes are never seen ; so that this reptile, like noxious 
ones of other parts of the World, has its peculiar haunts 
and local partialities. At the present day serious acci- 
dents arising from the bite of the rattlesnake are compa- 
ratively few indeed when we consider the great increase 
of population and extension of settlement in districts of 
country where these reptiles most abound. Since they 
have many enemies and but few friends, there is hardly 
an instance of a person having been bitten by a rattle- 
snake that does not find its way into some local news- 
paper ; the paragraph afterwards (probably much exag- 
gerated) going the whole round of the public press of 
the country ; for the Americans, like some other people, 
•re extremely partial to the perusal of improbable, mar- 
vellous, and horrible narratives. 

The wilderness in its natural state is usually spoken of 
according to the kind of timber it produces. Hence 
there are sections of country that receive the appellations 
of « oak-lands," " pine-lands," " beech-lands," &c. 
There are also two sorts of prairies, or meadow-lands — 
the upland and alluvial prairies. The former of these, 
in the western regions of the United States, consist of 
extensive plains, destitute, or nearly so, of every sort of 
timber ; while the latter are, as the name implies, sec- 
tions of meadow-land along the river valleys, sometimes 
partially wooded, but for the most part covered with tall 
wild grass. Having made these remarks, it may not be 
uninteresting to state generally that rattlesnakes are very 
rarely found in the " beech " or " green " woods — woods 
where beech, maple, ash, and birch timber predominate, 
but are the most numerous on the dry and arid ridges of 
hills, many of which are designated " i»k barrens." In 

the sandy soils, where pine timber generally abounds, 
these reptiles are exceedingly scarce ; and, excepting 
some sections of the upland prairies and the " river-hills," 
very few of them inhabit the wildernesses of the " Far 

In my many and long rambles in various parts of the 
country I am not aware that I ever ran any great risk of 
being bitten by one of these much dreaded snakes. I 
have been somewhat startled occasionally, it is true, on 
seeing them stealing away through the bushes and wild 
grass adjoining the path I have been pursuing • and in a 
few instances I must acknowledge having been a little 
alarmed on hearing them rattle the scales of their tails, 
thereby warning me to be on the " look out." Amongst 
persons the best capable of judging (because the most 
familiar with this matter) I believe there is no difference 
of opinion regarding this point, namely, that they 
always endeavour to escape from the presence of man ; 
but when they find retreat impracticable they then spring 
their rattles as a warning that they are prepared to act 
upon the principle of self-preservation : the first aggres- 
sors, I believe, they never are, 

The Indian tribes possess different antidotes against 
the bite of the rattlesnake, as also the bite or sting of 
other poisonous reptiles and insects ; so that although 
they possessed no knowledge of medicine as a science 
when the country was first settled by Europeans, yet it 
seems that they had providentially become acquainted 
with many of the valuable secrets of nature. The secrets 
obtained from the Indians, in addition to the modern dis- 
coveries in medical science, tend in a great measure to 
allay those apprehensions which once were entertained 
against the still obnoxious but less dreaded rattlesnake. 

The first time I visited the banks of the Mississippi 
river, in the decline of a serene autumnal day, my guide, 
an old Canadian hunter of French extraction, conducted 
me to an indifferent-looking house, self-styled a tavern, 
in the (then) small town of Kaskaskia, but even then the 
principal place on the almost uninhabited banks of that 
part of the Mississippi. I happened, however, not to be 
the only traveller in so remote a place, for I soon learned 
that a party of four or five individuals were to pass the 
night there. This party had been engaged on an ex- 
ploring expedition up the Missouri river, who, having 
ascended that river to a certain point, had travelled across 
the country separating those two rival rivers, and were 
now on their way back to some of the new settlements 
(with which they were connected) on the waters of the 
Ohio. I was well pleased on finding that there were 
other travellers besides myself so distant from the haunts 
of society and civilization, and I presently found myself 
on familiar terras with this party. After a brief inter- 
view they politely invited me to partake of the supper 
they had already bespoken ; informing me at the same 
time that they considered themselves peculiarly fortunate 
in having procured an excellent dish — in fact, a great de- 
licacy — in a place where they had expected to meet with 
but indifferent fare. What this " great .delicacy " was 
they did not attempt to explain ; and having without 
hesitation accepted of their invitation, I felt no inclination 
to make any further inquiries. When the hour of supper 
arrived, the principal dish, and indeed almost the only 
one upon the table, appeared to me to be a dish of good- 
sized eels, fried. I, being the guest of my new acquaint- 
ances, had the honour of being the first served with a 
plate of what the person who presided called " Musical 
Jack." Musical Jack, thought I, is some species of eel 
peculiar to the Mississippi and its tributary waters ; and 
taking it for granted that it was " all right," I forthwith 
began to ply my knife and fork. " Stop," said the indi- 
vidual that occupied the bottom of the table, before I had 
swallowed two mouthfuls ; " you, Sir, have no idea, I 
presume, what you are eating ; and 6ince you are our 
guest for the time being, I think it but right that you 

Digitized by 




[February 2, 1839. 

should have no cause hereafter to consider yourself im- 
posed upon. The dish before you, which we familiarly 
call " Musical Jack," is composed of rattlesnakes, which 
the hunter who accompanies us in our tour of exploration 
was so fortunate as to procure for us this afternoon. It 
is far from the first time that we have fared thus ; and al- 
though our own hunter skinned, decapitated, and dressed 
the creatures, it was only through dint of coaxing that 
our hostess was prevailed upon to lend her frying-pan to 
" so vile a purpose." Although curiosity had on many 
occasions prompted me to taste " strange and unsavoury 
dishes," I must confess that never before did I feel such 
a loathing and disgust as I did towards the " victuals " 
before me. I was scarcely able to listen to the conclu- 
sion of this short address ere I found it prudent to hurry 
out of the room ; nor did I return until supper was over, 
and " Musical Jack " had either been devoured or dis- 
missed their presence. As far as I recollect the circum- 
stance, there was nothing peculiar or disagreeable in the 
flavour of the small quantity I ate ; and when the subject 
was calmly discussed on the following day, one of the 
party assured me that he was really partial to the meat 
of the rattlesnake, although some of the other members 
of his party had not been fully able to conquer their early 
conceived antipathies towards this snake, but that during 
their long journey they had been occasionally prevailed 
upon to make trial of a small quantity of the flesh, and 
were willing to own that had they been ignorant of its 
real nature, they believed that they should have pro- 
nounced it of a quality passably good. Ever afterwards 
in my visits to Kaskaskia I narrowly examined every 
dish of a dubious character that was placed before me, 
in order to satisfy myself that it was not u Musical 
Jack " under some new form and aspect. 


When Messrs. Hawes and Fellows ascended Mont Blanc, 
in July, 1827, they observed a butterlly near the summit 
Mr. C. Shewel saw two crimson moths at nearly the same 

Who would have thought, upon this icy cliff, 

Where never ibex bounded, 

Nor foot of chamois sounded — 
Where scarce the soaring hippogryff 

Would venture, unless truly 

To this exalted Thule 
He carried the thoughts of a Metaphysician, 
Or theory of an Electrician — 

Who would have thought of seeing thee, 

Softest of summer's progeny ? 
What art thou seeking ? What hast thou lost ? 
That before the throne of eternal frost 

Thou comest to spread the crimson wing, 

Thou pretty fluttering thing ? 
Art thou too fine for the world below? 

So soon hast thou lived out thy joy and thy spring ? 
And hast thou sworn 
To dwell forlorn, 
An anchorite in a cave of snow. 

Or palmer lonely wandering ? 
Or didst thou fanoy, as many have done, 
That because the hill-top is nearest the sun, 

The sun loves better the thawless ice, 
That does nothing but say that he is bright, 
And dissect, like a prism, his braided light, 

Than the gardens of bloom and the groves of spice ? 
Didst thou think that the bright one his mystery shrouds 
In a comfortless mantle of sleet-driving clouds ? 
Alas ! he never loved this place ; 
It bears no token of his grace, 

But many a scar of the tempest's lash, 

And singed mark of the sulphurous flash. 

'Tis better to dwell amid corn-fields and flowers, 

Or even the weeds of this world of ours, 
Than to leave the green vale and the sunny slope, 
And seek the cold cliff with a desperate hope. 

Flutter he — flutter he — high as he will, 

A butterfly is but a butterfly still. 
And 'tis better for us to remain where we are, 
In the lowly valley of duty and care, 
Than bnely to stray to the heights above, 
Where there's nothing to do, and nothing to love. 


[We have the pleasure of first printing the above verses 
from the pen of a living poet, in whom genius appears to 
assert its occasional power of becoming hereditary.] 

Thinking.— Legitimate reasoning is impossible without 
severe thinking, and thinking is neither an easy nor an 
amusing employment. The reader who would follow a close 
reasoner to the summit and absolute principle of any one 
important subject, has chosen a chamois- hunter for his 
guide. Our guide will, indeed, take us the shortest way, 
will save us many a wearisome and perilous wandering, and 
warn us of many a mock road that had formerly led him- 
self to the brink of chasms and precipices, or at least in an 
idle circle to the spot from whence he started. But he can- 
not carry us on his shoulders; we must strain our own 
sinews as he has strained his, and make firm footing on the 
naked rock for ourselves, by the blood of toil from our own 

Electricity qf Animal Life. — In the processes of animal 
life there are numerous secretions and chemical changes in 
which electricity is necessarily extricated ; and there are 
even organs, the principal object of which seems to be the 
development of electricity, or, at least, their functions are 
dependent on the agency of that fluid. The quantity of 
carbonic acid gas emitted from the lungs is so great that 
the + electricity, with which, from analogy, we may sup- 
pose it to be charged, mifcht be perceptible even in the 
diffuse air. But it is mingled with vapour, which, consider- 
ing the composition of the fluid generating it, is very likely 
to be charged with negative electricity ; and, if these oppo- 
site charges should not neutralize each other, the excess 
may be abstracted by the moist passages through which the 
breath finds its way to the external air. The signs of free 
electricity are more decided on the skins of animals, which 
may be derived from the perspiration or excitation by mus- 
cular action, and other causes, in the interior of the body. 
The dryness of the skin will determine the intensity of the 
charge, which is sometimes of that degree that sparks may 
be obtained, as in the familiar instance of the back of the 
cat The same fact has been observed in the human species, 
as is recorded of* men while changing their shirts and stock- 
ings, and of females, who have drawn sparks from their 
hair by combing it. In the polar regions, where the air ia 
intensely dry in the winter, so much electricity accumulates 
in the human body, or on the skin, that the pith-balls of an 
electrometer diverge on approaching the hand to the in- 
strument; and, by chafing the hands, the charge is so 
much increased that they emit the same smell which is felt 
in the neighbourhood of electrical machines when they are 
worked briskly. It is most frequently the + electricity 
which is manifest in these circumstances, especially in the 
fur of the cat, which has so strong a tendency to this kind 
of electricity that even glass is thrown into the negative 
state when excited by it The human body, in a natural 
state of health, not exhausted by fatigue nor depressed by 
cold, has a perceptible + electricity ; consequently, if any 
part of this charge be owing to evaporation, the vapour 
must have carried off with it the — electricity, and com- 
municated it to the surrounding air. The atmosphere, of 
course, more readily receives the — electricity of the exhala- 
tion, which mixes its substance with it than the -f- elec- 
tricity of the skin, though more intense, which can only 
communicate from a surface imperfectly conducting by its 
proper qualities, or rendered so by natural or artificial cloth- 
ing. This view agrees with the experiments of Mr. Reid, 
who discovered that the vitiated air of apartments which 
have been occupied acquires a weak though perceptible- 
electricity. — Companion to Almanac, 1839. 

Printed by William Clowu and Soot, SUmford Stowt* 

Digitized by 




Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[February 9, 1830. 


[Mirage in the Plains of Mexico—From an original Drawing.] 

Among the many extraordinary appearances occasionally 
exhibited by unusual occurrences in nature, few have been 
witnessed with more astonishment than the phenomenon de- 
signated by the French " Mirage." This is an appear- 
ance often presented to the traveller in places where there 
is a large extent of arid country acted upon in a powerful 
manner by an almost vertical sun, in which the earth 
pats on the appearance of an extended lake or river, 
although no water is in realitv to be found near the 

It is in Egypt that this phenomenon is most frequently 
observed. The uniformity of the extensive sandy plains 
of Lower Egypt is interrupted only by small eminences, 
on which the villages are situuted in order to escape the 
inundations of the Nile. In the morning and the evening 
objects appear in their natural form and position ; but 
when the surface of the sandy ground is heated by the 
sun, the land seems terminated at a certain distance by a 
general inundation. The villages which are beyond it 
appear like so many islands situated in the middle of a 
Vol. VIII 

great lake, and under each village an inverted image of 
it is occasionally seen. As the observer approaches the 
limits of the apparent inundation, the imaginary lake 
which seemed to encircle the village withdraws itself, and 
the same illusion is reproduced by another village more 

It is not, however, only in the African deserts that this 
appearance has been witnessed : many other parts of the 
world, where there are large tracts of flat land, often 
exhibit the same phenomenon. 

Baron Humboldt describes several instances witnessed 
by him during his travels in South America, especially in 
the barren steppes of the Caraccas, and on the sandy 
plains bordering the Orinoco. Little hills and chains 
of hills appeared suspended in the air, when seen from 
the steppes at three or four leagues distance; palm- 
trees standing single in the Llanos appeared to be cut off 
at bottom, as if a stratum of air separated them from the 
ground ; and, as in the African desert, plains destitute of 
vegetation appeared to be rivers or lakes. 

Digitized by 




[February 9, 

The view at the head of this article represents a case of 
mirage witnessed in the plains of Mexico hy a corre- 
spondent, who has furnished us with the drawing from 
which the above engraving has been taken. 

However supernatural these phenomena appear, they 
have been satisfactorily accounted for by natural causes. 
It is only, however, within the last forty years that an ex- 
planation was attempted. 

Monge, the French philosopher, and Mr. Huddart in 
England, were among the first to explain the principle of 
the mirage, and they both referred it to an unusual re- 
fraction of the atmosphere caused by different densities 
of the strata of air consequent on the heat of the ground. 
The lower portion of the atmosphere being warmed by 
receiving heat from the earth, it becomes less dense than 
the strata of air above ; but as this must receive a certain 
portion of heat from the lower strata, the air will be gra- 
dually denser as the distance from the earth is increased ; 
so that an aerial prism will be formed, through which, as 
in a common glass prism, distant objects will be seen 

M. Biot adopted the same idea, and explained the cir- 
cumstances on which he founded his opinion at great length 
in a memoir presented to the French Institute ; and Dr.Wol- 
laston proved the truth of the theory by a very ingenious 
experiment, by which the appearances presented by the 
mirage were accurately imitated. He procured a square 
glass bottle, a third of which he filled with clear syrup ; 
to this he added some distilled water, and filled up the 
remaining third of the vessel with rectified spirits of wine. 
The different specific gravities of these fluids did not 
permit them to mix with each other, except in a slight 
degree at the points of Contact. This produced slightly 
different densities in those portions of the contents of the 
vessel, being in fact similar to glass prisms, and on look- 
ing through the mixture at an object placed tit a slight 
distance behind, a reversed image of the object became 

Dr. Brewster adopted ft better plan to render the same 
effect apparent. He says — " Although the experimental 
method of Illustrating this phenomenon of unusual refrac- 
tion, as given by Dr. Wollaston, is in every respect an 
excellent one, yet the employment of different fluids does 
not represent the case as it actually exists in nature." 
The method employed by Dr. Brewster consists in hold- 
ing a heated iron above a mass of water bounded by 
parallel plates of glass. As the heat descends through 
the fluid, it produces a regular Variation of density, which 
gradually increases from the surface to the bottom. If the 
heated iron be now withdrawn, and a cold body substi- 
tuted in its place, or the air allowed even to act alone, the 
superficial strata of water will give out their heat, so as 
to have an increase of density from the surface to a cer- 
tain depth below it. Through the medium thus consti- 
tuted all the phenomena of unusual refraction may be 
seen in the most beautiful manner, the variations being 
produced by heat alone. 

An appearance similar to the mirage, and produced by 
similar means, may be observed on looking along the 
surface of the boiler of a steam-engine ; or if we even 
heat a poker, and look along its edge at an object placed 
at a little distance, it will be observed inverted in the air 
at about a quarter of an inch from the poker, the sur- 
rounding objects appearing to be floating in water. 


Among the whole range of musical instruments there is 
not one which, in our own day, possesses so many claims to 
our notice as the piano-forte. In the solemn and sacred 
church service the noble and soul -thrilling tones of the 
organ are, and have been ever since music formed part 
of the church service, preferred to those of any other in- 
strument ; in an orchestra devoted to the performance of 

music of a dramatic character, the violin is the instru- 
ment to which the largest share of attention is paid, and 
which is considered as the leader or guide to all the 
others; in the performance of martial music, when 
stirring and exciting effects are desired to be produced, 
brass instruments, of the horn and trumpet kind, with 
their peculiar and powerful tones, arc those which conduce 
most to the effect desired ; but as a domestic instrument, 
by which music can be brought to the fireside of a social 
circle, the piano- forte is more valuable than any other. 

To any one who at all appreciates the beauty of har- 
mony, or the combination of many notes at one 
time, the facilities presented by the piano-forte must 
be obvious. In the guitar and violin, the number 
of simultaneously-sounding notes is necessarily limited 
by the number of strings ; in the flute, &c, only one 
note can be sounded at once ; but in the piano-forte, to- 
gether with the harp and the organ, any number from 
one to ten can be so sounded. 

It is reasonable to expect that there are defects 
mingled with these advantages j but still the latter are 
so numerous, that it justifies us in designating the piano- 
forte the most useful of all musical instruments, as it 
certainly is the one most generally diffused. 

The piano-forte, strictly so called, was the birth of the 
last century j but there have existed, for the last three 
or four hundred years, instruments which, under the 
name of clavichord, spinet, virginal, or harpsicliord, re- 
sembled the piano-forte irt the more important items of 
their construction. Gradual improvements have been 
made in the form, and these improvements have sug- 
gested a change of name; but all of them, as a class, 
have presented marked features which separate them 
from the violin class, the harp or guitar class, and wind 
instruments of every description. 

The two peculiarities, then, which distinguish this class 
of instruments, are— that the sounding body is a scries 
of stretched strings or Wires, and that these are set into 
vibration by the fingers of the player being pressed down 
upon keys which communicate with the strings. In the 
harp and guitar we have strings, but they are set into 
motion by the direct act of the fingers : in the violin we 
have also strings, but they are set in action by a bow. 
On the other hand, the organ has keys, but is provided 
with pipes instead of strings : while the flute, horn, &c, 
differ from the piano-forte both in the vibrating body 
and in the mode in which the vibrations are communi- 
cated. These are, therefore, separated by a well-defined 
line from the class to which we have above alluded. 

The principles on which an instrument of the piano- 
forte class acts are chiefly these: — When a cord is 
stretched tightly between two fixed points, so as to give 
it a considerable tension, and it be drawn aside or struck 
forcibly, it will be set into rapid vibration, and will yield 
a clear musical note as long as that vibration lasts. 
The pitch of this note, or its elevation in the musical 
scale, is directly dependent on the length of the string 
between the two fixed points, the tone being deeper as 
the string is longer. The length of the string and the 
pitch of the note vary with remarkable regularity. 
If, therefore, the player could press the string in any 
point, so as to shorten the vibrating part, he would 
produce a higher tone than when the whole length of 
the string is allowed to vibrate uninterruptedly ; and this 
is what the violin player does when he presses the ends 
of his fingers on different parts of the strings. If any 
violin player were to measure the distance from the nut 
to the bridge, and from the bridge to the finger, he would 
find that that distance becomes shortened according to a 
very regular rule during the production of different notes 
on the same string by the action of the fingers. 

In like manner the strings for the higher notes of a 
piano-forte are shorter than those for the lower notes ; 
and if the thickness and the tension, or stretching force, 

Digitized by 





were the same in ail, the pitch would vary as we have 
described. But there are reasons why this cannot be : 
iu order that a thin string should produce a low note, it 
must be so much slackened that it scarcely emits any 
sound at all ; and for a thick string to produce a high 
note, it must be stretched with a force which would be 
liable to break it. A medium course is therefore followed : 
the strings for the lower notes are made thicker, as well 
as longer, than those for the upper notes, by which the 
tension given to the string is more equalized, and the 
tuning more easily accomplished. 

In this way, therefore, we can collect together a row 
of strings which admit of being brought into any order 
of arrangement (as to pitch) which we may desire. Such 
is the case in the piano-forte : if we elevate the cover of 
the instrument, we shall sec a row of wires arranged side 
by side, the longest and thickest being for the lowest notes. 
We shall see that the wires are firmly fastened at one 
end, and are wound round a moveable peg at the other : 
by means of a key this peg may be turned in either di- 
rection ; and in so doing, the wire becomes cither stretched 
or slackened, and with it the resulting sound is cither 
raised or lowered in pitch. 

These are the common properties of several instru- 
ments of the piano-forte class ; and we now proceed to 
the peculiarities which distinguish them one from another. 
The claviclwrd or manichord (sometimes called the 
" dumb spinet ") was an instrument which appears to 
have been but little used in England, but was known in 
Germany as much as three centuries ago. It was oblong 
n form, and provided with keys something like those of 
a piano- forte. There were as many strings as there 
were kevs, and the remote end of each key or lever was 
provided with a little brass wedge which struck against 
the string appropriated to that key, and elicited its ap- 
propriate sound. The strings were muffled with little 
pieces of cloth, which gave a subdued and melancholy 
expression to the tones ; but the instrument had little 
power or brilliancy. 

The spinet was an instrument which many old persons 
now alive may remember, but which the present genera- 
tion may regard as a remnant of other clays, since none 
have been made since about the middle of the last century. 
The spinet resembled in form the harp more than " the 
piano -forte, and was sometimes, for that reason, called 
the horizontal harp." The front or open ends of the 
keys were pressed down by the finger, as in other cases ; 
but the remote end of each key (concealed within the 
body of the instrument) was provided with a little im- 
plement called a jack, to which was attached a piece of 
crow-quill, or a thorn, which struck against the string 
when the lever was put into action. It was from this 
circumstance that the name spinet became applied to the 
instrument, from the Latin spina, a thorn or quill. 

There were usually about four octaves, or fifty semi- 
tones, in the compass of these instruments, which were 
produced from fifty strings. About thirty of these strings, 
for the lower notes, were made of brass wire ; and the 
remaining twenty, for the higher parts of the scale, were 
of iron or steel wire. 

The private life of " good Queen Bess " introduces us 
to a musical instrument, which, under the name of the 
Virginal, is familiar to the readers of old music. It is 
supposed that the first printed music was arranged for 
the virginal, and it is certain that some of the greatest 
composers of the sixteenth century composed for that 
instrument. With regard to the name, it has generally 
been deemed as being complimentary to the " virgin 
queen," who was one of the first persons of note to 
patronize it. Dr. Johnson thinks that it obtained its 
name from being played on principally by young ladies. 
The shape of the virginal was not much unlike 
that of a modern square piano-forte ; but the internal con- 
struction was very similar to that of the spinet : there was 

one string to each key, and a jack and quill to set it in 

About thirty or forty years ago, considerable attention 
was attracted towards a virginal which was purchased 
from an English nobleman, and which had belonged to 
Queen Elizabeth. Its manufacture was described as 
being splendid in every respect. The case was of cedar, 
covered with crimson Genoa velvet, upon which were 
three ancient gilt locks, finely engraved ; the inside of 
the case was lined with strong yellow tabby silk. The 
front was covered entirely with gold, having a border 
round the inside two inches and a half broad. It was 
five feet long, sixteen inches wide, and seven inches deep, 
and was so lightly and delicately formed that the weight 
did not exceed twenty-four pounds. There were fifty 
keys, provided with jacks and quills: thirty of these 
were of ebony, tipped with gold, and the remaining 
twenty (which were the semitones) were inlaid with silver 
and ivory in a most elaborate manner. The royal arms 
of Elizabeth were exquisitely emblazoned with carmine, 
lake, and ultramarine, upon gold. Whether the tone of 
this instrument corresponded with its finery we do not 
know, but we should much doubt it. 

There is still in existence a magnificent folio MS., 
called 'Queen Elizabeth's Virginal Book,* which is 
auriously bound in red morocco, and contains about 300 
tunes, written with the sharp-cornered characters which 
we sometimes meet with in old music. How many of 
these Queen Elizabeth could play we have no means of 
knowing; but Dr. Burney mentions a circumstance 
which places their difficulty iu rather a strong light. 
The first movement in the book is an old English tune 
called " Walsingham," beginning in c and ending in a 
major, to which Dr. Bull made no less than thirty varia- 
tions. Signora Margarita, the wife of Dr. Pepusch, 
when she quitted the opera stage, applied closely to the 
harpsichord, upon which instrument she became a great 
proficient ; but with all her diligence and talent, assisted 
by the science and experience of her husband, she was 
never able to conquer the difficulties of these variations. 

The following circumstance introduces us both to the. 
virginal and to the vanity of Queen Elizabeth : — In 1564, 
Sir John Melvil was sent as ambassador from Mary 
Queen of Scots to Queen Elizabeth. At his first audience 
Elizabeth asked him a multitude of questions concerning 
his royal mistress — her beauty, colour of her hair, style 
of dress, skill in playing the virginal, &c. ; to all of which 
the courtier doubtless gave prudent answers. He tells 
us, " The next day, after dinner, my lord of Hunsden 
drew me up to a quiet gallery, that I might hear some 
music (but said he durst not avow it), where I might 
hear the queen play upon the virginal. After I had 
hearkened awhile, I took by the tapestry that hung before 
the door of the chamber, and, Eeeing her back was to- 
wards the door, I entered within the chamber, and stood 
a pretty space ; but she left off immediately, as soon as 
she turned about and saw me, and came forward, seeming 
to strike me with her hand, alleging that she used not to 
play before men, but when she was solitary, to shun 
melancholy. She asked how I came there. 1 answered, 
' As I was walking with my Lord Hunsden, as we passed 
by the chamber-door I heard such a melody that ravished 
me, whereby I was drawn in ere I knew how ; excusing 
my fault of homeliness, as being brought up in the court 
of France, where such freedom was allowed ; declaring 
myself willing to endure what kind of punishment her 
majesty should be pleased to inflict upon me for so great 
an offence.' Theu she sate down low upon a cushion, 
and I upon my knees by her ; but, with her own hand 
she gave me a cushion to place under my knees, which, 
at first I refused, but she compelled me to take it. She 
inquired whether my queeu or she played best. In that 
I found myself compelled to give her the praise." 

[To be Continued.1 


Digitized by 




[February 9 


[Continued from p. 437.] 

for the short- 
ness of our 
general noti- 
ces of the ma- 
nuscripts wc 
shall have 
occasion to 
bring forward 
in illustrating 
the progress 
of the art of 
the illumina- 
? have now to 
k some indul- 
for the length 
following ac- 
of the Bible of 
magne, now in 
itish Museum. 
t volume has 
ir obtained 

notoriety, that 
2I it will be 
iry to enter 
hat minutely 
ts history and 
t appearance ; 
lat the MS. is 
elf so worthy 
:h a preference 
le others known 
ognoscenti, but 
ble exertions of 
ietor have ren 
pular, and con- 
much fictitious 
at most of our 
ng it by name, 
>e here informed 
It is of the 
size, measuring 
height, by 141 

—h, and consists 

of 449 leaves of extremely fine vellum, written in a beau- 
tiful and distinct minuscule character. It appears to 
have been written by or under the superintendence of 
Alchuine, or Albinus, an Englishman, who, having 
received a learned education at York, became one of the 
very few eminent literary characters of the eighth cen- 
tury. Being invited to France by Charlemagne, he pro- 
ceeded there in 790, and devoted himself with ardour to 
the promotion of learning ; while the example of Charle- 
magne, in fostering men celebrated for talent, contributed 
to raise the tone of literature throughout Europe. Favoured 
by the patronage and friendship of the emperor, Alchuine 
remained in France until his death, in 804 ; and it is sup- 
posed that this Bible, being a recension by him of the Holy 
Scriptures from the text of St. Jerome, was undertaken by 
him m the latter part of his life. That such a work was 
in progress by desire of Charlemagne, we have evidence 
from the letters of Akhuinc himself; but whether the 
Bible now in the Museum be the identical one presented 
to the emperor, as has been asserted, is a question which 
requires more than the unsupported evidence of its late 
proprietor to solve. Sir F. Madden, in a learned and 
elaborate dissertation on the MS., which appeared in the 
•Gentleman's Magazine' for 1836 (Part II.), seems 
inclined to coincide with the general opinion, confirmed, 
as it is in a degree, by some Latin verses at the end of 

the volume ; but we understand that a closer investiga- 
tion has disposed Sir Frederic to refer it to a period 
not earlier than the time of the grandson of Charlemagne, 
Charles the Bald. 

There are many large initial letters in the MS., but 
destitute of all elegance, richness, or profusion of orna- 
ment ; and of the pictorial illustrations there are but four : 
these are of considerable size, but, as regards design or 
excellence of colouring, they arc inferior to other illu- 
minations extant of the Bame period. The vehicle 
employed is a thick distemper or body-colour, which is 
worked up so as to present almost the appearance of oil. 
The drawings in the ' Durham Book,' which we de- 
scribed in p. 29, executed some few years earlier, are 
greatly superior in design ; and the ornamental letters 
and borders in that MS. arc of such excellence as to put 
them beyond all comparison with the inferior productions 
of this boasted Bible. 

So much for the appearance of this manuscript. The 
following account, condensed from the ' Gentleman's 
Magazine,' of its history, and the means adopted to obtain 
that e*clat with which its appearance was hailed in the 
different capitals of Europe which it visited, will doubt- 
less be interesting to those who are disposed to moralize 
on the subject. 

M. de Speyr-Passavant (its late proprietor) has him- 
self furnished us with its history previous to his posses- 
sion of it, in a pamphlet he published before he had the 
good fortune to dispose of it to the British Museum. It 
was given, he avers (but the fact is extremely doubtful), 
by the Emperor Lothair, grandson of Charlemagne, to 
the Benedictine Abbey of Pruem, in the diocese of Treves, 
where he died (having assumed the monastic habit) in 
855. On the dissolution of this convent, in 1576, the 
Benedictines conveyed it to Switzerland, and deposited it 
in the monastery of Moutier-Grand-Val, near Basle, the 
chapter of which was then transferred to Delemont. It 
remained in their possession until the year 1793, when, 
on the occupation of the episcopal territory of Basle by 
the French troops, the possessions of the monks were 
sold, and the Bible became the property of M. Bennot, 
vice-president of the tribunal at DeWmont, from whom, 
on the 19th of March, 1822, it was purchased by M. de 

Sir F. Madden thus gives its subsequent history: — 
" After its purchase by M. de Speyr-Passavant, and its 
restoration by his care to a * more perfect state of con- 
servation,' it was shown to several persons at Geneva, 
Lausanne, Berne, Fribourg, &c. ; and the proprietor, by 
the encouragement of the Chevalier d'Honer, Charge' 
d* Affaires of France in Switzerland, was induced to take 
it to Paris, in December, 1828, with the intention of 
disposing of it to the French government. Here he 
remained till about May, 1830, and, during that period, 
used every effort in his power to induce the king, his 
ministers, the administrateurs of the Bibliotheque 
du Roi, &c, to purchase the MS. ; first at the price of 
60,000 francs, then at 48,000 francs, then at 42,000 
francs ; but the price seemed to the French government 
so excessive, that in spite of the proprietor's petitions, 
letters, addresses, and applications, repeated one after the 
other with unwearied perseverance, it was finally resolved 
not to buy the Bible, which was taken back to Basle. 
During the above period also M. Peignot published his 
Letters to M. Amanton, wherein he (very justly) questioned 
the extravagant terms in which the Paris journals had 
noticed M. de Speyr-Passavant 's MS., but was subse- 
quently induced, by the false statements of the proprietor, 
to change his sentiments ; and the * Description de la 
Bible' [by M. de S.-P.] appeared in October, 1829, 
dedicated to this very M. Peignot, of whose recantation 
the author of the volume gladly availed himself as a 
powerful argument in favour of his own views. But 
with all the professions of M. de Speyr-Passavant, that 

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the Bible was reserved more particularly for the acqui- 
sition of ' La Belle France,' he had very early turned his 
eyes towards England also ; and before 30th April, 1829, 
had offered it for sale to Lord Stuart de Rothesay, Eng- 
lish ambassador at Paris. In December, 1829, the same 
offer was made to H.R.H. the Duke of Sussex. Thus 
the affair rested, and the Bible, unsold, remained in the 
proprietor's hands. At length, in October, 1834, he 
again awoke from his lethargy, and at the same time 
despatched letters to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
Archbishop of York, H.R.H. the Duke of Sussex, and 
the * right laudable Lord Viscount Althorp,' in England ; 
to Baron Rciffenberg in Belgium ; and to the Bishop of 
Beauvais in Prance, offering his MS. to each, and pro- 
testing he had given him or his country the preference ! 
On the change of ministry in France, application was 
once more made, but without success, in January, 1835 ; 
and again, througji the medium of the Marquis de Cha- 
teaugiron, in May the same year. Having totally failed 
in France, in January, 1836, he set out for- England, for 
the purpose of submitting his Bible to the trustees of the 
British Museum. Much correspondence took place ; at 
first he asked 12,000/. for it, then 8,000/., then 6,500/., 
which he declared was an immense sacrifice ! [the smallest 
sum being nearly three times greater than the highest for 
which he offered it to the French government in 1830]. At 
length, finding he could not part with his MS. on terms 
so absurd, he resolved to sell it, if possible, by auction ; 
and accordingly, on the 27th April, 1836, the Bible was 
knocked down by Mr. Evans for the sum of 1,500/. ; 
but for the proprietor himself, as there was not one real 
bidding for it. This result having brought M. de Speyr- 
Passavant in some measure to his senses, overtures were 
made to him on the part of the trustees of the British 
Museum, and the manuscript finally became the property 
of the nation for the comparatively small sum of 750/." 

We have already devoted so much space to this Bible 
and its history, that we must refrain from indulging in 
any reflections on the circumstances detailed above. Let 
us now proceed to the notice of other manuscripts of an 
early period remarkable for their illuminations. We will 
at once introduce the ' Book of the Gospels,' said to have 
been the volume on which the kings of Eugland after 
Athelstane took their coronation oaths: this tradition 
however has been doubted, but the MS. has always been 
considered of a date cotemporary with Athelstane, or of 
the commencement of the tenth century. This volume 
is preserved in the British Museum (Cottonian li- 

brary, Tiberius, A. 2), and . contains four drawings of 
the evangelists, of a very rude character ; each Gospel is 
besides preceded by a large capital initial in gold and 
colours. One of these, the one commencing the intro- 
duction to the Gospel of St. John, we have introduced at 
page 52. The MS. is conjectured by Mr. Turner to 
have been presented by the Empress Matilda of Germany 
and her son the Emperor Otho, to Athelstane, by whom 
it was given to the church of Canterbury. It has suffered 
from the fire, which, in 1731, destroyed so many treasures 
of the Cottonian collection, and which in the present instance 
has singed and crumpled the leaves, injured the metals 
employed in the decoration of the drawings, and in some 
degree decomposed the colours. The tradition above 
referred to is noticed in the volume in a memorandum 
of the time of Richard II. 

[Canute and his Queen— From the < Register of Hyde Abbey.'] 

In the Duke of Buckingham's library there is a 
Psalter of the ninth century, for which the like honour 
has been claimed, whether justly or not we shall not 
presume to decide. This is perhaps the oldest Psalter 
extant in England ; but another of a, very early date (of 
the tenth century) is preserved in the Cottonian Library 


*rfl?* 29Y* 

jnummated Letter,— From a MS, of tfce tenth century. 

Aogro-Sanm Ornament. 


Digitized by ! 



[February 9 t 

(Titus, D. 27). This MS. appears to have been executed 
for New Minster, or, as it was afterwards called, Hyde 
Abbey : it contains two small Saxon drawings in outline, 
of a very delicate, and, for the time, elegant character. 
A calendar at the commencement of the volume thus 
records the death of one of the monks : — July 6, " Obit. 
Wulfrici m? pictoris," by which entry we may judge of 
the estimation in which the illuminator was held by his 
brethren. Hyde Abbey was celebrated for the beauty of 
the MSS. produced within its walls. In the library at 
Stowe there is a very interesting volume, containing an 
account of the foundation and many matters connected with 
the progress of this abbey (where the MS. was executed) 
from the time of Edward the Elder to Ethelred. It also 
contains the will of Alfred, the names of saints interred 
in England, and other matters ; and at the commence- 
ment of the volume is an elegant frontispiece represent- 
ing Canute and his queen Elfgiva, attended by angels 
standing before an altar, above which appears our 
Saviour, the Virgin Mary, and St. Peter. As a specimen 
of art in England at the commencement of the eleventh 
century, it must be considered as evincing considerable 
taste and correctness of design. The lower portion of 
the drawing is represented in the preceding page. 

As an illustration of the peculiar forms given to some 
of the larger initial letters of this date, we have given one, 
in the previous page, from an illumination in a MS. in 
the Cottonian Library (Tiberius, C. 6). This is a Psalter 
in Latin, accompanied by a Saxon gloss, written on vellum, 
of one hundred and thirteen leaves. It is of the close of 
the tenth century, and contains many drawings in outline, 
slightly shaded with blue, green, and red. The orna- 
mental borders (part of one of which we have also copied) 
are in good taste, and of a character very similar to those 
of the celebrated Benedictional in the possession of the 
Duke of Devonshire. 

[To !v? continued.] 


[Concluded torn No. 439.] 

In 1829 (31st December), Richard and John Lander, 
having proposed to the government to proceed to Africa 
to make another attempt to ascertain the course of the 
Niger, their offer was accepted, and they were directed 
to follow its channel to its termination, wherever that 
might be. In the interesting journal of their travels, 
alluding to the small means on which they had to rely 
for the accomplishment of their object, the Landers 
remarked, " Science was out of the question, and all 
depended on that homely quality of the mind, * determi- 
nation of purpose.' " John Lander accompanied his 
brother Richard without any pecuniary expectancy, aud 
the two brothers left England on the 9th of Jan. 1830, 
for Cape Coast Castle. After remaining some time at 
the latter place, they set out , for Boussa on the Niger, 
which they reached on the 1 7th of June. After ascending 
the river as far as Yaouri, they again returned to Boussa, 
and then finally embarked on the Niger, in the hope of 
reaching the sea. After various expectations their hopes 
were realised, and on the 18th pf November they found 
themselves at the mouth of the greater branch of the 
river, and on the sea-coast, the river being there called 
the Nun, or the First Brass River, from the negro town 
of Brass, which stands upon its banks some distance in- 
land. The * Journal of the Royal Geographical Society ' 
for 1832 contained the following remarks on the result of 
the expedition: — " Though the knowledge of Interior 
Africa now possessed by the civilized world is the pro- 
gressive acquisition of many enterprising men, to all of 
whom we are profoundly indebted, it cannot be denied 
that the last great discovery has done more than any 
other to place the outline of African geography on a basis 
of certaintv. When to this is added the consideration 

that it opens a maritime communication into the centre of 
the continent, it may be described as the greatest geogra- 
phical discovery that has been made since that of New 

It is estimated that the course of the Quorra is about 
2300 miles. The countries watered by it and its tribu- 
taries are fertile, and enjoy a climate said to be much 
superior to that of many other parts of Africa. We take 
the following abridged descriptions from the journal of 
John and Richard Lander :— -On the 24th of June, get- 
ting into the main stream of the Niger, they found it 
flowing " through a rich and charming country." The 
channel, from being half a mile in breadth, gradually 
widened to rather better than a mile. " Beautiful, spread- 
ing, and spiry trees adorned the country on each side of 
the river, like a park ; corn, nearly ripe, waved over the 
water's edge; large open villages appeared every half 
hour; and herds of spotted cattle were observed grazing 
and enjoying the cool of the shade. The appearance of 
the river, for. several miles, was no less enchanting than 
its borders : it was as smooth as a lake ; canoes laden 
with sheep and goats were paddled by women down its 
almost imperceptible current ; swallows and a variety of 
aquatic birds were sporting over its glassy surface, which 
was ornamented by a number of pretty little islands." 

June 25th. The river gradually widened to two miles, 
and contiuued so as far as the eye could reach. "It 
looked very much like an artificial canal, the banks hav- 
ing the appearance of a dwarf wall, with vegetation 
beyond. In most places the water was extremely shal- 
low, but in others it was deep enough to float a frigate. 
During the first two hours of the day the banks were 
literally covered with hamlets and villages; fine trees, 
bending under the weight of their dark foliage, every- 
where relieved the eye from the glare of the sun's rays, 
and, contrasted with the lively verdure of the little hills 
and plains, produced the most pleasing effect." After- 
wards the scenery decidedly changed, the banks consisting 
of " black rugged rocks : large sand-banks and islands 
were scattered in the river, which diverted it into a variety 
of little channels." 

June 27. "A range of black rocks running directly 
across the stream, and the water, finding only one narrow 
passage, rushed through it with great impetuosity." The 
canoe was lifted by main force into smoother water, and 
when this reef was passed the river offered no similar 
impediments to its navigation. It now presented a noble 
appearance. f< Not a single rock or sand-bank was any- 
where perceptible ; its borders resumed their beauty, and 
a strong, refreshing breeze, which had blown during the 
whole of the morning, now gave it the motion of a slightly 
agitated sea." This day they passed two verdant islands 
of singular beauty, " as charming as the fabled gardens 
of Hesperia." 

August 4th. " At no great distance from this place 
(Boussa), and within sight of it, all the branches of the 
Niger meet, and form a beautiful and magnificent body 
of water, at least seven or eight miles in width." At 

* The ardour of discovery is far from haying been extinguished 
by the success of the Landers. After the mystery respecting tho 
Niger had been cleared up, Mr. C. CoulthurBt, an enthusiastic 
individual who had from his infancy set his heart ou African 
enterprise, left England intending to proceed iuto the ulterior, but 
unhappily, shortly after his arrival in Africa, fell a victim to the 
climate. Mr. Coulthurst had been educated at Eton and Oxford, 
and was called to the bar. He practised several years at Barha- 
does, where his uncle held a high legal appointment ; but he left 
a profession in which he had every prospect of success, to pursue 
the object of his earliest aspirations. His friends are in posses- 
sion of his school-books, which contain maps of Africa, in which 
he had traced his supposed travels in the interior. Several poet- 
ical pieces of considerable merit, amongst others a * Soliloquy of 
Mungo Park/ attested the strong bent of his mind. In 1831 tho 
African Association was merged into the Royal Geographical 
Society, the members of which feel an enlightened interest in all 
that relates to the African continent* 

Digitized by 





Boussa, within five miles, the river is only a stone's 
throw across, and the channel is 'of proportionate depth, 
— circumstances which favour the opinion that a portion 
of its waters is conveyed by subterraneous channels 
from the town of Garnicassa to a few miles below 

October 4th. " The banks of the river near Lever are 
high, being, according to our estimation, about forty feet 
above the river, and steep to the water-side. The river 
itself appeared deep, and free from rocks of any 
kind; its direction nearly south. We ran down the 
stream very pleasantly for twelve or fourteen miles, the 
Niger, during the whole distance, rolling grandly along 
— a noble river, neither obstructed by islands nor deformed 
with rocks and stones. Its width varied from one to 
three miles. Both banks of the river were overhung 
with large shady trees." The country seen from the 
river appeared open and well cultivated, and thickly 

October 5th. <c Just below the town of Bajiebo the 
Niger spreads itself into two noble branches of nearly 
equal width, formed by an island. The country beyond 
the banks was very fine." After passing the abo>e 
island, both banks of the river " were embellished with 
mighty trees and elegant shrubs, which were clad in 
thick and luxuriant foliage, some of lively green and 
others of darker hues; and little birds were singing 
merrily among their branches. Magnificent festoons of 
creeping plants, always green, hung from the tops of the 
tallest trees, and, drooping to the water's edge, formed 
immense natural grottos, pleasing and grateful to the 
eye." But the travellers remark : " Yet with all its 
allurements, there is something wanting in an African 
scene to render it comparable, in interest and beauty, to 
an English landscape." They add, that " in Africa, ge- 
nerally speaking, a loneliness, a solemnity, a death-like 
silence pervades the noblest and most magnificent pros- 
pects, which has a tendency to fill the mind with associa- 
tions of sadness." 

October 16th. The travellers in vain endeavoured to 
effect a landing, but unfortunately every village was situ- 
ated " behind large thick morasses and shingly bogs," 
which it was impossible to penetrate. The width of the river 
seemed to be two or three miles across, and at other places 
double that width. The current was running at the rate 
of three or four miles an hour, and the direction of the 
stream was nearly east. In the course of this day and 
the following night they had travelled a distance little 
short of a hundred miles. The character of the scenery 
completely changed. " The Niger, in many places and 
for a considerable way, presented a very magnificent 
appearance, and we believe it to have been nearly eight 
miles in width." 

October 17th. "The banks now became high and 
beautifully cultivated ; palm-trees grew in profusion, and 
the towns and villages were not more than two or three 
miles from each other. We observed some hundreds of 
large canoes, with a hut in their middle, passing along 
the river, some crossing and re-crossing to the opposite 
banks, while others were pursuing their course along 
them. They mostly seemed to contain families of people; 
for while the men were paddling, the women and girls 
were singing to a guitar with their little delicate voices, 
and produced a very pretty effect." The river was esti- 
mated to be from three to five miles in width. 

October 22nd. During their course in the morning the 
borders of the river were generally low and swampy, but 
in the afternoon both banks became more fertile, "more 
pleasing, and more elevated. 

October 25th. On this day our travellers reached the 
junction of the Quorra and Tchadda, a view of which is 
given in the preceding number. " At one a.m. the direc- 
tion of the river changed to south-south-west, running 
between immensely high hUls. At five o'clock this morning 

we found ourselves nearly opposite a very considerable 
river, entering the Niger from the eastward : it appeared to 
be three or four miles wide at its mouth, and on the bank 
we saw a large town, one part of which faced the river and 
the other the Quorra. We at first supposed it to be an arm 
of that river, and running from us, and therefore directed 
our course for it. We proceeded up it a short distance, 
but finding the current against us, and that it increased 
as we got within its entrance, and our people being tired, 
we were compelled to give up the attempt, and were easily 
swept back into the Niger. The banks on both sides of 
the Tchadda, as far as we could see up it, were very high, 
and appeared verdant and fertile." In the course of the 
day they found the bed of the river with a rocky bot- 
tom, which caused its surface to ripple exceedingly. 

October 26th. They passed a town situated close to 
the water's edge, in an elevated situation and on a fine 
greensward, supposed to be Atta, the appearance of which 
is described as "unspeakably beautiful." Afterwards, 
for thirty miles, not a town or village, or even a single 
hut, was to be seen. " The whole of this distance our 
canoe passed smoothly along the Niger, and everything 
was silent and solitary ; no sound could be distinguished 
save our own voices and the plashing of the paddles 
with their echoes ; the song of birds was not heard, nor 
could any animal whatever be seen ; the banks seemed 
to be entirely deserted, and the magnificent Niger to be 
slumbering in its own grandeur." 

November 8th. The travellers to-day found themselves 
" on an immense body of water, like a lake, and at the 
mouth of a very considerable river flowing to the west- 
ward, it being an important branch of the Niger. Ano- 
ther branch also ran from hence to the south-east, while 
our course was in a south-westerly direction, 'on the main 
body ; the whole forming, in fact, three rivers of con- 
siderable magnitude. On Sunday, November 14th, to 
.their great joy, they came within the tide- way of the 
river. Their progress was a good deal interrupted by 
sand-banks. On the 15th they landed, and while at 
breakfast on shore the tide ebbed and left their canoes 
lying in the mud ; and on the 18th they reached the sea, 
and went on board an English brig at the mouth of the 
river. As they approached the sea the banks were so 
much overflown that the trees appeared to be growing 
out of the water. On the 9th of June, 1831, the two 
brothers reached England with the intelligence of their 

In 1832 some spirited merchants of Liverpool fitted 
out two steam-vessels and a transport for the purpose of 
attempting the ascent of the Quorra to Sackatoo orTim- 
buctoo, and to carry on a trade during their voyage. Un- 
fortunately the expedition failed in consequence of the 
wreck of one of the steam-boats. Yet the countries 
watered by the Niger having been opened by the 
discovery of the Landers, the period probably is not 
far distant when this hitherto neglected portion of 
the globe may become an extensive field for com- 
merce and industry. Mr. Laird, a recent traveller 
in Africa, says : — " The Delta of the Niger alone, if 
cleared and cultivated, would support a population, in 
proportion to its area, far exceeding anything known in 
Europe. Its square surface is equal to the whole of 
Ireland ; it is intersected in all directions by navigable 
branches of the parent stream, forming so many natural 
channels for communication : it is altogether composed 
of the richest alluvial soil, which now teems with a rank 
luxurious vegetation, comprising ail the varieties of the 
palm-tree, besides teak -wood, cedar, ebony, mahogany, 
and dye-woods ; the sugar-cane grows wild in the bush, 
and the palm-nut rots upon the ground unheeded and 
neglected. The population of this Delta, I should con- 
sider, does not exceed half a million." 

Mr. Porter's ' Progress of the Nation * (vol. ii., chap, ix.) 
contains the following estimate of the present extent of 

Digitized by 




[February 9, 1839. 

our trade with the western coast of Africa : — " The 
value of our exports to the whole of the west coast of 
Africa averaged, during the five years ending with 1836, 
the sum of 341,091/. per annum. More than one-half 
of this amount was taken by the British settlements on 
the Gambia, Sierra Leone, Cape Coast Castle, and Accrah, 
leaving little more than 150,000/. for the remaining parts 
of the country, embracing between the river Gambia and 
Angola nearly 4000 miles of coast, and containing, upon 
a moderate estimate, 30,000,000 of inhabitants. These 
people must not be considered, as regards commercial 
objects, in the same light as those who enjoy a greater 
degree of civilization ; but the experience of the last 
thirty years affords sufficient proof of the value which the 
trade with the negro population might be made to assume. 
In 1808 the whole quantity of palm oil imported did not 
exceed 200 tons; in 1836 it amounted to 13,850 tons. 
Twenty years ago African timber was unknown to us, 
and now our usual importations amount to 15,000 loads." 
The greatest impediment to the extension of our trade 
with Africa is the slave-trade. Mr. Porter says : — " Tlje 
legitimate trade of our vessels when on the African coast 
is continually impeded by the appearance of slave-traders, 
on the arrival of which the natives quit all other occupa- 
tions and proceed on marauding expeditions, to seize the 
members of some neighbouring tribe, and to sell them as 
slaves. Until a sufficient number of these poor creatures 
is collected to crowd the vessel of the slave-trader, all 
other occupations are stopped ; and it is not merely the 
loss of time and consequent expense thus occasioned that 
are to be deplored, but the great waste of life among the 
crews of the English traders while uselessly detained upon 
an unhealthy coast. Everywhere are to be seen the 
hateful effects of this traffic, producing desolation where 
nature has been prodigal of her gifts." The recent ex- 
tension of the legitimate trade under these circumstances 
is greater than could have -been anticipated. The ex- 
ertions which the British government is now making to 
put an end to the slave-trade, if successful, which it is 
hoped they will be, would tend more than any other cir- 
cumstance to hasten the civilization of Africa. The cul- 
tivation of cotton, the market for which is always extending, 
would, it is conceived, be better adapted to African in- 
dustry than any other employment, and the Delta of the 
Niger is well adapted for the growth of this plant. 

Cultivation of Vocal Music— Whatever tends to refine, 
to civilize, to exalt the intellectual faculties of man, is not 
merely ornamental, but useful. This is the character and 
purpose of all the arts, whether painting, sculpture, poetry, 
or music. Rising above and beyond the limits of the sensible, 
and material, they delight in the contemplation of the infi- 
nite and the spiritual, and know no bound or limit for the 
sphere of then* exertions. Every power and every faculty 
with which man is endued was given to be improved and 
enjoyed. There is the same mutual adaptation between 
knowledge and the human mind as there is between light 
and the eye, sound and the ear, seed and the earth. When 
the Almighty on the one hand so constituted the seed that 
when deposited in the earth it germinates and grows and 

E reduces fruit, and when on the other he so constituted the 
uman body that the fruit nourishes and sustains it, he 
in the most emphatic manner commanded man to cultivate 
the earth and to reap its fruits. In like manner, when he 
endued the human voice with sweetness, compass, flexibility, 
and power, and made it capable of giving expression to every 
emotion of the heart— when he bestowed on the ear the 
power of the nicest discrimination, and rendered it one of 
the channels through which pleasure is conveyed to the 
mind; when he also established those laws which control] 

and regulate the production, diffusion, and combination of 
sound, rendering each beneficent provision tributary to and 
dependent upon the other, and uniting all in beauteous 
harmony; can we doubt that these gifts were dispensed 
with a view to their enjoyment, or that by cultivating the 
powers thus bestowed we are not only best consulting our 
own happiness, but rendering to their Giver the acceptable 
tribute of obedience ?— Taylor's Gresham Lectures. 

Description of Cabool.— Cabool is a most bustling and 
populous city. Such is the noise in the afternoon, that in 
the streets one cannot make an attendant hear. The great 
bazaar, or '* Chouchut," is an elegant arcade, nearly six 
hundred feet long, and about thirty broad : it is divided 
into four equal parts. Its roof is painted; and over the 
shops are the houses of some of the citizens. The plan is 
judicious; but it has been left unfinished; and the foun- 
tains and cisterns, that formed a part of it, lie neglected. 
Still there are few such bazaars in the East; and one 
wonders at the silks, cloths, and goods which are arrayed 
under its piazzas. In the evening it presents a very inter- 
esting sight : each shop is lighted up by a lamp suspended 
in front, which gives the city an appearance of being illumi- 
nated. The number of shops for the sale of dried fruit is 
remarkable, and their arrangement tasteful. In May, one 
may purchase the grapes, pears, apples, quinces, and even 
the melons, of the bygone season,— then ten months old. 
There are poulterers* shops, at which snipes, ducks, part- 
ridges, and plovers, with other game, may be purchased. 
The shops of the shoemakers and hardware retailers are 
also arranged with singular neatness. Every trade has its 
separate bazaar, and all of them seem busy. There are 
booksellers and venders of paper, much of which is Russian, 
and of a blue colour. The month of May is the season of 
the " falodeh," which is a white jelly strained from wheat, 
and drunk with sherbet and snow. The people are very 
fond of it, and the shopkeepers in all parts of the town seem 
constantly at work with their customers. A pillar of snow 
stands on one side of them, and a fountain plays near it, 
which gives these places a cool and clean appearance! 
Around the bakers' shops crowds of people may be seen 
waiting for their bread. I observed that they baked it by 
plastering it to the sides of the oven. Cabool is famed for 
its kabobs, or cooked meats, which are in great request : 
few cook at home. " Rhuwash" was the dainty of the May 
season in Cabool. It is merely blanched rhubarb, which is 
reared under a careful protection from the. sun, and grows 
up rankly under the hills in the neighbourhood. Its flavour 
is delicious. •• Shabash rhuwash! Bravo rhuwash !" is the 
cry in the streets ; and every one buys it. In the most 
crowded parts of the city there are story-tellers amusing 
the idlers, or dervises proclaiming the glories and deeds of 
the prophets. If a baker makes his appearance before 
these worthies, they demand a cake in the name of some 
prophet; and, to judge by the number who follow their 
occupation, it must be a profitable one. There are no 
wheeled carriages in Cabool: the streets are not very nar- 
row; they are kept in a good state during dry weather, and 
are intersected by small covered aqueducts of clean water, 
which is a great convenience to the people. We passed 
along them without observation, and even without an 
attendant To me the appearance of the people was more 
novel than the bazaars. They sauntered about, dressed in 
sheep-skin cloaks, and seemed huge from the quantity of 
clothes they wore. All the children have chubby red 
cheeks, which I at first took for an artificial colour, till I 
found it to be the gay bloom of youth. The older peoplo 
seem to lose it Cabool is a compactly-built city, but its 
houses have no pretension to elegance. They are con- 
structed of sun-dried bricks and wood, and few of them are 
more than two stories high. It is thickly peopled, and ha* 
a population of about sixty thousand souls. The river of 
Cabool passes through the city ; and tradition says it has 
three times carried it away, or inundated it In rain there 
is not a dirtier place than Cabool.— /fame;'* Travels in 
the Bokhara. 

V TU Oftet.of tU Sockty for 0* Diffusion of UmJoI Knovkdg* U at ». Lincoln** Ida Fkkfe. 

Friatod by William Cwwu and Sox* SUm**) Stmt, 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[February 16, 1839. 


[Knowle House and Park, Kent.] 

The ancient manor-house "of Knowle is situated in an 
extensive park, near the pleasant town of Sevenoaks, in 
Kent, and is deeply interesting not only from its antiquity 
and the air of primitive grandeur that reigns throughout 
the domain, but from the memories of the distinguished 
men who have found a home beneath its roof, and from 
its possession of so many of those great creations of the 
pencil which are a wonder and a delight to all ages. 

The date of the erection of the earliest part of the 
mansion is unknown. In the time of King John, Bald- 
win de Bethun possessed the manor, and from him it 
passed successively into the hands of the Mareschals, earls 
of Pembroke, and the Bigods, earls of Norfolk. In the 
reign of Edward I., Otho de Grandison was its lord, 
and by his successors it was conveyed to Geoffrey de Say, 
u admiral of all the king's fleets." Ralph Leghe appears 
to have been its next owner, by whom it was sold, in the 
reign of Henry VI., to James Fienes, who was connected 
by marriage with its former possessors the Says. He 


was a soldier who had distinguished himself in the war 
with France under Henry V., and was by Henry VI. 
summoned to parliament as Baron Say and Se le. 
Honours came thick upon him : he was successively 
appointed governor of Dover Castle, warden of the cinque 
ports, chamberlain, and ultimately treasurer, of Eng- 
land. These dignities were dearly purchased by the 
ill-will and hatred of the people. When the rebellion, 
headed by Jack Cade, broke out, foremost among the 
nobles most obnoxious to the rebels was their own 
countryman Lord Say. He was accordingly committed 
to the Tower, probably for the double purpose of ensuring 
his safety, and gratifying, by the appearance of the king's 
disapprobation, those who were clamouring for his blood. 
He was however taken from thence by Cade, and after a 
kind of trial in the Guildhall, his head was struck off. 
Our readers will remember the scene in Shakspere's 
Henry VI. illustrative of this tragedy, and the touching 
yet dignified defence of the doomed nobleman. Under 


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[February 16, 

other circumstances, the reasons given by Cade for his 
savage determination would be irresistibly ludicrous. 
He says to Lord f>ay r " ( Thou hast most traitorously cor- 
rupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar- 
school ; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other 
T)ooks but the score and the tally, thou hast caused 
printed to be used ; and, contrary to the king, his crown 
and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill ! " But a little 
time before, "Cade had defeated the king's troops, and put 
their leaders to the sword, in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of Knowle, Lord Say's mansion. 

In the civil wars the next Lord Say was compelled to 
sell Knowle to Thomas Bourchier, archbishop of Canter- 
bury. In the sale was. included all the " tymbre, wood, 
ledde, stone, and breke " then lying in a quarry at Seale, 
intended probably by. Lord Say for the rebuildimj of the 
mansion ; and. to wJiich purpose the 4 materials, .would 
doubtless be applied T>y the archbislioj), who, says Hasted, 
in his * History of, Kent^ rebuilt ( the manor-house, en- 
closed a part round it, and left jfc (a magnificent bequest) 
to his successors, in the see. By two of these ? Morton 
and William of Wareham, tne structure was enlarged and 
beautified. t Kings^ Ilenry VIJ. and VI it. each visited 
Knowle during tins pcrjpq, In ( the reign of tKe latter, 
Cranmer gave ^ta Knowle to the rapacious monarch. In 
the second year of the reign of fed ward VL it was granted 
to the projector Somerset, ahd ? after .his execution, to one 
no less unfortunate, the, puke ©f Northumberland, the 
relative of, Lady Jane Grey. By Queen Mary it was 
granted to Cardinal Pole, " to hold during the term of his 
natural life, and oiw year after, as he should by his last 
will determine." The cardinal dying (on the same day 
as his royal mistress) intestate, Knowle aeain became 
the property of the crown, and was granted by Elizabeth 
to her favourite, the Earl of Leicester. By him it was 
surrendered back, in a few years, to the donor, though 
not before he had granted a, lease for a term of years. At 
the expiration of the lease, Knowle came into the posses- 
sion of the family to which it has ever ^ince belonged, 
the Sackvilles, to one of whom, Thomas Sackville, a dis- 
tinguished poet and statesman, the reversion had been 
previously granted. He was the author of the first regular 
tragedy in our language^ 4 Gorboduc,' which was exhibited 
by the students of the Temple he then belonged to, as 
one of their, Christmas entertainments. It was again 
exhibited in 1561. before Queen felizabetlv He was also 
the author of two poetical pieces in the ' Mirror for Mar 
gistrates,' of which the editor of the ' Pictorial History of 
England ' says, " they evince a strength of creative ima- 
gination which had been unknown to the English Muse 
since the days of Chaucer; and the Induction especially, 
which is throughout a splendid gallery of allegorical 
paintings, entitles Sackville to the renown of having had 
no small share in lighting the way to the greatest painter 
in our own or any other poetry — the divine Spenser." 
These poems were composed whilst the author was yet 
but tnomas Sackville, afterwards to become, by Eliza- 
beth's favour, Lord feuckhurst, and ultimately the first 
Earl of Dorset. Two anecdotes, illustrative of the pride 
of Sackville's character, have, been recorded, though on 
no very certain testimony. He had spent, principally in 
an embassy to France, so much of his fortune by what 
Puller calls his " magnificent prodigality," as to be com- 
pelled to borrow of a certain city alderman, who on one 
of Sackville's visits kept him waiting a considerable time. 
The indignity at onee reclaimed him from his expensive 
habits. The other circumstance is in relation to his im- 
prisonment in his own house, by the queen's commands, 
for nine or ten months. He had been sent into the Low 
Countries to examine the truth of the charges made 
against the Earl of Leicester, from whence he was recalled 
by the influence of the latter, and disgraced as we have 
mentioned. During this confinement, it is said he would 
not allow his wife or any member of his family to see 

him. The death of his enemy restored him to Elizabeth's 
favour, and on Burleigh's death he was appointed to the 
high office of lord-treasurer. 

In 1613 a considerable portion of the house was burnt 
down. In the Commonwealth the estate and mansion 
were sequestrated by Cromwell, who held a court here 
(it is said ? in the present dining-parlour) for the purpose. 
Our space will only permit us to notice another of the 
lords of Knowle — Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, the 
wit, the poet, and the libertine of the court of Charles the 
Second, the Mecaenas of his time, whom Dryden and 
Butler, Wycherley aud Congreve at home, and St. Evre- 
mond and La Fontaine abroad, alike praised for his taste 
and judgment, his elegance and his generosity. The 
latter quality, we fear, had undue weight with at least 
one, the greatest of his admirere, when we consider the 
apparent delicacy but real grossness of the compliment 
paid to him by Drvden, who, having undertaken to pro- 
duce authors of our own country superior to those of 
antiquity, observed, " i would instance your lordship in 
satire, and Shakspcre in tragedy ! " We have some- 
wlierc read a plcasantcr anecdote of the same parties. 
The company they were in, disputing as to which could 
write the best impromptu, agreed each to try, and chose 
Dryden as the judge. All but the Earl of Dorset seemed 
to take great pains - f he carelessly scrawled a few words, 
and threw the paper upon the table. The effusions being 
examined, Dryden observed he thought the company 
would unanimously agree with him that nothing could 
surpass the earl's, which he begged to read : " t promise 
to pay Mr. John Dryden, or order, five hundred pounds, 
on demand. Dorset." 

Of the magnificent state kept up in the good old days 
of Knowle, we may have some conception from a cata- 
logue of the household and family of Richard, earl of 
Dorset, about 1620, given in Bridgman's account of the 
mansion. From this it appears that for a considerable 
period there sat at the lord's table eight persons ; at the 
parlour-table twenty-one, including Jadies in waiting, 
chaplain, secretary, pages, &c. ; at the clerks'. table in 
the hall twenty, consisting principally of the heads of 
the different domestic departments ; at the nursery-table 
four; at the long table in , the hall forty-cient inferior 
servants ; at the laundry -table twelve, and in the scullery 
six f , , . 

The house stands in a park distinguished for the rich- 
ness of its turf ? and the stately grandeur of its oaks, its 
beeches, and its, chestnuts. Its extent is considerable, 
being above five miles in circumference. The plantations 
are dispersed in broad and spacious masses. Deer noted 
for their fine flavour dart nimbly and shyly to and fro. 
The surface, here smooth and level, there broken and 
undulating, is everywhere beautiful ; and the eye, charmed 
with the green luxuriance around, almost forgets to look 
for the greater attraction that brought it hither. But 
soon the mansion breaks upon the view ; we think (and 
step eagerly along the while) of its age and its pictures, 
of the Says, the Cranmers, and the Sackvilles. The 
front is now before us. Two lofty embattled towers 
guard the gate of entrance in the middle, and on either 
side are spacious wings pierced with three stories of win- 
dows. The parts are plain, but the whole is imposing ; 
and this character generally pervades the mansion. The 
principal buildings, in addition to the two fronts with their 
embattled gateways, are in the form of a large quadrangle, 
with a smaller one behind, relieved in the mass by nume- 
rous square towers, the architecture being chiefly in the 
castellated style. In the quadrangle are casts from the 
Gladiator and the Venus. The lofty and extensive Gothic 
hall, with its characteristic-looking table fitted for the 
playing the old English game of shuttle-board, its richly 
carved screen, its raised dais, and its stained glass, at 
once makes us centuries older : we not only think of, but 
feel with, the past.- jThc loneliness seems suddenly tobe 

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broken, the bustle of countless attendants going in and 
out begins, the tables groan with the profusion of the 
feast, bright jewels and still brighter eyes begin to sparkle, 
gorgeous vestments and sacerdotal robes mingle together, 
the solemn strains of music peal forth — it is some high 
festival ! Alas ! of our imagination only, as we are soon 
convinced by the gentle hint of the domestic at our elbow, 
which we obey, and move forwards. The noble propor- 
tions of the hall may be conceived when we state its size : 
it is nearly seventy-five feet long, twenty-seven broad, and 
twenty-seven high. A statue, said to be (we conceive 
wrongly) of Demosthenes, now claims our attention : it is 
more characteristic of the calm but earnest philosopher, 
than the excited and exciting orator. It is considered one 
of the most perfect works of antiquity we possess ; its 
simple truthfulness of expression delights us, and con- 
vinces us we ought to be delighted. There are here 
pictures by Rubens, Jordaens, and Snyders, and several 
family portraits. The Triumph of Silenus is one of 
Rubens' most powerful works : the face of Silenus so 
richly inebriate, almost ready you could fancy to burst 
with the purple wine, the satyr leering over Silenus' 
shoulder, and the general vigour of the piece, — make this 
painting alone worthy a visit to Knowje. The rude fres- 
coes that decorate the staircase are evidently genuine 
restorations, and speak much for the directing taste. In 
the Brown Gallery there is a collection of portraits, the 
extent of which alone entitles it to be considered most 
interesting and valuable. There is scarcely a celebrated 
person of the last two or three centuries whose picture 
may not be found included. Unfortunately the authen- 
ticity of many of the portraits is questionable ; as works 
of art, also, they do not possess any high merit, most of 
them beiug considered as indifferent imitations of the 
style of Holbein. In a dressing-room there are a Venus 
by Titian, a Salutation by Rembrandt, a Satyr and Venus 
by Correggio, and a Landscape by Salvator Rosa. The 
billiard-room contains a fine portrait of Sir Kenelm Dig- 
by, by Vandyck, and copies of Titian's wonderful pieces, 
the Diana and Calisto, and the Diana and Actneon. 
There are here also a Masquerade Scene by Paul Vero- 
nese, a St. Peter by Rembrandt, and a landscape by 
Poussin. The window is embellished with the picture of 
a man on horseback, with an inscription to the founder 
of the Sackville family, who came over with William the 
Conqueror. In the Venetian bed-room (so called from 
a Venetian ambassador, Nicolo Molino, having slept in 
it) is a glorious sketch, by Rubens, of Meleagcr and the 
Boar; a portrait of Mrs. Abingdon, by Sir J. Reynolds; 
and the Death of Cleopatra, by Domcnichino. The ball- 
Toom contains portraits, among many others, of Edward, the 
fourth earl of Dorset, and of Ann, the third countess. The 
former killed Lord Bruce in a duel, in 1613, which was 
fought under circumstances of the most savagely ferocious 
nature; there being, for instance, no seconds, lest their 
interference might restrain the principals from the full 
and bloody consummation they meditated. The latter 
we notice as the writer of the following characteristic note 
to Charles the Second's secretary of state, in answer to a 
recommendation from him of a person to sit for her 
borough of Appleby : — " 1 have been bullied by an 
usurper, I have been neglected by a court, but I will not 
be dictated to by a subject. Your man sha'nt stand. 
Ann, — Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery." In the 
drawing-room is a portrait of a Chinese youth, who came 
to England to be educated, and was placed at the school 
of Sevenoaks. Some more great works adorn with their 
imperishable beauty the walls of this apartment : a Holy 
Family, by Titian ; the same subject, by Paul Veronese; 
a Post-house, by Wouverman ; the Rape of the Wife of 
Hercules, by Annibal Caracci ; a head of Raphael, and a 
Sibyl by Domcnichino, &c. The mere enumeration of 
such subjects by such painters would suffice to satisfy the 
lover of art that there must be much to delight him at 

Knowle. In the dining or poet's parlour are portraits of 
almost every distinguished poet of our country, a series 
that alike interests our national pride and our individual 
love and admiration. But we must pass on more rapidlv, 
merely noticing in our way the chapel-room, with its 
carved work of our Saviour bearing the cross, said to be 
of one piece, and to have belonged to Mary Queen of 
Scots ; the organ- room, containing, as we are informed, 
the first organ ever made (its very primitive construction 
certainly docs not contradict the statement), being a large 
box with rude finger-keys on the top, outside ; the great 

The Shepherds of Mont Perdu.— There are places in 
Mont Perdu, and even near its base, that afford good pas- 
ture for sheep. They are in very high regions, and appear 
the more striking from the desolation in other parts of the 
district. Hither a few shepherds repair during two or 
three months of the year. They are particularly careful of 
their flocks, whose docility is remarkable. Not less so 
is the good understanding subsisting between the sheep 
and the dogs. The celerity with which the shepherds of 
the Pyrenees draw their scattered flocks around them is 
not more astonishing than the process by which they effect 
it is simple and beautiful. If they are at no great distance 
from him, he whistles upon them,. and they leave off feed- 
ing and obey the call ; if they are afar off, and scattered, 
he utters a shrill cry, and instantly the flock are seen 
leaping down the rocks, and scampering towards him. 
Having waited until they hare mustered round him, the 
shepherd then sets off on his return to his cabin or resting- 
place, his flock following behind like so many well-trained 
hounds. Their fine-looking dogs, a couple of which are 
generally attached to each flock, have nobler duties to per- 
form than that of chasing the flock together and biting the 
legs of stragglers : they protect it from the attacks of the 
wolves and beats, against whose approach they are continu 
ally on the watch, and to whom they at once . offer battle. 
So well aware are the sheep of the fatherly care of these 
dogs, and that they themselves have nothing to fear from 
them, that they crowd around them, as if they really sought 
their protection ; and dogs and sheep may be seen resting 
together, or trotting after the shepherd in the most perfect 
harmony.— Murray's Summer in the Pyrenees. 

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[February 16, 


[Furl cf Marseilles. 1 

Placed in the centre of Europe, between 42° and 51° 
of latitude, France enjoys many of the principal ad- 
vantages which stimulate the activity of commerce. The 
natural productions of the country arc diversified by 
variety of climate. In the north, the soil is most profita- 
bly devoted to the cultivation of corn ; then, proceeding 
southward, there is an extensive breadth of country, in 
which, though the common cereal crops still prevail, the 
vine and the mulberry arc objects of culture ; and next 
we find the maize cultivated in addition to the produc- 
tions already mentioned ; lastly, in the southern depart- 
ments, the olive and the almond flourish along with the 
vine and mulberry and Indian corn, and although two 
harvests can be raised in the year, the inhabitants depend 
for their supply of grain upon those parts of the country 
which are more exclusively adapted for the production of 
grain. The mutual necessities of the opposite extremi- 
ties of the country would alone suffice to give life to com- 
merce, and there are no formidable difficulties of a phy- 
sical nature to diminish the activity of traffic between 
the corn-growers and manufacturers of the north, and 
the producers of wine and oil of the south. The mule- 
teer, with his train of careful and safe-footed animals, is 
not, as in Spain, the medium of commercial intercourse. 
The roads are certainly not good ; but no direct toll is 
levied upon carriages or animals which travel upon them. 
A glance at the land and water communications which 
France possesses will afford some idea of the facilities 

which they are capable of affording to the commerce of 
the country. 

There are 630 roads of the first class, called " Routes 
Royales," of which only 15,000 miles out of 21,500 miles, 
their total length, are in a state of repair. They are from 
43 to 65 feet wide, and the crown of the road is pitched 
on nearly 3000 miles of these roads. One of the causes 
of their imperfect condition arises from the cumbersome 
system under which they are managed. The " Routes 
Departementales," or second class of roads, are 1381 in 
number, and their total length is 22,733 miles. They 
are kept in repair by the department, and are, generally 
speaking, in a wretched state. These two classes of roads 
resemble our mail-coach and cross roads. - The parish 
roads, or " Routes Vicinales," are 468,521 in number ; 
total length 479,464 miles ; average length of each about 
one mile. The expense of keeping them in repair de- 
volves upon ench parish : they resemble the lanes and 
bye-roads of England. Thus the length of the above 
three classes of roads is 523,646 miles. Add to this 5130 
miles, being the length of 133 navigable rivers, and 
2290 miles for the canals, and we have 7420 miles as 
the length of the inland water communication of France. 

France, exclusive of Corsica, comprises an area of 
200,925 square miles, while the area of England is 
50,387, or with Wales 57,812. Thus France is as mearly 
as possible four times larger than England. In 1829 it 
was ascertained that we had 18,244 miles of turnpike 

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roads in England ; and the state of our roads is well 
known to be unrivalled for their smoothness and the ab- 
sence of hills, every effort having been made to cut 
through them and to fill up depressions, so as to attain 
nearly a perfect level. In 1819 a committee of the 
House of Commons estimated the length of the other 
roads (cross-roads, we presume) at 95,000, making with 
the turnpike roads 112,244 miles. For the purpose of 
inland navigation we have canals whose aggregate length 
is 2200 miles, and navigable rivers of the united length 
of 1800 miles, being together more than 4000 miles. It 
is perhaps scarcely correct to offer in comparison with 
the whole of France that section only of Great Britain 
which is so pre-eminently distinguished for its industrial 
activity ; but by adding Scotland and Wales, the pro- 
portion in respect to area will be changed from 4 to 1 
to 2j to 1 : the distance from the central parts of the 
country to the coast in Great Britain is eo much less 
than in France as to form a very important feature in 
estimating the commercial facilities of the two countries. 
The railway system has made no progress in France, up 
to the present time, beyond giving birth to magnificent 
projects; while iu England, in the course of the next four 
years, all the most important commercial towns and 
manufacturing districts will be closely knit together by 
these new media of intercourse. At several points the 
island will be crossed from sea to sea by a railway. 
Thus the Severn and the Thames will be connected ; the 
Humber and the Mersey ; and the Newcastle and Car- 
lisle line stretches across the northern part of England. 

France enjoys a finer river system than that of any 
other country in Europe ; and this advantage may ac- 
count for, and perhaps balance, its want of railways. The 
basins from which the waters of the great rivers are col- 
lected, are four in number, namely : the basin of the 
Seine, containing 17 departments ; the Loire, the largest 
of these basins, 26 departments ; the Garonne, smaller 
than the basin of the Loire, but larger than that of the 
Seine in the proportion of 6 to 7, contains 1 7 departments ; 
the basin of the Rhone contains 16 departments; and 
that portion of the basin of the Rhine which belongs to 
France contains 9 departments. Each of these rivers, 
with its tributaries, bears to the ocean the productions of 
the most inland parts of the country ; and this natural 
system of internal navigation is rendered more complete 
by canals which connect the great rivers, and pass from 
o>ne basin to another, forming one great system for carry- 
ing on traffic instead of a series. The river Seine is 
470 miles long, and the length of its principal tributary, 
the Marne, is 268 miles. The Rhone is 525 miles 
long ; the Sadne, its principal affluent, 304 miles ; the 
I sere and the Durance, two other affluents, are respec- 
tively 190 and 220 miles in length ; the Doubs, a feeder 
of the Sa6ne, is 250 miles long. These rivers, being so 
near the Alps, are rapid in their course, and their value 
for the purposes of navigation is diminished accordingly. 
The Garonne is 360 miles long ; and its affluents are the 
Dordogne, 293 ; thejiot, 166 ; and the Tarn, 207 miles 
in length. The length of the Loire is 600 miles ; and 
its affluents the Allier, Cher, and Vienne are respectively 
of the length of 250, 215, and 207 miles; the Creuse, 
an affluent of the Vienne, is 166 miles long. 

The Loire and the .Rhone are connected by the Canal 
of the Centre, 73 miles long. The Seine and Loire, in 
their upper course, are united by the canals of Briare 
and Loing, each about 34 miles long ; and lower .down 
the channel of the latter river, by the canal of Orleans, 
a branch of the canal of Loing, 45 miles long. The 
Yonne, a branch of the Seine, is connected with the Sa6ne 
and the Rhone by the canal of Bourgogne ; and by an 
extension of this line, the union of the Seine with the 
Rhine is effected. The Yonne is also connected with the 
Loire by the canal of Nivernois. The Rhone and the 
Rhine are connected by the Rhone and Rhine canal. 

Thus a noble river system is extended by artificial meant* 
over the whole face of the country. In England it is said 
that no part of the country is more than fifteen miles from 
water communication ; but we are not able to present 
the comparison which France offers. 

If we examine its coast-line, we also find that France 
is highly favoured by nature. The length of coast- 
line on the Atlantic is 130 leagues ; on the Chan- 
nel, 150; and on the Mediterranean, 90 leagues. The 
six departments on the Channel have an area of 1817 
square leagues, and a population of 2183 to each; the 
area of the five departments on the Atlantic (not includ- 
ing the Gulf of Gascony) is 1715 square leagues, popu- 
lation of each 1500 ; the area of the five departments on 
that portion of the Atlantic which comprises the Bay of 
Biscay (called by the French the Gulf of Gascony) is 
2012 square leagues, population to each 1013; and the 
four Mediterranean departments have an area of 1152 
square leagues, and the average population of each is 
1028. The area of the twenty maritime departments of 
France is 6698 square leagues, or one-fourth of the total 
superficies of the country, while the total population of 
these twenty departments is about 10,000^000, or nearly 
one-third of the total population. If a straight line be 
drawn from one point of the coast to another, and sinu- 
osities avoided, it will be found that out of 2157 miles of 
frontier, 1188 miles are on the coast, namely, 929 miles 
on the western and 259 on the Mediterranean coast, the- 
inland frontier being only 969 miles, of which 100 are. 
formed by the Rhine. The facilities of traffic which 
such an extensive line of coast affords are increased iu 
several instances by canals. Thus the canal of Langue- 
doc, 151 miles long, and one of the finest works of the 
kind in Europe, connects the Garonne with the Medi- 
terranean, by which means a voyage of several hundred 
miles round the whole of the Spanish peninsula is avoided. 
Owing partly to the facilities afforded by this canal the 
southern departments are supplied with colonial produce, 
at a cheaper rate from Bordeaux than from Marseilles* 
From Brest to Nante3 there is also a canal, 232 miks 
long, by which the navigation of a dangerous part of the 
coast is avoided, and in time of war the trade between these- 
two places can be carried on without risk or interruption.. 

The coast-line of England and Wales extends about 
1460 miles, not including sinuosities, but reckoning the 
latter, the real coast-line probably exceeds three times that 
amount. In tlie * Statistical Account of Scotland,' the 
sea-coast of the mainland of that portion of Great Britain 
is stated to be 2500 miles. The coast-line of Ireland 
exceeds 1000 miles if the bays be included. 

Having given an outline of the channels in which the 
commerce of France flows, and the manner in which 
it is facilitated by roads, canals, rivers, and w exten- 
sive line of coast, the principal seaports and places of 
traffic next claim attention. Each of the rivets winch 
drain the four great basins of France has its seaport. 
Havre is the entrepot of Paris and the country com- 
prised within the basin of the Seine. The extensive in- 
land country commanded by the Loire and its tributaries 
renders Nantes an important seaport ; Bordeaux, near the. 
head of the sestuary of the Gironde, and commanding, by the 
Garonne, the supply of many of the southern departments, is. 
also the great centre of the trade in wine and brandy, which, 
constitute the largest articles of export in the foreign- 
commerce of France. Marseilles is admirably situated 
for the trade with Spain, Italy, the Levant, Egypt, Tunis* 
and Algiers, and- it derives greater advantages from its. 
favourable position in this respect than from the access 
which it enjoys with the inland parts of the country by 
means of the Rhone or other channels of internal naviga- 

The weight and value of merchandise bonded in the 
principal warehousing ports of France, during 1837, were 
as follows :— 

Digitized by 




'[February" 16, 

Il^vre . 











Total of the above and alll 5g4 Q00 19>1 , 2 000 

other ports . . ' ' > • > 

The ports of Marseilles and Havre, it will be seen, 
received more than two- thirds of the whole of the mer- 
chandise bonded in the kingdom in the year 1837. Of 
the articles warehoused, the largest proportion consists of 
colonial produce ; next animal substances, as hides, wool, 
silk; then vegetable substances, as cotton, flax, and 
hemp; and dyes, particularly indigo, with vegetable 
juices, as oils and gums, constitute the next largest pro- 

Taking the imports of France at 27,000,000/., we may 
set down 17 millions for raw produce, 4 millions for 
manufactured products, and 6 millions for unmanufac- 
tured produce. About 9 millions of the importations 
from foreign countries are received by land and 18 millions 
by sea. The exports amount to about 30,000,000/., 
of which 22 millions are shipped at the coast, and 8 
millions are transmitted by the land frontier. The weight 
of the cargoes to foreign countries amounted to 2,500,000 
tons, of which only 960,000 tons were conveyed in French 
bottoms. The weight of merchandise in the transit 
trade in the same year was 29,689 tons, of the value of 
5,840,000/., nearly four-fifths of which consisted of silk 
goods, cotton cloths, raw and thrown silk, woollen cloth, 
and raw cotton. A considerable proportion of these 
goods is conveyed by land carriage, stage-coaches being 
sometimes employed for silks and other articles of value. 
The weight of merchandise conveyed from one part of the 
coast to another amounted to 1,746,466 tons in 1837, 
being one-third less than the weight of goods imported 
from or exported to foreign countries. The number of 
tons of merchandise shipped from ports on the Atlantic 
coast to other ports on the same coast amounted to 
1,234,000 ; and from the Mediterranean ports there were 
snipped 369,000 tons, the proportion being respectively 
74 and 26 per cent. From Atlantic ports to Mediter- 
ranean ports 96,000 tons were sent ; and from the latter 
to the former, 95,000 tons. The Atlantic ports most 
extensively engaged in the coasting-trade are Rouen, 
exporting 200,000 tons of merchandise ; Havre, 125,477 ; 
Bordeaux, 145,000 ; Nantes, 63,000 ; Dunkirk, 40,000; 
Rochelle, 35,000 ; Caen, 34,000. Marseilles holds the 
first rank among the Mediterranean harbours, having 
exported 174,000 tons of merchandise; Toulon ranks 
next, for 52,000 tons. The goods and merchandise 
shipped from the ports on the Atlantic for the Mediterra- 
nean are destined for Marseilles, Toulon, and Cette. Those 
sent from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic ports arrive at 
Rouen, Hftvre, Bordeaux, Nantes, Rochelle, and Caen. 
The principal articles of the coasting trade are wood, 
building materials, corn and flour, salt, wines, brandies, 
coal, iron, resin, and soap. The commodities supplied 
by the south are chiefly wines, brandies, and salt ; and 
by the north, corn, flour, seed, oil, and coal. 

Marseilles, the great seaport of France on the Medi- 
terranean, was founded six centuries before the Christian 
era, by the people of Phocea, a Greek colony of Asia 
Minor. It soon flourished, and its inhabitants formed 
minor settlements on the coasts of Gaul, Spain, and Italy. 
From its earliest infancy Marseilles has been an im- 
portant place of maritime commerce. * The soil in its 
neighbourhood is sterile, and does not bountifully repay 
the labours of the cultivator. This circumstance, and 
the advantageous position of Marseilles, naturally diverted 
the energies of its population to trade. At the present 
time a fifth of the customs' duties collected in France, or 
nearly 1,000,000/., is contributed by Marseilles; and its 

commerce is increasing, the occupation of Algiers by the 
French having brought the trade with that part of Africa 
into the hands of the Marseillaise. There are many soap 
manufactories and tan-yards at Marseilles. The refin- 
ing of sugar is an important branch of industry. The 
trade in perfumery and olive-oil is also considerable. 
The exports of Marseilles consist of colonial produce, 
brandy, wine, liqueurs, syrups, preserved fruits, capers, 
anchovies, oil, soap, verdigris, perfumery, madder; 
manufactured goods, consisting of light woollens, silks, 
shawls, ribands, gloves, hardware, &c. ; and the chief 
articles of import are sugar, coffee, cotton, indigo, pepper, 
iron, dye-woods, hides ; and when the trade in grain is 
active, wheat from the Black Sea, Sicily, Italy, and 
Africa. The harbour is in the heart of the city, capacious ' 
and sheltered, but it does not admit vessels of the larger 
class ; and as the accumulation of refuse from the shipping 
is not carried away by tides (the Mediterranean tides neing 
scarcely perceptible) the port is frequently offensive. 
The form of the harbour resembles an elongated horse- 
shoe : the entrance is defended by forts placed oppo- 
site each other. The lazaretto occupies an area of above 
278,000 square yards, and is considered the finest esta- 
blishment of the kind in Europe : the quarantine regu- 
lations are severe, but a general revision of these laws for 
the countries on the Mediterranean is likely to take 
place. The arrivals in the port of Marseilles in the year 
1833 were as follows : — 


Trade with foreign countries 1,155 

Do. with French colonies 129 

Fishing trade . . 66 

Coasting trade . . 4,091 

Foreign ships direct . 1,209 

Do. do. indirect . 551 

Tonnage. Men. 

103,978 8,533 

31,740 1,840 

10,794 806 

210,926 19,409 



7,201 629,780 

In the environs of Marseilles there are some splendid 
sea- views. The population of the town amounted to 
146,000 in 1837 ; and it possesses all the institutions of 
a French provincial town of the first class. 


[Concluded from No. 440.J 

In our former article we gave a brief account of the 
Clavichord, the Spinet, and the Virginal, — all of which 
were played upon in a manner nearly similar to the 
modern piano-forte, and were very similar to one another 
in construction. 

We now proceed to a mode of construction which, 
under the name of the Harpsichord, presented an im- 
portant improvement upon those before mentioned. It 
will he remembered that, in the instruments we have 
hitherto described, there were as many keys as strings, 
each key acting upon one string only. Now it is very 
plain to us, that if two notes of the same character and 
pitch be sounded together, the effect is more intense and 
brilliant than if one only be sounded : on the same prin- 
ciple that in a chorus a number of voices sing in unison, 
in order to increase the effect. The same remark, of 
course, applies to a stringed instrument ; and if, by any 
mechanism, each key of an instrument of the piano-forte 
class could be made to act upon two unison-strings at 
once, the effect produced would be double in intensity. 

This was the principle which distinguished the harp- 
sichord from its predecessors. There were twice as many 
strings as keys, each key acting on two strings. The 
mode of vibration was by a jack and a crow or raven 
quill, as in former instances ; and the general construc- 
tion was in other cases nearly the same, except that the 
harpsichord was necessarily larger than the spinet or 

Digitized by 





virginal. In this form the instrument was called a 
sinijle harpsichord, and was, in effect, a double spinet. 

But there were also double harpsichords, having three 
sets of strings and two sets of keys. The tuning of the 
three strings for each note was so arranged, that there 
should be two unisons and an octave above them, in 
order to give a variety of character to the tones, and yet 
keep them in harmony one with another. About the 
year 1770 a change was made, by bringing all three of 
the strings to a unison. The reason for this was, that 
the octave string, or the octave stop, as it was called, was 
liable to be so much affected by the least change in the 
temperature of the air, that a change in the direction of 
the wind was often sufficient to put it out of tune. 

Besides arming the tongues of the jacks with crow or 
raven quills, several other means were tried by which to 
produce a softer tone, and to keep the instrument longer 
in tune. Leather and other elastic substances were applied 
in different ways ; but it was found that what the instru- 
ment gained in sweetness of tone, by these means, it lost 
in spirit, for the quills were calculated to produce a very 
sprightly effect. 

The best harpsichords of the last century were made 
by the family of the Ruckers at Antwerp— by Geronimo 
at Florence— by Coushette, Jabel, Kirkman, and Shudi. 
But they were destiued to be superseded by an im- 
proved construction of instrument, and are now almost 

The improved construction to which we allude was 
that of the Piano-forte, in which the strings are struck 
with a hammer instead of a quill. There are two accounts 
given of the invention of the piano- forte, differing much in 
their particulars. We see no reason, however, why both 
of them may not be correct, since science and the arts 
afford abundant instances of two persons living in different 
countries making similar inventions or discoveries about 
the same time, and .unknown to each other. One account 
is as follows : — " The piano-forte was invented at Florence 
about 1711. The first that was brought to England was 
made by Padre Wood, an English monk at Rome, for an 
English friend, Mr. Crisp of Chesington. The tone of 
this instrument was so superior to that produced by quills, 
with the additional power of producing all the shades of 
piano and forte by the finger (whence the name of the 
instrument), that though the touch and mechanism weve 
so imperfect that nothing quick could be executed upon 
it, yet the ' Dead March in Saul ' and other solemn and 
pathetic strains, when executed with taste and feeling by 
a master a little accustomed to the touch, excited equal 
wonder and delight in the hearers. Mr. Fulk Greville 
purchased this instrument of Mr. Crisp for 100 guineas, 
and it remained unique in this country for several years. " 

The other account of the invention is as follows: — 
"Christopher Gottlieb. Schroeter was a native of Hohen- 
stein, on the frontiers of Bohemia. This ingenious man 
was born in 1699, and having received a good musical 
education under Schmidt, chapel- master at Dresden, 
obtained, without solicitation, the place of organist in 
the principal church of Minden in 1726, and of Nord- 
hausen in 1732, where he remaiued till his death, in 
17c2. So early as the year 1717 he made that change 
in the construction of the harpsichord which brought 
it under the denomination of the piano-forte. He made 
a model of his invention, and presented it to the court 
of Dresden in 1121. The hammers which struck the 
strings recoiled after the blow, and were covered with 
leather. Some time after this, Mr. G. Silvermann, a 
musical-instrument maker, began to make piano-forte3 
for sale, from Schroeter's model." Mr. Capel Lofft 
W raised some objections to this account ; but we 
have not space to enter into them, and must content 
uurseives with observing that the piano- forte is generally 
regarded as a German invention. 

Piano-fortes, as made at present, are of three different 

kinds ; the horizontal grand, the cabinet, ana the square* 
In the first the player sits at one end, and the front of the 
instrument curves or inclines backwards from the end at 
which the player is seated towards the other end. The 
cabinet is short but elevated, in consequence of a different 
arrangement of the internal mechanism of the instrument. 
In the square piano-forte the keys are arranged along 
the front, but nearer to one end than the other. 

The cabinet and the ,square piano-fortes have two 
strings to each note tuued in unison ; but the grand has 
three, and it is principally from this circumstance that 
the grand piano-forte is employed in concerts, where a 
powerful effect is required to be produced. The ground- 
work of the^lnstrument is a strong frame, to one end of 
which the strings are attached firmly, and at the other 
end the pegs, round which the strings are wound, are 
inserted. The Btrain upon this foundation frame is 
enormous, since every individual wire must be powerfully 
stretched before its required note can be produced: a 
slight inspection and trial of the strings of a piano-forte 
will render this evident. It has been estimated that 
when all the strings of a grand piano-forte are properly 
tuned, the strain upon the supporting frame is not less 
than thirteen thousand pounds. The necessity for great 
strength is therefore evident. 

Alt the strings pass over two bridges, at a certain dis- 
tance from the ends ; and it is the vibration of the 
length of string between these bridges that produces the 
tone. It is customary to twist little pieces of cloth about 
the portions of the strings situated between each end and 
its adjacent bridge, in order to prevent that portion from 
vibrating separately. In some cases, however, these 
pieces of cloth are dispensed with, and, by the addition 
of two extra bridges, the side portions of tne strings are 
allowed to vibrate. 

The strings are usually of steel wire from the upper 
end of the scale down to the note a on the first space of 
the base, and all the notes below that are of brass wire. 
Some of the strings are covered with fine brass or copper 
wire, wound spirally round, to increase the substance. 
The original scale of the piano- forte was from double p 
in the bass to / in alt, comprising a compass of 5 oc- 
taves ; it was then carried three or four notes higher, 
making the compass 54 octaves ; the base was then car- 
ried down to c c c, making six octaves : and lastly the 
upper notes were extended as far as/ in altissimo, by 
which the compass has been finally brought to 64 oc- 
taves, which is, we believe, the utmost that has yet been 
produced on the piano-forte ; indeed, the extreme notes 
of this widely- extended scale are so slightly musical in 
their character, that it would answer but little purpose to 
carry the scale still further : we may well be content with 
a range of seventy-eight semitones in one instrument. 

A very important part of the piano- forte is the sound- 
ing- board. This is a perfectly smooth and flat piece of 
Swiss fir, or of white American pine, about one-fifth of 
an inch in thickness, and extending parallel to the whole 
range of strings. The object of the sounding-board is 
to augment the intensity of the sounds emitted by the 
strings. If nothing but the air of the room communi- 
cated between the vibrating strings and the car, the air 
would communicate to the ear so much only of the sound 
as it had received directly from the strings ; but if a thin 
elastic surface be placed near the strings, it is set into 
vibration by them, and in its turn communicates those 
vibrations to the air of the room in a powerful manner, 
by reason of its large surface. Such is the object which 
the sounding-board of a piano-forte is intended to serve, 
and without it we should lose much of the power of the 

The part of the mechanism which strikes the string is 
the hammer, which serves the place of the quill used in the 
harpsichord, &c, and which is formed of leather. This 
hammer was originally attached to the remote end of the 

Digitized by 




[February 16, ljB39. 

Icey ; bo that when the finger pressed down the outer 
end, the inner end sprang up, and the hammer attached 
to it struck the string. But it was found that many dis- 
advantages attended this mode of striking the string, and 
an ingenious contrivance was adopted by which the 
remote end of the key acted upon a second lever, which 
was provided with a hammer, and which was the part 
that acted on the string. It is in this department of the 
construction that more changes have been made than 
in any other. The keys and the strings have remained, 
comparatively speaking, without great alteration ; but 
the mode of bringing the remote end of the key to act 
upon the string, in order to give a freedom of action to 
the player, has engaged the attention of all our most 
eminent instrument-makers, who have, in*some cases, 
adopted the most elaborate mechanism. 

One peculiarity which, among others, distinguishes the 
piano-forte from the organ, is, the speedy termination of 
the sound of each note. An organ-player can produce 
an uninterrupted note of any length he may require by 
keeping his finger on a key and having the instrument 
supplied with wind ; but a pianoforte-player soon loses 
the sound of a note, whether his finger remain on the 
key or not, for the note gradually dies away, and is soon 
extinct. This circumstance gives to the organ an advan- 
tage in some respects. It is, however, desirable that in 
both cases the sound should cease when the finger is 
removed from the key ; for if one note remained sound- 
ing when the next following note is being produced, the 
two would be heard together, and would be very likely 
to produce discord. When, therefore, the finger is taken 
off any particular key, it is desirable that the sound of 
that note should cease at once by the time another note 
is produced. To effect this a damper is employed for 
each string. An extremely light body, such as a little 
piece of wood coated with leather, is allowed to rest on 
each string: when the key is pressed down, the little, 
damper is lifted up from the string, and this hammer 
strikes the string, both at the same instant. The re- 
moval of the damper allows the string to vibrate ; but 
when the finger is removed from the key, the damper 
falls again on the string, and at once stops its vibration. 

In some particular movements of a piece of music it is 
often desirable that the notes should reverberate after the 
key is released from the action of the finger, by which a 
peculiar kind of richness of effect is produced, although 
for other movements it would be deemed discordant. To 
effect this a pedal is pressed, by which the dampers are 
removed from all the strings, and allow them to vibrate 
freely. When this movement of the piece of music is 
concluded, another motion of the pedal restores the 
dampers to their former position. 

It has been said that in the grand piano-forte there are 
three strings to each note, and two in the cabinet and 
square pianos. Now, so much of the effect of a piece of 
music depends on the judicious variation of the intensity 
of sound produced, that it may well be supposed that 
manufacturers have been anxious to provide the player 
with the means of varying the intensity of the sound of 
the piano-forte. Accordingly, the hammers are so 
arranged that in their ordinary position they shall strike 
the whole of the strings ; but by placing the foot on a 
pedal one string of every note is removed from the action 
of the hammer ; so that the grand piano has then but 
two strings playing to each note, and the cabinet and 
square pianos have but one. The removal of the foot 
from the pedal restores to the instrument its full power. 

A very complicated species of piano-forte, called the 
" self-acting," has sprung up within a few years. A 
barrel, similar to that seen in a musical snuff-box, is 
studded over with pins in a determined arrangement, and 
when the barrel is made to revolve by some internal 
mechanism, the pins catch against the ends of levers 
which communicate with or strike against the strings, 

and thus the sounds are elicited. As in the case of the 
musical snuff-box, the number of tunes is limited by the 
arrangement of the pins on the barrel. In some of de- 
menti's self-acting piano-fortes the mechanical powers of 
the instrument extend to eighteen tunes. There is gene- 
rally a set of keys, as in a common piano ; so that the 
instrument can also be played in the usual way by the 
fingers. Messrs. Rolfe have adjusted the levers to the 
revolving barrel in such a way that dampers can be either 
applied to or removed from the strings, as may be desired. 

There have been one or two contrivances by which the 
sound of a string can be rendered more continuous, while 
the finger is on the key. This is by allowing a resined 
web, or, in another case, a resined film of silk, to rub 
against the string, somewhat in the manner of a bow 
against a violin string. But the mechanism must neces- 
sarily be very complicated, and we are not aware that it 
has yet been brought much into use. 

Mr. Erard has made made several improvements in 
what is called the "action" of piano-fortes. There is 
the " square action," by which the hammer strikes the 
string very freely and rapidly, but is liable to rebound 
against it and repeat the note : on the other hand, the 
" grand action " is such a mode of arranging the ham- 
mer that it cannot rebound against the string ; but this 
is counteracted by a heaviness or sluggishness of action, 
by which the note cannot be sounded unless the key be 

Eressed completely down by the finger. The late Se- 
astian Erard endeavoured to combine the merits of these 
two " actions," and to avoid their defects ; and from the 
evidence given by professional persons before a judicial 
committee of the Privy Council in 1835, when Mr. P. 
Erard applied for an extension of the patent, it appears 
as if that object had been attained. 

Almost every eminent pianoforte-maker of the present 
day has contributed to the improvement of this beautiful 
instrument. The names of Erard, Broadwood, Cle- 
ment], Stodart, Kirkman, &c, are all connected with 
some improvements or other in the mode of constructing 
the piano-forte; and there is no reason why- this should 
not continue to be the case, since there are doubtless many 
things to be desired in the construction. How different 
are the piano-forte and the violin in this respect ! The 
violin of a Paganini or of an Ole Bull in the present 
day differs scarcely in any respect from that of a Tartini 
or a Viotti in the olden time ; but a Thalberg or a Hum- 
mel would be but little satisfied with a spinet or virginal 
on which to exercise his powers. 

The Seme of Duty. — There is no evil that we cannot 
either face or fly from, but the consciousness of duty dis- 
regarded. A sense of duty pursues us ever. It is omni- 
present, like the Deity. If we take to ourselves the wings of 
the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 
duty performed, or duty violated, is still with us, for our 
happiness or our misery. If we say, the darkness shall 
cover us— in the darkness, as in the light, our obligations 
are yet with us. We cannot escape their power, nor fly 
from their presence. They are with us in this life, will be 
with us at its close ; and in that scene of inconceivable 
solemnity which lies vet further onward, we shall still find 
ourselves surrounded by the consciousness of duty, to pain 
us wherever it has been violated, and to console us so far as 
God may have given us grace to perforin it.— Webster's 
Speeches and Forensic Arguments. 

Uncertainty of Life in Africa.— \\ will scarcely be 
believed, that not less than one hundred and sixty governors 
of towns and villages, all belonging to Yarriba, have died 
from natural causes, or have been slain in war, since I was 
last here (a period of three years) ; and that, of the in- 
habited places through which we have passed, not more 
than half a dozen chiefs are alive at this moment who 
received and entertained me on my return to Badagry three 
years ^.—Lander's Niger. 

Piloted by William Clowes & Sob*, Stamfbid-Strtet. 

Digitized by 




Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[February 23, 1839. 


[Military College, Woolwich.] 

Woolwich, from its importance as the grand military 
and naval depot for England, as well as from its proxi- 
mity to London, has become one of the most frequented 
and popular resorts of those who in their rambles in 
pursuit of amusement wish to be instructed at the same 
time. In this town may be seen many of the vast pre- 
parations necessary to render effective the precautions by 
which the peace of England is preserved and the encroach- 
ments of her enemies checked. Here are manufactured 
the instruments by which the attacks of an enemy may 
be reprelled ot retaliated — here are constructed some of 
the immense vessels by which the British empire is 
enabled to exert its influence on distant countries, and 
here those chivalrous youths are educated, who are des- 
tined to direct the operations of arms ahd ships when 
their exertions are called for. 

Woolwich is situated about eight miles from London 
in a direction east by south, or about nine miles and a 
half by water. From the southern portion of the town 
an extensive and picturesque country is presented to the 
eye ; Shooter's 'Hill, surmounted by Severndroog Castle, 
forming a conspicuous object in the* distance, while, 
nearer, the pretty village of Charlton delights the spec- 
tator with its rural beauties. The town is bounded on the 
Vol. VIII. 

north by the Thames, whose waters, bearing ships loaded 
with the produce of all parts of the world, roll proudly by. 
The general aspect of the town itself is not very inviting, 
yet in those parts farthest from the river several neat and 
pretty houses have lately sprung up, which, with the 
handsome buildings erected by the government, render the 
appearance more cheerful than the small and dirty houses 
nearer the river would lead a visitor to suppose. Stran- 
gers, however, occupy themselves chiefly in the inspection 
of the curiosities of the place, in visiting the Arsenal, the 
Dockyard, the Rotunda or Military Museum, &c, while 
the resident will find many delightful scenes in the 
vicinity to console him for the dullness of the town itself. 
One of the most interesting establishments in Woolwich 
is the Royal Military Academy for the education of young 
gentlemen in all that relates or is in any way necessary 
to the knowledge of Artillery and Engineering. These 
gentlemen cadets number from one hundred and twenty 
to one hundred and fifty ; they are instructed in the 
antient and modern languages, mathematics, chemistry, 
the art of fortification, drawing, fencing, &c. The esta- 
blishment is under the superintendence of a governor, 
who is always Master-General of the Ordnance for the 
time being : the resident officers are a Licutenant-Gover- 

Digitized by 




[February 23, 

nor, and Inspector ; a Professor of Mathematics ; a Pro- 
fessor of Fortification ; Masters of Drawing, Languages, 
&c. Examinations of the students are held monthly, 
when reports of the state of progress are laid before the 
Master-General, and according to these reports the stu- 
dents, or cadets, are selected to supply vacant commissions 
in the respective corps of the Royal Artillery and Engi- 

The "building is situated on the south-eastern edge of 
Woolwich Common, towards which it presents an elegant 
facade : and the appearance of the tower with its turrets 
from a distance is extremely picturesque. This academy 
was established in the Royal Arsenal as early as 1 7 1 9, and 
chartered by warrant of George II. in 1741, but the 
accommodation at the commencement of the present cen- 
tury being found insufficient, a new situation was chosen, 
and the present building erected in 1805. It is a spa- 
cious pile, partly in the early English and partly in the 
Elizabethan style. A large tower in the centre, sur- 
mounted by four castellated turrets with octagonal domes, 
is the principal feature of the building. This is connected 
with the wings by a castellated colonnade or arched recess. 
The main entrance, a simple archway, is approached by 
a long avenue from the north, whence the wooded heights 
of Shooter's Hill may be perceived rising in the distance 
to the left of the building. 

The Chair pf the Professor of Mathematics at the Royal 
Military Academy has been filled by some of the most 
eminent mathematicians of modern times; Derham, Simp- 
son, Hutton, and Gregory. Dr. Olinthus Gregory retired 
from the professorship in June, 1S38, and on this occasion 
he delivered a most impressive farewell discourse, from 
k he conclusion of which, as it contains advice which youth 
of all classes would do well to follow, we give the fol- 
lowing extract : — 

" With a few exceptions (so Few; indeed, that they need 
scarcely to be taken into a practical estimate) any person 
may learn any thing vpon which he sets his heart : to 
ensure success he has simply so to discipline his mind as 
to check its vagrancies, to cure it of its constant proncness 
to be doing two or more things at a time, and to compel 
it to direct its combined energies simultaheously to a 
single object, and thus to do one thing at once. This I 
consider as one of the most difficult, but one of the most 
useful lessons that a young man can learn. 

" But however difficult it may be, it is attainable. It 
is the practical result of a still more exalted attainment, 


desirable to obtain and keep the ascendency anywhere, 
it is, surely, at home, in the centre of your own intellect 
and its principles, your heart and its emotions. Gain 
the mastery here, govern within, learn to direct your 
thoughts to any subject you jplcase, and keep them un- 
interruptedly to their occupation, till at your bidding the 
labour shall be remitted : then all will be well, for all 
will lead to a prosperous issue. With a thorough per- 
suasion that steady, well-arranged employment is the 
grand instrument of mental prowess and superiority, 
guard against listlessness, frivolity, and day-dreams ; 
resort to the higher, the heavenly springs of self-govern- 
ment, and ultimate success is yours. And, although I 
have, on this occasion, scarcely adverted to moral con- 
siderations, yet you will, on the termination of our inter- 
course, permit me to remind you, that there is so fixed 
and indissoluble a connexion between moral conduct and 
intellectual progiess, that whoever falls into irregular 
courses, or indulges evil propensities, will inevitably show 
it by his failures in study, and the crudeness and poverty 
of his acquisitions. 

" Finally. If knowledge, in its advance, dispels the 
darkness and perplexity of error, and you wish to ex- 
patiate with freedom and safety in the light of truth, — 
pursue it. 

f ' If knowledge, united with uprightness, bring esteem 

and confidence, arid you love to be esteemed and con- 
fided in, — pursue it. 

" If ' knowledge is power,' and you love power and 
influence, — pursue it. 

" If knowledge carry in its train extended usefulness, 
and you love to be extensively useful in your profession 
and in the world, — pursue it. 

" If knowledge, as it becomes augmented, enlarges its 
own power of expansion ; if the mere consciousness of 
progression makes your progress more continuous, and 
you feel the delights of a daily advance in knowledge, — 
pursue it. 

" If it be * heaven upon earth to have a man's mind 
move in charity, rest in Providence, and turn upon the 
poles of truth,' and sound knowledge in its various 
streams leads to this exhilarating confluence of good, — 
pursue it. 

"If knowledge, rightly conducted, and directed to 
right ends, brings you nearer to the Fountain of Know- 
ledge, and thus makes you more happy, whife it enlarges 
your capacity of conferring happiness upon others ; and 
you love to be happy, and to confer happiness, — pursue it. 

" But, while you pursue it, let me entreat you to avoid 
most carefully the great error of mistaking or misplacing 
the ultimate object of knowledge. 'For many,' says 
Lord Bacon, ' have entered into a desire of learning and 
knowledge ; some upon an inbred and restless curiosity ; 
others for ornament and reputation ; others for contra- 
diction and victory in dispute ; others for lucre and 
living ; fexo to improve the gift of reason, given them 
from God, to the benefit and use of men. As if there 
were sought in knowledge a couch, whereupon to ease 
a restless and searching spirit ; or a terrace for a wan- 
dering and variable mind to walk up and down in, at 
liberty unrestrained ; or some lofty tower of state, from 
which a proud and ambitious mind may have a prospect ; 
or a fort and commanding ground for strife and conten- 
tion ; or a shop for profit and sale ; and not rather a 
rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator of all things, 
and the relief of man's estate.' 

" In your mental and scientific pursuits, then, define to* 
yourselves clearly the purposes which you have in view ; 
see to it that they are in no way incompatible with the 
nature, the duty, and the ultimate destiny of man, and 
you cannot direct your aim to too high a point. Re- 
member that there is a susceptibility of incessant eleva- 
tion in the human character, enabling us to pass from 
the animal man to the rational man, from the rational to 
the intellectual man, from the intellectual to the spiritual 
man — transformed into the Divine Image, and soaring 
to joys unutterable. And rest not, therefore, till you 
acquire a capacity of rising spontaneously from the con- 
templation of the sublime in matter, to that of The 
Sublimest in mind ; — to that of the Supreme Reality, 
who comprehends all which He has made, and infinitely 
more than what as yet delights and interests us, within 
the scope of one grand administration; — to Him whose 
ineffable character ' gathers splendour from, all that is 
fair, subordinates to itself all that is great, and sits en- 
throned on the riches of the universe.* " 

Farewell Lecture delivered on retiring from the Pro- 
fessorship of Mathematics in the Royal Military Acade- 
my, June 7, 1838, by Olinthus Gregory, LL.D. 

Singing. — Music in its origin is composed merely of cries 
of joy or expressions of grief and pain; in proportion as 
men become civilized, their singing advances to perfection, 
and that which was at first an accent of passion only, be- 
comes at length the result of art. There is, doubtless, a 
vast distance between the ill-articulated sounds wfiich issue 
from the throat of a woman of Nova Zembla, and the fiori- 
tures of Mesdam« Malibran and Sontag ; but it is no less 
certain that the melodious singing of the latter has the 
croaking of the former for its first rudiment.— Fctis: Music 
made Easy, 

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In the * Penny Magazine,' No. 263$ we gave an account 
of the exertions of Mrs. Tatnall, superintendent of the 
women's and boys' wards in Warwick gaol, who for 
twenty-three years pursued the self-appointed task of 
enlightening and reforming the unfortunate class placed 
under her charge with a zealous and discreet spirit which 
was eminently successful. We would now endeavour 
to place in the same degree of estimation an individual 
whose merits correspond with those of the excellent Mrs. 
Tatnall, who performed, like her, with his whole heart, 
his self-imposed duties, and sought no other reward than 
the approbation of conscience and the gratification of 
a truly philanthropic disposition. John Pounds was 
born at Portsmouth in 1766. An accident which oc- 
curred during his apprenticeship in the Dockyard rendered 
it necessary for him to learn another trade. He placed 
himself under an old shoemaker, became enabled to 
obtain an honest subsistence as a shoe-mender, and for 
thirty-five years was the occupant of a weather-boarded 
tenement in his native town. 

About twenty years ago John Pounds took upon him- 
self the charge of a feeble little boy, his nephew, whose 
feet were deformed. He effectually cured this distortion 
by an ingenious imitation of the ordinary mechanical 
means recommended by the faculty. His heart warmed 
towards this poor child, one of a large and poor family, 
and he became its instructor, a task which gave him 
great delight. But he was not content to confine his 
exertions to his little nephew ; and his heart being fairly 
engaged in the duties of education, and seeing the neces- 
sity of instructing the poor, he began to seek out pupils 
amongst the most neglected and destitute. . His second 
pupil was the son of a poor woman, who was herself absent 
from home the whole of the day endeavouring to obtain 
her living as a hawker, her child in the meantime being 
left amidst frost and snow in the open street. Unfortu*- 
nalely there were too many children whose parents were 
too pooT to provide or too reckless to care for the instruc- 
tion of their offspring, and scholars became so numerous 
that his humble workshop, which was about six feet wide 
and eighteen feet in depth, could not contain so many as he 
would have willingly taught. Some principle of selection 
was necessary, and in such cases he always preferred and 
prided himself on taking those whom he called " the little 
blackguards." His biographer says : " He has been 
seen to follow such to the town quay, and hold out in his 
hand to them the bribe of a roasted potatoe to induce them 
to come to school." In the last few years of his life he 
had generally forty scholars under his instruction at one 
time, including about a dozen little girls, who were always 
placed on one side by themselves. Here he pursued his 
double labours, seated on his stool with his last or lap- 
stone on his knee, and mending shoes, while his pupils 
were variously engaged, some reading by his side, writing 
from his dictation, or showing him their performances in 
accounts. Others were seated on forms, on boxes, and 
on a little staircase. We give the following interesting 
account of his modes of tuition in the words of his bio- 
grapher : — " Without having ever heard of Pestalozzi, 
necessity led him into the interrogatory system: he 
taught the children to read from hand-bills, and such 
remains of old school-books as he could procure. Slates 
and pencils were the only implements for writing, yet a 
creditable degree of skill was acquired*; and in ciphering, 
the ' Rule of Three* and ' Practice' were performed 
with accuracy. With the very young, especially, his 
manner was particularly pleasant and facetious: he 
would ask them the names of different parts of their 
body, make them spell the words, and tell their uses. 
Taking a child's hand, he would say, — ' What is this ? 
Spell it.' Then slapping it, he would say, — ' What do 
I do ? Spell that.' oo with the ear, and the act of pulling 

it ; and in like manner with other things. He found it 
necessary to adopt a more strict discipline with them as 
they grew bigger, and might have become turbulent, but 
he invariably preserved the attachment of all." He took 
an enlarged view of the objects which education should 
comprise, and endeavoured to impart valuable practical 
knowledge to his scholars, teaching them how to cook 
their own plain food and to mend shoes. He was their 
doctor and nurse when they had any ailments ; and when 
they were in health, he was not only the master of their 
sports, but the good old man made play-things for the 
younger children. He encouraged his pupils to attend 
Sunday-schools, exerting himself to procure clothing for 
them, in order that they might make a creditable appear- 
ance. On Sunday morning they put on their dress at 
his house, and in the evening it was again restored to 
him. Some hundreds of persons in all have been in- 
debted to him for all the education which they had ever 
received at school ; and as a necessary consequence, 
many are now filling stations of credit and respectability 
whose elevation poverty and ignorance combined would 
have prevented, even if these misfortunes had not con- 
signed them to the gaols, the hulks, or the penal settle- 
ments. It is said — " he never sought compensation for 
these labours ; nor did he obtain any, besides the plea- 
sure attending the pursuit, the satisfaction of doing good, 
and the gratification felt when occasionally some manly 
soldier or sailor, grown up out of all remembrance, would 
call to shake hands, and return thanks for what he had 
done for him in infancy. Indeed some of the most 
destitute of his scholars have often been saved from 
starvation only by obtaining a portion of his own homely 

Mr. Pounds died suddenly on the 1st of January, 1839. 
His biographer touchingly says, — "The children were 
overwhelmed with consternation and sorrow ; some of them 
came to the door next day, and cried because they could 
not be admitted ; and for several succeeding days the 
younger ones came, two or three together, looked about 
the room, and not finding their friend, went away dis- 
consolate." Nor was he unlamented by his fellow-towns- 
men. The services which he rendered to the ignorant 
and neglected children of the poor entitle him to a place 
among those humble benefactors of mankind whose deeds 
of goodness have been, like his, performed in a spirit of 
rare benevolence. Few indeed will refuse their admira- 
tion of that active zeal which acquired for him, a poor 
man himself, the title of ' the gratuitous instructor of 
poor children.' There are in every large town teachers 
of children full as humble as he, but he brought to his 
task an innate love for the work, which a true philan- 
thropy kept ever alive, while too frequently they are 
driven to their reluctant duties by a hard necessity. 

Meditation. — If, in the definition of meditation, I should 
call it an unaccustomed and unpractised duty, I should 
speak a truth, though somewhat inartificially, for not only 
the interior beauties and excellencies are as unfelt as 
ideas and abstractions are, but also the practice and com- 
mon knowledge of the duty itself are strangers to us, 
like the retirements of the deep, or the undiscovered 
treasures of the Indian hills. And this is a very great 
cause of the dryness and expiration of men's devotion, 
because our souls are so little refreshed with the waters 
and holy dews of meditation. We go to our prayers by 
chance, or order, or by determination of accidental oc- 
currences; and we recite them as we read a book; and, 
sometimes, we are sensible of the duty, and a flash of 
lightning makes the room bright, and our prayers end, 
and the lightning is gone, and we are as dark as ever. 
We draw our water from standing pools which never are 
filled but with sudden showers, and, therefore, we are dry 
so often.— Jeremy Taylor. 

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[Continued from No. 441.] 

[From a MS. of the eleventh century.] 

VER interested we may feel in the pictorial productions 
tenth and preceding centuries, as presenting us with 
itions of the costume, furniture, manners, and customs of 
aes, we cannot but admit that, as specimens of art, they 
ittle but their antiquity to recommend them. The know- 
:>f form which the early illuminators possessed, especially 
iting the human figure, was extremely defective ; their 
ntance with the arrangement of colours was superficial ; 
eir ideas of grace and effect in composition were not sufli- 
elevated to redeem their faults in the other departments 
Yet let us not rob them of that praise which they 
deserve for the perfection they attained in those processes 
success of which may be attributed the dazzling splendour 
ted in the pages of early manuscripts, the brightness of 
probably originated the title by which these book-illus- 
are now designated. We allude to the means employed 
preparation of their colours, and the peculiar manner in 
they laid on the gold in their drawings, and gave to it 
pearance of solid masses or plates of metal flattening the 
nent by their weight. Muratori has taken from a MS. 
ninth century the following descriptions of different me- 
em ployed by the crysographists to dissolve and apply 
itals used in the adornment of their MSS. " Melt some 
ind frequently immergc it in cold water. Melt goldj 
our that into the same water, and it will become brittle, 
'ub the gold filings carefully with quicksilver, and purge 
it carefully while it. is liquid. Before you write, dip the pen in 

liquid alum, which is best purified by salt and vinegar." 
" Take thin plates of gold and silver, rub them in 
a mortar with Greek salt or nitre till it disappears, 
Pour on water, and repeat it ; then add salt, and so wash 
it. When the gold remains even, add a moderate portion 
of the flowers of copper and bullock's gall ; rub them to- 
gether, and write, and burnish the letters." A few others 
of a similar character arc also given, but it would be 
needless to extract them. The Anglo-Saxon letters and 
ornaments generally have a white embossment, pro- 
bably a calcareous preparation, for the reception of the 
gold, which, being burnished thereon, presents a very 
rich and ma*sy appearance. The composition of these 
ornaments displays considerable ingenuity, and, although 
not in the most perfect taste, they have a very brilliant 

The drawings, liowever, in which the human figure, ani- 
mals, or prospects requiring a knowledge of perspec- 
tive appear, are, as we have said, of a very inferior cha- 
racter ; yet encouragement was not wanting to advance 
the exertions of the artists of those days, nor were they 
dependent only on themselves for improvement in their 
art. An independent school for the illumination of MSS. 
appears to have existed in Ireland (whither those Anglo^ 
Saxons desirous of obtaining a learned education were, it 
is well known, accustomed to repair) as early as the 
sixth century ; and besides the notices in contemporary 
writers, we have evidence from existing specimens of 
native talent, that there were monasteries in England 
celebrated for the excellence of the artists maintained in 
their walls. We have already cited the * Register of 
Hyde Abbey,* and we will now instance one other pro- 
duction of the same monastery, which for the splendour 
of the ornaments, the richness of the colours, and, we 
may add, the correctness and elegance of the drawings, 
cannot be equalled by any other production, native or 
foreign, of the tenth or preceding centuries, now extant. 
We refer to the magnificent ' Benedictional,' now in the 
possession of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire. This 
MS. was undertaken by a monk in the monastery of New 
Minster, najued Godemann, about the latter part of the 

tenth century, for Ethelwold, bishop of Winchester, 
who appears to have been a most munificent patron 
of art. It is a folio volume on vellum, measuring 111 
inches in height by 8i in width, and contains 119 
leaves, many of which are enriched with gold borders 
and ornaments; but its most interesting embellishments 
are thirty large drawings in colours, richly inlaid with 
gold. They arc mostly religious subjects, treated with 
grandeur, and evincing a remarkable power of imagina- 
tion. The figures introduced are cleverly grouped, 
and, although not drawn with all the attention to anato- 
mical proportion we should wish to see, certainly pre- 
sent a remarkable exception to the general want of 
accuracy in this respect which Anglo-Saxon drawings 
exhibit. The mode in which one of the subjects (that of 
our Saviour journeying through the air attended by a 
number of angels) is treated, strongly reminds us of 
the productions of Nicolo Pisano and his school, who, 
two or three centuries after, laid the foundation of that 
excellence in the art of design for which Italy became 
so celebrated: the drawing, too, savours much of the 
constrained ease (if such an expression may be allowed) 
which Nicolo's paintings exhibit, as though the native 
grace of the artist's pencil were striving to overcome 
the harshness inculcated by established rules or prejudices 
of art. 

Ottley, who has drawn up an account of the drawings 
for Mr. Gage's Description of the MS. in the ' Archaeo- 
logia* (where they are copied), remarks their resemblance 
to Greek art of the period, and thinks it probable " that 
among the numerous foreigners whom King Edgar is 
said to have encouraged to settle in this country, there 
may have been some skilful artist who laid the foundation 
of a better school of art among us than we before pos- 
sessed." Did the productions of the Anglo-Saxons exhibit 
generally such an improvement in the execution, or rather 
style, as might naturally be expected from the in- 
struction of a professor educated in a different school; 
such a supposition would be strengthened by the fact 
that not only Edgar, but several wealthy personages be- 
fore him, encouraged foreign artists to visit England, 

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and imported large quantities of MSS. from abroad. It 
is highly probable that many fine examples of Italian and 
Greek art were diffused among the clergy with the MSS. 
which St. Augustin received from Rome soon after his 
introduction of Christianity into the island, and, later in 
the seventh century, Benedict, Boniface, Wilfrid, and (in 
the eighth century) Albert, archbishop of York, were 
constantly receiving MSS. and works of art from Rome 
and other places on the Continent. It has been expressly 
recorded that Wilfrid not only obtained the productions 
of other countries, but brought over several foreigners to 
assist him in his exertions to improve or civilize the taste 
of his countrvmen ; vet the Anelo-Saxon school or stvle 
of desi 
that ir 
duce, i 
other c 
the onl 

his talents) was patronized. The l Benedictional' of St. 
Ethel wold stands almost a solitary exception to the gene- 
ral characteristics displayed in the Anglo-Saxon drawings. 
Of the more usual style we will now give a few specimens. 
As a volume presenting us with several curious illus- 
trations of the costume and manners of our ancestors, few 
early MSS. are more interesting than a curious Calen- 
dar in the British Museum (Cott. MS. Tiberius, B. v.), 
executed in the latter part of the tenth century. Each 
month is headed by a drawing representing the agricul- 
tural employment peculiar to the month it illustrates. 
The following cut is from the drawing designed for the 
month of June, where the reapers are represented cutting 

rom his 
Beer, is 
j or for 

[From the Cott. MS. Tiberius, B. v.] 

As tliis month is rather an early period for harvesting 
the corn, Strutt supposes the illuminator to have trans- 
posed by mistake the illustrations for June and July. If 
we alter the month July for August, this supposition is 
rendered almost a certainty, from the fact that in a smaller 
contemporary MS. in the British Museum (Julius, A. 
vi.) t these drawings are repeated (with some varia- 
tions) on a smaller scale and in a different style. The 
drawing here given for June is transferred to August, 
and the woodcutters deliueated in the MS. Tib., B. v., 
as illustrating the employments of July, are transferred 

to June; July being illustrated in the smaller MS. by 
the mowers. In the larger MS. the woodcutters are 
placed in July, evincing a remarkable want of attention 
on the part of the illuminator. 

Another MS. curious for the illustrations of the cus- 
toms of our ancestors, afforded by the illuminations, is a 
large folio of the eleventh century, in the Cottonian 
Library (marked Claudius, B. 4), containing the first six 
books of the Bible, in Saxon and Latin, with notes by 
Bede and others, profusely decorated with drawings of the 
different occurrences mentioned in the sacred writings. 

[The Witenagemot,— From Cott, MS. Claud., B, iv.] 

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[February 2 

The preceding wood-cut is from one of those drawings 
intended to illustrate the passage in holy writ which 
describes the judgment of Pharaoh on his chief butler 
and baker at a feast held on his birth-day : " And it 
came to pass on the third day, which was Pharaoh's 
birth-day, that he made a feast to all his servants ; and 
on this day he restored the chief butler to his butlership 
again, but he hanged the chief baker, as Joseph had in- 
terpreted to them." But it most probably really repre- 
sents a Saxon king at the head of his council or witena- 
gemot, at which such a judgment in Saxon times would 
have been delivered. Below is a true likeness of Noah 
building the Ark, from the same MS. 

[From Cott. MS. Claud., B. iv.j 

The drawing in these specimens is not so defective as we 
might reasonably expect from the early period in which 
they were executed, and in the absence of any school 
devoted to the purpose of instruction in the grand prin- 
ciples of design; for in the cloister, where the art of illu- 
minating MSS. was principally practised, more attention 
appears to have been paid to the splendour of the gilding 
and colours, aud to the intricacy of ornament, than to the 
correct drawing and composition of the figures they had 
to introduce. In the following example, nowever, from 
a curious Psalter, written about the reign of Edgar, the 
drawing is ludicrously defective; yet this MS. is inte- 
resting for the many illustrations afforded of habits and 
customs which have long fallen into disuse. The MS. 
contains 73 leaves, and a multitude of drawings similar 
to the one we have copied, executed in outline in red, 
green, and blue inks, some few being slightly shaded or 
tinted with the same colours. 

In the drawing copied below we observe two figures 
dancing to the sound of musical instruments (the forms 
of which are peculiar), for the amusement of a convivial 
party seated around an elegant table. A female is adding 
to the pleasure of the party by the enchanting sounds of 
her voice, which, to judge from the action of the gentle- 
man, the third from the left of the table (in the very 
posture most approved by an exquisite of the present 
day), has sensibly affected at least one of the audience. 

[An 4 n gl9-^axon Entertainment.~From Harleian MS. No. 603.] 

It would be impossible for us to notice a tithe of even 
those MSS. in the British Museum deserving of attention 
for their illuminations : we have already perhaps been 
rather too profuse, yet we cannot refrain from introducing 

the following copy of a curious drawing in one of the 
MSS. of the period in the Cottonian Library. Here we 
have an illustration, in by no means contemptible draw- 
ing, of the practice of pledging. 

[Dinner Party —From Cott. MS. Cleopatra, C. 8.J 

In a supplemental chapter to the * Life of Lord Anson* 
Sir John Barrow truly remarks that " any imputation of 
the neglect of, or any slight cast upon, the Navy, makes 
the blood thrill through the veins of every true English- 
man who regards the honour, the welfare, and the salva- 
tion of the country — knowing that on it rests the defence 
of the three kingdoms, the preservation of our colonies, 

the protection of our commerce, the power of repelling 
and avenging insult : in short, that it is the navy which 
contributes mostly to make the name of Britain honoured 
and respected among natrons." This supplementary 
chapter is an answer to a series of* charges of neglect 
brought against the administration. The statements of 
Sir John Barrow are, in fact, official, and may therefore 

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be depended upon ; and the subject is so truly important, 
both to our interests and feelings, that an abstract of his 
statements cannot fail to be interesting. 

Sir John Barrow shows that the number of ships in 
commission is not reduced, though the charge was that 
the reduction was so large as to be equivalent to inviting 
the hostility of other countries. In 1792, before the 
revolutionary war, he shows that " twelve sail of the line 
were in commission, and 16,000 men were voted, of 
whom about 12,000 only were borne for a great part of the 
year." Since the peace, the state of the riavy at three 
different periods, in respect to ships of the line and men 
voted, has been as follows : — 

Jp Commiuiuo* 

Men voted. 

1820 . 

. . 14 sail of the line. 


1830 . 

. . 18 — 


1838 . 

. . 21 — 


With an utter ignorance of facts, it was asked, in 
reference to the supposed neglect of naval preparation of 
which the Admiralty had been guilty, if England had ever 
before been found in such a situation ? To which Sir John 
quietly remarks : " The answer is, certainly, never — on 
no former occasion — never, in the whole course of her 
naval history, could England boast of 21 sail of the line 
in commission, and a vote of 34,000 seamen, including 
marines and boys, in a time of profound peace." 

Comparing the British navy with that of other mari- 
time powers (a comparison which Sir John was compelled 
to make, by the ridiculous exaggerations of their power 
and our weakness — it being, for instance, asserted, amongst 
other things, that the navies of France and Russia were 
singly equal to that of Great Britain), the following is the 
result of his investigation : — 


Btnn or the Live. 
W Claw— 10to to 120 guns 
2oddil4o-80tol00 . . , 
3d fitfo— 76to80 . . . , 

1st ClriM Uvees and 60 
2nd «»tto— 50 and 52 . . 
3rd«fitt»~Fruai36to50 . 

In Com- 

8 B 
* < 

5 9 



30 26 64 3 131 32 3 16 22|51 8 16 

Build iny. 

• S IJ 

3 16! 



Total Ships of the Lin© 
Frigates . . . 

Gbaxd Total 


. ~m 



Russia, America. 





Sr-BAMBRi.— England has 5 steam ships of war in commission; 
France, 22 ; Russia, 6 ; and America, 1. Of steam ships of war 
in ordinary, England has 2, and France 6 ; and England has 5 of 
this class ot vessels building, France has 9, and America 9. Eng- 
land has 41 post-office packets and other steamers, which are 
tquaify available with those of France for the purposes of war; 
although the French steamers, being armed with heavy guns (80- 
pQundersJ, are included under the head ' ships of war/ while our 
packets, not being at present armed, are not enumerated under 
That head. The number of steam-vessels, including those building, 

*rrich belong to the four great naval powers, is as follows : 

Kugland, 53; France, 37; Russia, 8; America, 10. 

In 1S01 Russia had 61 sail of the line, 30 of which 

* The Americans iuive made a contract for a supply of timber 
to build 1 1 more, 

were in commission in the Baltic, 3 of them carrying 
each 110 guns; 14 in the Black Sea ; and the remaining 
16 being either oh the stocks or in ordinary. In tne 
Baltic and in the Black Sea, Russia has not at present a 
single ship of the line more than she possessed fifteen 
years ago. Those now on the stocks are intended to 
replace the old ones, as these ships, being built of fcasan 
oak or larch, do not last more than a few years ; and 
they are also built in a very inferior manner, being what 
is called " hogged." The Russian ships of war in the 
Baltic are not in commission above two or three of the 
summer months.' 

France, represented as having a naval force more than 
equal to 100 sail of the line of oiir ships, has in fact 10 
sail of the line and 16 frigates in commission, the peace 
establishment being 8 of the former and 12 of the latter; 
six additional ships being at present required by the 
state of affairs in Mexico, and at Tunis and Ancona. The 
respective strength of the naval force of France and Eng- 
land will be best understood by a reference to the sub- 
joined table : — 


Afloat. Building, 

First Class, 100 guns 
and upwards . . 

Second do., 80 to 100 
guns .... 

Third do., 70 to 80 
guns .... 

Afloat. Building. 


20 29 



18 12 

Since 1815, not fewer than twenty- four French ships 
of the line have been broken up, a fact which the alarmists 
did not take into account in estimating the naval resources 
of our neighbours. Considerable difficulty is felt in 
manning the French ships of war now afloat, owing to 
the limited number of men belonging to the mercantile 
marine of France. The really active portion of the 
maritime inscription, 6ut of which ships of war must be 
manned, does not exceed 45,000 men, of whom 18,000 
are already employed in the public service. 

The United States has 15 sail of the line, 8 of which 
are on the stocks. They have 2 ships of the line and 6 
frigates in commission ; and the large mercantile interests 
of the United States render it a national duty to pay 
great attention to their navy. An impartial consideration 
of facts will prevent any premature display of jealousy 
on our part, which is scarcely wiser than entertaining an 
unfounded impression of the decay of our own navy, and 
of our ships being unequal to cope with those of any 
country. Sir John Barrow, alluding to the natural 
ambition of a young naval power like the United States, 
thus speaks of their notion of outdoing the rest of the 
world by building a ship of enormous dimensions : — " It 
was," he remarks, " a kind of boast that the Pennsyl- 
vania, of 3000 tons, was the largest ship in the world. 
We seem determined, however, to outdo her by building 
four ships of 3100 tons each— the Royal Frederic, the 
Royal Sovereign, the Victoria, and the Algiers; and 
when to these we add the Howe, Britannia, St. Vincent, 
Caledonia, Royal William, Nelson, Prince Regent, Wa- 
terloo, Hibernia, Neptune, Royal George, St. George, 
and Trafalgar (13 ships of 120 guns each), besides two 
of 110 guns, 3 of 104 guns, 1 of 92 guns, 10 of 84 and 
4 of 80— making 20 of these fine ships,— it requires no 
small degree of impudence to proclaim the British navy 
in a state of decay, and her ships inferior to those of 
other naval powers." 

The notion that our ships of War have not their proper 
complement of men, — a charge strongly urged against 
the naval administration,— is thus met by Sir John 
Barrow, who says : — " As compared with the war com- 
plements, one would imagine the present peace eita-r 
blishment to be ample. For instance, that of a 74y in 
war, being only 590, is now 570 : of the former, the , 

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[February 23, 183& 

number of able seamen was then limited to one'third, 
tbe ordinary one- third, and landsmen one-third ; now 
the able seamen are estimated at 75 per cent. First-class 
boys, during war, were admitted from fourteen to seven- 
teen years of age ; now they are required to be from 
seventeen to twenty." And in a note he says : — " On 
examining the books of 1834, of six ships of the line and 
eighteen frigates, it appears that the average proportions 
then were, 10 able, 26 ordinary, and 4 landsmen per 
cent. They are known to bear now more in favour of 
able seamen than then.'* The average complements of 
the twelve " seventy-fours " which were engaged at the 
battle of the Nile did not exceed 560, while the enemy's 
force consisted of 13 ships — 1, of 120 guns and 1010 
men, 3 of 80 guns and 800 men each, and 9 of 74, with 
700 men each. Of these 11 were taken, sunk, or de- 
stroyed, and 2 were afterwards captured. 

Next Sir John Barrow meets the charge (serious, if 
true) that " from the reduced state of stores in the. dock- 
yards, and of shipwrights, a fleet such as a war would 
require could not be sent to sea." The country, headed 
by the newspapers, began to entertain suspicions of the 
defective state of the dockyard stores, from the circum- 
stance of a nobleman making a trip in his yacht, and 
being in want of a " Riga spar," one could not be ob- 
tained at the dockyard where he applied. The conclusion 
was quickly drawn that not any of the dockyards con- 
tained such an article ; and being destitute of " Riga 
spars," it was easy to believe that they contained none of 
the vast materiel which should always be at hand for the 
equipment of a fleet at a moment's notice. It was evi- 
dent therefore that we were, at least during two or three 
months of the year, at the mercy of the Russian fleet, 
which might leave the Baltic, and, " without any previous 
notice," enter the Thames, burn Sheerness, and perhaps 
destroy London ; and that the inhabitants of the eastern 
and southern coasts were no safer in their beds than 
when England was ravaged by the Saxons and the 
Danes. Beginning at the deficiency of " Riga spars," 
Sir John Barrow sets at rest the groundless apprehensions 
which the statements contained in pamphlets and news- 
papers were intended to produce on the popular mind. 
He informs us that the dockyards do not contain a single 
" Riga spar," and that in fact none have been purchased 
for trie last twenty-four years, owing partly to the enor- 
mous prices demanded for them, but chiefly because the 
Virginia, red pine, and New Zealand Coudie spars are 
equally good and much cheaper — the last especially, 
being superior in strength and toughness. Our dock- 
yards, so far from being empty, abound in every descrip- 
tion of stores. " There are in the several dockyards not 
only made-masts, main, fore, mizen masts, and bowsprits 
for 30 sail of the line, but as many more in component 
parts, ready for putting together, with all the necessary 
stores for the equipment of a fleet to the extent of 50 sail 
of the line ; and with regard to topmasts, for the want of 
which the French are so much distressed, it appears we 
have upwards of 300 spars, sufficient for all the topmasts 
of 100 sail of the line." It is added that of the principal 
stores, and of foreign growth, the dockyards contain for 
three, four, five, and even six years' consumption. The 
question as to the reduction of shipwrights may be dis- 
posed of as follows :— 



Seamen, &c, 


Shipwrights, Sec., 
employed in the Dockyards. 


If the proportion of shipwrights employed had a strict 
relation with the number of seamen, 2360 shipwrights 
would be sufficient for 60,000 seamen serving in the 
fleet; "but of course the number to be employed must 
depend on the nature and quantity of the work to be 

The final conclusions of Sir John Barrow, after careful 

research and minute inquiry into the state of the navy, 
are thus given : — " At no former period of profound 
peace, in the whole history of Great Britain, was her 
navy in so efficient a state, as to the number, condition, 
and equipment of the ships in commission, and the num- 
ber and superior qualities of the petty officers and effec» 
tive seamen borne on their books ; nor were the. number, 
the dimensions, and the condition of the ships in ordinary, 
and the preparations and stores in the dockyards for 
increasing the active and efficient force of the fleet, at 
any time more satisfactory than at the present moment— 
the commencement of the year 1839." 

1 f the next naval war should be fought with armed 
steam-ships, England has as little occasion for anxiety as 
any country. Sir John Barrow says : — " There are none 
of our foreign packet-steamers into which may not be 
placed a couple of 68-pounder guns, either for shot or 
shells, or both, or even 84-pounders — these two species 
of ordnance being accounted as the best kind of arma- 
ment for steamers ; and we may rest assured that within 
two months or less after a declaration of war, the British 
Channel, from the Scilly Islands to the North Foreland, 
will swarm with English armed steam- vessels. It would 
indeed be disgraceful if the country that supplies both 
France and Russia with engines, engineers, and most of 
the necessary machinery, should not be able to compete 
with either or both of these nations in this class of ships. 
The best of those of France are fitted with English ma- 
chinery ; the rest have very little to boast of." 

The high efficiency of the navy is thus placed beyond 
a doubt. There is not the slightest ground for public 
apprehension, and all the charges of mal-administrmtion 
are proved to have been utterly destitute of foundation. 
Believing that national alarm is very apt to give rise to 
national jealousy, and to all those feelings which are cal- 
culated to retard the progress of true civilization, we have 
felt it our duty to assist in giving publicity to the state- 
ment of facta which Sir John Barrow has so ably and 
carefully combined. 

Intelligence of Animals. — An old monkey at Exeter 
'Change, having lost its teeth, used, when nuts were given 
him, to take a stone in his paw and break them with it. 
This was a thing seen forty years ago by all who frequented 
Exeter 'Change, and Darwin relates it in his ' Zoonomia." 
But I must say that he would hare shown himself to be 
more of a philosopher had he asked the showman how the 
monkey learned this expedient. It is very possible he may 
have been taught it, as apes have oftentimes been taught 
human habits. Buffon, the great adversary of brute intel- 
ligence, allows that he had known an ape who dressed 
himself in clothes to which he had become habituated, and 
slept in a bed, pulling up the sheets and blankets to cover 
him before going to sleep ; and he mentions another which 
sat at table, drank wine out of a glass, used a knife and 
fork, and wiped them on a table-napkin. All these things, 
of course, were the consequence of training, and showed 
no more sagacity than the feats of dancing-dogs and' bears, 
or of the learned pig, unless it were proved that the ape on 
being taught these manipulations became sensible of their 
convenience, and voluntarily, and by pieference, practised 
them ; a position which no experiments appear to support. 
Smellie, however, mentions a cat which, being confined in 
a room, in order to get out and meet its mate of the other 
sex, learnt of itself to open the latch of a door; and I knew 
a pony in tbe stable here that used both to open the latch 
of the stable and raise the lid of the corn-chest, things 
which must have been learnt by himself from his own ob- 
servation, for no one is likely to have taught them to him. 
Nay, it was only the other day that I observed one of the 
horses taken in here to grass, in a field through which the 
avenue runs, open one of the wickets by pressing down the 
upright bar of the latch, and open it exactly as you or I do. 
— Dissertations on Subjects of Science, by Henry Lord 
Brougham, \ol. i. 

LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO* 38, LUDGATB STREW. William Clowm and Sun, Stamford Start, 

Digitized by 


H*ot»ttyfg Suppltmnt of 



Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 

%■ ii ■ ii ■ i n ■ ■ ■ ' ' ■ ■ . ■■ iii I.. i . ■ i i., , i , . 

443.1 January 31 to February 28, 1839. 

■ ■ ■ ... i ■ i ■ «. 



[Highland Shepherd and Dog.- From an original Sketch.] 

Rude and blustering March has now come : hark ! how 
He is whistling and hallooing in the fields ; that is his 
characteristic mode of announcing himself. A welcome 
to him ' He is a kindly, genial, and beneficent spirit ; 

and not all his roughness can make us cease to love him, 
or forgetful of the blessings he brings us every day of 
his life. March winds and " violets blue ! " Why these 
words alone speak the character of the month: his irre.' 

Vol. VIII. L 

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[February 28, 

pressible vehemence of spirit, that must exhaust itself in 
a thousand wild impulses, " full of sound and fury signi- 
fying nothing," yet all the while nursing in its lap the 
tenderest and fairest flowers of the field with the fondest 
solicitude. And if that sweetest of the sweet family 
whose presence informs the very ground beneath our feet 
with romance — the violet — does not hesitate to trust her- 
self confidingly to his culture, neither does the timid 
lamb wait for a less impetuous season; but, newly 
dropped from its mother's womb, looks meekly in his 
face ; and who shall say he is insensible to that touching 
appeal — that he does not " temper " his winds ? 

The lamb ! what a charm the very name of that ex- 
quisite embodiment of all that is fair and simple, pure 
and happy, contains, and ever has contained, to the heart 
and imagination of man ! It still remains for us a type 
of the divine Author of our religion, — a personification of 
the loveliest visions of our poets. What memory but at 
once instinctively turns to " the heavenly Una with her 
milk-white lamb ? " 

As we have already incidentally mentioned, the lamb- 
ing season takes place generally in March, and a busy, 
restless, anxious time it is for all who are concerned. 
The ewes are now carefully gathered together in the 
most comfortable part of the farm, where the owner's eye 
can overlook them, and necessary aid be the most readily 
afforded. The lamber or shepherd now prepares his 
simple surgical instruments, in case his skill should be 
in requisition, a bottle of milk for weakly or neglected 
lambs, the cordial for the suffering and exhausted ewes, 
and all the other little appliances of his calling. The 
time comes, and now he must be night and day on the 
watch, to assist the weak, succour the desolate, and 
restrain the impatient. Twins are marked j and newly 
dropped lambs, too weak or too cold to seek their natural 
food, are cheered with milk from the bottle, which has 
been warmed by being deposited in the shepherd's breast. 
If this assistance be insufficient, they are taken to a place 
of shelter, or placed in a basket lined with straw, and 
thus nursed for an hour or two till they recover, and 
rejoin the anxious mother. The death of some ewes, and 
the unaccountable unnaturalness of others, leave many 
poor lambs motherless ; on the other hand many of the 
lambs, as might be expected, perish even in their birth. 
It is very interesting to mark the method by which these 
simple but true mourners are enabled to supply each 
other's loss. One of the ewes thus bereaved, and one of 
the lambs thus orphaned, being chosen, the head, tail, and 
legs of the dead offspring of the former are cut away, an 
incision is made along its body, and the skin thus 
stripped off, which is immediately placed on the living 
substitute, the parts remaining uncovered being smeared 
with the blood. The impostor is then placed, in the 
darkness of night, to the ewe, who receives it kindly, and 
gives it suck ; after this, the false skin is taken off, and 
the lamb returned ; and, " whether it is from joy at this 
apparent reanimation of her young one, or because a little 
doubt remains in her mind which she would fain dispel, 
cannot be decided ; but for a number of days she shows 
more fondness, by bleating over and caressing this one, 
than she did formerly over the one that was really her 
own." * Of the affection of the sheep for her young, a 
touching anecdote is related by Hogg, the Ettrick shep- 
herd, which we here transcribe : — 

" One of the two years while I remained on the farm 
at Willenslee, a severe blast of snow came on by night, 
about the latter end of April, which destroyed several 
score of our lambs ; and as we had not enow of twins and 
odd lambs for the mothers that had lost theirs, of course 
we selected the best ewes, and put lambs to them. As 
we were making the distribution, I requested my master 
to spare me a lamb for a ewe which he knew, and which 

* Publications of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know- 
ledge—* Sheep/ p. 507, 

was standing over a dead lamb in the end of the hope, 
about four miles from the house. He would not let me 
do it, but bid me let her stand over her lamb for a day 
or two, and perhaps a twin would be forthcoming. I 
did so, and faithfully she did stand to her charge. I 
visited her every morning and evening for the first eight 
days, and never found her above two or three yards from 
the lamb ; and often, as I went my rounds, she eyed me 
long ere I came near her, and kept stamping with her 
foot and whistling through her nose to frighten away the 
dog. He got a regular chase twice a-day, as I passed 
by ; but however excited and fierce a ewe may be, she 
never offers any resistance to mankind, being perfectly 
and meekly passive to them. The weather grew fine and 
warm, and the dead lamb soon decayed ; but still this 
affectionate and desolate creature kept hanging over the 
poor remains, with an attachment that seemed to be nou- 
rished by hopelessness. It often drew the tears from my 
eyes to see her hanging with such fondness over a few 
bones mixed with a small portion of wool. For the first 
fortnight she never quitted the spot, and for another week 
she visited it every morning and evening, uttering a few 
kindly and heart-piercing bleats; till at length every 
remnant of her offspring vanished, mixing with the soil 
or wafted away by the winds." — Shepherd's Calendar, 
vol. ii., p. 191. 

The lambs begin to nibble the grass at the end of the 
first two or three weeks ; but they are from three to six 
months old, according to the quality of the pasture, be- 
fore they are weaned. As they grow strong and active, it 
is delightful to watch their gambols, to which the artless 
grace and sweetness of their appearance give additional 
charms. We have seen them on the side of a little knoll 
running round and round after each other at their topmost 
speed, whilst every now and then some would drop off as 
if tired, then again join the circle with increased zest. 
During these manceuvres the sedate ewes, quietly cropping 
the grass around, would occasionally look up, think per- 
haps of the days gone by, then continue their own more 
substantial enjoyment. But should an unlucky dog ap- 
proach at any such time, what a sensation spreads through 
the woolly group ! Heaven and earth might be coming 
together to their imaginations ! A phalanx is formed, 
the principal ewes step forward, and express their 
marked indignation at the intrusion, and significantly 
hint as to punishing the intruder should he advance, by 
stamping impatiently and with violence on the ground 
A curious circumstance may be here mentioned : sheep 
will occasionally fall and be quite unable to recover their 
feet. We have heard of their perishing from this acci- 
dent when not relieved in sufficient time. 

In the wild mountain districts of Scotland the shep- 
herd has not only the arduous duties of the lambing 
season to execute, but frequently appalling dangers to 
undergo from the terrible storms that sometimes desolate" 
those exposed regions. Hogg has given us accounts of 
several most fearful ones ; in one of which he was him- 
self a participator, and bravely incurred no small hazard 
in fulfilling his duty. Seventeen of his brother shep- 
herds and an innumerable number of sheep perished on 
that occasion. 

Goldsmith alludes with pleasure to his surprise on 
finding among the Alps shepherds maintaining the old 
poetical renown of the vocation. And let no one think- 
ing of the Arcadian shepherd contemn our own, for we 
have still here and there the pastoral pipe (or horn, which 
will do quite as well) and crook ; and as for songs, al- 
though death has lately hushed his melodious voice, yet 
the breath of our Ettrick poet still exists in his pages ; and 
he was, as we have mentioned, a veritable shepherd. In 
Kilkenny the Messrs. Nowlan had in 1820 a large flock 
of Merino sheep under the care of one man, who had no 
dog, nothing but his horn wherewith to direct them. But 
the sound of that instrument was sufficient ; no Arcadian 

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sheep could possibly obey their musical director more 
cheerfully or with greater precision. If the horn blew, 
they collected round him ; if he went on, they followed ; 
if he stopped, they did the same. At one part of the 
grounds there was a plank-bridge only eighteen inches 
wide, and one hundred and ten feet long ; over this in 
single file with admirable regularity he led them at his 

A few words on the mode now generally adopted for 
improving the breed of sheep may not be out of place. In 
examining a flock, some will be found to have a greater 
fineness of bone, a rounder, more compact, and more 
beautifully proportioned form, a more springy and elastic 
softness to the touch than others : these are the " flowers 
of the flock,' * " the destiued parents of a numerous line." 
Even among the lambs these qualities may be discovered 
though less readily; accordingly every individual pos- 
sessing them should be carefully preserved, and the others 
only selected for the table. In a large flock this prin- 
ciple will generally suffice for keeping the whole up to 
the highest point of improvement. Should the size of 
the sheep at any time decrease, an ewe of a " little dif- 
ferent yet congenial blood " is introduced, and the inter- 
mixture produces the results desired. Of the fecundity 
and age of the sheep an apposite instance is recorded in 
the ' Farmer's Journal,' of a gentleman who had on his 
pastures a ewe which yeaned a pair of lambs when she 
was a shearling, and had twins yearly afterwards for 
fifteen years! The importance of the animal to the 
agriculturist, and of its wool to the manufacturer, may 
be conceived when we state that Mr. M'Culloch, in his 
* Commercial Dictionary,' estimates the number of sheep 
in this country at thirty-two millions, and the value of 
the raw wool at seven millions of money 1 


March 1.— St. David's Day. — St. David was born in the 
fifth century, and was descended from the royal family 
of the Britons. Ordained to the priesthood, he embraced 
that ascetic life which, in those days, was so well cal- 
culated to command veneration and respect He emerged 
from his retirement in the Isle of Wight to preach the 
Gospel amongst his countrymen, and further increased 
the odour of his sanctity by founding monasteries, which 
were governed by rules of great austerity. St David 
was prevailed' upon, after much entreaty, to accept the 
bishopric of Caerleon, then a place of considerable im- 

Sortance, and he transferred the see to Menevia, which 
e loved better on account of its being more retired. He 
died about the year 544, and the city and diocese have 
since been called after him. The first three days of March 
were long celebrated by the Welsh : the first in honour of 
St Davia ; the second being a festival in honour of St. Nun, 
his mother ; and that on the third in honour of St Lily, one 
of his friends ; but the only national holiday at present 
observed is St. David's Day, and which has simply become 
an occasion for social and friendly enjoyment 

The origin of Welshmen wearing the leek on St. David's 
Day does not appear to have been traced with much cer- 
tainty One account is, that in a battle which the Britons 
f lined over the Saxons on this day, they were directed by 
t. David to wear a leek in their caps by way of distinction ; 
another version is, that the battle was fought near a field of 
leeks ; while a third statement is, that, in proceeding to the 
battle, each man brought his own supply of this vegetable. 
March 17.— St. Patrick's Day— St. Patrick, it has fre- 
quently been stated, was a native of Scotland; but this 
error has been removed in the careful account of the saint's 
hfe, which Mr. Moore has given in his 'History of Ireland.'* 
St. Patrick was born in the year 387, somewhere in the 
neighbourhood of Boulogne, in the antient Armoric Britain. 
In the year 403 an Irish monarch, Nial of the Nine 
Hostages, ravaged some of the maritime districts of Gaul, 
and St Patrick, then in his sixteenth year, was taken pri- 
soner and carried to Ireland, where he was purchased as a 
slave by a person residing in that part of the country now 
called Antrim. ^ Here his duty was to tend sheep, and his 
lonely occupation in the forest and on the mountain begat that 
• Vol i., pp. 203-226. 

depth of feeling which afterwards inspired his future life. 
He spent six years as a shepherd, when the desire of liberty 
became strong, and he made his escape to the south-western 
coast, where he found a vessel bouna for Gaul ready to sail. 
Soon after his arrival amongst his friends, he entered a mo- 
nastery or college at Tours, where he spent four years, and, 
it is believed, embraced the ecclesiastical profession. But 
his active mind was not fitted for the cloister, and his 
imagination dwelt with fervour upon the country of his 
captivity. He frequently dreamed that he was invited 
to return in the name of the Irish people. He did not 
however arrive in Ireland for the second time until 422. 
Landing at Dublin, he set out with his followers for 
that part of the country where so many of his youthful 
years had been spent. On their way they were taken for 
sea-robbers or pirates, and were attacked by a chief named 
Dicho and his followers. The holy and benignant coun- 
tenance of the saint is said to have produced so powerful an 
effect upon Dicho as to have changed his destructive pur- 
poses, and Dicho soon became his first Christian convert. 
Here St. Patrick celebrated divine service in a barn called 
Subhul Padruic, or Patrick's Barn. His old master could 
not be prevailed upon to give up his pagan notions. As 
the festival of Easter approached, the saint determined 
upon celebrating it in the neighbourhood of Tara, where an 
assemblage of princes and chiefs was about to take place. 
Arriving at Slane, he and his followers lighted the paschal 
fire on the eve of Easter-day. A great paean festival was 
to be held at the same time by the princes and chiefs at Tara, 
at the head of whom was king JLeogaire, and the lighting 
of the pile in the palace was to be the signal for its com- 
mencement Great therefore was the astonishment of the 
assembly on seeing the fire of St Patrick blazing before 
that of the halls of Tara. For this offence the saint and his 
followers were ordered to appear before the monarch. Here 
he found an opportunity or explaining the nature of the re- 
ligion which he had come to extend, and conversion fol- 
lowed his judicious exposition of its superiority; but Leo- 
gaire would not give up his old creed, though he freely gave 
permission to St. Patrick to go amongst the people and 
make known his views \o them. Great multitudes were 
converted, and St. Patrick destroyed both the idol and 
worship of the great Druidical goa called Crom-cruach, or 
the head of the sun, in the Plain of Slaughter, so called 
from the human sacrifices which were offered up to the idol. 
In the place of this monument of a cruel superstition he 
erected a Christian church. Success continued to attend 
his steps during the whole course of his exertions to extend 
Christianity in Ireland ; the Druids and other opponents, 
whose enmity he had to encounter, offering a feebler re- 
sistance than is usual with the supporters of a tottering 
system. His converts included men of rank and learning; 
who afterwards became the ornament of the new religion. 
Churches — formed of hurdles, or wattles, clay and thatch — 
were erected in considerable numbers throughout Ireland, 
and to give to the new system the advantages of organization, 
the see of Armagh was founded, and it was filled by St. 
Patrick himself. The decline of his life was chiefly spent 
at Armagh and Subhul. He died at the latter place, which 
thus witnessed his earliest and latest exertions to promote 
Christianity in Ireland. His death took place on the 17th 
March, in the year 465. He was in his 78th or 79th year, 
and had spent the last forty-three years of his life without 
having once quitted Ireland. Some time before his death 
.he wrote his ' Confession,' which contains an account of the 
improved moral state of Ireland, and of the share which he 
had in effecting the regeneration of the Irish. 

The accounts of St. Patrick which have generally been 
current contain so many erroneous and fabulous statements, 
that we have been induced to devote rather a larger space 
to the above notice than might otherwise have been de- 
sirable. But the life of St Patrick does not deserve to be 
disfigured by monkish legends. The absurd belief that St. 
Patrick drove out serpents and other venomous creatures 
from Ireland, is only one of a number of similar miracles 
ascribed to him. Lanigan, the ecclesiastical historian, 
says — " Jocelin is the only biographer of St. Patrick that has 
spoken of the expulsion by him of serpents and other ve- 
nomous creatures from Ireland. From his book the story 
made its way into other tracts, and even into some breviaries. * 
Mr. Moore remarks, that " the learned Colgan, in exposing 
the weakness of this story, alleges that in the most antient 
documents of Irish history there is not the least allusion to 
venomous animals having ever been found in Ireland," 

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[February 28, 


[ Queen Elisabeth, — From a Painting by Zucchero.] 

On the 24th of March, 1602, Elizabeth, queen of Eng- 
land, and one of its most celebrated sovereigns, expired, 
in the 70th year of her age and the 45th of her reign. 
She was the daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, 
and was bom m 1533. Educated in the principles of 
the Reformed religion, and also in those classical studies 
into which it had then become customary to initiate 
females of distinction in England, her early years were 
passed in privacy, a measure rendered politic by the 
suspicion with which she was regarded by her Catholic 
sister Mary, to a degree which, but for other interference, 
might have endangered her personal safety. 

On the death of Mary, on November 17, 155S, she was 
drawn from her obscurity and proclaimed queen, being 
received with acclamation by the people. Notwith- 
standing the security with which she appeared to possess 
the throne, sho did not until some time after her accession 
decidedly express her intentions with respect to the 
national religion. She commenced her reign with that 
caution and ambiguity of purpose which characterized 
her future proceedings, and which on the present occasion 
left it for some time a matter of uncertainty whether she 
would tolerate the existing religious establishment, or, in 
conformity with her own principles, favour the measures 
of the Protestant reformers. Thus at her coronation 
(January 15, 1559) she forbade tha customary elevation 
of the Host, and refused to hear mass in public ; yet it 
was known that she kept a crucifix and some holy water 
in her private chapel; and when the Protestants waited 

on her with their petitions, she returned ambiguous and 
almost negative answers. The hopes which the Pro- 
testants had conceived from the education of the queen 
were, although delayed by her ambiguous manner, at 
length however realized by the queen expressing her sen- 
timents in favour of the Protestant principles, but leaving 
the question of the national religion to be decided by her 
parliament, which met in January, 1559, and which, 
willing to adapt itself to the queen's wishes, restored the 
Reformed religion throughout the country. 

They did not however stop here, but interdicted the 
practice of the Catholic forms of worship, and although 
fires were not resorted to, as in Mary's reign, fines and 
imprisonment were carried to the utmost extent of severity. 
Although the violence thus manifested towards the Ca- 
tholics cannot be defended, it was owing perhaps more 
to the instigation of the Protestant clergy, than to the 
queen herself, who wished to conciliate all classes of her 
subjects. She commenced her reign with great prudence, 
and if she displayed some of that spirit of despotism which 
she inherited from her father, her measures were charac- 
terized by great wisdom and with a view to great national 
objects. By her frugality she was soon enabled to pay off 
the great debts of the crown, and to regulate the coinage, 
which had been debased by her predecessors. She made 
large purchases of arms on the Continent : she introduced 
or greatly improved the arts of making gunpowder and 
casting cannon ; and, what was of foremost importance, 
she directed her energies to the increase of the naval force, 

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bo that she was soon justly entitled to the appellations of 
• Restorer of Naval Glory ; Queen of the Northern Seas.' 

One of the most extraordinary traits of Elizabeth's 
character was her avowed resolution of remaining single, 
a resolution which she kept, and which, in spite of her 
conduct in the negotiation of several offers of marriage 
from foreign princes, she appears to have always intended 
to keep. That she was not, however, free from the vani- 
ties and jealousies of womankind, many events of her 
life sufficiently prove, the most glaring of which is her 
persecution of the unfortunate Mary, queen of Scots, which 
must partly be ascribed to other than political feelings : no 
better picture of these points of her character has been 
given than that furnished by Sir John Melville in Ins 
memoirs of his negotiations at the English court in favour 
of his Scottish mistress. 

Melville had been instructed " to leave matters of 
gravity sometimes and cast in merry purposes; lest 
otherwise the queen should be wearied." " Therefore," 
continues he, " in declaring my observations of the cus- 
toms of Dutchland, Poland, and Italy, the buskins of the 
women was not forgot, and what country weed I thought 
best becoming gentlewomen. The queen said she had 
clothes of every sort, which every day thereafter, so long 
as I was there, she changed. One day she had the 
English weed, another the French, and another the Ita- 
lian, and so forth. She asked me which of them became 
her best ? I answered, in my judgment, the Italian 
dress ; which answer I found pleased her well, for she 
delighted to show her golden-coloured hair, wearing a 
caul and bonnet as they do in Italy. Her hair was 
rather reddish than yellow, curled, in appearance, natu- 
rally. She desired to know of me what colour of hair 
was reputed best, and which of them two was fairest ? I 
answered, the fairness of them bo(,h was not their worst 
faults. But she was earnest with me to declare which of 
them I judged fairest ? I said, she was the fairest queen 
in England, and mine in Scotland. Yet she appeared 
earnest. I answered, they were both the fairest ladies in 

their countries ; that her majesty was whiter, but my 
queen was very lovely. She inquired which of them was 
of highest stature ? I said, my queen. Then, saith she, 
she is too high, for I myself am neither too high nor too 
low. Then she asked what exercises she used ? I an- 
swered, that when I received my dispatch the queen was 
lately come from the Highland hunting ; that, when her 
more serious affairs permitted, she was taken up with 
reading of histories ; that sometimes she recreated herself 
in playing upon the lute and virginals. She asked if she 
played well ? I said, reasonably, for a queen." Shortly 
after this conversation Melville was taken to the queen's 
chamber that he might hear her majesty play upon the 
virginals ; and here the queen indulged in some cour- 
teous playfulness, that her visitor might not leave her 
court with the idea that her Scottish rival was the only 
queen in Britain who could throw aside the cares of state 
and assume an air of gaiety. But her majesty could not 
long remain without instituting a comparison between 
the social talents of herself and Mary. " She inquired," 
says Melville, "whether my queen or she played 
best ? In that I found myself obliged to give her the 
praise. She said my French was very good, and asked 
if I could speak Italian, which she spoke reasonably 
well. I told her majesty I had no time to learn the lan- 
guage, not having been above two months iu Italy. Theni 
she spoke to me in Dutch (German), which was not 
good ; and would know what kind of books I most de- 
lighted in — whether theology, history, or love-matters ? 
I said I liked well of all the sorts. Here I took occasion 
to press earnestly my dispatch : she said I was sooner 
weary of her company than she was of mine. I told her 
majesty that though I had no reason of being weary, I 
knew my mistress's affairs called me home. Yet I was 
stayed two days longer, that I might see her dance, as F 
was afterward informed ; which, being over, she inquired 
of me whether she or my queen danced best ? I answered, 
the queen danced not so high or disposedly as she did. 
Then, again, she wished that she might see the queen ad 

[Tomb of Queen Elisabeth, ia the North Aisle of Henry the Seventh's Chapel, Westminster Abbey, j 

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[February 28, 

some convenient place of meeting. I offered to convey 
her secretly to Scotland by post, clothed like a page, that, 
under this disguise, she might see the queen, as James 
V. had gone in disguise with his own ambassador to see 
the Duke of Vendflme's sister, who should have been his 
wife ; telling her that her chamber might be kept in her 
absence, as though she were sick ; that none need be 
privy thereto except Lady Strafford, and one of the 
grooms of her chamber. She appeared to like that kind 
of language, and only answered it with a sigh, saying, 
Alas, if I might do it thus !" 
The treatment of the Queen of Scots can never be de- 

fended, and the feigned sorrow of Elizabeth, and the 
attempts to shift the odium of the death of her unfortu- 
nate rival from herself to others, has injured her memory 
more perhaps than the deed itself. It must not be for- 
gotten, however, that if in some things Elizabeth is to be 
blamed, the general character of her administration, and 
the high state of prosperity to which the kingdom at- 
tained under her auspices, render her reign one of the 
most celebrated in English history. Her chancellor, 
Robert Cecil, has said, with great truth, that she wag 
" more than a man, and in truth sometimes less than a 

[Autograph of Elizabeth.— From Harleian MS. No. 285.] 


In studying the institutions of a country, it is too much 
the habit to pay attention only to those central powers 
which constitute the national sovereignty. These, it 
is true, fill a larger space and attract the notice of 
a stranger more readily than those forms of govern- 
ment which are subordinate to the sovereign power; 
but it may happen that to the latter the comfort, the 
convenience, and contentment of the people may be 
as much indebted as to the centralized constitution of 
the state. Thus the municipal institutions of Spain 
kept the nation in heart, while the sovereign power 
was gradually sinking in feebleness and inefficiency. In 
France, during the existence of the republic, all municipal 
independence was stifled. A good judicial system may 
exist under a political constitution which is radically de- 
fective in the power of promoting the objects for which it 
was instituted. On the other hand, as at one time in 
Switzerland, the administration of justice may be sig- 
nally out of unison with the free nature of the political 
constitution. In every well-ordered arrangement for 
conducting the affairs of a nation there must be a dis- 
tribution of power, or the state would be a cumbersome 
and unwieldy machine, incapable of performing its 
offices. The independent authority which is created in 
order to avoid the consequences of grasping too much 
power requires a sphere of action which shall be limited 
and defined. Hence the various civil divisions which 
exist in England — for ecclesiastical affairs, dioceses, and 
archdeaconries ; for justice, circuits and counties, ridings 
and hundreds. These are not imaginary lines drawn 
from one point to another, but the circle which they 
comprise has a principle of vitality within it. Such 
divisions of the country as are understood when we speak 
of the " northern counties," or the " midland counties," 
are destitute of any active element, and merely convey a 
geographical idea ; while other divisions are so insepa- 
rable from the business of society, that they may be 
regarded as institutions. The creation of tithings, as- 
cribed to Alfred, identifies these territorial divisions with 
the earliest progress of English freedom. 

In England the parish is the smallest social atom, 
containing within itself principles of centralization which 
give to it a comparatively independent existence. The 
parish elects overseers of the highway to attend to the 
parish roads, overseers to administer relief to the poor, 
churchwardens who attend to the repairs of the church, 
and it has also its police ; and in many instances one or 
two other inferior offices are required to complete its 
organization. One great obstacle to the formation of an 
efficient municipal system is the small extent of many 
parishes, above 6000 containing less than 300 inhabitants 
each, and they are consequently scarcely in possession of the 
necessary materials of self-government, either in respect 
to the management of roads, the administration of relief 
to the poor, or in matters of police. The formation of 
"Unions," consisting of a number of parishes, was 
necessary to correct the evils which had crept into the 
system under which relief to the poor was distributed. 
In the year following the passing of the Poor Law 
Amendment Act a statute was passed * which enabled 
magistrates to form parishes into " districts," for the 
better management of the highways. Parishes which 
contained a population of 5000 inhabitants might, if the 
inhabitants thought fit, form a board, to be called " The 
Board for the Repair of the Highways in the Parish of 

• ." The Act, being entirely suggestive, has not 

been brought into operation to any great extent, and the 
evils which it was designed to remedy still exist. The 
attempt to form an efficient parish police is so well known 
for its utter want of success, as scarcely to require an 
allusion. Thus then, in the present state of society, we 
may consider it proved beyond a doubt that the parish 
by itself is incapable of originating and sustaining the 
machinery for its own good government ; and yet objects 
which involve its convenience and welfare ought not to 
be left to take care of themselves. The plan which 
appears to unite the most reasonable chances of success 
with the largest share of public approbation is that which 


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has been carried out tinder the new territorial division for 
administering relief to the poor, and which, while cement- 
ing together many parishes for the sake of efficient 
management, preserves their integral existence. Thus 
the business of attending to the relief of the poor, the 
repair of the roads, the preservation of the church and 
other public edifices, and the maintenance of a police 
force, might be left to the representatives of a number of 
parishes acting as one constituted body. The superin- 
tendence of schools for the poor might come within the 
range of their functions ; and, taking a sufficiently exten- 
sive or populous territorial division, and adopting a sys- 
tem which should ensure uniformity and steadiness of 
action at each Board throughout the country, there is 
not any part of England in which a good municipal 
constitution would not combine most, if not all, the 
elements of active and useful existence. 

The present month is the period for appointing paro- 
chial officers for the ensuing twelve months. Overseers 
of the poor are appointed for every parish on Lady-day, 
or within fourteen days afterwards. They are elected by 
the rate-payers, and remain in office one year. Surveyors 
of the highways are elected in the same manner, at the 
same time. At Easter the churchwardens are elected. 
Their usual duties consist in directing and superintending 
the repairs of the church, maintaining order and decorum 
in the church during the performance of service, and 
providing the necessary furniture for the church, bread 
and wine for the communion-table, and the books used 
by the minister in conducting public worship. By virtue 
of their office they are also overseers of the poor. In 
some instances churchwardens are chosen solely by the 
parishioners ; in others, one is appointed by the parson 
of the parish, and the other by the inhabitants. Con- 
stables are also appointed at Easter, which festival occurs 
in the present month this year. They are the most 
ancient parish functionaries in England, and their office 
was recognised in common law before the thirteenth 
century. An ancient judicial authority, Chief-Justice 
Fineux, in the reign of Henry VII., gives the following 
account of the origin of the office. He says that when 
the superintendence of the peace of a county was found 
too great a task for the sheriff, hundreds were formed, 
and a conservator of the peace under the sheriff appointed 
in each, who was called a constable. This was the high 
constable, or constable of the hundred. In process of 
time, as population increased, and towns grew into exist- 
ence, it was necessary to make a further subdivision for 
the preservation of the peace ; and accordingly conserva- 
tors were appointed for manors, vills, and tithings, who 
were then called petty constables. Both classes of con- 
stables were formerly chosen by the jury at a court-leet ; 
but at present the magistrates choose the # high constables 
at the quarter-sessions, and also nominate and swear in 
the petty constables, although in many instances the latter 
are still appointed at the manorial courts. Any inha- 
bitant, with certain exceptions, is liable to be placed in 
the office of constable; and on refusing to serve, he may 
be fined or punished by indictment. The great object of 
those selected is to get over their year of office with as 
little trouble as possible. Any strenuous or steady exer- 
tions to repress crime cannot be expected from individuals 
on whom the appointment is thrust, and who cannot in 
many instances obtain the reimbursement of sums which 
they have expended in the discharge of their duty. The 
loose manner in which the duty is performed is perfectly 
natural under these circumstances. The improved police 
of the towns renders the imperfect rural police more 
striking ; and this circumstance is calculated to lead to 
the improvement of the latter, as an act of self-defence; 
for in many parts of the country vagrants and disorderly 
persons, being driven out of towns which have an efficient 
police force, carry on their dishonest pursuits in the vil- 
lages and hamlets. 

On Thursday, the 28th, the election of guardians of 
poor-law unions takes place, the day fixed by law being 
the first Thursday after the 25th of March. The paro- 
chial year terminates on this day. The Poor-law Amend 
ment Act, passed in 1834, which called into existence 
both the unions and the new class of administrators of 
the law called guardians, has been the greatest innova- 
tion on the old provincial organization which the country 
has yet witnessed. At the same time, old forms, so far 
from having been torn up by the roots, have been pre- 
served and rendered instrumental in the operation of a 
much more efficient system than,when taken singly, they 
were capable of maintaining in action. The trutn of this 
observation may be ascertained by any one who has the 
opportunity of going through the history of the poor-laws 
for the last two hundred years. In this place we can 
only attempt to give a brief and rapid sketch of this im- 
portant chapter in our domestic history. 

Never did vagrancy, with its accompanying lawless- 
ness and insecurity, so completely pervade the country 
as in those times which are often supposed to have been 
the golden age of England. For nearly a century efforts 
were vainly made to repress this deeply-rooted evil; 
and the severity of the statutes proves the alarm which 
had taken possession of persons whose life and property 
were liable to be affected by the general subversion of 
habits of order and industry. Mendicancy was legalised 
as a mitigation of the evils of that unlicensed vagrancy 
which combined begging and stealing as its sole pursuit. 
In 1531* an able-bodied person begging out of the 
limits assigned to him by the magistrates was to be 
whipped. In l536t a " sturdy beggar " was liable to be 
whipped for the first offence, for the second, to have his 
ears cropped, and if he afterwards offended he incurred 
the penalty of death. The severity of this statute, it is 
supposed, prevented its being put in force; as, in 1547, 
an Act was passed t which recites " that partly by foolish 
pity and mercy of them which should have seen the said 
goodly laws executed, the evil of vagrancy was as great 
as ever." This statute provided that in case of an able- 
bodied person refusing to work, he should be branded 
with the letter V. as a vagabond, and adjudged as a 
slave for two years to any person who Bhould demand 
him ; to be fed on bread and water and refuse meat; and 
compelled to work, by beating, chaining, or otherwise. 
If the said person ran away within the two years, he ren- 
dered himself liable to be branded on the cheek with the 
letter S., and adjudged as a slave for life ; and if he ran 
away again, he was to suffer death as a felon. If no 
demand were made for the services of such vagabond, he 
was to be sent to the place of his birth, there to be kept 
in chains or otherwise at the highways or common work ; 
and for every three days the authorities allowed him to 
live in idleness they were liable to be fined ; if in a city, 
5/. ; a borough, 40*. ; and a town or village, 20*., one- 
half of which was to be paid to the informer. If the 
vagrant person did not truly state the place of his birth, 
he was to be branded on the face and become a slave for 
life. In 1572 another Btatute was passed for putting a 
stop to vagrancy .§ For the first offence the guilty, 
party was to be grievously whipped, and burnt through 
the gristle of the right ear with a hot iron of the 
compass of an inch in diameter ; for the second offence, 
to be treated as a felon ; and for the third offence, to 
suffer the punishment of death. Aged and impotent 
persons who refused to work when they were really able 
to exert themselves were to be whipped and put in the 
stocks for the first offence; and for the second offence 
their ears were to be bored with a heated iron, as in the. 
case before mentioned. In 1596, in another statute 
against vagrancy and idleness,|| any vagrant refusing to 

• 22 Hen. VIII., c 12. f 27 Hen, VIII., c 25. 

♦ 1 Ed. VI., c 3. J 14 Klii., c. 5. U 39 Eliz., c 3. 

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[February 38, 1839. 

work, or being a loiterer, was to be apprehended and 
whipped until his body was bloody ; and for aggravations 
of this offence the punishment was transportation beyond 
the seas. 

The funds for the relief of the destitute poor were for 
some time provided by the voluntary gifts of charitably 
disposed persons. There existed no legal claim for relief, 
and even when that claim was rendered compulsory, and 
parishes were obliged to keep their own poor, the means 
for maintaining them were derived from the alms of the 
charitable. By a statute passed in 1535,* the head 
officers of corporate towns, and the churchwardens and 
Iwo others of every parish, who were to remain in office 
one year, were required to collect these alms ; and the 
clergy in their sermons, collections, " bidding of the beads,*' 
at confession, and when persons made their wills, were 
to exhort the people to be liberal to the poor. At the 
same time the stream of private charity was checked, and 
alms-giving, except to the public poor-box, was expressly 
forbidden. The surplus collections . made in a wealthy 
parish were directed to be given in aid of other parishes 
in the same hundred. The difficulty of raising funds by 
voluntary gifts soon rendered some change necessary ; 
and an Act passed in 1551 1 directs that yearly, in Whit- 
sun week, the head officers of towns, and the minister 
and churchwardens in rural parishes, were to appoint 
two persons to be collectors of alms for the relief of the 
poor, who, on the Sunday following, at church, were 
gently to ask every man and woman what they of their 
charity would give weekly towards the relief of the poor. 
If any person able to contribute obstinately and frowardly 
refused to do so, or discouraged others from giving, the 
minister and churchwardens were gently to exhort him ; 

* 27 Hen. VIII., c. 25. f 5 and 6 Edw. VI., c. 2. 

and if \e still remained obdurate, the bishop was to urge 
upon him the duty of charity. It appears, however, 
that these various means were alike fruitless, and com- 
pulsory assessments remained as the only resource. 
This step was resorted to in 1563, when a statute was 
passed * which enacted that any person refusing to con- 
tribute weekly to the relief of the poor, according to his 
means, was to be bound over by the bishop to appear at 
the sessions, when the justices were charitably and gently 
to persuade him to extend his charity to the poor of his 
parish ; and in case he obstinately refused, the justices, 
with the churchwardens, or one of them, were empowered 
to " tax " such person according to their good discretion, 
and refusal then rendered him liable to be committed to 
gaol until he did pay. Nine years afterwards, in 1572, 
discretionary power was given to the justices to tax every 
inhabitant in their division, and to direct the application 
of the sums raised by this compulsory assessment^ 
These statutes show the reluctance with which the people 
undertook the compulsory relief of the poor. Up to tnis 
period the ecclesiastical division of parishes was preferred, 
on account of the part which the clergy and the church- 
wardens took in the administration of relief ; but when 
the power of levying a rate was given to the justices, 
whose jurisdiction was not confined to the parish, the 
burthen was thrown upon the inhabitants of the division 
in which the justices acted. In 1593, however, when 
the country had become familiar with the system of com- 
pulsory charity, the parochial division was again adopted, 
and a statute was passed J charging the churchwardens 
and overseers of the poor in each parish with the duty 
of relieving destitute persons. 

• 5 Eliz., c. 3. t U Eliz., c. 5. J 39 Elii., c. 3/ 
ITo be continued.] 

' The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge it at 59, Lincoln'* Inn Field* 
IPrlnted by William Clotto end Soy* 8tamford Street, 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[March 2, 1839* 

hAvre DE GRACE. 

[Hftvre and Cape La HSve.] 

The fourteen departments which the oasin of the Seine 
comprises contain about one-sixth of the total population 
of France. In one of these departments there is the 
capital, with its million of inhabitants ; and in another, 
Rouen, the Manchester of France. The soil of this 
region is fertile, and agriculture is in an advanced state. 
Greater industry and superior resources enable the popu- 
lation to command a larger share of necessaries and 
luxuries than twice the number of the population enjoy 
in those parts of France which are less favoured by nature 
and circumstances. The Seine, and its tributaries the 
Aube, the Yonne, the Marne, the Oise, the Eure, and the 
Rille, with the Aisne, an affluent of the Oise, and the Ourcq 
and Grand Morin, affluents of the Marne, are navigable 
for an aggregate length of nearly one thousand miles. 
Thus theinterchange of raw materials and manufactures 
is rendered easy throughout the whole of this important 
portion of the country. The two great ports of the basin 
of the Seine are Rouen and Havre. Rouen is about the 
same distance from the sea as London, and during the 
middle ages engrossed the maritime commerce of the 
Vol. Vin. 

Seine. Vessels of from 250 to 300 tons can get up to 
the town. Perhaps, however, the principal cause which 
rendered Rouen a place of commercial importance during 
the unsettled periods of European history was the greater 
security which it offered, as the ports on the coast were 
exposed to the attacks of pirates and other rovers of the 
seas. In the sixteenth century these enemies were no 
longer dreaded, and Hfcvre, then a small place, inha- 
bited by fishermen, from its situation at the mouth of the 
Seine, was much resorted to by mariners. In 1509 
Louis XII. laid the foundations of a town. His successor, 
Francis I., surrounded it with walls, and in 1618 the 
Cardinal Richelieu added a strong citadel to the fortifica- 
tions. Louis XVI. and Napoleon both encouraged the 
prosperity of H&vre, and, from about the year 1783, its 
commercial prosperity has been constantly increasing, 
and consuls from the principal commercial nations of the 
world now reside there. Havre is the only eligible har- 
bour between this portion of the coast and Cherbourg. It 
is on the right bank of the Seine, which is here several 
miles wide. There are two roadsteads, and the harbour 


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[Maach 2, 

consists of three basins in the heart of the town, com- 
municating with each other, and capable of containing 

500 vessels, including the largest merchant ships. The 
tide rises to a height of from twenty-two to twenty-seven 
feet, and the vessels are always afloat in the harbour. 
Cape la Heve, 2i miles west of the town, is a headland 
about 130 yards high, on which there are two handsome 
lighthouses about 50 feet high. 

A short time before the Revolution of 1 1 89, Rouen made 
an effort to obtain a share of foreign commerce, which its 
rival at the mouth of the river had engrossed. When 
ships of a large size began to be employed in distant 
voyages, the navigation of the Seine up to Rouen was not 
considered safe for this class of vessels, and Rouen only 
participated in the coasting-trade. But about the middle 
of the last century the obstacles which the navigation of 
the Seine presented were carefully examined, and an 
enterprising individual, conceiving that they were not of 
so formidable a nature as had been generally supposed, 
built a large vessel suitable for the foreign trade. His 
example was soon followed, and many other vessels were 
built with a similar object by joint-stock companies. The 
foreign commerce of Rouen was rapidly increasing when 
the Revolution put an end to its prosperity. Since 1814 
it has revived, but Rouen has not obtained the rank which 
it formerly occupied, probably in consequence of the direc- 
tion of capital and industry to manufactures, as well as 
the inferiority of its situation to the port of Havre. The 
foreign trade of Rouen is however respectable, and a 
direct intercourse is maintained with Portugal, Spain, 
the Levant, the north of Europe, and with America ; the 
number of vessels engaged in foreign trade exceeding one 
hundred annually, while nearly the same number of 
foreign vessels are entered inwards. The foreign trade 
of Havre is more than five times greater then that of 
Rouen ; but the quantity of goods brought to Rouen by 
coasting vessels, and barges, which navigate the rivers 
and canals, is as eight to five, compared with the extent 
of this branch of the trade at Havre: one-fourth of the 
coasting trade carried on between the different ports of 
France situated on the Atlantic sea-board is engrossed by 
the two ports. In 1836 there arrived inwards at the 
port of Havre 603 vessels belonging to foreign countries, 

501 French vessels engaged in the foreign trade, 185 
English packets, 109 large coasting vessels, besides nearly 
3000 small vessels navigating the Seine and its tributaries. 
H&yre engrosses the largest share of the trade between 
France and the United States of America. Packets sail 
regularly for New York, Vera Cruz, Bahia, Lisbon, 
Hamburg, and Southampton. The number of packets 
on the New York station is twelve ; and with Amsterdam, 
Hamburg, Southampton, Rouen, and Paris, the intercourse 
is maintained by steam-boats. 

The value of the imports at Havre in 1829 amounted 
to 10,000,000/.; the imports of raw cotton amounting to 
1,100,000/.; and of sugar to 1,800,000/. Havre and 
Marseilles are the only ports of France in which raw cot- 
ton is admitted. Other imports of Havre consisted of 
coffee, indigo, dye-woods, hides, iron, tin. The cus- 
toms' duty amounts to 1,000,000/. annually. The 
usual exports are silk and woollen goods, wines, bran- 
dies, lace, gloves, perfumery, trinkets, and articles of 
Parisian manufacture, perfumery, &c. Soap, starch, vi- 
triol, and eartlienware are manufactured in the town, and 
there are also breweries, sugar-refining-houses* ship- 
yards, and rope-manufactories, which give employment 
to considerable numbers. Many seamen are employed 
in the herring, cod, and whale fisheries ; and the wives 
of sailors and artisans obtain work as lace-makers. 

The town is divided into the old and new quarters, the 
houses in the former being ill-built, while those of the 
new quarter are much superior in appearance, and the 
streets are better lighted. Ingouville is a populous and 
pleasant suburb, containing the country-houses of the 

merchants. The population of the town and suburbs 
does not exceed 30,000. The custom-house is a large 
building, but the public buildings are, on the whole, 
rather of an inferior order. There is a fine public square 
planted with trees, which forms an agreeable prome- 
nade. The principal local institutions are a court for the 
settlement of commercial disputes, several literary and 
scientific establishments, a public library, containing 
above 15,600 volumes, a museum of natural history, a 
high school and school of navigation, and a school for 
geometry applied to the arts. 

The leading object of commercial policy in France is 
to render that country independent of all others for its 
supply of the principal articles of consumption. If an 
article can be produced cheaper abroad than in France, 
it is subjected to the highest rate of duty. The home 
producer, who labours under disadvantages which do not 
exist in other countries, is thus enabled to charge the 
highest price for his commodities, and the nation at large 
suffers a heavy loss. To bu« a dear instead of a cheap 
article is thought to be the better policy, on the ground 
that the money is spent in the country. But it happens . 
that there are some things which can be obtained in 
France cheaper and better than from any other country ; 
and the injury which the prohibitive system does to the 
interest of the French producer is in this case at once 
apparent ; and in the other case, the loss which is sus- 
tained could be easily demonstrated. French wines give 
to France unbounded facilities for exchange with English 
iron, and other articles which are produced more cheaply 
in England than in France, and the commerce of nearly 
sixty millions of people, situated so near to each other, 
would be immense if it were conducted on sounder prin- 
ciples. But in France it is considered better to have a 
limited home-market than an extensive foreign demand ; 
and capital is thus lost in the forced production of articles 
at a dear rate, while the market is lost for those which 
can be raised at a lower cost than in any other country. 
The extent to which the foreign commerce of France has 
been cramped by this system may be shown by figures. 
In 1 787 the value of the imports amounted to 25,000,000/., 
and 888,863 tons of shipping were employed ; while 
in 1830, the imports, which would have amounted to 
40,000,000/., had they increased to an extent commen- 
surate with the increase of the population, were only of 
the value of 25,500,000/., employing 629,139 tons of 
shipping. Since the abandonment of the more liberal 
commercial system of 1787, the tonnage employed in the 
foreign trade has decreased 170,000 tons, and in com- 
parison with the increase of the population has retrograded 
35 per cent. At two less distant intervals (1828 and 
1834) the commercial shipping of France was as fol- 
lows :— In 1828, ships 14,322, tonnage §92,125; in 
1834, number of ships 15,025, tonnage 647,107. In 1828 
the tonnage of vessels inscribed in the maritime district 
of Rouen (comprising Havre) was 106,737, and in 
1833, only 96,481. The vessels registered in France in 
the years 1828 and 1834 may be classed as follows :— 

1828. 1834. 

Above 300 tons 
One hundred and under 300 
Above 30 and under 100 
Of and under 30 . 

245 246 

1,927 1,739 

2,675 2,522 

9,475 10,518 

The commercial marine of France employs, in long 
voyages, in the great fisheries, and the great coasting 
trade, not more than about 27,000 seaman, and 23,000 
others are engaged in the small coasting craft. Recruits 
are taken for the navy from the first class under extraor- 
dinary circumstances only ; and from the second, only 
under an emergency still more urgent. Thus the pro- 
hibitive system cripples the piwal power of France. 
Since 1787, under a better commercial system, the com- 
merce of England has nearly Quadrupled, and its 

Digitized by 


1 830.] 



shipping has more than doubled. Looking to the 
admirable commercial position of France and Eng- 
land, the extent to which their respective interests have 
been neglected, and the injury done to them by false 
views of trade, seem to be worthy of an age of the 
darkest ignorance. In 1830, France, with its 32,000,000 
of inhabitants, received only the fifty-second part of the 
whole amount of English exports to European countries, 
and it ranked the ninth country, instead of the first. In 
the same year England received from France one- 
seventh of the whole amount of imports, France being 
second in rank, and Russia the first. In 1831 one-sixth 
of our imports were from France, and France took only 
one thirty-eighth part of our exports. The duty on 
articles imported into England in 1831 amounted to 
6,150,000/., and on one-sixth in value of the imports 
which came from France we charged duties which pro- 
duced 1,947,173/., the duty on some articles being 500 
per cent. The official value of the imports from France, 
ou which nearly two millions sterling duty was thus 
charged, was 3,055,616/., while on 4,696,371/., the 
value of the imports from Russia, the duty amounted only 
to 748,007/.* The principal articles of export from Great 
Britain to France in 1831 were — copper, corn, machinery, 
silk goods, tallow, wool, coals, iron ; and the principal arti- 
cles of import from France into Great Britain were — silk 
goods, cambrics and laces, brandy, wine, corn and flour, 
eg£3, flax, woollens, madder, and gloves. 


[Concluded from No. 443.] 

In 1601 the laws for the administration of relief to the 
poor were rendered more complete by the 43rd Eliz., c. 2, 
which statute, though in practice it had been frequently 
neglected, continued to be the basis of our system of poor- 
laws during a period of two hundred and thirty-three 
years, that is, until 1834, when the Poor-Law Amend- 
ment Act was passed. The 43rd Elizabeth embodied 
( the experience of a century of poor-law legislation, and 
its three chief provisions were — for setting to work children 
unprovided for by their parents; also all persons who 
had no occupation or daily employ; and lastly, the 
relief of the impotent poor. The churchwardens of every 
parish, and four, three, or two substantial householders, 
according to the size of the parish, were to be nominated 
yearly in Easter week, or within a month afterwards, 
under the hand and seal of two or more justices of the 
' peace, and were to act as overseers of the poor. They 
were directed by the act to meet together on the business 
of their office at least once a month in the parish church, 
on Sunday, after divine service ; and, with the consent of 
the justices, were to raise, by taxation of every inhabitant, 
such sums as were required for the relief of the poor. 

The administration of relief was now entirely in the, 
hands of parish officers, with the exception of the slight 
control exercised by the justices.' In adopting the parish 
as an administrative division, each with its separate offi- 
cers, the want of uniformity in the practical operation of 
the poor-law soon exhibited itself. Honesty, discretion, 
diligence, and humanity could not be secured in the 
persons charged with the task of administering relief in 
several thousand parishes. The 43rd Elizabeth had 
vested great powers in the parochial officers, but many 
other acts were required to compel them to discharge 
their duties aright, and to apply the rates to the single 
purpose lor which they were raised. In the course of 
time diversity of eustom had grown up into all the force 
of legal authority, and the original objects of the statute 
of Elizabeth seemed to be forgotten. About the com- 
mencement of the last century the magistrates began to 
interfere with the administration of relief, on the ground 
that the overseers were guilty of extravagance, negligence, 
• Dr. Bowring's * Report on Commercial Relations of Great 
Britain and Franca* 

and partiality, and that the poor had become deceitful and 
imposing. The justices had derived some new powers 
from an act passed in the reign of William and Mary,* 
and then, in the early part of the reign of George I., their 
authority was curtailed,! as the rates had been consider- 
ably increased under their superintendence ; but power 
was again placed in their hands by subsequent statutes. 

The greatest abuses of the 43rd of Elizabeth originated 
towards the close of the last century, when various demoraliz- 
ing modes of administering relief were adopted, originat- 
ing in the peculiar circumstances of the times and in social 
difficulties against which the old system of Poor Law were 
incapable of contending. We need not dwell upon these 
evils, which are already familiar to most of our readers. 
Instead of the natural calamity of poverty, which calls forth 
kindness and sympathy, the perversion of the poor-law 
of Elizabeth gave existence to a parasitical spirit of pau- 
perism, which extended itself far and wide, and ultimately 
threatened a most fearful subversion of order and morality. 
So complicated were these evils, that many years passed 
over without a sufficient check being given to them ; for 
though all were agreed upon the dangers of the case, 
but few entertaiued a hope of the success of any altera- 
tive course, and could not see their way to a better sys- 
tem : but at length the difficulty was fairly met, and 
although so many remedies had to be applied, the restored 
system combines the two great advantages of the old 
Poor Law of Queen Elizabeth's reign f with checks by 
which it shall not, like that law, be liable to perversion 
and abuse at a future period. 

Down to the period when the Poor Law Amendment Act 
was passed, the overseers in each of the 14,000 parishes 
pf England and Wales were nearly the sole administra- 
tors of relief. They levied the poor's rate (with the 
sanction of the magistrates) and collected and distributed 
it. The office was filled by farmers and small shop- 
keepers in rural districts, and in large towns by manu- 
facturers or some of the principal tradesmen. Little 
valuable experience was ordinarily obtained by the persons 
who filled the situation of overseer, as where two over- 
seers were appointed, they acted for six months each ; 
and if four, perhaps for three months each ; and when 
they retired from their post, it was filled by others who 
entered upon it without deriving any advantage from the 
accumulated experience of their predecessors. In the 
time of Elizabeth (and this justifies the imperfect ma- 
chinery provided by the Poor Law of 1601) the distribu- 
tion of the poor's rate was little more than an occasional 
dole to the poor ; but when a sum amounting to 8,000,000/. 
a year was distributed, a wide door was opened to jobbing, 
favouritism, and fraud. The parish officers were com- 
pelled to submit their accounts to the magistrates, but 
they were not required to be kept on any uniform plan, 
and they were also loosely audited. The power which 
the magistrates exercised of compelling overseers to grant 
relief, and the manner in which the most dexterous 
paupers (not the deserving poor) turned this power to 
account by summoning the overseer from his ordinary 
business, formed not a small item in the aggregate of 
evils. The overseer who would not listen to clamour 
might be coerced by the stealthy silence of the incendiary; 
for in the burning of corn-stacks did the open contests 
between the farmer and labourer frequently terminate. 
The overseer, notwithstanding, exercised much irresponsi- 
ble power. Many of them were incompetent from igno- 
rance. In Devonshire, one of the revising barristers 
found one district in which a fourth of the overseers could 
not write ; and one of them was entrusted with the distri- 
bution of rates to the amount of 1000/. a year. In 1829 
an act was passed authorising parishes to appoint paid 
overseers, who acted as assistants of the annual overseera. 
They were employed in 3249 parishes at the time of the 
passing of the ' Amendment Act.' The paid overseera 
• 3 and 4 Wai. and Miiy,* 11. t Cfeo.L,*7» 

M 2 

Digitized by 




[March % 

were usually intelligent men and well acquainted with 
the law ; and the appointment of such an officer was an 
evidence hoth of the desire and necessity for improvement; 
in which improvement, however, small parishes could 
not participate. The annual overseers were the masters 
of the paid overseer, fixed his salary and defined his 
duties, and although he might be superior to them in a 
knowledge of the true principles of administering relief, 
his influence in effecting improvements was but limited. 

The bodies constituted under the old poor law for 
the administration of relief at all analogous to the 
boards of guardians were the open vestries, the repre- 
sentative vestries, and the self* appointed vestries. The 
open vestry consisted solely of rate-payers who were 
actual occupiers of land or houses ; owners, unless occu- 
piers, were excluded, excepting in two or three special 
cases. The open vestries were not responsible; they 
were not compelled to render accounts of receipt and 
expenditure ; and were not amenable for malversation of 
the parish fYinds. The annual overseers were generally 
the most influential members of the vestry, which in the 
agricultural districts consisted of small farmers. The vestry, 
though a permanent body, by the exclusion of owners 
of property, had temporary rather than permanent inte- 
rests to serve. The open vestries became notorious for 
their corrupt practices. The vestryman who owned a 
number of Bmall cottages endeavoured to get the parish 
to pay the rents of his tenants ; and in return he assisted 
another vestryman to a profitable contract for the supply 
of the workhouse. The vestry was a parochial authority, 
and had all the petty interests inherent in such a body. 
Representative vestries were calculated for large towns 
rather than rural parishes, and from their constitution 
were not liable to become so corrupt as the open vestries. 
The representative vestry could not consist of less than 
five, nor more than twenty members. The parson of the 
parish, the churchwardens, and the annual overseers were 
ex- officio members, the latter being the servants of the 
vestry. Minutes of proceedings were to be .kept, and 
publicity was to be given to them. In 1834, when the 
present poor-law was passed, the number of select ves- 
tries had been diminishing for several years. The reason 
probably was that these isolated bodies were not capable 
of stemming the evils which existed everywhere around 
them ; and in many instances they were in fact filled by 
parish coteries who clamoured down attempts to put an 
end to profitable abuses. The self-appointed vestries 
were, as may be supposed, usually the most corrupt of 
these bodies. 

A board of guardians consists of the representative or 
representatives of each parish in a union formed under the 
provisions of the Poor Law Amendment Act. They are con- 
stituted for the purpose of administering relief to the poor of 
the union, and assessing and levying sums necessary for such 
objects. They appoint all the officers of the union. The 
powers of the board cannot be delegated to any indivi- 
dual guardian, or any committee of guardians, but com- 
mittees may be appointed for specific purposes, who 
must report their proceedings to the board. No guardian 
can have more than one vote ; nor are votes by proxy to 
be taken. The expenses incidental to the office cannot 
be paid out of the rates. Magistrates acting for the divi- 
sion in which the union is situated are guardians ex- 
officio, with the right of voting. No overseer or union 
officer has a right to be present at the meetings of the 
board. When the board sits, the clerk of the union, who 
usually belongs to the legal profession, attends as the 
servant of the board, and takes minutes of the proceed- 
ings. The board appoint a chairman and a vice-chair- 
man from amongst the members. A guardian cannot 
contract for the supply of the workhouse. It is not 
necessary that a parish should select as guardian a per- 
son residing in the parish, but it may send as its repre- 
sentative a guardian who lives in some other pariah in 

the union : voters, however, can only vote for the guar- 
dian of the parish in which their property is rated. 
Women are not eligible to be elected, nor any of the paid 
officers of the board. Women may act as overseers 
where no other competent persons are to be found 
amongst the inhabitants, none being eligible but inha- 
bitants. The qualification of guardians is fixed by the 
commissioners, as a uniform qualification would not be 
desirable, and would prove inconvenient in many dis- 
tricts. In no case must the property qualification exceed 
an annual rental of 40/., and the property may be 
situated in different parishes of the union. The electors 
consist of rate-payers and owners of property, and their 
votes are given in writing. Previous to an election 
voting-papers are left at the houses of persons entitled to 
vote, who fill them up with the name of the individual 
whom they are desirous of appointing a member of the 
board. By this arrangement the maximum number of 
votes is called forth, and the concurrence of numbers ob- 
tained. No loss of time is incurred ; no obstruction to 
the free and deliberate exercise of opinion is experienced ; 
and neither clamour nor the speciousness of a show of 
hands stifles the sentiments of an individual. The voting- 
papers are cast up by the overseers and churchwardens, 
who are the returning-officers, and are then delivered to 
the board, whose property they are. The name of the 
guardian selected for each parish is then published on 
the doors of the parish-church. An owner assessed to 
the poors'-rate to the amount of 50/. has one vote; and 
if for 150/. and upwards, six votes ; under certain regu- 
lations an owner may vote by proxy. A voter may have 
six votes as owner and three as occupier. A rate-payer 
or occupier under 200/. h«u* one vote ; and of 400/. and 
upwards, three votes. Either owner or occupier may 
propose a guardian for his parish, but no person not en- 
titled to vote can take part in the election ; and a guar- 
dian cannot be nominated and elected on the same day. 
When the votes are equal, a new election must take place. 
The accounts of every union are kept on a uniform plan, 
and they are audited quarterly by individuals who are not 
members of the board. Rate-payers and owners have 
the right of inspecting the rules of the commissioners at 
all reasonable times, and free of expense. Every expe- 
dient has been adopted calculated to give weight and im- 
portance to the boards, and it is impossible that the petty 
interests and wretched policy which actuated a parish 
vestry should become predominant in a body representing 
the intelligence, property, and varied interests of an ex- 
tensive district. The number of elected and ex-officio 
guardians of the Poor Law unions now formed is about 
20,000. The number of Poor Law unions formed in 
July last was 662, and they comprised a population of 
11,166,826. There were 1063 parishes not united, the 
population of which amounted to 2,227,923. The num- 
ber of union workhouses completed or in progress was 
511. The average population of the unions is about 
17,000 ; average size rather more than 70 square miles ; 
average number of guardians about 30. 

Knowledge.— Knowledge can neither be cultivated nor 
adequately enjoyed by a few ; and although the conditions 
of our existence on earth may be such as to preclude an 
abundant supply of the physical necessities of all who may 
be born, there is no such law of nature in force against that 
of our intellectual and moral wants. Knowledge is not, liko 
food, destroyed by use, but rather augmented and perfected. 
There is no body of knowledge so complete but that it may 
receive correction in passing through toe minds of millions. 
Those who admire and love knowledge for its own sake 
ought to wish to see its elements made accessible to all, were 
it only that they may be the more thoroughly examined 
and more effectually developed in their consequences, and 
receive that ductile and plastic quality which the action of 
minds of all descriptions, constantly moulding them to their 
purposes, can alone bestow.— Sir rHUiam HerscheL 

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[Plato.— From an antique Boat] 

Plato, the pupil and biographer of Socrates, the earliest 
Greek philosopher whose writings are devoted to the ad- 
vancement of moral and metaphysical science, was the son 
of Athenian parents, but born in the island of jEgina, 
b.c. 429. His descent was illustrious, being derived on 
the mother's side from the philosopher and lawgiver 
Solon, and on the father's from the ancient kings of 
Athens. In after-times the flattery of his admirers, not 
content with this distinguished genealogy* ascribed to him 
divine honours. Apollo, the patron deity of letters, was 
reported to have been the author of his being. His sweet- 
ness of discourse was foreshown by the gathering of a 
swarm of bees upon his lips in the cradle ; and Socrates, 
the night before he first saw Plato, was warned of the 
excellences of his future pupil by a vision of a cygnet, 
which as it sat on his knees suddenly became full fledged, 
and flew away with a melodious cry. We may be ex- 
cused for repeating these fables, since the scarcity of au- 
thentic details concerning the life and history of the 
philosopher will reduce this paper to very narrow bounds. 
The name first given to him was An stocks; that of 
Plato, under which he became celebrated, is derived from 
the Greek adjective which means broad. The time and 
the reason of this change, of name are both uncertain ; it 

has been accounted for by his breadth and fulness of ex- 
pression, by his remarkable width of forehead, and by 
other etymologies more fanciful than convincing. His 
manly beauty has been perpetuated in the bust from 
which the above sketch is taken ; and his bodily vigour, 
and successful practice of the gymnastic exercises enjoined 
by custom upon the Greek youth of all ranks, and to 
which he himself in after-life attached great importance, 
are indicated by the report that he contended for the prize 
in wrestling at two of the great national festivals, the 
Pythian and the Isthmian games. Painting and poetry 
he also cultivated : the latter with zeal certainly, and 
probably not without success, for he produced an epic 
poem, and a drama which was brought on the stage ; but 
he burnt his poems upon becoming acquainted with 
Socrates, to whom he was introduced when he was about 
twenty years of age. During ten years he continued to 
be the philosopher's pupil and constant attendant ; during 
his trial he came forward In his defence, and offered to 
become his surety for the payment of such fine as might 
be imposed. Faithful to the last, he witnessed the closing 
scene of that great man's life, of which he has given a 
beautiful and affecting description at the close of the dia- 
logue entitled c Phcedon/ which has for its subject the 

Digitized by 



[March 2, 

immortality of the soul, and has been ever regarded as the 
ablest effort of human intellect, unassisted by revelation, to 
prove that there is a future existence after death. This 
celebrated piece professes to record the conversation of 
Socrates upon the day of his execution. In such circum- 
stances, the discourse naturally turned upon those expec- 
tations of the future, in reliance on "which he faced death 
with perfect tranquillity ; and the profound philosophy 
and lofty eloquence of this part of the composition are 
relieved and set off by the dramatic interest and pathos 
of the concluding narrative. The * Phaedon' is said to have 
been Cato's study immediately before he put an end to 
his life at Utica; a circumstance of which Addison has 
made use to introduce the most elaborately-wrought pas- 
sage in his well-known tragedy. 

After his master's death, Plato retired from Athens, 
and led a wandering life, frequenting the schools of the 
most eminent philosophers whithersoever he went. Me- 
gara was his first place of abode \ and here, while the 
mournful details were still fresh in his memory, he is be- 
lieved to have written the ' Phsedon,* with its companion 
pieces, the ' Criton,' and the • Defence of Socrates.' Thence 
he went to Cyrene, and from Gyrene to Italy, where he 
spent a considerable time in studying the rival systems of 
philosophy founded by Pythagoras and Heraclitus, both 
of which, to a certain extent and with certain modifica- 
tions, he combined and taught when he himself became 
the founder of a new sect. From Italy he travelled to 
Egypt, in elder times the fountain and seat of science. 
Here, according to some authors, he was admitted by the 
priests to a knowledge of those mysteries, of which they 
only had the key, and derived from them the most pro- 
found doctrines of his philosophy. This statement, how- 
ever, is not confirmed dv the most credible authors ; and 
Plato himself speaks in disparaging terms of Egyptian 
science in his day. Cicero attributes his visit to Egypt 
to the desire of improving his knowledge of astronomy, 
which, with others of the mathematical sciences, still 
flourished there ; and simple curiosity would furnish a 
sufficient motive for travelling to a country so remarkable 
and closely connected with the early history of art and 
religion in Greece. It has been supposed that in Egypt 
Plato became acquainted with the Hebrew Scriptures; 
but there appears to be no well-founded ground for this 
belief, which probably arose out of the clearness of his 
views of a future existence as compared with those of 
antecedent philosophers. 

Upon his return to Athens, b.c. 395, Plato took up his 
residence adjoining, or within the precincts of, a public 
garden named Academia, from Academus, who be- 
queathed it for the use of the people. Within this gar- 
den he opened a school for instruction in the arts of dis- 
putation and philosophy : and the word Academy has 
henee obtained such celebrity as not only to denote the 
school and sect of which he was the founder, but to have 
become in modern languages a general title for any place 
of education. His speculations however were varied by 
the duties of active life *, for it is on record that he served 
as a soldier in three battles. In B.C. 389 he visited Sicily, 
attracted by the curiosities, natural and artificial, of that 
remarkable island, in which the elder Dionysius, the ce- 
lebrated tyrant of Syracuse, then bore the chief sway. 
The despot, according to Diogenes Laertius, took offence 
at Plato's freedom of spirit, and sold him into slavery, 
from which however he was soon redeemed by his friends. 
It is said, that on a fear being expressed on the part of 
Dionysius lest Plato should render his name infamous 
in his writings, the latter replied, that he was too much 
occupied by philosophy to trouble himself about Diony- 
sius. It is also eaid, that under the reign of the younger 
Dionysius Plato revisited Sicily on two occasions ; but 
the evidence of these latter visits is doubtful. 

Honoured and beloved, with a reputation established 
throughout Greece as a statesman and law-giver, Plato 

declined through life to take any active part in political 
affairs, though, as has been intimated, he did not shun 
those active duties which devolved on him in common 
with all other citizens. A life so passed, in the pursuit 
and teaching of abstract truth, affords little material for 
the biographer : but it is not to be omitted that Aristotle, 
his great rival in fame and influence, was Plato's pupil 
from the age of eighteen, during the long period of twenty 
years. Plato died aged about 81, in the first year of the 
108th Olympiad, B.C. 347. 

The writings extant under Plato's name are numerous 
and bulky. Seven of these, however, are acknowledged, 
by general consent, to be spurious : and modern critics, 
without precisely agreeing as to those to be rejected, have 
stigmatized many others as of doubtful authenticity. 
Bekker, the latest and be3t editor, rejects ten more. 
Von Ast, another German critic, carries his scepticism 
still further, and is of opinion that twelve other dialogues 
are the work of imitators. A list of these, with some 
notice of the reasons for receiving or rejecting them, will 
be found in the * Encyclopaedia Metropolitana,' historical 
division, chap, xix., p. 79 ; in which chapter an outline 
of the Platonic philosophy is given. Another sketch of 
the great philosopher's opinions is contained in the 
c Biographie Universelle.' But we rise from the perusal 
of these papers satisfied that, even in able hands, the sub- 
ject scarcely admits of concise and popular illustration, 
or of being made familiar, except to those who are willing 
to bestow upon it time and attention commensurate with 
its extent and difficulty. 

Except the letters bearing his name, but admitted pretty 
generally to be spurious, Plato's writings are in the form 
of dialogue. In these he himself never appears: the 
speakers are Socrates and his contemporaries ; the com- 
panions with whom he associated, and the sophists, the 
professional teachers of a false philosophy, whom it was 
his chief pleasure to confute and ridicule. But in all 
cases it is Socrates who is the chief person, whether in the 
grave and eloquent exposition of his own opinions, or 
while pretending to seek for information from his self- 
complacent adversaries, slyly entrapping them, from one 
admission to another, into absurdity and contradiction. 
Of this peculiar ironical mode of disputation, of which 
Socrates was the great master, other specimens may be 
seen in the c Memorable Things' of Xenophon : but it 
is found in Plato in its chief refinement and perfection. 
In one respect, however, it is to be lamented that Plato 
adopted this mode of writing. It leaves in doubt how 
much belongs to the master, how much to the pupil : 
for there is no doubt but that Plato has delivered much 
under the name of Socrates, which never was taught by 
that philosopher. 

" As the founder of a school of philosophy, Plato has 
exercised a permanent and lasting influence. Speusippus 
first, then Xenocrates, succeeded him in the chair of what was 
afterwards called the Old Academy. Succeeding teachers 
introduced changes into the doctrines of the school, which 
in its later phases was called the Middle and the New 
Academy ; although some writers, more properly perhaps, 
admit only of an Old and New Academy. Of the latter, 
Cicero was a distinguished ornament, and did much to 
propagate and extend it, by showing, for the first time, 
that the Latin language could be made a fit vehicle for 
the reception of the Greek philosophy, and teaching, in 
the language of his country, lessons which before were 
only accessible through the medium of a foreign tongue. 
Under the Roman empire the philosophy of Plato was 
revived, under a corrupt form, by a sect of whom the 
most remarkable were Plotinus and Porphyry; men of 
lofty intellect and vivid imagination, who stamped upon 
their doctrines that mystical and dreamy character which 
in later days rendered the epithet Platonic almost one of 
reproach. That Porphyry was a violent enemy of Chris- 
tianity, contributed unquestionably to the discredit of his 

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philosophy, whichSn the middle ages was entirely super* 
seded in the European schools by that of Aristotle. At 
the revival of learning the philosopher emerged from his 
obscurity. Marsilio Ficino, a Florentine, deeply versed 
in the mysteries of the latter Piatonists, published the 
first edition of their great original ; as did the learned 
Cardinal Bessarion a masterly defence of the philosopher} 
whose popularity nevertheless has always fallen short of 
his fame and excellence. By the laborious and learned 
students of Germany \\t has been best appreciated : in 
our own country, though the most illustrious names have 
paid due honour to him (we may briefly name Paeon, 
Milton, Cudworth, Berkeley, Gray, Coleridge, &c), yet 
his works have been * caviare to the million.' Berkeley 
observed a century ago that ' the greatest men had ever 
a high esteem for Plato, whose writings are the touch- 
stone of a hasty and shallow mind ; whose philosophy 
has been the admiration of ages, which supplied patriots, 
magistrates, and lawgivers to the most flourishing states, 
as well as fathers to the church, and doctors to the schools. 
Albeit, in these days the depths of that old learning are 
rarely fathomed ; and yet it were happy for these lands 
if our young nobility and gentry, instead of modern 
maxims, would imbibe the notions of the great men of 
antiquity. But in these free-thinking times, many an 
empty head is shook at Aristotle and Plato, as well as at 
the Holy Scriptures. And tHe writings of those cele- 
brated antients are by most men treated on a foot with 
the dry and barbarous lucubrations of the schoolmen.' 
In our own time, and our own universities, the reproach of 
this neglect has been partly removed. That Plato should 
ever be widely popular, even among scholars, is hardly 
to be expected, abstruse and complicated as his doc- 
trines are, so that the acutest minds have professed 
their inability to comprehend them in their full extent. 
At the same time there are many parts of his writings, 
more especially those which relate to the trial and death 
of Socrates, which may be read by every one with plea- 
sure as well as advantage. It would be a great mistake 
to suppose that Plato is always lecturing : his dialogues 
are enlivened by the greatest variety ; pathos, wit, humour 
in its most grotesque form, a lively feeling of dramatic 
effect, give a charm to them which can be adequately 
expressed neither by description or translation. And it 
may safely be said that no one unversed in Plato has a full 
sense of the delicacy of the Greek language, or power as 
an instrument of philosophic inquiry and analysis. 

The chief English translators of Plato are Sydenham 
and Taylor : the former translated twelve dialogues only, 
nine of which are reprinted in the complete translation 
published by Taylor. Of these two translators, Syden- 
ham, a man of taste and talent, but unfortunate in the 
circumstances of his life and death, is by far the abler : 
Spens also has given what is said to be a faithful version 
ol the ' Republic.' Bishop Berkeley's * Dialogues' are well 
calculated to give the English reader some notion of the 
manner and spirit of the dialogues of Plato, upon which 
they are modelled. 

TffB navigation of a vessel under the surface of the water 
has often been discussed, and plans for effecting this ob- 
ject have more than once been tried with some success ; 
and although the motives which led to the attempt have 
usually been rather discreditable than otherwise, there 
can be no doubt that upon occasion the faculty of tra- 
velling under water might be found useful. 

If, on the coming on of a storm, a ship could, as the little 
nautilus is said to do on a like occasion, furl up her sails, 
and descend to the depths of ocean, to emerge again 
when calm should be restored, the danger of foundering 
at sea would evidently be much reduced, and the timid 
might venture to undertake a voyage without apprehen- 

sion. It may be feared however that dangers of another 
sort would more than compensate for the exemption from 
storms on the deep sea ; and in shallow waters the expe- 
dient would be opviously inapplicable. Even if perfect 
safety from the ordinary sources of danger could thus be 
obtained, it must be at such an expense of time, space, 
and convenience, as to be out of the reach of most persons. 

Writers of the middle ages haye mentioned submarine 
vessels, though somewhat vaguely, and generally rather 
as being possible than as actually put i» practice; some 
have been more particular, but their accounts are equally 
fanciful, and Alexander the Qreat, or some other ancient 
Worthy, is usually the hero of the tale. About the six- 
teenth century we come to something more positive : the 
inhabitants of the Ukraine are stated to have been at that 
epoch in the habit of using such vessels, in order to be 
able to escape from the Turkish galleys, by which they 
were frequently pursued. Soon after we have a more 
distinct account of a submarine boat nearer home. Corne- 
lius van Drebbel, a mechanician and writer of some 
renown in his day, constructed a boat in Loudon which 
he navigated beneath the surface of the Thames. His 
vessel contained twelve rowers, besides passengers, and it 
is said that on one occasion King James I. went on board 
for the sake of witnessing the experiment. To make the 
story more wonderful, Van Drebbel is stated by Boyle to 
have found out a liquid which would restore to its original 
vital state air vitiated by breathing, so that he could re- 
main as long as he pleased under water. If this be true, 
Van Drebbel's chemical science was greater even than his 
mechanical skill ; but, to judge from our present know- 
ledge of chemistry, there can be no doubt that Boyle was 
misinformed on this matter : possibly the liquid might be 
a pretence to hide the real mode of obtaining air by tubes 
from above the surface. Mersenne, in 1644, speaking of 
this vessel, says : " It is known that a ship was built in 
England by Cornelius Drebbel, which swam under the 
water;" but although he speaks of glass, pebbles, and 
horn, for giving light in such ships, and proposes a lea- 
ther tube for admitting air, he says nothing of Drebbel's 
liquid, which he was sufficiently credulous to have fully 
believed, if he had heard of it. 

The treatise of Mersenne on submarine navigation is 
part of a very curious work treating on almost everything. 
He speaks of ships that may be made of either metal or 
wood, to run with wheels on the bottom of the sea, and 
where the sea was too deep, to be moved with oars. He 
dwells on the safety from storms in such vessels, because, 
as be says, their force never reaches a greater depth than 
three or four fathoms : he says such a ship should be in 
the form of a fish, but alike at both ends; that the oars 
should be broad like paddles, and easily turned, so as* to 
make the ship go backwards or forwards, upwards or 
downwards. He thinks persons might remain a month 
at the bottqm of the sea in such a vessel ; that they might 
grind corn with mills moved by asses, bake bread, cook 
their victuals, and carry on trade and manufactures. A 
little further on he says it would be even possible to colo- 
nize the bed of the sea, and live all one's life there : he 
has no doubt the colonists would learn in time to get from 
the sea enough to live upon, although they might occa- 
sionally come up to procure wine or water, or a supply of 
fresh air. " How easily," he exclaims, " could they 
reach in this way the north or south poles, as it is well 
known the sea never freezes to the bottom !" After this 
he takes a still wider flight, and thinks it not quite im- 
possible that a man might in time become a fish, and 
live altogether without air, although he admits it to be 
very doubtful; but he points to the example of rope- 
dancers and jugglers, who by practice learn to do many 
things which seem at first equally impossible, and which, 
if he liad not himself seen, he could not have believed, 
had they been sworn to. <c Who knows," says he, " whe- 
ther the lungs may not be so refreshed by the water, that 

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[March 4, 1839. 

men may do without air, as many fishes do ; and perhaps 
the air which is mixed with the water may serve for this 
purpose." Mersenne frequently writes as if he had 
really done a good deal of what he talks about ; but one 
or two expressions show that he had never seen a subma- 
rine ship. Thus he says that if any body will make such 
a vessel, he will show how to cook rood in it. A few years 
after Mersenne, Bishop Wilkins published his ' Mathe- 
matical Magic,' in which he writes of submarine naviga- 
tion much in the style of Mersenne : his immediate object 
seems to havo been the finding of articles which had been 
lost by shipwreck; but his successors have generally 
aimed at producing a warlike engine, which should come 
secretly under a ship, and blow it into the air with gun- 
powder. This was tried in the Thames more than a 
century ago by Dr. Desaguliers; and in 1771 by the 
American Bushnell in the river Delaware. Bushnell's 
boat, which has been well described, was constructed 
with great ingenuity. Its shape has been compared to 
that of a tortoise, but it was more like a gigantic walnut, 
only a little flattened. It was made of metal, well closed 
on all sides, except at one hole, where the operator en- 
tered, and this he closed after him. There was no method 
of procuring air when beneath the surface ; so that it was 
necessary to get up as soon as the air was consumed. All 
operations were performed by rods passing air-tight 
through the sides ; one rod moved a sort of spiral oar, 
shaped like the worm of an endless screw, and standing 
perpendicularly above it : by turning this backwards or 
forwards, the vessel sank or rose ; another rod turned a 
similar oar, placed horizontally, which moved the vessel 
forwards or backwards ; but the whole machine was first 
brought as nearly as practicable to the specific gravity of 
the surrounding medium by opening a stop-cock to admit 
water, which might be driven out again by a forcing- 
pump. A barometer-gauge showed the depth which the 
vessel had reached, and a compass the direction of its 
motion ; and as a candle would have consumed too much 
air, bits of phosphorus were placed upon these instru- 
ments to show their indications. A large quantity of 
lead was attached to the bottom of the machine, to serve 
as ballast, and of this about two hundredweight could be 
detached by the turning of a screw, which would leave 
the vessel light enough to rise rapidly to the surface in 
tase of danger from want of air. There were many 
other contrivances for various necessary purposes, and the 
whole construction showed an ingenuity that might have 
been valuable ; but the spirit of modern times is against 
such a treacherous mode of warfare as that intended by 
this machine ; and the failures incident to the awkward- 
ness of a first attempt threw a discredit over the in- 

The next experiment was that of Fulton, who in 1801 
made a vessel, which he called the Nautilus, nearly on 
Bushnell's plan, except that he had a copper vessel to 
contain condensed air for respiration. This was in 
France ; but he met with no encouragement from Buo- 
naparte, and he was induced soon after to offer his services 
to the British government, under whose auspices he tried 
some experiments in England, which failed of their pur- 
pose. He subsequently returned to America, where he 
appears to have had more success. At his death in 1815 
he was employed in building a ship which was intended 
to be just on a level with the surface of the sea ; so that a 
man could put his head out of a hole in the deck to see 
what was going on. Captain Montgery, a few years ago, 
proposed to build a ship of war, which he called l'lnvi- 
sible • he gives minute directions for its construction; but 
we are not aware that he put his plans in execution. 

The most interesting attempt at submarine navigation 
in recent times is that of the well-known smuggler John- 
ston, who was employed by some wealthy parties to 
liberate Napoleon from his prison of St. Helena. John- 
ston's vessel, which was built in the Thames, was nearly 

100 feet long, and was intended to float on a level with the 
surface, or at least to sink very little below it. It was 
proposed that this ship should approach St. Helena 
towards evening, and that it should wait until the illus- 
trious captive should receive notice of the neighbourhood 
of his liberator. It was expected that he would be ready 
to embark immediately, and it was then intended to de- 
part for the United States. The vessel was nearly 
finished when the British government received notice of 
its destination. It was consequently seized, and the 
death of Napoleon, which occurred about the same pe- 
riod, put an end to the scheme altogether. Johnston was 
afterwards employed in making experiments with a view 
of destroying the French fleet at Cadiz ; but the dissolu- 
tion of the Cortes put an end to his enterprise. * 

On Public Royal Feasts in the East.-— On certain pe- 
riodical festivals, and on other occasions, it has long been, 
and still is, a custom of Muslim princes to give public feasts 
to all classes of their subjects in the palace. El-Makreezee 
quotes a curious account of the feasts which were given on 
the festival following Ramadan to the inhabitants of Cairo, 
by the Fatimee Khaleefehs. At the upper end of a large 
saloon was placed the sereer (or sofa) of the monarch, upon 
which he sat with the Wezeer on his right Upon this 
seat was placed a round silver table, with various delicacies, 
of which they alone ate. Before it, and extending nearly 
from the seat to the other extremity of the saloon, was sot 
up a kind of table or platform (simat) of painted wood, re- 
sembling a number of benches placed together, ten cubits 
(or about eighteen or nineteen feet) in width. Along the 
middle of this were arranged twenty-one enormous dishes, 
each containing twenty-one baked sheep, three years old, 
and fat; together with fowls, chickens, and young pigeons, 
in number three hundred and fifty of each kind ; all of 
which were piled together in an oblong form, to the height 
of the stature of a man, and enclosed with dry sweetmeat. 
The spaces between these dishes were occupied by nearly 
five hundred other dishes of earthenware, each of which 
contained seven fowls and was filled up with sweetmeats of 
various kinds. The table was strewed with flowers ; and 
cakes of bread made of the finest flour were arranged along, 
each side. There were also two great edifices of sweet- 
meats, each weighing seventeen hundred-weights, which 
were carried thither by porters with shoulder-poles ; and 
one of these was placed at the commencement, and the 
other at the close, of this sumptuous banquet When the 
Khaleefeh andWezeer had taken their seats upon the sofa, 
the officers of state, who were distinguished by neck -rings 
or collars, and the inferior members of the court seated 
themselves in the order of their respective ranks; and, 
when they had eaten, gave place to others. Two such feasts, 
given on the festival after Ramadan and on the •• great fes- 
tival," cost four thousand deenars, or about two thousand 
Emnds sterling.— two military officers, named Ibn Faiz and 
d-Deylemee, distinguished themselves at these feasts in a 
very remarkable manner. Each of them used to eat a baked 
sheep, and ten fowls dressed with sweetmeats, and ten 
pounds of sweetmeats besides, and was presented with a 
quantity of food carried away from the feast to his house, 
together with a large sum of money. One of them had 
been a prisoner at 'Askalan ; and after he had remained 
there some time, the person into whose power he had fallen 
jestingly told him that if he would eat a calf belonging tf , 
him, the flesh of which weighed several hundred-weights, 
he would emancipate him. This feat he accomplished, and 
thus he obtained his liberation. Several cases of a similar 
kind to those just mentioned are instanced in a late work. 
One, of a man who, as related by Vopiscus, was brought 
before the emperor Maximilian, and who devoured a whole 
calf, and was proceeding to eat up a sheep, but was pre- 
vented. Another, of a man who commenced his repast (in 
the presence of Dr. Boehmen, of Wittenberg) by eating a 
raw sheep and a sucking pig, and, by way of dessert, swal- 
lowed sixty pounds of prunes, stones and all.— Notes to 
Lane's Translation of the Arabian Nights 9 EntertainmmU, 
part x. 

Printed Vy William Clowm wid Soirt, Stamford Sir**. 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[March 9, 1839. 


[Costing from No. 442.] 

[Royal Hone and Foot Artillery Barracks, Woolwich.] 

The barracks for the Royal Artillery form the most ele- 
gant suite of buildings in Woolwich ; they are situated 
to the north of Woolwich Common, and command an 
uninterrupted prospect of the country to the south of the 
town. The principal front, extending above twelve 
hundred feet, consists of six ranges, connected by four 
buildings thrown a little behind, and by as many covered 
ways or colonnades of the Doric order, surmounted with 
balustrades. The material of the building is a light 
brick, relieved by Portland stone in the lower portions ; 
this is also employed for the elegant portal in the centre 
of the building. Two cupolas, one containing a clock, 
the other a wind-dial, ornament the summit, and break 
the uniformity of the line. In the eastern wing is a spa- 
cious and elegant chapel containing one thousand sittings, 
in which divine service is regularly performed. The other 
principal parts of the building are the library and reading- 
room, for the use of the officers, supplied with the 
periodicals and daily papers ; and the mess-room, sixty 
feet in length and fifty in width. This latter room is 
connected with two others, the drawing and ante rooms, 
which together form a splendid suite of apartments, in 
Vol. VIII. 

which frequent balls and entertainments are given by the 
officers to their friends. 

From the principal entrance an avenue, two hundred 
and twenty yards in length, terminated by a handsome 
gateway at the northern portion of the barracks, divides 
the building into two quadrangles, by the sides of which 
are the stabling and barracks for the horse-artillery ; and 
at the extremity of the east quadrangle is a spacious 
riding-school. The whole establishment is arranged for 
the accommodation of from three thousand to four 
thousand men. 

Passing through the barracks and bearing towards the 
north-east, the gates of the Royal Arsenal will be observed 
but a short distance off. This establishment is composed 
of a number of buildings, which, if not distinguished for 
their outward appearance, will, when the visitor becomes 
acquainted with the interior, be considered more inte- 
resting than perhaps any others in Woolwich. 

Previous to the time of George I. the foundry for 
cannon, which now forms one of the principal depart- 
ments of the Arsenal, and may be said to be the cause of 
its present importance, was situated in Moorfields, front 


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[March 9, 

which place it was removed in consequence of an accident, 
attended with great loss of life, which happened during 
the casting of some large pieces of ordnance in the manu- 
factory at Moorfields. A large concourse of people had 
assembled to witness the operation, and among them was 
a young Swiss, named Schalch, who, examining the dif- 
ferent parts of the works with great minuteness, found 
that the moulds in which the cannon were to be cast 
were in a damp state, and knowing that the steam gene- 
rated by the heated metal would be so violent as to cause 
an explosion, he immediately communicated the fact, 
with his fears for the consequences, to Colonel Arm- 
strong, the surveyor-general, who instantly perceiving the 
danger, endeavoured to persuade his friends to retire with 
him from the scene of the impending calamity. In this 
he partially succeeded, but many, discrediting the fact 
that the slight dampness observable in the moulds would 
cause such disastrous effects, remained behind. The 
prediction of Schalch was verified. In a few minutes 
after his departure the liquid metal flowing into the 
moulds converted the dampness instantaneously into 
steam, which, unable otherwise to find its escape, burst 
the moulds asunder, threw the heated metal about in all 
directions, and destroyed great part of the building. 
Many persons were killed on the spot, others died soon 
after from the injuries they had received, and scarcely 
any escaped without some wound or bruise more or less 

A few days after the accident a notice appeared in the 
public papers requesting Schalch to call at the Ordnance- 
office 'in the Tower, and suggesting that the interview 
might be advantageous. Schalch found it so; for his 
mechanical abilities having been put to the test in an 
examination he underwent in an interview with Colonel 
Armstrong, he was requested in the name of the govern- 
ment to seek out some eligible site within twelve miles of 
the metropolis to which the manufacture of ordnance 
might be transferred. Having chosen the spot called 
" the Warren " at Woolwich, a foundry was erected 
there, and the young Swiss appointed superintendent, an 
office he continued to hold for sixty years. He died in 
1776, at the advanced age of ninety years, and was buried 
in Woolwich churchyard. 

On entering the gateway the visitor, after obtaining 
permission to view the works (which is readily granted 
at the guard-house, where he will be furnished with a 
ticket admitting him to all the departments), will find 
the foundry a few steps before him. At the present time 
there is no important work going on at this building, but 
it is provided with every necessary for the most extensive 
ordnance manufacture. It has four air-furnaces, the 
largest of which will melt 325 cwt. of metal. In the 
year 1809, when the establishment was kept in great 
activity, 385 guns were cast here, and in the following 
year 343. The guns are cast solid, and are afterwards 
bored and turned in a separate building. For this purpose 
the gun itself is turned round on its axis while a centre- 
bit is applied to the mouth and gradually advanced to the 
opposite end ; the operation of turning the exterior being 
carried on at the same time. Every gun when completed 
is minutely examined by magnifying-glasses on the out- 
side, and by mirrors in the interior, in order that any 
flaw may be detected : if in this examination no defect 
is found, it is then charged with powder and fired, that it 
may be fully proved. It sometimes happens that the most 
accurate scrutiny is insufficient to detect some minute 
defect, and in that case the only means by which such 
becomes known is by the destruction of the piece when 
fired. This operation is performed on the banks of the 
canal, near the great storehouses, at which place there is 
a large saw-mill, and a curious circular planing-machine, 
which those visitors who are not acquainted with such 
instruments on a grand scale would do well to inspect 
Near the foundry is the u Pattern-Room," a building 

in which is deposited a pattern or model of every article used 
in the artillery service. The first article which presents 
itself on entering the building is a model of the machinery 
employed in reducing gunpowder to minute particles fit 
for the several purposes to which it is to be applied. The 
powder is made up into cakes of about four inches 
square, which are put into the machine, and are then 
ground into minute grains, varying in size according to 
the dimensions of the ordnance for which it is intended ; 
it being found that large-sized grains are better for can- 
non than the small particles used for musketry, as, from 
the large quantity required, the small-grained powder 
would take a longer time to ignite, in consequence of the 
exclusion of air from the central portion, than the powder 
composed of larger pieces, which allow the air to pass 
between them. Near to this model is a machine in- 
tended to measure the strength of the powder by the 
recoil of the piece which is loaded by it. A certain 
quantity is put into a small cannon hanging from 
an arc, from which also an index is suspended. 
The distance to which the gun is sent in the recoil is 
marked by the index, which sliding rather tightly in the 
groove of the arc, remains fixed at the point to which 
the gun drives it ; for after the discharge, although the 
gun oscillates for some time, the space it traverses 
gradually becomes less, the most extensive being the 
recoil consequent on the discharge. Thus the force of 
the recoil is accurately and permanently registered, and 
by it the strength of the powder is judged. 

In the room to the left of this are specimens, of Congreve 
rockets, from a small one of twelve or fourteen inches in 
length to the largest used in the service, above six feet 
long. These formidable weapons have been much used in 
modern warfare, being employed to carry various destructive 
instruments. The cases of the Congreve rockets are made of 
a cylindrical piece of iron, but formed somewhat differently 
at the head, according to the purposes for which they arc 
to be employed. Those called carcass- rockets are armed 
with strong conical heads of iron, pierced with holes, and 
containing a substance as hard and solid as iron itself, 
which, when once, inflamed, is inextinguishable, and 
scatters its burning particles in every direction. Others 
carry shells or case-shot, the firing of which is regulated 
by slow fire attached to the rocket, and which, when they 
explode, commit as much devastation as the shells from 

The Congreve rockets are generally fired from a long 
iron cylinder (exhibited in the same room with the rock- 
ets), which is placed nearly horizontally, and the rockets 
will travel, according to their weight and size, distances of 
from 2000 to 4000 yards. They were first used in the 
attack of Boulogne in 1806, and have since been much 
employed both in field service and sieges, particularly 
at the bombardment of Copenhagen. 

In this department are also exhibited several kinds of 
grape, canister, bar, chain, and other shot ; hand-grenades, 
a beautiful model of the magazine of a ship, another fine 
model of a fire-ship, and, in short, almost every article 
used either in the army or navy for the annoyance or de- 
struction of an enemy. 

Besides these there are models of the fireworks exhibited 
on days of public rejoicing, the most elaborate of which 
is the model of the Temple of Concord, erected in St. 
James's Park in 1814, with the paintings, including a 
very beautiful one by Stothard* (the largest he ever 
painted), which adorned the original structure. 

Connected with the Pattern- Room is the Laboratory, 
in which the cartridges, rockets, fireworks, and other arti- 
cles of chemical construction used in the service, are 

Leaving this building, and proceeding to the north, 
the extensive range of storehouses of the royal artillery 
is approached. In these repositories there are generally 
kept complete outfittings for 10,000 horses: this is the 

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number at present in the building ; but a" short time 
Bince there were sufficient articles for 20,000 cavalry. 

These articles include saddles (arranged in heaps on the 
sides of a room nearly 300 feet long), horses' bits (hang- 
ing from the ceiling, where they sparkle like the glitter- 
ing stalactites of a grotto), pistols, swords, horse-shoes, 
whips, &c. &c. From the upper part of these warehouses 
the whole area of the arsenal may be seen, together with 
the immense tiers of cannon in the field immediately 
below> where there are no less than 24,000 pieces of 
ordnance, of which nearly 3000 are of gun-metal, the 
remainder being of iron. These are arranged in pieces 
of 202 different sizes. In other parts of the arsenal 
there are nearly three millions of cannon-balls and 
bomb-shells, painted and arranged in pyramidal groups. 

LTo be continued.! 


[Prom the ' Companion to the British Almanack for 1899.'] 

There are periods in the history of man during which the 
arts of social life appear to make little if any progress ; 
when society, contented with its former achievements, 
seeras to think only how best and most quietly to enjoy the 
benefits of previous discoveries and inventions. There are, 
on the other hand, seasons in which one invention and im- 
provement prepares the way for another, and discoveries in 
art and science succeed each other with a rapidity the most 
exciting and surprising. Such a season as this it is the 
good fortune of the existing generation to experience. That 
which excited our wonder yesterday gives place to the 
greater wonder of to-day, which, in its turn, is doomed to 
be eclipsed by some undreamed-of invention to-morrow. 
Under this aspect every year as it passes adds that to the 
sum of our possessions and the magnitude of our hopes, 
which gives an air of insignificance to the achievements of 
preceding years ; and while in former times, it was a charac- 
teristic of wisdom and prudence to be slow in accepting the 
actual discoveries of science, it would now be deemed impru- 
dent and unwise to doubt even her promises. Nothing has so 
much contributed to bring about this state of things as the 
incessant improvements of the steam-engine and its adap- 
tation to new purposes and to processes which owe their 
practical development wholly to this modern giant. 
Among those purposes by far the most important to the 
peaceful and social progress of the world which has yet 
been attained is the art of locomotion, which, although its 
beneficent inlluence is most apparent in the western por- 
tion of Europe, and especially within the limits of our own 
country, has given and is giving an impulse to society 
which is felt in the remotest corners of the habitable 

In the ' Companion for 1838 ' some tables were inserted 
which comprised materials for the history of steam-naviga- 
tion in this country from the moment of its first adoption 
to the end of 1836. At the close of the remarks by which 
those tables were accompanied, notice was taken of pre- 
parations on a gigantic scale, then in a state of great for- 
wardness, for putting to the test of experiment an under- 
taking, the accomplishment of which had been the subject 
of much controversy among the best-informed men. 
Steam-ships of large burthen, and provided with engines of 
greater power than any before constructed for the purpose 
of navigation, were then in progress towards completion ; 
and public attention was forcibly drawn to the inquiry 
whether in the present state of our knowledge such vessels 
could be profitably engaged in transatlantic voyages. That 
experiment has since been made and repeated with tbe 
most triumphant success. The voyages between this 
country and New York of the «• Sirius," the " Great 
Western," and the •' Royal William," have been performed 
&ince the spring of 1838, free from the intervention of a 
single obstacle or accident ; and transatlantic steam- 
voyages may now be said to be as easy of accomplishment 
by means of ships of adequate size and power as the pas- 
ta^e between London and Margate. The " Sirius " and 
'* Great Western " arrived back from their first voyages on 
the 1 9th and the 22nd of May, and their success has not 
ouly afforded encouragement to other adventurers in the 
fcame track, but has already proved the signal for embark- 

ing in yet more distant undertakings, the successful issue 
of which seems to excite far less doubt than hung over the 
experiment of the American voyage when last year we 
noticed the preparations in progress. 

The effects, political, social, and moral, of this practical 
approximation of the Old and the New Worlds, it is not 
possible to trace or to foresee. There is much wisdom in 
the remark lately made in one of our daily journals, that 
between two countries which have for any long time main- 
tained a regular and frequent communication by means of 
steam-packets it would be morally impossible that war 
should arise. By such facility and certainty of intercourse 
connexions are formed, multiplied, and extended to a de- 
gree which must soon embrace the largest proportion of the 
most active and therefore the most influential inhabitants 
of both countries, and engage them by the strongest of 
human motives to prevent a rupture. If this remark has a 
true foundation as regards any two countries, it must as- 
suredly be true when applied to England and the United 
States of America. The half- century which has elapsed 
since the separation of the plantations from the mother 
country has witnessed the removal from this life of all who 
could have taken an active part in the struggle which pre- 
ceded that untoward event, but has not sufficed to cancel 
the remembrance of our common origin, nor to efface the 
feelings of pride which on either side attend upon the pro- 
gress and prosperity of the other. Where is the English-, 
man who does not rejoice at the successive proofs which 
America continually gives that she remembers and does 
honour to her origin ? and where is the American who does 
not look to England as to the land of his fathers, whose 
heart does not glow at the remembrance of her glories, or 
who would not tread her shores with a feeling of reverence 
that no other scenes could call up ? . Was it only the ex- 
citement of curiosity that, when the " Sirius " and " Great 
Western " entered the harbour of New York, drew the 
whole population of the city forth to greet them with such 
heart-stirring acclamations? Would the same enthusiasm 
have marked the accomplishment of the experiment if it 
had been made under any other flag than that to which 
their fathers bore a willing allegiance? Nor have our 
American friends been slow to profit by the means thus 
offered for giving an impulse to the intercourse between our 
countries. Many have already been tempted by the cele- 
rity and certainty of the voyage to visit the old country who 
might otherwise have contentedly continued at home ; and 
it is now no idle speculation to foretel that thousands among 
the men of intelligence in England and America will re- 
spectively be led to spend on the other side of the Atlantic 
that season of recreation from the toils of commercial or 
professional pursuits which they have been hitherto con- 
tented to pass nearer to their homes. The ties of a common 
origin and a common language, joined to the attractions of 
habits, customs, and feelings, bearing closer resemblance 
than those of any other countries, may give a force to this 
consideration as regards England and America greater 
perhaps than can be applied to it in general, but the dif- 
ference is one of degree only, while it is the inevitable ten- 
dency of more intimate communication to break down the 
barriers raised by ignorance and prejudice, to bring about 
the conviction that many things are disapproved only be- 
cause they have been misunderstood, and that the points 
of resemblance between the citizens of different countries — 
especially those of them which belong to the moral quali- 
ties of our nature — are far greater in number and more 
important in their character than any points of dif- 
ference that can be presented. Even as regards those 
points of difference, the man who travels with his powers of 
observation awakened will in most cases be led to acknow- 
ledge that they are well adapted to the circumstances of 
the places in which they occur, and that to exchange them 
for the customs of his own country might not in general be 
productive of greater happiness. It might not be difficult 
to show that in some respects difference of customs may 
tend to the increase of the general prosperity. It is only 
when such differences are suffered to influence our minds 
so as to engender unkindly feelings that they can be hurt- 
ful to us ; and it will be found impossible long to entertain 
such feelings when we shall have enjoyed the opportunity 
of seeing how much there is of kindliness and virtue to be 
found among every people, however much we may at first 
have been repelled by habits that appeared grotesque, ty 
customs that might be thought revolting. 

N 2 

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[March 9, 


[Continued from No. 442. J 

AVING now arrived at 
the twelfth century, our 
progress will be more 
rapid, since the produc- 
tions of the English illu- 
minators of the two suc- 
ceeding centuries do not 
exhibit so great a change 
in style and execution as 
to make it necessary to 
bestow more than a cur- 
sory notice on a few of 
the most important. The 
iscripts ricli in gold and 
the resources of the illumi- 

nator's skill, appears to have greatly declined in England 
during the period on which we are now about to enter, 
and the specimens now extant of the productions of that 
age are consequently few and unimportant, compared 
with the multitude which issued from the monasteries, 
&c, of the ninth and tenth centuries. In France, 
however, much of the taste for this department of art, 
which had been introduced into that country from Eng- 
land and Ireland by Charlemagne, and especially by 
Charles the Bald, was still preserved ; and it is to French 
art that we are principally indebted for the illuminated 
MSS. of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries that now 
adorn our libraries and museums. 

Of the few specimens now extant of English art of the 
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we may instance a 

[The first Vision of Heniy I.] 

very interesting MS. in the library of Corpus Christi 
College, at Oxford, of one of our early historians, Flo- 
rence of Worcester, written about the year 1150, and 
containing drawings representing certain visions said 
to have appeared to Henry I. during his abode in Nor- 
mandy in 1130. These " visions " are not noticed in any 
other MS. of the above historian, but the following 
abridged account from Trevisa's version of Higden's 
* Polychronicon ' was published in Caxton's edition of 
1482. " Mold, the emperyce, was soone forsake of her 
husband Geffroy, and wente to her fader into Normandy ; 

there the king sawe thre wondre syghtes. Fyrste, he saw 
in his sleepe many clerkes assayle him with toles, and 
axe of hym dette. Efte he sawe a route of men of armes 
that wold rise on hym with all maner wepen ; the thyrde 
tyme he sawe a grete company of prelates menace him 
with theyr croyses. And at every time the king start up 
of his bed and caught his swerde and cryed help, as 
though he wold slee some men, but he might no man 
finde." Dibdin has engraved one of the visions de- 
lineated in this manuscript, and our present wood-cuta 
represent two other of these visions. 

[The second Yifcioa of Henry I.] 

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The figures in these drawings are designed with more 
taste than the illuminations of the period in which they 
were executed usually display. " The colouring," says 
Dibdin, " except that the background is pretty strong, is 
nearly confined to the outlines, which are brown, red, or 
green, with sometimes a slight wash near them by way of 
helping the folds." 

A considerable improvement on these specimens will 
be observed in some drawings which adorn a manu- 
script of the thirteenth century, in the British Mu- 

seum, containing a Calendar, a Psalter, and Canticles from 
the Old and New Testaments. It is a large folio, of 122 
leaves of parchment, having at the commencement thirty- 
eight large drawings illustrative of Scripture .history, 
drawn with much care and superior taste, but with heavy 
colours similar to oil colours. In the drawing from 
which the annexed wood-cut is taken an angel is repre- 
sented, on the one side giving a spade to Adam and a 
distaff to Eve; and on the other side the use of the in- 
struments is exhibited. 

| [" When Adam delvM, and Eve span."— From CotL MS. Nero, C. iv.J 

The figures are generally of about three inches high, 
but some are six or eight, and even (as in the drawing 
numbered 15 in the volume) as much as twelve inches in 
height. This drawing (No. 1 5) is particularly deserving of 
notice for the excellence with which the figures are deline- 
ated, the faces of the angels, especially, strongly resembling 
some of the better specimens of art which distinguished the 
Italian school of the latter part of the thirteenth century, and 
of which we shall shortly have occasion to speak. It is to 

be regretted that the colours of many of these drawings 
have been injured by damp, carelessness, and other causes. 
One of the most beautiful and interesting illuminated 
manuscripts of the latter part of the thirteenth century, 
or commencement of the fourteenth, is a Psalter in the 
British Museum (Reg. 2, B. vii.), from which we select 
the following wood-cut, not as the most splendid speci- 
men in the book, but as exhibiting the general character 
of the drawings it contains. 

[Reconciliation of Becket with Henry II.— Reg. 2, B. vii.] 

It is an 8vo. volume, measuring about ten inches by 
seven, and contains on the whole 320 leaves of vellum. 
The first sixty-five leaves arc occupied with drawings il- 
lustrative of the histories of the Old Testament, in outlines 
of ink slightly tinted with water-colours, chiefly green 
and purple. Then follow several pictures of saints, 

drawn by the same hand, but heavily coloured, in a totally 
different manner to the preceding, and enriched with gold. 
The effect however is not so agreeable as in the lighter 
drawings, nor is the accuracy of the outline well preserved. 
These are followed by a Calendar elegantly written ; to 
which succeeds the Psalter, forming the larger portion of 

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[Ma&ch 9, 

the volume. This occupies 234 folios, illustrated by some 
rich and elaborately coloured illuminations ; and on the 
lower margin, with a multitude of drawings of a light 
and elegant character, similar to those which adorn the 
commencement of the volume. Many of these represent 
the popular manners of the age in which they were 
drawn, as the games, sports, &c, of the people ; and many 
are of an historical, satirical, and ludicrous character. 
The one we have copied (from a series illustrating the 
life of Thomas k Becket) represents the archbishop and 
the king joining hands in token of reconciliation, but the 
draftsman has shown the reluctance of the parties in 
their advances by their position. The volume is sup- 
posed to have been written and illuminated in England 
at the latter part of the reign of Edward I., the close 
of the thirteenth century. On the last leaf of the 

MS. is an inscription to the effect that Baldwin Smith, 
having obtained the book from some persons who were 
about to take it abroad, presented it to Queen Mary, 
in October, 1553, the first year of her reign. The 
embroidered cover in which it now appears, ornamented 
with a large flower in gold and coloured silks, has 
been said to be the work of the queen herself, in 
whose time it was not an uncommon practice for ladies 
of rank to work covers for their books. 

Of French art of the commencement of the fourteenth 
century the Royal Library at the British Museum possesses 
some very excellent examples. The following wood-cut 
is from a French MS., being the * Life of St. Grael,' 
of a large folio size, of 161 leaves, written in treble 
columns, and illustrated by a multitude of small 
drawings of about two or three inches square, richly 

adorned with gold backgrounds. The contents are 
thus described in a partly defaced inscription by a con- 
temporary English writer, which appears on the first leaf. 
" The begynninge of y e first boke of Saint Graal en- 
dureth to y° ende off y 6 8Sth lefe. . . . And after y l y e 
boke of y° stranger and Launcelot. . . . And after y* 
ye Mort d 'Arthur, whereof y° begynninge ys yn yie same 
boke. . . . C'est livre est a moy Richard R. . . ." Each 
of the three books here mentioned is adorned at the com- 
mencement with a border, elaborately and splendidly 
executed, from one of which, at fol. 140, the above illus- 
tration of a " Just a plaisance "is extracted. 

Another very interesting MS., of the same period as the 
last (of the thirteenth or fourteenth century), is a large 
folio, in the British Museum, of 443 leaves of vellum, writ- 
ten in double columns, entitled ' Les Gestes des Roys de 
France.' It details in French prose the transactions, ac-, 
cording to the c Chronicles of St. Denis,' of the different 

French kings from Pharamond to the death of St. Louis in 
1270. At the commencement, in a different hand, is a list of 
the French kings continued to the time of Charles V. 
This volume is completely filled with illuminated draw- 
ings illustrative of the events recorded in the narrative; 
they are larger than in the preceding MS., but of a simi- 
lar style, though better executed, especially at the com- 
mencement, where the illuminator had not become careless, 
as at the end of the volume. On the last leaf there is 
written, in the Duke of Gloucester's own hand, * C'est livre 
est a moy Homfrey Due de Gloucestre du don des exe- 
cuteurs de S r de Fauchere.' 

The following wood-cut is from the illumination at the 
commencement of the 1st chapter of the * Life of Louis 
the Great,' which recites " how the prelate and the barons 
assembled at Orleans to crown the king. And how messen- 
gers arrived from the church of Rheims to object to the 
ceremony ; ' mais ce fu trop tart.' " 

[Coronation of Louis le Grog.— From MS. Reg.] 

The king, clad in a blue mantle with fleurs du lis of I who appear on the left, just arrived, are told that " thev 
gold, is seated m the centre, surrounded by the barons and ' are too late." 
clergy, who have just crowned him; while the messengers 


No. I.— Bnmi of St. George : St. George and the 
" That piece of song, 
That old and- antique song we heard last night." 


To Bishop Percy in the south, and Sir Walter Scott in 
the north, we owe the recovery, as well as restoration, of 
some of our finest historical ballads : strains alike wel- 

come to the rude and the polished, and not dear alone, as 
Warton avers, to savage virtue, and tolerated only before 
civil policy had humanized our ancestors. They won 
the admiration of the chivalrous Sidney, and the praise of 
the classic Addison ; they moved the gentlest hearts and 
the strongest minds, and though rough and often unmelo* 
dious, shared the public love with the polished composi- 
tions of our noblest poets. Of their influence we had lately 
a proof; we were in the company of one of the ablest 

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judges and accomplished scholars of the English bench, 
when he quoted * Kinmont Willie ' and ' Chevy Chace,' 
and acknowledged the pleasure which he took in such 
compositions. He had made, he said, a sort of pilgrimage 
when young, accompanied by a brother-laboure? in the 
law, and now, like himself, a noble lord, to some of the 
scenes celebrated in our popular ballads, and felt an in- 
creasing relish in those antique strains when uttered 
among the hills and glens and old towers of the northern 
border. We felt the force of this remark, and resolved 
to conduct in fancy all those who could not travel in 
reality over the green hills, through the haunted glens, 
among the clear streams and ruined towers which are 
famous in ballad verse, giving life at the same time and 
beauty to our own remarks by quoting choice snatches 
of the finest of our historical strains. 

We will begin at the beginning : in the ballads of 
' The Birth of St. George,' and ' St. George and the 
Dragon,' we read in brie? the history of the patron of 
arms, of chivalry, and the Garter ; a knight whom Camp- 
bell irreverently calls a swindler and a cut-throat ; but 
then the poet took the saint for a native of Cilicia, 
whereas he was born in Coventry, if there be truth in 
ballad and legend. Those who desire to see a popular 
representation of one of his greatest deeds, need only walk 
to the nearest village, where they will find the fiery knight 
on a fiery steed, thrusting his spear down the throat of a 
fiery dragon, underneath which is quaintly written " En- 
tertainment for Man and Horse ! " or those who wish to 
see the deed more brightly emblazoned, will find pendant 
in gold and jewels, from- the collar of British Majesty, a 
Christian hero in spiritual armour, vanquishing that 
old Dragon the Devil. We might further insist on the 
popularity of our patron saint by referring to history, and 
enumerating the times that heroes invoked his help, and 
kings swore by his name, when a great deed was to be 
dared or a field in France stricken ; but it is superfluous. 
u Listen, my lords," says the minstrel, " for I sing the 
wondrous birth of St. George, who rid the earth of mon- 
sters in honaur of the Christian faith." We cannot how- 
ever afford room for the poetic fancies of the author, who, 
it must be owned, is rather affluent in words; but content 
ourselves with saying, in humbler style, that the father of 
St. George was Lord Albert of Coventry, and his mother 
a lady as pious as she was beautiful. Now it happened 
that the lady dreamed a fearful dream : she thought she 
had conceived a dragon, and was so troubled that she 
shed tears night and day : she lost her rest : she lost 
her gaiety and her good looks, and at last she informed 
her husband. " Be comforted," he said, " I know who 
will tell me the meaning of this frightful dream ;" and 
mounting his horse, he rode through " lonely shades and 
thickets rough," to the dwelling of a noted sorceress. 
This weird lady had a wild abode. 

" Beneath a pendant craggy cliff, 
All vaulted like a grave, 
And opening in the solid rock. 
He found the enchanted cave. 

An iron gate closed up the mouthy 

All hideous and forlorn, 
Where, fastened by a silver chain, 

There hung a brazen horn." 

Lord Albert signed the sign of the cross, prayed a brief 
prayer, and blew the horn so loud that all the rocks rung. 
The sorceress did not appear, but at each blast of the 
horn a deep and hollow sound replied from the cavern ; 
at last it took the shape of words. 

" Sir knight, thy lady bears a ton, 
Who, like a dragon bright, 
Shall prove most dreadful to his foes, 
And terrible in fight. 

His name, advanced in future times, 

On banners shall be worn ; 
But lo ! thy lady's life must pass, 

Before he can be born." 

When he heard this Lord Albert was overcome with 
grief: he sat for along while; then turned his bridle 
homewards, and rode slow and sorrowing through the 
gloomy woods till he reached his own castie. All was 
dark and silent, and the gates were hung with black; 
his servants seemed unwilling to speak; at last he was 
told, that as soon as he had departed his lady was taken 
in labour ; and on consulting a skilful leach, was informed 
that both mother and babe could not be saved ; to which 
she replied, " Save the babe, and commend me to my 
lord," and expired, but not before she had brought forth 
a son. Lord Albert beat his breast and tore his hair, and 
then said, " Let me see the boy who cost my dear lady her 
life." The menials answered with tears and with 
trembling — 

" Fair as the sweetest flower of spring, 
Such was his infant mien ; 
And on his little body stampt 
Three wondrous marks were seen. 
" A blood-red cross was on his arm, 
A dragon on his breast, 
And a broad garter, all of gold, 
Was round his leg exprest. 

Attention was shown to him, too, worthy of his beauty : 
three careful nurses were provided ; one to give him suck, 
one to give him food, and one to lull him to sleep. 

rt But lo ! all in the dead of night 
We heard a fearful sound ; 
Loud thunder clapt, the castle shook, 
And lightning flashed around. 

Dead with affright at first we lay, 

But rousing up anon, 
We ran to see our little lord— 

Our little lord was gone. 

But how, or where, we could «ot tell, 

For lying on the ground, 
In deep and magic slumbers laid, 

The nurses three were found." 

On this Lord Albert fell into a swoon and lay long 
lifeless : he recovered only to a deeper sense of his mis- 
fortunes,* he put on a palmer's gown, wandered into 
distant lands " till his locks were white as wool and his 
beard like the down of the thistle;" nor was he aware, 
when he died, that the sorceress whom he consulted had 
stolen his son, and trained him up to the use of arms and 
to deeds of chivalry. The next ballad, c St. George and 
the Dragon,' shows how well that scarcely Christian 
dame had acquitted herself in a task generally left to the 
rougher sex. " Let others sing," says our ballad-maker, 
" of the deeds of Hector and the grief of Helen; I will 
sing the deeds of St. George, an English knight, who 
slew many Saracens and many giants in honour of Christ- 
ianity, and at last found himself in the land of Egypt, and 
at an interesting moment. 

" For as the story plain doth tell, 

Within that country there did rest 

A dreadful dragon, fierce and fell, 
Whereby they were full sore opprest; 

W T ho by his poisonous breath each day 

Did many of the city slay." 

Now this Egyptian Dragon had a taste of its own : men 
it swallowed by the dozen ; but it loved most to try its 
teeth on the softer sex, and at last grew so dainty of sto- 
mach, that it would touch no other food. When the wise 
men of Egypt saw this, they went in a body to the mon- 
ster, told him he would soon depopulate the land if he 
ate ladies at that rate, and proposed to compound the 
matter by allowing him a virgin per day : the Dragon for 
once was reasonable, and proceeded to take his tithe daily 
and duly. When St. George reached Egypt, the Dragon 
had eaten up all its virgins, save the king's only daughter 
Sabra, and she was stripped and tied to a stake, awaiting 
the coming of the devourer. She heard the prancing of a 
horse, and beheld the fated knight, who stopped and in- 
quired what this sad sight meant. 

Digitized by 




[March 9, 1839. 

u Per tsetttg there a lefly bright 
" i a stake, 

So rudely tied unto i 
At well became a valiant knight, 
. He straight to her hit way did take. 
Tell me, tweet maiden, then, quoth he. 
What caitiff thus abua*th thee ? 

And lo 1 by Christ hit cross I tow, 
Which hero is figured on my breast, 

I wUl revenge it on his brow, 

And break my lance upon his chest : 

And speaking thus whereas he stood, 

The dragon issued from the wood.*' 

"There is the fiend!" exclaimed the princess, pointing 
to the approaching Dragon, " who will soon make an end 
of me." The dragon was a fiery one : his breath was 
literally flame ; his teeth were large and sharp ; his claws 
as keen as sickles; and his tail could whisk a hundred 
men to the ground. 

" St. George, on looking round about, 
The fiery dragon soon espied, 
And like a knight of courage stout, 
Against him he did fiercely ride : 
And with such blows he did him greet, 
He fell beneath his horse's feet. 
For, with his lance that was so strong, 

As he came gaping in his face, 
In at his mouth he thrust along, 

For he could pierce no other place ; 
And thus within that lady'a view 
This mighty dragon straight he slew." 

To slay a Dragon, save a princess, and deliver a king- 
dom, were deeds that could only be repaid by ingratitude. 
The knight was young and handsome ; the Princess Sabra 
could not look without tenderness on one who had thus 
preserved her ; so they fell in love with each other, had 
interviews the sweeter from being stolen, and made vows 
which were not the less binding though there were no 
witnesses. A king of Morocco happened one day to 
overhear the lovers vowing eternal fidelity as they walked 
in the royal orchard : he told the king ; his majesty rose 
in wrath, and resolved to take personal vengeance ; but 
on reflection that the arm which slew the Dragon was 
strong, he took to his Egyptian wiles, and so dealt with 
the hero that he departed on a pretended mission to Per- 
sia, carrying letters of instruction to the Sophy to slay 
him as soon as he reached the court. On his way to 
Bagdad the Christian champion zealously destroyed all 
Pagan idols : when overpowered and thrown into a dun- 
geon, he dug his way out, and, though half dead with 
hunger, slew three warriors who were sent to retake him, 
then mounted one of the Sophy's best horses, and turned 
his bridle towards Europe. 

" Towards Christendom he made his flight, 
But met a giant by the way, 
With whom in combat he did fight 
Most valiantly a summer's day ; 
Who yet, for all his club of steel, 
Was forced the sting of death to feel. 

Back o'er the seas with many bands 

Of warlike soldiers soon he past, 
Vowing upon those heathen lands 

To work revenge; which at the last, 
Ere thrice three years were gone and spent, 
He wrought unto his heart's content." 

lie ravaged Persia, subdued but spared Egypt, slew 
the tell-tale king of Morocco, and, remembering his vows 
to the Princess Sabra, resolved to carry her to England 
and make her his wife. On his way home through a 
wild forest he began to wish for some satisfactory proof 
of the purity of the princess ; but seeing that she was 
faint and hungry, he went into the wood to kill a deer, 
leaving her under the protection of a single eunuch. On 
his return he was alarmed to see two enormous lions, who, 
after snapping up the eunuch, had laid themselves down 
at Sabra's feet, at if in defiance of all who dared to doubt 
she was a maid. Though they respected the princess, 
they licked their lips when they beheld her lover, and 
attacked him as furiously as if they had not just before 

pacified their stomachs with an entire eunuch. But the 
Saint had no desire to die in a place where there was 
little chance of Christian burial: he encountered them 

w Their rage did him no whit dismay, 
Who, like a stout and valiant knight, 
Did both the hungry lions slay 

Within the lady Sabra's sight, 
Who all this while, sad and demure, 
There stood most like a virgin pure. 

Now when St. George did surely know 

This lady was a virgin true, 
His heart was glad that erst was wo, 

And all his love did soon renew : 
He set her on a palfrey steed, 
And towards England came with speed.*' 

There he married this Egyptian beauty, and hanging his 
pennon from the walls of his castle of Coventry, pro- 
claimed himself the patron of the brave, the pious, and 
the chaste, and lived to see his name a motto for his 
country's flag, and her watchword on the field of honour— 
" St. George for England !" 

[To be continued] 

Intelligence of Animals. — In the forests of Tartary and 
of South America, where the wild horse is gregarious, there 
are herds of 500 or 600, which, being ill prepared for fight- 
ing, or indeed for any resistance, and knowing that their 
safety is in Might, when they sleep, appoint one in rotation 
who acts as sentinel, while the rest are asleep. If a man 
approaches, the sentinel walks towards him as if to recon- 
noitre or see whether he may be deterred from coming near ; 
if the man continues, he neighs aloud and in a peculiar 
tone, which rouses the herd and all gallop away, the sentinel 
bringing up the rear. Nothing can be more judicious or 
rational than this arrangement, Simple as it is. So a horse, 
belonging to a smuggler at Dover, used to be laden with 
run spirits and sent on the road unattended to reach the 
rendezvous. When he descried a soldier he Would jump off 
the highway and hide himself in a ditch, and when dis- 
covered would fight for his load. The cunning of foxes is 
Sroverbial ; but I know not if it was ever more remarkably 
isplayed than in the Duke of Beaufort's country ; where 
Reynard, being hard pressed, disappeared suddenly, and 
was, after strict search, found immersed in a water-pool up 
to the very snout, by which he held a willow-bough hang- 
ing over the pond. The cunning of a dog, which Serjeant 
Wilde tells me of, as known to him, is at least equal. He 
used to be tied up as a precaution againt hunting sheep. 
At night he slipped his head out of the collar, and return- 
ing before dawn put on the collar again, in order to conceal 
his nocturnal excursion. Nobody has more familiarity 
with various animals (besides his great knowledge of his 
own species) than my excellent, learned, and ingenious 
friend, the Serjeant ; and he possesses many curious ones 
himself. His anecdote of a drover's doe is striking, as he 
gave it me, when we happened, near this place, to meet a 
drove. The man had brought 17 out of 20 oxen from a 
field, leaving the remaining three there mixed with another 
herd. He then said to the dog, " Go, fetch them ;" and he 
went and singled out those very three. The Serjeant's 
brother, however, a highly respectable man, lately Sheriff 
of London, has a dog that distinguishes Saturday night* 
from the practice of tying him up for the Sunday, which 
he dislikes. He will escape on Saturday night and return 
on Monday morning. Tho Serjeant himself had a gander 
which was at a distance from the goose, and hearing her 
make an extraordinary noise, ran back and put his head 
into the cage — then brought back all the goslings one by 
one and put them into it with the mother, whose separation 
from her brood had occasioned her clamour. He them 
returned to the place whence her cries had called him. I 
must however add, that I often have conversed with Scotch 
shepherds coming up from the Border country to our great 
fairs, and have found them deny many of the stories of the 
miraculous feats of sheep-dogs. Alfred Montgomery and 
I, the other day, cross- questioned a Roxburghshire shepherd 
with this result. — On Instinct —Dissertations on Subject* 
of Science connected with Natural Theology, by Henry 
Lord Brougham, 

Printed by William Clowes aad Sow, Stanford Start. 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[March 16, 1839- 


[Hamburgh, from the Elbe.] 

Hamburgh is the largest city in Germany, after Vienna 
*nd Berlin, "but its importance is not derived from either 
imperial or royal influence, and to its commerce alone is 
it indebted for its pre-eminence. It is the great com- 
mercial emporium of the north of Europe, and the most 
extensive depot for English goods on the Continent. Its 
site on the banks of the Elbe, about eighty miles distant 
from the sea, was selected by Charlemagne, during his 
contests with the pagans of the north, for the foundation 
°f a town ; and if its situation as a defensive outpost 
proved advantageous, it is still better calculated in more 
peaceful times for the seat of commerce and a grand mart 
tor northern and eastern Germany. On the extinction of 
the dynasty of Charlemagne, Hamburgh had to maintain 
along struggle with the dukes of Saxony, and afterwards 
*ith the counts of Holstein. At length it freed itself 
from feudal shackles, and as one of the principal mem- 
bers of that great confederation of the middle ages, known 
aader the name of the Hanseatic League, it both secured 
*ad maintained its independence. Long after the League 
had lost its ascendency Haiuburgh was recognised and 
^firmed in its rights as one of the free cities of the 
German empire. On Germany being overrun by the 
. Vol. VIII. 

French, Hamburgh was incorporated with the Frencn 
empire, and in 1810 became the capital of the department 
of the Mouths of the Elbe. The period of the French 
domination was most disastrous to the commerce of Ham- 
burgh, but peace brought with it a return of prosperity. 
Under the treaties of 1815 Hamburgh was admitted a 
member of the German Confederation, and has one vote 
in the deliberations of the Diet which represents that 
body, but in the Select Council one vote ouly is allowed 
to Hamburgh and the other free towns of Lubeck, 
Bremen, and Frankfort. The free territory of Hamburgh 
contains an area of 150 square miles, being exactly the 
size of the small county of Rutland. On the south Ham- 
burgh is bounded by the Elbe, which separates it from 
Hanover ; on the north and west by the duchy of Hol- 
stein, and on the east by the duchy of Lauenburgh, both 
belonging to Denmark. The thriving town of Altona, 
containing about 30,000 inhabitants, is. in the territory of 
Denmark, and not more than two miles from the gates of 

The population of the city of Hamburgh exceeds 
120,000 ; and with that of the territory annexed to it, 
amounts to about 130,000, t The great majority are Lu- 

Digitized by 




[March 16, 

therans, and Calvin ists are excluded from the government 
of the city, while at the free town of Lubeck, where there is a 
majority of Calvinists, Lutherans are excluded. The Jews at 
Hamburgh amount to several thousands, and the number 
of English merchants and their families fluctuates be- 
tween a thousand and fifteen hundred. At the Exchange, 
during the hours of business, may be seen natives of every 
European and many transatlantic countries. A fee of 
ten pounds entitles foreigners to all the commercial pri 
vileges enjoyed by natives. There are two classes of 
citizens, one of which consists of individuals who cannot 
cither import or export goods wholesale in their own 
names, nor transact business at the Exchange, but the 
distinction is scarcely an impediment to trade, and may 
be regarded simply as a poll-tax, as all classes of traders 
are obliged to take out a licence. The wholesale mer- 
chant pays 150 marks* for his licence, and the retail 
trader 40. 

The municipal constitution of Hamburgh apportions 
power to the various classes of citizens with a consider- 
able degree of fairness. The senate, consisting of four 
burgomasters and twenty-four senators, with four syndics 
and four secretaries, is in possession of the executive 
power, and has the sole right of proposing laws, but laws 
can neither be made rior taxes imposed without the con- 
sent of the citizens in common-hall assembled. Ham- 
burgh enjoys the benefit of a cheap and expeditious court 
for settling mercantile disputes. It meets twice a week, 
and consists of two chambers, there being an appeal from 
the lower to the upper chamber, the decision ot the latter 
being final. The court meets twice a week, when matters 
relating to trade, shipping, or manufactures, which require 
arbitration and settlement, are decided upon according to 
the dictates of common sense enlightened by extensive 
mercantile experience. The president, vice-president, 
and actuary are lawyers, and the remaining members are 
gentlemen connected with trade. The litigants usually 
state their case in person. The law of bankruptcy at 
Hamburgh, so far from impeding speculation in trade, 
has rather a contrary effect ; and the number of private 
arrangements of debts in a year greatly exceeds the public 
declarations of insolvency, and comparatively little dis- 
credit ordinarily attaches to this form of terminating real 
or fictitious embarrassments. Insolvents who make a 
declaration of bankruptcy are classed according to the 
law in three divisions, namely, either as unfortunate, or 
careless, or fraudulent. In consequence of the extensive 
business speculations into which the nature of the trade of 
Hamburgh induces mercantile men to enter, reverses of 
fortune are frequent amongst this class ; but there is not 
anywhere on the Continent a finer field for talents and 
intelligence in commercial matters than Hamburgh. The 
charges on marine insurance are low, and a consider- 
able portion of insurance business which was formerly 
transacted in London is now done at Hamburgh. 

Scarcely any of the public buildings are calculated to 
attract the attention of the architect. The Borsenhalle 
or Exchange is one of the finest edifices, and the princi- 
pal church is remarkable for the height of its tower, 
which exceeds by fifty feet that of St. Paul's cathedral. 
Strangers and foreigners generally find the Exchange 
one of the principal places of attraction. Here the mer- 
chants, bankers, brokers, shipowners, and mercantile 
classes resort daily, and the busy hum of a multitude, 
many of them speaking in different languages, renders 
the scene on 'Change one of great bustle and animation. 
There are above a thousand subscribers to the Exchange, 
who each pay 60 marks a year. A news-room and com- 
mercial library are connected with the establishment ; 
and under the same roof are a dancing and concert room, 
several rooms for billiards, a coffee-house, and a printing- 
office. The ramparts of the city have been levelled, and 
a promenade and public garden have been formed on 
• The mack is equal to J4J4, 

their site, thus forming a most agreeable place of recrea- 
tion for the inhabitants. This promenade is continued 
all round the city, passing along the west side of the 
Alster river. On the north side of Hamburgh the Alster 
forms a fine basin, chiefly used for parties of pleasure. 

The trade of Hamburgh comprises every article 
which the inhabitants of the greater part of Germany 
either produce or consume. The exports consist of 
linens, an article of great importance in the Hamburgh 
trade ; grain (Hamburgh being only second in importance 
to Danzig) ; leather, flax, copper, iron, smalts, spelter, 
rags, wool, woollen cloths, staves, wooden clocks, toys, 
Rhenish wines, &c. The chief imports are sugar ; coffee, 
a favourite article with speculators; cotton wool, stuffs 
and yarn, tobacco, hides, indigo, brandy, rum, wines, rice, 
dye-stuffs, pepper, tea, &c. The comparative extent of 
the trade of Hamburgh in one article alone shows its im- 
portance as an entrepot. At Hamburgh, in 1838, the 
imports of coffee amounted to 23,000 tons, while at Am- 
sterdam they were 21,763 ; for the whole of Great Britain, 
17,677 tons ; for Antwerp, 16,300 tons ; for all the ports 
of France, 15,000 tons ; for Trieste, 1 1,900 ; for Bremen, 
6470 tons. Above one-sixth of all the coffee imported 
into Europe in 1838 was received at Hamburgh. The 
trade in this article has been constantly increasing at 
Hamburgh, the quantity imported having risen from 30 
to 50 million lbs. in the last twenty years. In 1 834 the 
quantity of sugar imported at Hamburgh amounted to 
70 million lbs. ; but the business of sugar-refining 
is declining, in consequence of the tariff of the Prussian 
league. In 1832 there were 111 million lbs. of sugar 
imported, being nearly 50,000 tons. It is understood 
that Berlin, Dresden, and Stettin are superseding Ham- 
burgh in the business of sugar-refining. 

The large scale on which coffee and sugar are imported, 
and the subsequent distribution of these articles, would 
alone suffice to maintain an extensive maritime and inland 
commerce. In the number and tonnage of the vessels 
which enter the port, Hamburgh is second only to London 
and Liverpool, and considerably more than one-third of 
the ships which annually arrive are British. The number 
of vessels belonging to Hamburgh is about 120, averaging 
about 200 tons. They are chiefly employed in the 
transatlantic trade. The regular trade with England is 
carried on in English bottoms, and a general preference 
exists for the employment of British shipping. In 1838 
the number of British vessels which arrived at Hamburgh 
was 908 ; from France, 142 vessels entered inwards ; 
from South America, 136 ; from the West Indies, 124 ; 
from Belgium, 104; Bremen, 96; from the Baltic, 74 ; 
North America, 37 ; Italy, 31 ; Spain, 24 ; Portugal, 
24; Asia Minor, 24 ; East Indies and China, 10; Hol- 
land and East Friesland (the maritime frontier of 
Hanover), 522 ; besides others from Africa, the Azores 
and Canaries, Archangel, &c. : making 2383 ships in all, 
being 173 more than in the previous year. In 1834 
there arrived 149 vessels from the Lower Elbe, of which 
76 were under Danish colours, 31 Hanoverian, 25 Ham- 
burgh, and 10 under Dutch colours. 

The accommodation for shipping is good. Hamburgh 
is in fact situated on three navigable rivers, the Elbe and 
two small affluents, the Alster and the Bille. An arm 
of the Elbe enters the city from the cast, and is there 
divided into a number of canals, which take various di- 
rections till they unite and join the Alster in the southern 
part of the city, where they form a deep harbour, which, 
communicates with the main branch of the river. Here 
a large space is enclosed by strong piles, where ships 
may lie in safety. The arm of the Elbe next the city is 
narrow, but this mooring place is capable of containing 
a large number of vessels. Being intersected by nu- 
merous canals, which admit of barges unloading at the 
warehouses, Hamburgh has something of the appear^ 
ance of a Dutch town. The tide rises at the quays ox* 

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the Elbe from nine to twelve feet. Vessels drawing 
fourteen feet water come up to the town at all times, and 
at spring-tides vessels drawing eighteen feet. The tide 
flows twenty miles above Hamburgh. 

We have already alluded to the ease with which 
foreigners obtain the privileges of citizenship at Ham- 
burgh; but it is the freedom of its commerce which 
enhances these privileges. So liberal a policy in matters 
of trade could scarcely be expected in the present day in 
a state where a variety of complicated interests are 
struggling together ; but in the free town of Hamburgh, 
which is essentially an entrepot, it is at once felt that the 
true interests of the community consist in fixing the rate 
of duty on imports and exports at the lowest possible 
amount, and that by any other system they would be 
losers. Hamburgh indeed profits by the anomalies which 
exist in the tariffs of other countries. The manufacturers 
of Dundee, for example, export a larger quantity of linens 
to the independent state of Hayti than to any one of our 
own colonies, and the only exchangeable article which the 
Haytians are enabled to offer in return is coffee. But 
Haytian coffee is subjected in England to a duty of Is. 3d. 
per lb., while on that from the British colonies only 6d. 
is charged. It is therefore necessary to dispose in some 
other country of the coffee sent from Hayti in exchange 
for British manufactures ; and it is usual to ship it to 
Hamburgh or Antwerp, where it is sold by commission- 
agents, who put into their pockets the profits attending 
this circuitous mode of effecting the exchange. Mer- 
chandise exported or imported by sea at Hamburgh pays 
a duty of li per cent, only ; on com, linen, yarn, tin, 
copper, coined gold and silver, and books, no import 
duty is charged ; and goods arriving for immediate re- 
exportation may be bonded without paying the duty. 
By this system of moderate duties Hamburgh establishes 
its commercial prosperity upon the surest basis. There 
is, however, a duty levied upon goods arriving by sea at 
Hamburgh, which is as vexatious as it is pernicious in 
principle. This is the Stade Toll, collected by Hanover 
at the town of Stade, on the right bank of the Elbe, for 
which exaction that power offers no equivalent either by 
establishing lighthouses, or by any other means calculated 
to benefit mariners. The duty is trifling on some, but 
more oppressive on other articles, and the principle on 
which it is exacted is not well understood. Vessels under 
the Hamburgh flag are exempted from the Stade toll, a 
privilege which only exposes those who do pay it to an 
unjust rivalry. The treaty of Vienna guaranteed the 
freedom of navigation on the rivers of Germany ; but 
commerce in many cases continues to be harassed by 
the exactions of petty and insignificant principalities 
and states. The Stade duty has been collected for more 
than a century and a half, before Hanover even acquired 
possession of that portion of its territory in which Stade 
is situated. The abolition of the duty might have been 
easily arranged when Hanover was under the British 
crown, but since the separation of that country from 
England this desirable object cannot be so readily accom- 
plished, although it is said that some negotiations are 
pending between the two governments, the object of 
which is the regulation or abolition of the Stade toll. 

The geographical causes which have contributed to 
the commercial pre-eminence of Hamburgh are its posi- 
tion on the map of Europe in respect to other countries, 
but principally its situation on the Elbe, which has made 
it the natural entrepot of an immense part of Germany. 
From London Hamburgh may be reached by steam- 
boats in forty-eight hours, and from Hull by the same 
means in about forty-one hours. Like the Weser, the 
Elbe flows entirely within Germany, rising in the 
mountains which separate Bohemia from Silesia. It 
passes in its course Saxony, Prussia, Mecklenburgh, 
aad Hanover. Some of its tributaries take their rise 
in other countries. For above seventy miles it flows 

through Saxony, and for one hundred and twenty miles 
through Hanover. Its tributary the Moldau, which 
flows past Prague, gives Bohemia the advantage of a 
communication with the North Sea: the union of the 
Elbe and the Danube, by a canal from the Moldau to the 
latter river, has been considered practicable; and if 
the project were executed North and South Germany 
would be connected, and an inland communication 
opened between the German Ocean and the Black Sea. 
The Saale, another tributary of the Elbe, rises in Ba- 
varia, and is navigable from Halle. Leipzig stands upon 
another tributary ; and an inspection of a good map of 
Germany will show the extent to which the Elbe and its 
affluents are subservient in promoting and facilitating the 
exchange of produce, thus stimulating industry, and so 
supplying the wants of man. 

The Spree, being connected with the Elbe by the 
Plauen canal, a communication is opened between Ham- 
burgh and Berlin, and several of the provinces of 
Prussia. Hamburgh and Lubeck ere also connected 
by artificial channels of navigation. Prussian goods, 
instead of reaching Hamburgh by the Sound, are regu- 
larly brought from the ports of the Baltic by the safer 
medium of canals and rivers. The productions of the 
Baltic may be purchased as cheaply at Hamburgh as 
at the ports whence they are shipped, some allowance 
being made for difference of freight. 

In its whole course the Elbe receives seventeen rivers, 
and above seventy minor streams ; its total length is 7 10 
miles, of which 470 are navigable. The extent of country 
which it drains just exceeds the area of England and 
Wales. The Elbe itself becomes navigable after having 
received the Moldau at Moldeck, in Bohemia, and when 
it enters Saxony its width is about 355 feet. Mr. Strang, 
in his work on Germany, says that the lower banks of 
the Elbe, from its mouth to Gluckstadt, a town above 
thirty miles nearer the sea than Hamburgh, " resemble 
those of the Thames in a striking degree. It is, however, 
much broader than the Thames, and is almost as thickly 
studded with ships, barges, and boats of all kinds." In 
many parts of its upper channel the scenery on the Elbe 
is exceedingly beautiful. 

History. — History has to do with real occurrences, as 
distinct from the fictions of imagination, and from abstract 
conceptions : the former we denominate fable, the latter 
science. History, indeed, requires the presence of imagina- 
tion, that the pictures of the past may possess something of 
tho force of the present ; and the aid of strong mental per- 
ception is no less needed, that its facts maybe made sub- 
servient to utility. But the imagination has more to do 
with making history attractive, than in giving it existence; 
and we look to enlarged views for its philosophy, more than 
for its substance. Still, in our day, the appellation of his- 
torian would be regarded as greatly misapplied (and very 
properly so), if bestowed on the author of a mere chronicle 
of occurrences, produced on no intelligent principle of selec- 
tion, and without reference to any wise or dignified result. 
History, accordingly, in our view of it, partakes of what is 
much more interesting and important than a bare recording 
of facts. It embraces an account of whatever has happened 
that may be so presented as to minister to the gratification 
and improvement of the human mind. It is conversant 
with the past, partly for the sake of amusement, principally 
for the sake of instruction. It is busied with what has been, 
that it may live again, and that it may serve to correct and 
elevate what is and what shall be. Within its province 
ample space is found for the pleasing and the useful ; for 
whatever is powerful in genius, whatever is expansive in be- 
nevolence. Man, in all the diversities and all the complexi- 
ties of human character, and the circumstances of man, 
embracing the ever-changing combinations of the many 
elements of his social being, all belong to the substance of 
history.— Professor Vaughan's Introductory Lecture on 
General History. 






[Maacu 16 

[Heriot's Hospital, from the Castle Hill, Edinburgh.] 

Who docs not remember the rich jeweller of the ' For- 
tunes of Nigel,* the benevolent and sagacious George 
Heriot, the ' Jingling Geordie' of King James ? To be 
remembered after death we may easily believe to have 
been one object of Heriot's life, since the noble work he 
planned must, as he could not but know and expect, 
entitle him, if executed, to the gratitude of posterity. But 
of the resuscitation that awaited his character and his 
abilities, his heart and his mind, he could not have 
dreamed. In the pages of our immortal Scottish novelist 
we have a clearer revelation of these than even the most 
favoured of his living contemporaries could have pos- 

Sir Walter Scott, it may be remembered, more than 
once makes Heriot allude, though but slightly, and " as 
'twere afar off," to some great object he has in view 
for the ultimate disposal of his property ; the allusion 
of course being intended to apply to the Hospital. 
We intend to devote this paper to a brief sketch of 
Heriot's life, and to equally brief notices of his institu- 
tion. George Heriot is supposed to have been born in 
Edinburgh, in June, 1563. He was descended from a 
family of some consequence, the Heriots of Tra-brown in 
East Lothian. His father was a citizen and goldsmith 
of Edinburgh, and of no mean rank among his fellow 
burgesses, aB we may judge from his having repeatedly 
attended the Scottish Parliament as a commissioner from 
the city. The first material notice respecting George 
Heriot is connected with his marriage, when he was fur- 
•ished by his father with the means for " ane begyning 
mid pak to him," besides " ye setting up of ane buith 
to him," &c In all he received from his father and his 

wife's relations a sum of about 214/. He was admitted 
a member of the incorporated goldsmiths in 1588, and 
in nine years afterwards " George Heriot," says Birrel, 
in his * Diary,' " was maid the Queen's goldsmythe; 
and was intimat at the crosse, be opin proclamatione 
and sound of trumpet ; and ane Clei, the Frenchman 
dischargit, quha was the Queen's goldsmythe befor." 
Wealth now must have flowed in upon him rapidly, for 
in about ten years his accounts against the Queen for 
jewels, &c, amounted to nearly forty thousand pounds ! 
At this period the available wealth of noble families gene- 
rally consisted of plate and gems, consequently the gold- 
smith's was a profitable calling. In addition to this, the dis- 
turbed condition of the times rendered it frequently neces- 
sary for the possessors of such property to use it as a 
pledge for securing the repayment of monies they were 
compelled to borrow. In such cases the goldsmiths were 
the usual bankers. We need not wonder therefore that 
the members of this trade have always enjoyed the repute 
of great riches. Heriot's good fortune next established 
him as the king's goldsmith, and at the union of the 
crowns he accompanied James to England. Here his 
career was one of uninterrupted prosperity. He died in 
London, on the 12th of February, 1624, and was buried a 
few days after in St. Martin's in the Fields. His will, 
after providing for two illegitimate daughters (he had been 
twice married, either without legal issue or the children 
had died), his other relations, and his dependants and 
servants, left the remainder to the Magistrates of his na- 
tive city in trust for the purpose he had so long cherished. 
The sum eventually placed at their disposal was 
23,625/. 10*. 3W. 

Digitized by 





The invariable tendency of every good to draw others 
in its train is nowhere more evident than in the history 
of charitable institutions. What one man has done, and 
enjoyed the gratitude of his fellows for doing, others of 
like disposition naturally wish to imitate. It is not im- 
probable that to an influence of this nature the Scottish 
metropolis owes one of its greatest ornaments : for we find 
Heriot expressly mentioning in his directions for the pro- 
posed institution, that it is " in imitation of the public, 
pious, and religious work founded within the city of Lon- 
don, called Christ's Hospital." He proceeds to describe 
the building and its purposes as an " Hospital and Semi- 
narie of Orphans, for edification, nourishing, and up- 
bringing of youth, being poor orphans and fatherless 
children of decayed burgesses and freemen of the said 
burgh, destitute and left without means, and to such 
competent numbers as the means and maintenance al- 
lowed thereupon are able to afford," &c, " there to be 
kepit at schools and pious exercise, or at the grammar- 
schools of the said Burgh," &c, " aye, and while they be 
full fifteen years compleat, at which time they may be 
put forth in prenticeship to learn some honest trade for 
occupation, or otherwise sent to colleges or universities," 
&c. " according to their capacities." 

the erection of the edifice were 

Or. Balcanquhar, who furnished 

were supposed to have been 

'he effect of the whole as it now 

)dsorae and noble, as to justify 

sminent architect was concerned 

we truth is that the great artist 

really make the drawings, but 

the work to his employers, and 

that in all probability to Dr. Balcanquhar, the principal of 

these, we are indebted for some of the minor eccentricities, 

such for instance as the diversity of the windows, scarcely 

two being alike. The building was commenced on the 

3rd of June, 1628, and continued until 1639, when it 

was stopped from want of funds; the tenants of the lands 

in which the property of the institution was vested being 

unable to pay their rents, owing to the troubled state of 

the country about that time. We may here incidentally 

mention, that in the records of the payments made during 

this period, we have a curious if not fearful glimpse of 

the social state of the people. We allude to the following 

extract :*— • 

3 lit March— Item— To ye 6 wemen yt. drew 

in ye cairt . • • xxviij;. 

For 6 shakellis to ye wo- 
men's handis wt. ye 
cheingeis to zame . vij lib. iiij«. 
Mair for 14 lokis for yair 

waistis and yair handis iiij lib. iiij*. 
For ane Quhip for ye gen- 

tlewemen in ye cairt . xij$. 

For the sake of the character of the good old times we 
must put the best construction possible upon the affair, 
which is, that only criminal and abandoned females could 
be thus engaged. To return to our subject : in 1642 the 
work was re- commenced, and completed in its material 
parts in 1650. ^ After the battle of Dunbar, Cromwell 
osed it for an infirmary for his sick and wounded sol- 
diers, and for eight years it was thus occupied. At length 
General Monk agreed with a committee of the inhabitants 
of the city, to give it up on being provided with an in- 
firmary elsewhere. During this period the governor 
granted an annual pension of 55/. to a near relative of 
Heriot's, but not before they had received two laconic 
notes from Cromwell. Many improvements and additions 
were afterwards made, and the total expense amounted to 
upwards of 30,000/. The edifice was opened for the 

• Quoted from an ' Historical and Descriptive Account of 
George Heriofi Hospital, including a Memoir of the Founder,* a 
vock to which we are here principally indebted for our materials. 

reception of inmates in 1659. In the first year 40 boys 
were admitted, which number was increased in the second 
to 52. In 1693 the number was 130 ; in 1793, 140; 
and in 1827, 180. 

The Hospital is situated on a pleasant rising ground in 
the vicinity of the Castle. Its architecture is of that class 
which is included under the very comprehensive term 
Gothic; and is considered a singular example of the 
mixed Italian style. The building consists of a quad- 
rangle enclosing a court with handsome square towers at 
the corners, and a main tower 100 feet high with octa- 
gonal dome and lantern in the centre of the principal 
front. Each front consists of three stories pierced with 
handsome windows, and the towers of four stories. The 
court is 92 feet square. Under the main tower is the 
gateway leading into the court, which is very handsome 
and richly ornamented, exhibiting illustrations of the 
origin and purposes of the institution surmounted by the 
arms of the founder. On entering the court and looking 
round upon the spacious and beautiful buildings that 
enclose it, we perceive in the wall, over the gateway we 
have just entered, the statue of George Heriot, the foun- 
der, in his habit as he lived. An erection that honours 
indeed the sentiments of those who placed it there, but is 
unnecessary for his memory, to which the edifice itself is 
the noblest statue. We proceed to mention the principal 
objects of curiosity or interest attached to the Hospital. 
The chapel is very beautiful, but owes its character to the 
improvements made in recent years. The ceiling is elabo- 
rately and richly ornamented, the pavement is of tessellated 
marble, and the general proportions of the room are noble. 
In the council-room, over an exquisitely carved mantel- 
piece is a circular compartment enclosing a painting 
which represents a tradition of the Hospital, that three of 
the boys, while playing, discovered the mineral spring 
near Stockbridge, since then so well known as St. Bar- 
nard's Well. There is also here a painting of George 
Heriot, a copy only from the original. It exhibits Heriot 
in the prime of life, with a calm, thoughtful, penetrating 
countenance, and round the mouth an expression of 
latent humour. 

The immediate superintendence of the education and 
general management of the hospital is vested in a com- 
mittee of governors, chosen annually, and a visiting com- 
mittee. The establishment comprises a house-governor, 
physician, and surgeon ; a treasurer and a clerk ; four 
schoolmasters, who reside in the house; teachers of 
writing, gymnastics, and music, who attend the school ; 
housekeeper, steward, wardsmen, and servants. The 
system of education pursued is very comprehensive, in- 
cluding all that is thought requisite to prepare the boys 
for whatever department in life they appear the most 
qualified to fill. The general bent of the boy's inclina- 
tion is watched, that they may be taught accordingly ; 
and every encouragement given to those who exhibit more 
than common talents or proficiency. The boys generally 
leave the hospital in their fifteenth year, taking with 
them their school-books, a pair of pocket-bibles, two 
suits of new clothes, and a supply of linen : those 
intended for business being placed out as apprentices, 
with a fee of 10/. a year for five years. But youths of 
higher promise are sent to college, supported there for 
four years, and, if qualified for the learned professions, 
are still further assisted. 

In the election of boys to fill up any vacancies that 
may be made, poverty is a necessary qualification ; and 
none are admitted who are under seven years of age or 
above sixteen. An annual procession takes place every 
year to the adjoining church of Blackfriars, when the 
statue of Heriot is decorated with flowers ; seeming, like 
the ancient structure around, echoing with the glad shouts 
of its youthful inhabitants, to convey the moral — how the 
antique past and the familiar present, the worm-eaten 
dead and the animated living, may be bound together by 

Digitized by 




[March 16, 

*hc flowery lies of love. And could we but fancy that 
the spirit of Heriot might for one moment at such a time 
enter into his marble effigy, and look down upon the 
simple reverence of his " sons," three hundred years 
after he had passed from the world, who would not envy 
him the delight of that moment ? or would refuse to 
acknowledge that, as the power of greatly serving our 
fellow-creatures is among the rarest and most valuable 
of human possessions, so the exercise of that power is 
among the most permanent as well as the most exquisite 
of human enjoyments ? 


Our object is, in three or four short papers, to trace the 
different processes concerned in the manufacture of a 
tea-cup, in order to afford a rough idea of that very im- 
portant branch of manufacture — pottery, which ha3 done 
so much in raising the reputation of England as a manu- 
facturing country. The articles manufactured present, 
as is well known, various degrees of utility, as well as of 
elegance and beauty ; but there is a certain degree of 
similarity among all species of pottery, which enables us 
to take a tea-cup as a convenient intermediate represen- 
tation of the whole of them. The Chinese, the Dresden, 
the Sevres, and the British porcelain manufactures differ 
slightly from one another; but we must here confine 
ourselves chiefly to those of our own country. Before 
conducting our readers through a Staffordshire pottery 
establishment we must make a few general observations. 

As liquids have in all ages formed one of the natural 
and necessary forms of food for man, it is obvious that 
vessels capable of containing them without absorption, 
and occasionally of bearing a high degree of heat in the 
process of cooking, became indispensable. Hard shells, 
gourds, skins of animals formed into bags, wooden bowls 
fashioned by means of a hard sharp stone, &c, were pro- 
bably some of the earliest specimens of vessels for holding 
liquids; indeed the recitals of modern travellers show us 
that such are in use at the preseut day among nations 
who have not yet emerged from the rude economy of un- 
civilized life. Liquids are frequently heated for the 
domestic use of such people by being placed m a wooden 
bowl, and a stone, previously made red-hot, being plunged 
into the liquid. 

But when first it became known that clay baked in 
the fire assumes a hard consistency without materially 
changing its form, a most important addition was made 
to the comforts of domestic arrangements; since the plia- 
bility of clay in its soft state allows of its being moulded 
into any desired form, and since also it is not likely to 
impart any deleterious properties to the liquid contained 
in a vessel made from it. Whether bricks for the pur- 
poses of building or vessels for holding liquids were the 
first purposes to which hardened and baked clay were 
applied, cannot now be determined ; but we have it on 
record that burnt bricks were used at the building of the 
Tower of Babel, upwards of 4000 years ago ; and the al- 
lusions to the " potter's wheel " in the Scriptures show 
that articles of pottery formed by means of that instru- 
ment were well known in those times. 

The Romans, besides forming urns and vessels of clay, 
were accustomed, in the Augustan age, to construct of 
potters' clay the water-pipes employed in their stupen- 
dous aqueducts; and when they gained possession of 
Britain, they established potteries in Staffordshire and 
elsewhere, for the manufacture of clay water-pipes. Some 
of these pipes were dug up about a century ago in Hyde 
Park; they were about two inches in thickness, and the 
cement employed for the joints was a mixture of mortar 
and oil. It is a remarkable circumstance in the history 
of pottery, that the Egyptians were accustomed, at a re- 
mote period, to employ for the colouring of little blue 
figures of porcelain, a pigment, which by chemical ana- 


lysis has been proved to be the same which modern ex- 
periments have shown to be the best for that^ purpose, 
viz. oxide of cobalt. 

At Sevres in France and at Dresden porcelain manu- 
factures have been carried on under royal patronage to a 
considerable extent, but not with those advantages of a 
commercial kind which have distinguished the produc- 
tions of England. Jonas Han way visited the Chinese 
palace at Dresden in 1735, and stated that the vaults of 
the palace consisted of fdurteen apartments filled with 
Chinese and Dresden porcelain. He says, "Here are 
forty-eight large China vases, which appear to be of no 
use, nor any way extraordinary, except for their large 
size, and yet his Polish Majesty purchased them of the 
late King of Prussia at the price of a whole regiment of 
dragoons !" 

This royal patronage of the porcelain manufacture is 
singularly exhibited in China, which of all other nations 
has perhaps attracted the largest share of attention by the 
extreme beauty of the porcelain vessels which they pro- 
duce. There seems reason to believe that for the last 
fourteen hundred years a place called King-te-Ching has 
supplied the imperial court with porcelain, one or two 
mandarins being deputed from Pekin to inspect the 
works. The Chinese employ two kinds of earth, called 
Kaolin and Petuntse, for the manufacture of their wares, 
and follow processes somewhat similar to those we shall 
describe in relation to our own country. The factories at 
King-te-Ching are of great extent; they are walled round, 
and contain sheds under which the processes are carried 
on, as well as dwellings for the workmen. The number 
of persons employed in one of these factories is very great, 
as may easily be conceived from the fact that every piece 
of porcelain produced, however small it may be, passes 
through more than sixty different hands before it is com- 
pleted. The beauty of their productions is equalled by 
their durability, as is instanced by the celebrated porce- 
lain tower at Nanking. This remarkable building is of 
an octagonal form ; it consists of nine stories, is nearly 
300 feet in height, and is covered over its entire surface 
with exquisite porcelain. Although it has been erected 
more than 400 years, yet it has withstood all the alterna- 
tion of seasons without exhibiting the smallest symptom of 

But we must not venture to enter more fully into the 
porcelain manufactures of China or other foreign coun- 
tries, since those of our own country will afford us ample 
scope for interesting inquiry, and have been distinguished 
for that which is better than royal patronage, viz., com- 
mercial success. 

There is a spot in Staffordshire which is among- the 
most remarkable in the kingdom, arising from the almost 
exclusive employment of the inhabitants in the business 
of potting, or making clay vessels ; hence the general 
name of " The Potteries " has been given to this spot. 
The Potteries commence at the village of Golden Hill, 
about a mile from the borders of Cheshire, aud extend 
for a distance of more than seven miles, passing succes- 
sively through the towns and villages of Newfield, Smith- 
field, Tunstall, Longport, Burslem, Cobridge, Etruria, 
Hanley, Shelton, Stoke, Lower Lane, Lower Delf, &c, to 
Lane End. These places were formerly separate and 
distinct from one another ; but by the gradual erection of 
buildings and factories between them, the whole has at 
last assumed the appearance of one huge town, seven miles 
in length by nearly six in breadth. In this spot is 
made by far the larger portion of the earthenware pro- 
duccd in England. 

In this, as in most similar cases, there have been good 
reasons for the establishment and concentration of pot- 
teries in Staffordshire. The soil presents, in every direc- 
tion, a great variety of clays of different degrees of fineness, 
of which die pottery used to be made ; and although the 
finer kinds of ware are now made from clay procured from. 

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other quarters, yet the coarser ware, the kilns, the seggars, 
&c. are still made of Staffordshire clay. Where many 
furnaces are constantly at work, an abundant supply of 
coal of course becomes a matter of importance. With 
this mineral Staffordshire is richly supplied, interstratified 
with some of the kinds of clay used in the manufactories. 
This district of the county also presents other features, 
which, while they are unfavourable for the purposes of 
agriculture, are highly conducive to the processes carried 
ou in a pottery. 

We have before observed that the Romans established 
potteries in Staffordshire, and there seems reason to be- 
lieve that they have existed ever since. But so small was 
the amount of goods produced there, in comparison with 
what is now produced, that so late as 1686 the traffic in 
earthenware was carried on by the workmen themselves, 
only pedlars, who conveyed the pieces in baskets to the 
adjoining counties for sale. 

But about the time to which we are alluding, i.e. the 
end of the seventeenth century, two brothers named 
Elers came over from Holland, and settled at Bradwell 
in Staffordshire, and introduced a mode of glazing the 
ware by throwing common salt into the oven during the 
process of baking : they also introduced a new kind of 
red ware. They kept their processes secret, but shared 
the fate which too often falls on the improvers of manu- 
factures : they excited so much enmity, and endured so 
much persecution through the jealousy of the Stafford- 
shire men, that they were forced to leave the county. 
But before they did so, their secret became known to a 
workman in an extraordinary manner. This man, whose 
name was Astbury, feigned to be of weak intellect, and 
assuming a vacuity of countenance consistent with his 
apparent character, obtained employment in the establish- 
ment of the Elers, and submitted to all the drudgery and 
contumely which were drawn upon him by his supposed 
imbecility. By proceeding in this manner he was en 

guished. From the time that he entered personally into 
the business of a potter, his life exhibited one continued 
chain of successful attempts at improving the structure 
and appearance of various species of pottery ware. In 
1 763 he invented that kind of pottery known as Queen's 
ware, on account of its being patronised by Queen Char- 
lotte. He also devised a species resembling porphyry, 
pebble, and crystalline texture. Other inventions of his 
were — Jasper ware, susceptible of a high polish, capable 
of resisting the action of acids, and of bearing a high 
degree of heat ; white, black, and bamboo wares, pos- 
sessed of great hardness and durability, and capable of 
enduring considerable heat ; a porcelain especially calcu- 
lated as a material for mortars for chemical purposes, 
from its strength and its capability of resisting almost 
every known liquid. 

But it was not alone in the practical utility of the kinds 
of ware produced by Mr. Wedgwood that his merit is 
conspicuous. He was the first to give a stamp of ele- 
gance and taste to articles of British porcelain, by the 
graceful form given to them and the beautiful designs 
with which they were painted or printed. He employed 
artists of eminence to invent new designs, and brought 
the resources of the chemist to determine the power of 
different colouring substances to unite with porcelain. 
He executed au imitation of the celebrated Barberini 
Vase for the Duke of Portland, of which we have given 
an account in vol. i., p. 249, and in the present, at p. 2. 
In the article last mentioned it was stated, on the autho- 
rity of the evidence of Mr. E. Cowper, in the Parliamen- 
tary Report on Arts and Manufactures, 1836 (part ii., 
p. 80), that the moulds of the Portland Vase were broken 
by Mr. Wedgwood, in order to render his successful 
imitation more rare. His son, Josiah Wedgwood, Esq:, has 
written to us to contradict that statement : he says, " The 
number of copies was restricted by the extreme difficulty 
and risk of executing each copy, which were so great 

abled, unsuspected, to acquire a knowledge of all that was j that, I believe, my father never sold ten copies ; and the 

done in the manufactory, aud to make models of all the 
utensils for his own use. At the departure of the brothers 
Elers, Astbury carried on business on his own account. 
Before his time the pottery was chiefly of a coarse kind \ 
but he discovered the means of producing " white ware," 
by the adoption of calcined or burnt flints. It is said 
that while Astbury was journeying to London on horse- 
back, about the year 1720, he had occasion, at Dunstable, 
to seek for a remedy for a disorder in his horse's eyes. 
The ostler at the inn burned a flint, reduced it to powder, 
and blew some of it into the eyes of the horse. Astbury 
noticed the beautiful whiteness which the burnt and pow- 
dered flint presented, and, his mind being evidently pre- 
pared for the reception of any truth which would improve 
his manufactures, instantly conceived the idea of employ- 
ing it as a material in pottery. This idea, by its success- 
mi application, has supplied many a* poor cottage with 
neat and clean drinking- vessels, which could not previously 
be produced, and has brought thousands of pounds to the 
British potteries. 

But the individual who has done more than any other 
person for the advancement of British pottery was the 
late Mr. Josiah Wedgwood. In most branches of manu- 
facture there has been, among many others, one individual 
m particular, whose discoveries and improvements have 
been so marked, so superior, and so advantageous to the 
manufacturing interests of the country, that his name has 
become imperishably connected with the species of manu- 
facture in question. The names of Watt, Lombe, and 
Arkwright belong to this class, and in the same class must 
Mr. Wedgwood be placed. 

This gentleman was a younger son of a potter, and was 
Wn in Staffordshire, in 1130. His education was not 
very liberal, and his patrimony was small ; but no cir- 
cumstances could easily have retarded his genius or have 
damped that activity of mind for which he was distin- 

moulds are not broken, but are now in my possession." 
As a speculation it was unsuccessful ; but one purpose 
was answered by it, which seems never to have been 
absent from Mr. Wedgwood's mind, which was, the 
raising of the reputation of England as a manufacturing 
country. He gradually drew round his residence artists, 
men of science, and manufactories, and gave to the village 
or town which he thus created the name of Etruria, after 
one of the ancient Italian states, which acquired a repu- 
tation for the beautiful specimens of pottery it produced. 
This short notice of a really great man will prepare us 
to enter upon the details of those processes to which his 
energy and abilities were devoted. 


No. I. — Birth of St. Gkorqk : St, George and ths 
Dragon. - 

[Concluded from No. 445.] 

It was . not likely that ballads such as these could es- 
cape ridicule in days when much that was serious and 
sober called down satire and sarcasm; the romances 
gave birth to ' Don Quixote,' and the ballad of ' St. George 
and the Dragon' occasioned the ballad of ' The Dragon of 
Wantley,' and the still wittier one of ' St. George for 
England.' Both have a levity of expression, yet a cer- 
tain gravity of narrative, which heightens the humour 
and increases the ludicrous. 

The author of ' The Dragon of Wantlev ' enters on his 
subject at once. " We are told," says ne, " how Her- 
cules slew a dragon at Lerna with seven heads and twice 
as many eyes ; but he had a club, whereas More of 
More-hall, with nothing at all in his hand, slew the dreadful 
Dragon of Wantley." This monster had a sting in his 
tail, long claws, a skin as tough as the hide of a rhino- 
ceros, four and forty teeth of iron : he ate cattle* — nay, 
swallowed a church all to the foundation-stone, which his 

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TMarch 16, 183g. 

iron teeth could not crack. The den where he lodged 
was within three miles of Rotherham. 

" Some say this dragon was a witch, A 

Some say he was a devil, 
For from hi: 
And with 
Which he < cough, 

In a well ■ 

Which mad rook 

Running f" 

This fierce monster having eaten many of the children 
round Rotherham, the women and men hegan to think 
their turn would come next, and looked about for a cham- 
pion, who, like a Becond St, *ver them 
from its jaws. They soon y wanted. 
More of More-hall lived in : he was 
expert in all manly exercise , estle, play 
at quarter-staff, kick, cuff, and huff, call hard names- 
nay, he had been known to seize a horse by the tail, and 
swing him round in the air till he died ;— and it was said 
by some that he ate him all up, save the shoes. To this 
worthy the people ran in a crowd, crying, 
<* O, save us all, More of More-hall, 
Thou peerless knight of the wood* ; 
Do but slay this dragon, who won't leave us a rag on, 
We'll give thee all our goods. 


ind keen, 

is snow, 
ruing ; 
;o to fight, 

This being settled, More of More-hall bespoke a new 
kind of armour at Sheffield, with spikes of steel projecting 
all around : he put it on, and advancing against the Dra- 
gon with his fierce looks and his bristling mail, alarmed 
all the cows and cats and dogs in the district, who mis- 
took him for a strange hedgehog. The champion was no 
whit dismayed; yet, when he saw the people of Rother- 
ham betake them to housetops and trees, he drank six 
pots of ale and a quart of aqua-vitae, for he knew the 
combat would be long and perilous. Adding cunning to 
• courage, he crept into a well, and when the Dragon, 
not aware of his enemy, stooped down to drink, More of 
More-hall started up, cried " Boh !" and gave him a blow 
on the mouth. " A murrain on thee," said the Dragon, 
" thou disturbest me in my drink ;" and turning quickly 
round, diffused a smell so offensive to the knight, that he 
exclaimed, " Beshrew thee, foul monster, thy airs are so 
unsavoury, that thy diet must be unwholesome. This 
malaria forced the champion from his ambush. 
< Our politic knight on the other side 
Crept out upon the brink, 
And gave the Dragon such a douse,' 

He knew not what to think. 
By cock, quoth he, say you so, d'ye see, 

And then at him let fly 
With hand and foot, and so they went to 't 
And the word was, Hey., boys, hey 1" 

The combat lasted two days and a night, and so wetl was 
the battle balanced, that neither was wounded : at length 
the Dragon gave his adversary a hard knock, and seizing 
him, tried to toss him over his head ; but More of More- 
hall with his spiked-foot gave his enemy such a kick in 
a tender part as finished the fight. 

" Oh, quoth the Dragon, with a deep sigh, f 

times together, 

g, cursing and swearing, 

: of leather ; 

I O, thou rascal ! 

in thee never ; 

thy foot thou hast pricked myjgut, 
And I am undone for ever." 
Tliis strange burlesque ballad has been explained to 
mean a law-suit respecting a claim of tithes made by the 
Wortleys on the lands of Penistone, near Rotherham : 

that it is a personal lampoon there can be as little doubt 
as that * St. George for England ' was composed 
for the St. George's Club of Oxford, in 1688, by John 
Grubb, a scholar of Christchurch, as a mirthsome sally to 
show his learning and wit, and he has shown both. 
41 King Arthur," says Grubb, " was celebrated for the 
bravery of .his knights, the roundness of his table, and the 
sharpness of his sword; but though he was the cream of 
Brecknock and the flower of all Wales, what was he com- 
pared to St. George, who slew the Dragon ?" 
«' Pendragon, like his father Jove 
Was fed on milk of goat, 
And like him made a noble shield 
. Of a she-goat's shaggy coat ; 
On top of burnished helmet he 

Did wear a crest of leeks 
And onion-heads, whose dreadful n>d 

Drew tears down hostile cheeks. 
His sword would serve for battle, or 

For dinuer, if you please ; 
When it had slain a Cheshire maa, 
'Twould toast a Cheshire cheese. 
He wounded, and in their own blood 

Did anabaptize Pagans ; 
But, St. George, he made the Dragon 
Au example to all dragons." 

Britain, continues the poet, has other heroes scarcely less 
celebrated. Guy of Warwick slew a giant, and fought 
with a dun-cow which the dog-days had maddened : she 
was no unworthy conquest. 

" She vanquished many a sturdy wight, 

And proud was of the honour ; 
Was puffed by mauling butchers so, 

As if themselves had blown her. 
At once she kickt and pusht at Guy, 

But all that would not fright him, 
Who waved his whinyard o'er Sir Loin, 

As if he'd gone to knight him ! 
He reared up her vast crooked rib 

Instead of arch triumphal; 
But George hit th' Dragon such a pelt* 

As made him on his bum fall,*' 

But what, exclaims he, were the exploits of all 
the heroes of antient or modern times compared to those 
of St. George ? Tamerlane the Tartar loved to sheathe 
his sword in Turkey leather, and feed Bajazet in his cage 
like a squirrel : the fires which Thalestris shot from her 
eyes melted down " the souls of men in their corporeal 
scabbards :" Hercules cleansed a stable, and gave Antaeus 
a Cornish hug : the horse of Castor and Pollux carried 
them to battle through the air, and still lives fed on the 
immortal provender of the poets : Gorgon could turn 
barbers into hones, masons into freestone, and stared 
the hardy hoys of Deucalion into pebbles: Achilles 
robbed the hen-roosts of Troy, and tore Hector's panta- 
loons : yet, what were they all to St. George, who gave 
the Dragon at the first round " a plaguy squelch ;" made 
him at the second " an example to all dragons ;" caused 
him " on his bum fall " at the third ; " swinged his 
scaly tail and cut off an inch on't " in the fourth ; " undid 
him as men undo an oyster " in the fifth ; made him " aa 
dead as any door-nail " in the sixth ; and* in the con- 
cluding rounds caused him look " as if he'd been be- 
witched," created " a grumbling in his gizzard," and 
finally " shaved the monster's beard, and Ascalon (the 
name of his sword) was his razor." A. C. 

Use of the Walnut Tree.— Walnuts yield half their own 
weight in oil, whose flavour is considered equal to that of 
the finest Lucca oil. This very fruitful tree, which we see 
flourishing along the high road, and in the orchards of the 
peasants, is one of great utility to the German : his furni- 
ture is made from it, the leaves dye a good black, and he 
feeds his cattle with the shells of the nuts that have sup- 
plied his oil.— Germany and the Germans. 

• • The Office of the Societv for the Diffusion of Uieftil Knowledge ia at 
# 59. Lincoln'* Inn Field*. 

Printed by William Clowks & Sows, SUmford-Stroot. 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[March 23, 1839. 


/Concluded from No. 445 , ." 

(The Repository and 

From the Arsenal a few steps will bring us to the gates 
of the Royal Dockyard, an establishment to which Wool- 
wich may be said principally to owe its present im- 
portance. At an early period the natural capabilities of 
the place were deemed admirably adapted for the con- 
struction of jessels ; the river at this part being nearly a 
mile across, and deep enough to float vessels of the 
largest burthen within a very short distance of the shore ; 
and accordingly in the reign of Henry VIII. a royal 
dockyard was established here, in which the well-known 
u Harry Grace a Dieu" waB built in 1515. This mag- 
nificent vessel (of which a description will be found in 
vol. vii., page 136, of this work), after exciting the 
greatest wonder and admiration on account of its size 
(being then the largest vessel ever built), and the splen- 
dour of its decorations, for a period of about forty years, 
was at length accidentally consumed by fire in 1.553, in 
the Tery yard in which it was built. 

It was not, however, until the reign of Elizabeth that 

the Dockyard of Woolwich became of any importance. 

That wise princess, seeing the value of a well-appointed 

aavy to othet nations, resolved to pay more attention to 

Vol VIII. 

Rotunda, Woolwich.] 

her own ; and as the success of a naval expedition de- 
pends not only on the talents and enterprise of its com- 
manders, but in a great measure on the build and equip- 
ment of the vessels, all that the experience of the seaman 
and the theory of the mathematician could suggest for the 
improvement of naval architecture was put to the test in 
the specimens which emanated from the dockyard at 

The superior build of the vessels constructed at this 
place raised it to considerable importance, and it was from 
here that most of the ships celebrated in the victories of 
Drake and Hawkins, and in the voyages of Cavendish 
and Frobisher, were launched. 

In was in the reign of Charles I., after the Dockyard 
had been greatly enlarged and the interior economy much 
improved, that the magnificent vessel, " The Sovereign 
of the Seas," was constructed. She was registered for 
1637 tons ; measured in length 232 feet, in breadth 48 
feet, and in height from the keel to the highest point of 
the stern 76 feet. After having signalized herself in 
several actions during nearly sixty , years, she was at 
| last destroyed by fire at Chatham, whither she had 


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[March 23 

proceeded to undergo some repairs, in the year 

Thomas Heywood published a very minute description 
of this vessel when she was launched, from which all the 
important parts have been given in the present work (vol. 
vii., page 340). 

The Dockyard increased as the importance of our navy 
became more apparent to succeeding sovereigns, and at 
the present time is of very considerable extent. It com- 
mences at the village of New Charlton on the west, and 
extends nearly a mile along the banks of the river to the 
east, at which part it closely approaches the Arsenal. It 
contains two large dry docks for the repair of vessels, and 
an extensive basin, four hundred feet long, and nearly 
three hundred in breadth, capable of receiving vessels of 
the largest size. There are also extensive ranges of 
timber-sheds, storehouses, several mast-houses, a large 
pond for masts, and others for boats. And as all the 
iron instruments used in the construction of ships are 
manufactured at this place, a large building has been 
erected for the purpose, provided with steam-engines of 
great power. The anchors, many of immense size, which 
have been cast and finished here, are disposed in long 
ranges, ready for instant employment. 

Each department is under the superintendence of a sepa- 
rate officer, the whole being under the direction of the 
Board of Admiralty. A commissioner, the master- 
attendant, the storekeeper, and the principal officers of 
the other departments, reside on the spot, several houses 
having been erected for their accommodation. 

Let us now proceed to the Repository and Rotunda, of 
which a view is given in the preceding page. It is situated 
on the margin of Woolwich Common, to the south of the 
town. The ground around the building is much broken, 
and intersected with two or three pieces of water, which 
afford the Artillery corps opportunities for the practice of 
many manoeuvres likelyto be brought into operation dur- 
ing war. Embankments and fortifications have also been 
constructed, mounted with the various species of ord- 
nance employed in the defence of besieged places, at 
which the men are exercised. They are often directed 
to form pontoons across the ponds, and practised in the 
methods adopted for the raising of sunken guns, &c. 

The Rotunda was originally erected in Carlton Gardens 
by George IV. when Prince Regent, for the reception of 
the allied sovereigns on the occasion of their visit to Eng- 
land in 1814, and was subsequently presented by him 
to the Garrison at Woolwich, where it was removed to 
become a depository for models connected with military 
and naval architecture. Its form is a regular polygon of 
24 sides, having a diameter of 1 20 feet, with the roof 
ascending in the form of a cone to more than fifty feet. 

The building, having a tent-like form, was at first 
wholly unsupported in the centre, but not being con- 
sidered perfectly secure, a pillar was subsequently erected 
as a central support. 

The interior is crowded with military weapons of of- 
fence and defence. In the centre, tastefully arranged 
around the pillar, are old English weapons, as the an- 
tient matchlock, the wheel-lock, two-handed swords, early 
cannon, shields, bills and partizans, pikes, helmets, cui- 
rasses, Ac, together with many trophies from foreign 
powers. Above these is a beautiful suite of armour, said 
to have belonged to the chivalrous Bayard. 

Near the walls are exhibited many other articles of a 
similar description, consisting of the arms and costume of 
the North American Indians, the South Sea Islanders, 
&c. ; rockets of every variety, models of bombs, the 
larger cannon, howitzers, and mortars, with their dif- 
ferent carriages. There are also models of foreign artil- 
lery, and a splendid matchlock taken from Tippoo Saib 
at Seringapatam. Here are also many models of " in- 
fernal machines," and several inventions by Sir William 

In the body of the room are models of forts, cities, and 
dockyards, including a splendid model of Gibraltar, the 
Dockyards of Chatham and Portsmouth, the Breakwater 
at Plymouth, the Isle of St. Kitts, the citadel of Messina, 
the town and environs of Quebec, showing the spot where 
Wolfe fell, &c. &c. In the rock of Gibraltar the interior 
passages and excavations, with the whole of the fortifica- 
tions, are shown. It would be a long task, and an unpro- 
fitable one, to notice all the objects of interest in this 
museum; but several hours might be advantageously 
employed in their inspection. 


A very beautiful and interesting work has just been 
published upon this subject, by William Scrope, Esq.,* 
and we avail ourselves of its pages to present to our 
readers a slight description of the sport, and a few notices 
of the graceful and spirited creature it concerns : not as 
we see it in our own green parks, but as it is when wildly 
roaming through the still wilder Scottish forests, free as 
the air it breathes, and stepping at proudly along its 
native crags as though it neither knew nor would acknow- 
ledge a master. 

Of this most exciting of all British sports we have here 
a scarcely less exciting account by one who has evidently 
enjoyed it with all his heart and soul. He luxuriates in 
the mere remembrance with the gusto of a true lover, 
whilst his eloquence aims at no higher object than to 
enable others to participate in hit gratifications. Of any 
of those sports which involve pain or anguish to the 
animal creation, we profess to be no admirers ; but in 
this there is so much mental skill and physical fortitude 
required, the scene is so full of inspiring and elevating 
influences, with its crags, mountains, and precipices, its 
cataracts, and its burns, its storms, its mists, and its 
M golden exhalations of the dawn;" there is, in short, so 
riotous a sense of life, such a delicious feeling of enjoy- 
ment obtained in the pursuit, that we in " populous cities 
pent" cannot at least but unfeignedly envy the deer- 
stalker the happiness of a day in the Highlands. We 
proceed to give a specimen of the sport, in which we 
have done little more than condense the author's descrip- 
tion, and have been forced to sacrifice much of the dra- 
matic interest contained in the original. 

It is just day-break ; the stalker leaps from his bed, 
takes a single glance at the sky to see the course of the 
wind, and hurries on his apparel. Breakfast awaits him, 
a Scotch breakfast, fit preparative for the exertions of the 
day. Tea and coffee, venison pasty, mutton chops and 
broiled grouse, eggs, rolls, dry toast, and household bread 
are set forth in sufficient profusion to satisfy the sharpest 
as well as the most epicurean appetites. Breakfast over, 
he is prepared for a start. His attendants, one holding 
a couple of hounds in a leash tugging with impatience 
to be off, are quite ready, and they all move on at a good 
pace through the light falling mist. Ben Dairg (or the 
red hill) is their immediate object. They ascend its 
rugged sides with the firm steps of men accustomed to 
the toil, until they reach the point immediately under the 
huge mass of granite which forms the summit of the 
mountain, and where all around are the bones of young 
fawns, lambs, and moor-fowl, the prey of the fox, the 
wild cat, and the eagle. A little higher, and they are 
on the top of Ben Dairg, looking down as upon a new 
world. Here everything bears the original impress of 
nature, untouched by the hand of man since its creation. 
The vast moor spread out below, the mass of huge moun- 
tains heaving up their crests around, the peaks in the 

* k The Art of Dew-Stalking,' by William 8crope, Esq., pub- 
lished by Mr. Murray. From this work the matter of our article 
is borrowed ; and where we could, we have quoted the author's 
own words. 

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distance, faint almost as the sky itself, give the appear- 
ance of an extent boundless and sublime as the ocean. 
Through all this desolate region there is nothing that can 
remind you of domestic life ; you shall hear no sound 
but the rushing of the torrent, or the notes of the wild 
animals, the natural inhabitants ; you shall see only the 
moor-fowl and the plover flying before you from hillock 
to hillock, or the eagle soaring aloft with his eyes to the 
sun or his wings wet with mist. The stalker now lays 
down his rifle on the heather, creeps forward on his hands 
and knees to a spot where he may have the best view of 
the glens below, steadily poises his telescope, and takes a 
minute survey. Disappointed, he is about to turn away 
and shift his position, when a something attracts his at- 
tention in the bog by the burn under an opposite moun- 
tain. " It is, yes, it is a hart ! a fine noble fellow with 
a magnificent pair of antlers, as he shows us by that toss 
of his head." With a rapid yet accurate glance the 
landmarks all round the spot where the hart lies are 
noted, one of the party is left to watch his movements, 
whilst the others endeavour by a circuitous route to get 
within shot They descend the hill easily enough ; but 
now must advance on their hands and knees over the 
surface of the black bog ; now they must descend into 
the rocky burn, following its continual windings, until 
they reach a piece of green sward, open to the view of 
die watchful hinds, who are scattered on the surface of 
the hill above the devoted hart. What is now to be 
done ? A still more circuitous path is sought in vain. 
" Raise not a foot nor a hand," commands the leader ; 
" let nojt a hair of your head be seen; imitate my motions 
precisely." He lies down upon his breast, and worms 
himself along, half stifled, concealed only by a small ridge 
that barely covers him and his followers, who with great 
precision execute the same manoeuvre. Again they are 
stopped j the burn crosses their route, and a deep-looking 
stream of water glides along its channel. There is no 
help for it ; they descend silently into the pool (not daring 
the while to lift their heads above the ground), the guns 
are carefully handed from one to another as they stand 
immersed breast-high, and thus they again reach the 
sward ; and to the stalker's delight, behold one of the 
marks previously noted in the neighbourhood of the deer. 
Is he still there? The stalker raises his head slowly inch 
by inch ; the horns are just visible over the line of the 
ground. Subduing his delight, he feels his rifle, makes 
a slight noise, the deer is seen to spring, and the crack 
of the gun is heard at the same moment — the hart is 
gone ! But not unhurt, the ball is in him, and the dogs 
are after him. Away they go over moss and rock, steep 
and level, in and out of the black mire, unto the foot of 
a hiD, which they ascend with a slackened pace. Up 
the nearest eminence runs one of the hunters, and with 
levelled glass endeavours to watch their course. The 
deer-stalker at his topmost speed follows the chace, listen- 
ing anxiously as he runs for the bark of the dogs signi- 
ficant of their having brought the stag to bay. The 
wished-for voices soon break upon him, he redoubles his 
speed, and a sudden opening being entered, there is the 
magnificent creature, standing on a narrow projecting 
ledge of rock within the cleft, in the middle course of the 
mountain cataract, the rocks closed in upon his flanks, 
bidding defiance in his own mountain-hold! On the 
very edge of the precipice the dogs are baying at him 
furiously ; one rush of the stag will send them down the 
chasm into eternity, yet in their fury they seem wholly 
unconscious of the danger. Delay would now be fatal ; 
the stalker creeps cautiously round to the nearest com- 
manding spot; every moment is precious, yet the least 
carelessness on his part that should reveal his presence 
to the deer would cause the latter to break bay, and in 
all probability precipitate the fate of the dogs. Mean- 
time the stag, maddened by their vexatious attacks, makes 
a desperate stab at one of, them, which the dog, endea- | 

vouring to avoid, retreats backward, loses his footing, 
his hind legs slip over the precipice — he is lost t No, 
he struggles courageously, his fore feet holding on by 
the little roughnesses of the bed of the torrent. He rises 
a little, but slips back again; he gasps painfully, but 
summons up all his strength and resolution for one last 
effort; hurra! the gallant dog has recovered his footing, 
and, not even taking breathing time, rushes at the hart 
as rash and wrathful as ever ! The stalker is now ready 
on a mount overlooking the scene; he levels, but a sud- 
den movement brings the dogs within the scope of the 
gun. Three times is the aim taken and abandoned; a 
fourth — crack ! the ball is in the deer's head, he drops 
heavily into the Bplashing waters. 

Deer, except in embarrassed situations, always run up 
the wind ; their scent thus giving them warning of any 
concealed enemies in front, and their speed ensuring them 
against danger from the rear. They prefer lying in the 
open crevices where the swells of wind come up occa- 
sionally from all quarters. There is no animal more shy 
or solitary by nature than the red deer. He takes the 
note of alarm from every living thing on the moor — all 
seem to be his sentinels. He is always most timid when 
he does not see his adversary, for then he suspects an 
ambush. If, on the contrary, he has him full in view, 
he is as cool and circumspect as possible ; he then watches 
him most acutely, endeavours to discover his intention, 
and takes the best method possible to defeat . it. From 
all this it may be gathered that the qualifications of a 
deer-stalker are really of a high order. In Mr. Scrope's 
enumeration of them, there is much simple truth beneath 
the facetious exaggeration. "Your consummate deer- 
stalker," he says, " should not only be able to run like 
an antelope, and breathe like the trade winds, but to run 
in a stooping position, at a greyhound pace, with his 
back parallel to the ground, and his face within an inch 
of it for a mile together. He should take a singular 
pleasure in threading the seams of a bog, or in gliding 
down a burn like an eel. Strong and pliant in the ancle 
he should indubitably be ; since in running swiftly down 
precipices, picturesquely adorned with sharp-edged, an- 
gular, vindictive stones, his feet will get into awkward 
cavities ; if his legs are devoid of the faculty of breaking, 
so much the better. He should rejoice in wading through 
torrents, and be able to stand firmly on water-worn 
stones unconscious of the action of the current ; or if the 
waves be too powerful for him, when he loses his balance 
and goes floating away on his back (for if he has any 
tact or sense of the picturesque, he will fall backwards), 
he should raise his rifle aloft in the air, lest his powder 
get wet. As for sleep, he should be a stranger to it ; and 
if a man gets into the slothful habit of lying in bed for 
fiwe or six hours at a time, I should be glad to know 
what he is fit for ? Steady, very steady his hand should 
be, and at times wholly without a pulse. Hyacinthine 
curls are a very graceful ornament to the head, but I 
leave it to a deer-stalker's own good sense, whether it 
would not be infinitely better for him to shave his crown 
at once than to risk the loss of a single shot during the 
season. As to mental endowments, he should have the 
qualifications of a Ulysses and a Philidor combined. 
Wary and circumspect, never going rashly to work, but 
surveying all his ground like an experienced general* 
before he commences operations, patient under suspense 
and disappointment, fertile in conception, and rapid and 
decisive in execution. He must be brave to attempt, he 
must have fortitude to suffer. What more can be required 
for the greatest undertakings ?" 

i^ CTo bo Continued.] 

• " It is fact," says Mr. Scrope, " that one of our most gallant 
and celebrated generals, Lord Lynedoch, declared that ne ob- 
tained his knowledge of ground by deer-hunting in Atholl Park." 


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[Maboh 23, 


[Continued from No. 445 J 

[The Duke of Bedford and St. George.— From the Bedford Missal.] 

HE illuminations of MSS., 
as exemplifying the state of 
painting in the early ages ; 
and the influence which 
such performances must 
have had on the formation 
and improvement of taste 
in art, have never received 
that consideration from his- 
torians of painting which the 
importance of the subject 
would seem to demand. In 
England, as in France, until 
after MSS. had been super- 
seded by the introduction of printing, these are almost the 
only monuments of the art which exist ; and in Germany, 
before the sixteenth century, there were but few artists who 
exerted themselves in the higher departments of their pro- 
fession. Therefore, in treating of the early state of painting 
in those couutries, it is absolutely necessary to consult such 
authorities, if we wish to obtain an accurate view of the 
subject. But even in Italy, the cherished abode of 

the arts, where painting was patronized from almost its 
first introduction with as much ardour as in the periods 
of its greatest perfection, the art of illuminating MSS. 
with miniatures was the first and, for a long period, 
nearly the only style in which painting was practised ; 
and in the times of Giotto, Cimabue, &c. (to which the 
restoration of art is generally referred), it exhibited a 
degree of excellence in design, composition, and colour, 
which the larger productions of that age seldom suqiass. 
But not only were the more extensive efforts of the pencil 
similar in design to the small miniatures in MSS., but 
the two practices appear to have been held in like esteem ; 
the painters of one being often the draftsmen of the other, 
as in the instances of Giotto, Simone Nemmi, Cosima 
Tura, &c. 

If we compare the drawings of manuscripts with the 
large fresco paintings of the early ages (as, for instance, 
of the thirteenth century), we shall find the same peculi- 
arities of drawing, the same arrangement of colours, the 
same disposition of the figures, in fact the same style, dis- 
figured with like defects, existing in both. The excel- 
lence of art does not consist in the vehicle employed by 

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the artist, nor in the size of his picture, but in the 
management of his subject, the composition or group- 
ing of his figures, the expression of the passions in 
their countenances and attitudes, &c, which, whether 
portrayed in oil or in water colours, on the walls of a 
chapel, the compartments of an altar, or the leaves of a 
book, equally exhibit the richness of the artist's ima- 
gination and his powers of execution. We ought not 
therefore to refer to Giotto and the other painters in fresco 
of his time as the restorers of art in Italy, if we find that 
their contemporaries, or even their predecessors, were 
equally deserving of praise for their success in developing 
the grand principles of art, though only such specimens 
of their talents may exist as the Missals and Choral Books 
of the Italian monasteries exhibit. It will be found that 
the progress made by the early Italian painters was 
gradual, each succeeding period improving upon that 
which preceded it; and this is observable not only in 
the frescos of the more celebrated painters, but in the mi- 
niatures of the less known though not less talented artists. 
The notices of those Italian artists who enriched the 
MSS. of the twelfth and following centuries are nearly as 
incomplete as the accounts we have of the iiluminists of 
other countries at like early periods. Vasari has placed 
Oderigi da Gubbio and Franco Bolognese (of the latter 
part of the thirteenth century) among the earliest minia- 
ture painters ; but several other artists who exercised this 
art have been named by other writers as*having flourished 
previously, and a number of Italian MSS. of the twelfth 
and eleventh centuries exist, which, although they do not 
furnish us with the artists' names, serve to exhibit the 
state of art at the periods at which they were executed, 
and prove that excellence in this, as in other pursuits, 
was the result of time and experience. 

In the splendid library of Sir T. Phillipps there is a 
MS., said to have been given by the Countess Matilda to 
the Benedictine monastery at Mantua, which contains 
several miniatures executed in the eleventh century, of 
considerable merit for the time. Ottley has given a 
slight description of this MS. in his account of the 
Devonshire Benedictional, in the * Archteologia.' At a 
somewhat later period, the commencement of the thirteenth 
century, Oderico of Sienna flourished, an artist whose 
name appears attached to some illuminations to a MS. of 
the date of 1213, in the library of the academy at Flo- 
rence ; his style, however, did not excel that observable 
in other productions of the time. Another Sienese artist 
of the same period is mentioned with more applause : 
this was Guido or Guidone, who is mentioned by Lanzi, 
from Marmi and other writers, as having employed him- 
self in painting miniatures. No specimen of his smaller 
compositions is believed to exist ; but in the church of 
St Dominico, at Sienna, is a picture of the Virgin painted 
by him in 1221, which has received the encomiums of 
several writers, and has been declared to be but little in- 
ferior to the productions of Cimabue, who afterwards 
adopted a very similar style. 

The illuminatists of this period were extremely nume- 
rous, as the many MSS., especially the books used for 
chanting the services of the Romish church, called 
Choral Books, executed for the Italian monasteries, and 
particularly for the Papal library, amply testify. 

In Italy, as in England and France, many of the 
miniatures which adorn early MSS. were the production 
of the monks, who, secluded in the cloister, sought some 
amusement in this elegant employment; and from the 
monasteries of Italy have sprung some of its most 
esteemed painters. 

It was in the latter part of the thirteenth century that 
Oderigi da Gubbio and Franco Bolognese were employed 
to enrich the MSS. of the Italians, especially those of the 
Papal library. Both are mentioned by Dante in his 
'Purgatorio/ in a manner which shows in what estima- 
tion they were held by the Italians ; the passage in which 

this notice occurs, is also valuable for the evidence it 
affords of the renown of the French illuminators. 
" ' (V disa lui, < non se' tu Oderisi, 

L' onor d* Agubbio, e 1'onor di quell' arte 
Che alluminar e chiamata a Pansi ?' 
' Prate,' diss* egli, * pia ridon le carte 
Che*pennellegia Franco Bolognese : 
L' onor ft tutto or iuo, e mio in parte.' ** 

Purgatobio.— Canto XI, 
Oderigi died about 1300, and Franco Bolognese (who 
studied under him) in about twenty years after. 

To this period may be referred the productions of 
Simone, one of which, in the Ambrosian library at Milan, 
has received particular commendation. This is a MS. of 
Virgil with the Commentary of Servius, once the property 
of Petrarch. In the frontispiece is a miniature, to which 
the following verses are subjoined : — 

" Mantua Virgilium qui talia carmina finxit, 
Sena tulit Simonem digito qui talia pinxit." 

The artist has represented Virgil sitting in the attitude 
of writing, " with his eyes raised to heaven, inviting the 
favour of the Muses. jEneas is before him in the garb 
and with the demeanour of a warrior, and, pointing with 
his sword, intimates the subject of the ' jEneid.' The 

* Bucolics' are represented by a shepherd, and the c Georgics' 
by a husbandman ; both of whom are on a lower fore- 
ground of the piece, and appear listening to the strain. 
Servius, in the meantime, appears drawing aside a veil of 
great delicacy and transparency, to intimate that his 
readings unveil what would otherwise have remaiued ob- 
scure and doubtful to the reader of that divine poet." 
The composition and colouring of these illuminations 
have been praised by Bianconi, in an account of this 
MS., in P. della Valle's c Sienese Letters ;» but he says, 
some of the characteristic peculiarities of the early painters, 
especially in the heads and hands, are observable. This 
artist was born in 1284, and died in 1345. 

In the early part of the fifteenth century, two artists 
greatly distinguished themselves as painters, both in 
miniature and fresco. 

F. Giovanni da Fiesole, or B. Giov. Angelico, as he 
is sometimes called, was born in 1387, and as a Domini- 
can friar, employed himself in ornamenting books with 
miniatures, an art he learned from an elder brother, who 
executed miniature and other paintings. " His works 
discover some traces of the manner of Giotto, in the pos- 
ture of the figures and the compensation for deficiencies 
in the art, not to mention the drapery, which is often 
folded in long tube-like forms, and the exquisite diligence 
in minute particulars common to miniature painters. "t 
We are not aware that any of his miniature pro- 
ductions are now in existence, but in Florence and Pisa 
there are many of his larger works in fresco, which ex- 
hibit great power of imagination, facility in drawing, and 
acquaintance with colours. 

The other artist to whom we have alluded was a 
monk named Filippo Lippi, who imitated the preceding 
painters, and whose larger works may be seen at Naples, 
at Padua, and at Spoleto, &c. 

[The wood-cut m page 108 is from a miniature in a 
magnificent ' Book of Offices,' written and ornamented for 
John, duke of Bedford, in the reign of Henry VI. We 
have not left ourselves room for a description of this MS. 
in the present number ; but we shall more particularly 
allude to it in our next article.] 

[To be oonUnoed.] 

* "'O!',. I exclaimed, 
Art thou not Oderigi, art not thou 

Agobbio's glory, glory of that art 

Which they of Paris call the limner's skill V 

1 Brother V said he, ' with tints that gayer smile, 
Bolognian Franco's pencil lines the leaves. 
His all the honour now; mine borrow'd light' " 

Cakx'i Tramlaiim* 
f Lanxi, 

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[March 23, 

However numerous may be the varieties of pottery, 
from the elegant china vase, or the delicate biscuit statue, 
down to the common red flower-pot, flint and clay form 
the two staple articles of which they are formed. In 
proportion to the fineness of the ware sought to be pro- 
duced, must be the care bestowed upon the choice and 
preparation of the materials, and the addition of other sub- 
stances to the two essential ones which we have men- 
tioned. We shall therefore proceed to describe succes- 
sively the materials employed; the mode of preparing 
them ; of making the prepared materials into the desired 
form ; and of baking, glazing, ornamenting, and gilding 
the tea-cup or other article produced. 

Silica, or pure flint, occurs in most parts of the world 
in primitive mountains ; nodules, or large pebbles, are 
also found embedded in chalk ; and in a still more pul- 
verized state, it is presented to us in the form of gravel 
in alluvial districts. The shingle which abounds so 
greatly at the sea-coast near Brighton and other seaports 
consists of silica, or flint. The best flints are of a dark 
grey colour approaching to black : those pieces which 
present yellow patches are rejected by the potter, on ac- 
count of their containing iron as one of their ingredients. 
The rolled pieces of flint taken from chalk-pits are those 
most useful to the potter : the larger specimens of these 
are dark within, and covered externally with a white crust. 

Clay is, generally speaking, well known to everybody ; 
indeed its soft and remarkably iuelastic character has 
furnished us with the words " clayey," " claylike," &c, 
in reference to substances having those properties. Clay, 
when absolutely firm, does not emit any odour ; but in . 
the form in which it is always found, and used in ma- 
nufactures, it emits a peculiar odour when breathed on. 
One source of the great value of clay to the potter is, 
that it can be mixed with water in any proportion, so as 
to afford a liquid as clear as milk ; or a mixture of the 
consistence of cream, — of butter, — or of putty, as may 
be required. Another property, and perhaps the most 
valuable to the potter, is its power of bearing the most 
intense heat of a furnace without the smallest approach 
to liquefaction. By the process of heating or baking, it 
assumes a colour varying from red to pure white, de- 
pending principally on the amount of iron which it con- 
tains ; — that species containing the most iron becomes red 
by baking. 

The principal part of the potters' clay used for the 
better kinds of ware in England is a stiff clay, blue, 
black, or brown, brought from Devonshire and Dorset- 
shire, and from thence conveyed to Staffordshire. Mr. 
Wedgwood, in giving evidence before the House of Lords 
in favour of abolishing certain restrictions to commerce, 
spoke of the potteries as being not only advantageous to 
Staffordshire itself, but as enriching a vast number of 
persons by the preparation and conveyance of clay, &c. 
from the West of England to the Pottery district. He 
alluded to " the great number of persons employed in 
raising and preparing the raw materials in several distant 
parts of England, from near the Land's End in Cornwall, 
— one way along different parts of the coast, to Falmouth, 
Teignmouth, Exeter, Poole, Gravesend, and the Norfolk 
coast \ the other way to Bideford, Wales, and the Irish 
coast. The coasting vessels, which have been employed at 
the proper season in the Newfoundland fishery, carry these 
materials coastwise to Liverpool and Hull, to the amount 
of more than twenty thousand tons yearly ; and at times 
when, without this employment, they would be laid up 
idle in harbour. Besides this, is the further conveyance 
of these materials from those ports, by river and canal 
navigation, to the Potteries, situated in one of the most in- 
land parts of the kingdom." 

Of the different kinds of West of England clay, the 
blue variety brought from the Isle of Purbeck is most 
valuable to^ the potter, and oommancte the highest price. 

Each kind has its peculiar excellences, and the potter em- 
ploys one or more of them according to the description 
of ware which he wishes to produce. Supposing the 
proper kind of clay to be ready at hand, the potter be- 
gins his labours as follows. 

The clay has to be mixed with water; but as this 
could not be effected in the mass, the clay is cut up into 
smaller pieces. This is sometimes effected by means of 
a long wooden instrument with a blade at one end, by 
which the clay is cut up, — an office requiring great 
manual labour. In large establishments it is effected by 
a machine. The clay is put into a cylinder, through the 
middle of which runs a shaft, having knives projecting, 
like radii, from it. The shaft is made to revolve, and 
the knives inserted in it cut the clay up into small pieces. 
The clay is then mixed with very pure water in a vessel, 
by a kind of churning process, — the quantity of water 
being so regulated that the whole shall assume the con- 
sistence of cream. This cream is then passed successively 
through sieves of different degrees of fineness, so as to se- 
parate it into portions fit for different kinds of pottery. 
The water with which the clay is to be mixed is selected 
with much care, since the presence of mineral sub- 
stances might materially injure the porcelain. In France 
it is customary to use only rain-water ; and in Germany, 
it is said, that the potter mixes his clay only twice a 
year, — in spring and autumn, — from some supposed pe- 
culiarity in the rain at those seasons. 

Having now spoken of the preparation of the clay, we 

Eroceed to that of the flint. The proper kind of flint 
eing procured, they are burned or calcined in a kiln, 
and then plunged, while red hot, into cold water, by 
which they are rendered more easily broken. The flints 
are then broken into small pieces, either by hand, or by 
being placed upon a strong iron grating, and struck with 
hammers moved by machinery. The small pieces thus 
produced are mixed with a little water, and ground to 
powder between two stones, — in a way somewhat similar 
to that in which corn is ground. The millstones em- 
ployed in this process are exceedingly hard, in order to 
prevent particles from being worn oft them and mixed 
with the flint. Some years ago some potters experienced 
a heavy loss, by purchasing flints which had been ground 
between stones which contained carbonate of lime : the 
carbonate became mixed with the flint and deteriorated 
it. The water employed in grinding both facilitates the 
process and protects the workmen from the injurious 
effects which used to result from inhaling the small par- 
ticles of flint which floated in the air during the dry 

The flints are next briskly agitated in water, by which 
they become mixed with it ; the larger particles soon sub- 
side, and the water containing the smaller particles is 
poured into another vessel, when, by another subsidence, the 
smaller particles of flint are obtained in a form fit for use. 
The small quantities of other ingredients, — whether 
nitre, or lead, or old broken pottery (each manufacturer 
having a favourite formula of his own), are now prepared 
and brought to such form as to fit them for being mixed 
with the two leading ingredients. 

The flint and clay are now ready to be mixed together. 
Each is mixed with water to the consistence of cream ; and 
before the two are united, it is arranged that they shall 
have that particular degree of fluidity, that a pint of the 
flint cream shall weigh thirty-two ounces, and a pint of 
the clay cream twenty-four ounces : — these weights hav- 
ing been found best in practice. The clay, the flint, and 
the other ingredients (which are however very small ia 
quantity), are then well mixed up together, so as to form 
a very smooth and uniform body. In this state the mix* 
ture is called slip, and is boiled for a certain time in a 
long brick trough called a slip-kiln; this is forty or fifty- 
feet long, and about four or hve wide, and has a fire un- 
derneath. During the boiling, the mixture is kept con- 

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stantly stirred, and by the constant evaporation the Blip 
becomes much etiffer or thicker. 

The mixture, which is now in the state of a soft clay, 
is beaten and kneaded with wooden mallets, so as to make 
it as uniform and as smooth as possible. To increase 
this effect, and to expel every semblance of an air-bubble, 
it undergoes the process of slapping. The mass is cut 
through with a piece of wire (similar to the mode in 
which a barrel of Gutter is cut into slices), and the pieces 
are hurled down upon one another with the utmost strength 
of a powerful workman. This is repeated until the mass 
of clay becomes perfectly homogeneous, — equally stiff in 
every part, — uniformly smooth, and free from air-bub- 
bles. This last precaution is of much importance, since 
a single air-bubble would spoil the tea-cup or other 
article made from that piece of clay : the heat of the fur- 
nacejn which the cup is placed, after being formed, 
wouflPexpand the air and fracture the cup. It may well 
be conceived that the process of slapping is a laborious 
one ; for the workman is continually lifting and hurling 
masses of clay of fifty or sixty pounds weight. In some 
establishments this is performed by machinery. 

The mixed clay has now undergone all the processes 
necessary to prepare it for the manufacture of pottery ; 
and it is thrown, pressed, or cast, according to the nature 
of the vessel to be produced. These three processes we 
will consider in succession. * 

- Tea-cups, saucers, basins, and similar articles of a cir- 
cular form, are mostly made by that process which is 
called throwing. A man stands in front of the " potter's 
wheel." This consists of a flat table, above and parallel 
to which is a circular stapd connected with a pillar or 
axle, which passes down through the table. The pillar 
is connected with some revolving machinery,— either by 
means of a band or web passing round the pillar, and 
also round a wheel, which is turned by a boy, or else 
worked by a steam-engine which sets many such wheels 
in work at once. When the vertical pillar is made, by 
either of these means, to revolve, the stand revolves with 
it, not being in connection with the table. A girl stands 
near the man who works at the table* and who is called 
the thrmoer : her office is to cut pieces off a large lump 
of clay, regulating the size according to the nature of the 
vessel to be produced. Each piece she kneads well be- 
tween her hands, and then passes it on the " thrower." 

The thrower now throws the lump of clay with some 
force down on the revolving stand, and works it up into 
a conical form between his hands, — presses it down again, 
—and repeats these processes two or three times, so as to 
expel the least semblance of an air-bubble from the sub- 
stance of the clay. He then brings the clay into a circu- 
lar form by the action of his hands, — the stand, and the 
clay which is upon it, being put into rapid rotation, — 
and proceeds with his fingers and thumbs to fashion the 
cup, — giving the clay a circular form, — making a depres- 
sion in the centre to form the inside of the cup, — and 
giving a rough under bending to the exterior, to form the 
general contour of the vessel. In doing this, some of his 
fingers are on the inside and others on the outside of 
the vessel ; and he is assisted from time to time by tools 
called ribs or profiles, which are variously shaped, and 
with which he fashions, scrapes, and smooths the various 
parts of the cup as it rotates. All this is done with 
amazing rapidity ; and to facilitate the process, when a 
number of vessels similar to one another are to be made, 
pegs are fixed to the outside of the revolving stand, which 
serve as a guage or guide, by which the requisite size of 
the vessels can be more readily obtained. When com- 
pleted, each vessel is cut off the board with a thin piece 
of wire, and laid aside to dry. In this state the vessel, 
whether* a tea-cup or in any other form, resembles a 
common basin in the circumstance that it is without 
spout or handles : these appendages we shall have to 
speak of hereafter. 

If it were a nlate, a saucer, a flat dish, or any similar 
shallow vessel, instead of a cup, which is being made, 
the shape is not procured by throvring, but by pressing. 
A model of the proper size and shape is prepared, and 
from this a plaster of Paris mould is made, a process 
nearly analogous to that described in " Plaster Figures and 
Casts." (« Penny Magazine,' No. 419.) This mould is 
placed upon the revolving stand, — Bprinkled with pow- 
dered porcelain sifted through a fine cloth, — and covered 
with a flat cake of clay, of such a size as experience has 
told the workman is fitted for the purpose. The clay he 
then presses on with his hand until a tolerably equable 
and smooth layer covers the mould in every part. This 
produces the outer surface of the plate, and the inner 
surface is regulated, formed, and smoothed by profiles 
adapted to the purpose. If a ledge or foot of any kind 
is required, it is placed on afterwards in the same manner 
as handles and spouts, — to be described. The super- 
fluous parts of the plate are cut away, and the surface 
finished with a horn tool and a damp sponge. 

When the tea-cup or other vessel, whether procured 
by throwing or pressing, has lain by a sufficient time to 
acquire that particular degree of dryness which the work- 
men call the " green" state, it is taken to the " turning 
lathe," where its form and surface are much improved. 
The vessel is fitted to a lathe which sufficiently resembles 
that of a common wood-turner, to render a particular de- 
scription unnecessary. The workman then proceeds to 
"turn" it ;■— that is, — irregularities are pared off, — equa- 
bility of thickness is produced, — circular rings, ridges, 
and depressions are produced round the outside, as a spe- 
cies of ornament, — and a general smoothness of surface is 
attained. He- employs tools of different sizes, from a 
quarter of an inch to two inches broad, and about six 
inches long ; they are made of iron, — the cutting end be- 
ing turned up about a quarter of an inch, and ground to 
an edge. Sometimes the edge is indented with scollops, 
or is milled like the edge of a shilling : this is produced 
by a peculiar lateral motion of the lathe while the turner 
is working at it. 

We must reserve the handle of our tea-cup to the next 


[From a Correspondent.] 

There is a curious and ancient game or custom pre- 
valent among the coal-miners of Northumberland and 
Durham, which, as it is peculiar to those counties, and, 
perhaps, little known beyond them, it may be interesting 
to describe. In the places where this Game is practised, 
it is called " sword-dancing," from the circumstance of 
the performers having each an instrument resembling a 
sword in appearance, but more elastic, with which they 
contrive to exhibit many curious feats and figures whilst 
they are dancing. 

With the northern coal-miners, sword-dancing is a 
Christmas game. It is not however practised by them 
for mere amusement altogether, but partly with the view 
of making a little money. For this purpose, these sword- 
danccrs, auring the Christmas holidays, make excursions 
among the neighbouring towns and villages in companies 
of from twenty to thirty in number, where they exhibit 
their dancing skill. Besides the dancers, there are always 
two other individuals connected with them, called respec- 
tively the Bessy and the Fool; the former of whom is 
dressed in petticoats, and in other respects disguised as 
an old woman ; and the latter in the most grotesque 
costume that can possibly be imagined, — composed, usu- 
ally, of the skins of animals. Each of those two person- 
ages is provided with an iron or tin box, with which, 
accompanied with a number of odd gestures, they solicit 
donations from the by-standers, whilst their brethren 
are dancing. There is also another person attacl ed to 

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[March 23, 1839* 

those strolling companies of sword-dancers in the capacity 
of Fiddler. A peculiarity in the dress of the dancers re- 
mains to be noticed. Their hats, and the sleeves and 
breasts of their jackets, are profusely decorated with 
cockades, made of ribbons of the gayest hues, which 
give them a picturesque appearance. 

Formerly, sword-dancing was a very popular amuse- 
ment among the coal-miners of Northumberland and 
Durham, during the festive season of Christmas, but it is 
now but very partially practised by them ; and, like many 
other of their pastimes, is gradually giving place to more 
rational pursuits. 


[From an article " On the Electricity of the Atmoenhcre," in the ' Com- 
panion to the British Almanac ' for 1839.] 

To the principle of electricity we refer a class of remarkable 
phenomena not usually ranked together— whirlwinds, pillars 
of sand, and waterspouts — the appearance of which being 
very well known from frequent description, we shall at once 
proceed to consider their nature. In the explanations ge- 
nerally given it is assumed that there are currents of air 
blowing in different directions, the oblique meeting of 
which causes an eddy or vortex, having a vacuum in its in- 
terior. Against this hypothesis it may be objected that, in 
the greater number of instances recorded, the air has been 
either calm or with a wind moderate and steady without 
any cross currents. If these meteors had a mechanical 
origin of this kind, they ought to abound most where variable 
winds and storms prevail, as on sea-coasts, near headlands, 
and among hills. On the contrary, they are most rare in 
such cases, rather affecting climates and seasons of hot 
still atmosphere, in desert plains or tropical seas. Besides, 
in order to form a vortex, it is necessary that a coherent 
body be present to deflect the current into the tangential 
motion producing the whirl. A vortex cannot be formed 
in the free atmosphere whatever be the respective velocities 
or angle of meeting of currents, and, according to all ex- 
perience, a shift of wind is preceded by a calm, lasting until 
one of the currents has obtained predominance. That 
waterspouts and whirlwinds are independent of motion in 
the -air is made evident by their having often a rapid pro- 
gression although the air around them be still, and by their 
having been seen even to advance against a wind then 
blowing; and when several waterspouts have been in sight 
at once, some have been stationary, others running about 
without any common direction. 

In assigning these phenomena to the agency of electricity, 
there are no conditions assumed the existence of which can 
be disproved ; and it cannot be denied that the cause is 
adequate to the effect attributed to it. We may distinguish 
two kinds of them, according as the electricity has accu- 
mulated in the earth, and discharges itself into the air, or, 
as the electricity is emitted from a charged cloud, exercising 
a powerful induction upon the surface of the earth beneath, 
but without exploding. In the former case, which is pe- 
culiar to land, the resulting action constitutes the whirl- 
wind or the pillar of sand, the different appearance of which 
is owing to the nature of the soil from which they rise. 
Whirlwinds are of most frequent occurrence in those coun- 
tries not free from earthquakes and dry hot seasons during 
a limited time of the year, such as the wide valley of the 
Mississippi. Compared with the pillars of sand they are 
more terrible in their destructive energies, but they are 
more casual, and are generally single. Pillars of sand are 
confined to the deserts of Africa and Hindostan ; they are 
individually less dangerous, but they are not to be despised 
if it be true that each of them may deposit a quantity of 
suffocating dust, forming a hillock of greater height than a 
man, and that countless numbers may be stalking across 
the arid plain with inevitable speed. 

The electricity, which we believe to be the prime mover 
of these extraordinary spectacles, may possibly have different 
sources, and, we are inclined to suspect, a less superficial 
excitation of that in the whirlwind. But however the charge 
may be derived, when it has accumulated to such intensity 
that the electrical inertia of the air is unable to repress it, 
it will rush upwards m a stream, communicating an ascend- 
ing motion to the air, and bearing along with it whatever 
lignt mobile particles may be within its influence. 

If there were in the superincumbent atmosphere a suffi- 
cient mass to supply by induction the requisite qaantity of 
the opposite electricity, then the accumulation might have 
been discharged in the ordinary manner by explosion. In 
the absence of this the electricity, taking the direction in 
which it meets with least resistance, tends to dissipate itself 
in a stream through the air so long as it can force a passage. 
The stream expands in its progress by its own elasticity, so 
that its diameter is greater as it recedes from the earth, 
often describing very exactly an inverted cone. While the 
stream continues the opposite kind of electricity is induced 
into the air along its path, and flows downwards towards 
the point of emission, or apex of the cone, where the primary 
charge is most concentrated. Now, it has been proved by 
experiment, that every electric current contains within itself 
a revolving action, the consequence of the attraction of the 
opposite electric surfaces. To this property of an electric 
we may therefore assign the origin of the spiral motion of 
the whirlwind, conceiving that it results from the longitu- 
dinal or ascending motion of the stream, influenced^ the 
circular or revolving motion of the two electricities round 
each other. The velocity of the spiral motion is too great 
to be followed by the eye, and its mechanical effects, exhi- 
bited in the lifting of loaded waggons, the levelling of stone- 
walls, the cutting through fences, trees, and huts, as if with 
an edged tool, are ascribable to no other physical cause 
than electro-dynamic. 

Waterspouts have the same principles of action, but in 
them the accumulation exists in a low heavy cloud, which 
has induoftd the opposite electricity into the earth beneath, 
without finding a prominent point to facilitate an explosion. 
The charge is gradually neutralised by combination with 
that rushing in a stream from below, and carrying with it 
dust from the plain, and vapour, or rather a mist from 
waters. The watery particles being again aggregated into 
drops, sometimes as large as cherries, descend in torrents, 
and a circulation is thus established while the accumula- 
tion exists. 

The spouts or tubes, apparently let down from the cloud, 
are formed by the vapour or mist attracted by the electricity 
which has elongated itself into a protrusion by an effort to 
discharge itself. 

Study of the Fine Arts in Italy.— These hills (the Alban) 
abound in as pretty bits of the picturesque as a painter's eye 
need look upon. Indeed, independently of the works of art 
with which this country overflows, the splendid light, the 
depth and richness of tint, the clearness with which the 
outline of objects is traced, and the accuracy with which the 
eye at a glance can define their relative distance— all re- • 
suiting from the singular transparency of the atmosphere- 
combine to make Italy the true volume for an artist to 
study. Of a truth, nature executes her light and shade 
with exquisite skill. Here is no obscurity, no faint ness, no 
mist, no haziness, no mingling, confounding, or blending 
together of objects ; everything stands out decidedly and 
boldly, and in its own individual character, distinct in out- 
line, in form, colour, and position. Then, if the painter 
wishes to rise a step in the dignity of the subject he chooses 
for his pencil, and, instead of the inanimate works of nature, 
transfer to his canvas living specimens thereof, here are 
faces, of the women especially, faultless in the estimation 
of criticism. I never saw in any country so many pretty 
women, so many finely formed heads, intelligent counte- 
nances, expressive eyes, sunny complexions. Truly nature 
has done a great deal for them. . . . Much has been 
said about Italian beauty. It is a theme on which the pen of 

Eoets, the brush of painters, and the chisel of the sculptor 
ave rejoiced to dwell. And verily it is a subject capable 
of furnishing no scanty materials to all the three. Yet the 
style of beauty is very different from that on which we are 
in the habit of founding our notions in England. Here is 
no fair complexion, no ruddy hue, no blended union of the 
rose and lily, which form a great part of the northern ideas 
of beauty. That life and animation which, in England, are m 
general the result of health, and without which there can 
be nothing like beauty, are here produced by expressiveness 
of countenance and intelligence of the eve. What is written 
on the cheek, in the North — is inscribed on the eye in 
Italy. — Scraps from an Unpublished Journal written in 

Printed by William Clowm $c Scut, SUmfonMStiMt. 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[March 30, 1839- 


[South Front of Castle Howard, Yorkshire.] 

The superb mansion of Castle Howard stands in a noble 
park about Eix miles west of Malton in Yorkshire. The 
exterior of the edifice, as a whole, is grand and imposing, 
though not free from the charge of want of unity in its 
parte. The design for the buildings was made by Sir 
John Vanbrugh, the eminent architect of Blenheim ; 
but one of the wings was built much mere recently by 
Sir James Robinson, and to him is owing the alleged 
incongruity. The front is very long, and the whole pile, 
with its cupolas, its roofs, and its massy clustered chim- 
neys, is stupendous. The approach is through an antient 
gateway flanked with appropriate towers. The site of the 
present mansion was formerly occupied by the old castle 
of Hinderskelf, which was destroyed by an accidental fire. 
Castle Howard, its successor, was erected by the third earl 
of Carlisle, as he has himself informed us in some verses, 
amiable in sentiment, but not remarkable for spirit or 
elegance. The north front consists of an elaborate centre 
of the Corinthian order, with a cupola rising over the top, 
You VIII. 

a<vl on either side extensive wings, the east according to 
the original design, the west from Sir James Robinson's. 
The south or garden front is also very magnificent. Its 
centre, consisting of a pediment and entablature supported 
by fluted Corinthian pilasters, is approached by a grand 
flight of steps, and the view from these of the whole front 
is strikingly noble. At the extremity of the east wing is 
the kitchen with square towers at the angles. Before the 
south front a beautiful turf terrace, decorated with statues, 
extends away from the house for the space of half a mile 
where it terminates in an Ionic temple with four porticoes 
and a beautiful interior. The cornices of the door-cases 
are supported by Ionic columns of black and yellow mar- 
ble ; and in the corners of the room are pilasters of the 
same beautiful material. In niches over the door are 
various antient busts. The floor is disposed in compart- 
ments of antique marble of various colours, and the whol? 
crowned with a richly gilded dome. 

The interior of the castle fulfils all that the imagination, 


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[March 30, 

warmed by the outward grandeur, can expect or desire. 
The lofty and richly decorated rooms are everywhere 
teeming with objects of curiosity and vertu, and with the 
works and masterpieces of human &kill, pictures, statues, 
and busts. To give our readers an adequate idea of the 
amazing riches scattered about in the greatest profusion, 
and attracting the eye in every apartment of the build- 
ing, is impossible. The pictures, for instance, are too nu- 
merous to allow us even to mention their names, although 
they are almost inestimable in value, as they are almost 
countless in number. Among them are works by almost 
every great master ; we may mention Titian, Rubens, 
Guido, the brothers Caracci, Rembrandt, Domenichino, 
Salvator Rosa, Holbein, Janscns, Wouvermans, Velas- 
quez, Vandyck, Sir Peter Lely, Sir Joshua Reynolds, &c. 
There are three paintings in particular, which formed a 
portion of the celebrated Orleans Gallery, and which 
found their way to England during the troubles of the 
French revolution. One is the ' Finding of Moses,' a fine 
specimen of the characteristic genius of the Spanish 
painter Don Diego Velasquez ; another is the * Entombing 
of Christ,' by Ludovico Caracci, a painting of extra- 
ordinary pathos, grandeur, and sublimity. But the 
most valuable of the three, and not only of the three, 
but of the whole collection, is the ' Three Maries,* by 
Annibal Caracci. " In this astonishing effort of art/' 
says Mr. Henderwell, " all the excellencies of painting 
are united. In drawing, in colouring, and in compo- 
sition, indeed, it cannot be surpassed. The moderate 
size of the canvas enables the eye to take in at once the 
whole subject, and the figures are so skilfully grouped, 
so prominent and so distinct, with a separate yet suitable 
adaptation of interest to their several characters, as forci- 
bly to arrest the attention. The lifeless body of Christ 
exhibits a most solemn and affecting image of death, 
appealing in the most awful manner to all the feelings 
which Christians associate with that event. The mother 
of Jesus, overwhelmed with sorrow and in a fainting 
attitude, contrasts in a masterly manner with the dead 
body of her son extended at her feet. The strong 
emotions of grief and tenor expressed by the elder 
Mary, at the apparent extinction of her daughter's 
life, exhibit distress of a more varied kind than that 
of Mary Magdalen, which is an agonizing and concen- 
trated woe heightened to the most extreme degree of 
poignancy ; and it is truly astonishing that such fixed 
despair, such sense of excruciating misery, could have 
been depicted on the human countenance without tending 
towards grimace or distortion." It is said that the 
court of Spain offered to cover it with louis-d'ors as its 
purchase-money, which have been estimated to amount 
to about 8000/. ; but it is added, that still more has 
heen offered for it in our own country. 

The hall of the mansion, measuring thirty-five feet 
square and sixty in height, is surmounted by a dome with 
Corinthian columns, the top of which is one hundred feet 
from the floor : it is very haudsome and noble. On the 
walls are representations, by Pellegrini, of the history of 
Phaeton, with the four seasons, the twelve signs, &c. In 
recesses are statues of Augustus, Marcus Aurelius, and 
other works of ancient sculpture. There are also many 
antique busts on pedestals. In the saloon, a noble room, 
arc many more statues and busts, with a number of pic- 
tures. The ceiling is embellished with a representation 
of Aurora. The chimney-piece of the dining-room is 
unusually superb. The cornice of white and Sienna 
marbles, with groups of polished white in the centre, is 
supported by fluted columns of Sienna marble. Upon 
it are three fine bronzes. This room also contains two 
beautiful slabs of Sicilian jasper, and a valuable urn or 
vase of green porphyry, with many busts and pictures. 
In the breakfast-room are two elegant tables of verd 
antique, with various bronzes and pictures; and in a 
dressing-room are two curious cabinets of precious stones. 

The antique gallery, measuring 160 feet by 20, among 
many other curiosities, contains various rare and beauti- 
ful slabs, and a small antique statue, found in Severus's 
wall, gilt and inlaid. The walls of the drawing-room are 
richly decorated with tapestry, from designs by Rubens. 
In the same apartment are two pedestals of green 
porphyry, on one of which is a sylvan deity. The mu- 
seum contains a great assemblage of interesting objects : 
among these are thirteen urns, wherein were formerly 
deposited the ashes of ancient heroes, an ancient mask, 
many busts, vases, &c. In the south-west corner is an 
object to gladden the heart of every antiquarian, of every 
scholar, and of every man of taste ; — we allude to a 
small cylindrical altar about four feet and a half high, 
which is supposed to have stood in the temple of Apollo 
at Delphi, according to the site ascribed to it by 
Chandler. A tablet on its top bears the following 
inscription, commemorating a circumstance of additional 
interest connected with it* relating to the agency by 
which it was transported hither. 

" Pass not this ancient altar with disdain, 
Twas once in Delphi's sacred temple reared ; 
From this the Pythian poured her mystic strain, 
While Greece its fate in anxious silence heard. 

What chief, what hero of the Achaian race 
Might not to this have bowed with holy awe ? — 
Have clung in pious reverence round its base, 
Aud from the voice inspired received the law ? 

A British chief, as famed in arms as those, 
Has borne this relic o'er th' Italian waves, 
In war still friend to science, this bestows, 
And Nelson gives it to the land ha saves," 

In the centre of four avenues of stately trees in the 
park stands an obelisk, one hundred feet in height, bear- 
ing on one side inscriptions in Latin and English comme- 
morative of the valour and successes of the Duke of 
Marlborough ; on the other, the verses we have before 
alluded to, recording that the plantations around, and the 
magnificent edifice they enclose, owe their existence to 
the third earl. The date on the pillar is 1112. The 
park and grounds are very extensive, and arranged on a 
scale of grandeur commensurate with the importance of 
the mansion and the family to which they belong, and 
the eye is everywhere delighted with the intermixture of 
lake, lawn, and forest. A splendid mausoleum stands 
about half a mile from the house. It is a circular 
building fifty feet in diameter, with a lofty dome, sur- 
mounted by a colonnade of twenty-five pillars of the 
Roman Doric order, the whole standing upon an elevated 
basement, which is reached by two flights of steps. The 
inside is very handsome : the cornice from which the 
dome rises is supported by eight columns, each standing on 
its pedestal ; the dome is entirely of masonry, wrought in 
elegant compartments, and the pavement, corresponding 
in style, is inlaid with bronze ornaments, intermixed with 
various marbles. The ornaments generally are very light 
and beautiful. The basement contains sixty-four cata- 
combs built under groined arches. Here repose the 
remains of the third earl. At the entrance of the wood, 
which shelters the house from the east, stands a square 
pedestal decorated with antique medallions, and support- 
ing an urn with various figures representing the sacrifice 
of Iphigenia. 

Persian Superstition. — The Persians are of opinion that 
a lion will never hurt a person of their religion, which is 
somewhat different from that of the Turks. They firmly 
believe that their lions would devour a Turk ; but that for 
themselves they are perfectly safe, if they take care to let 
the lion know, by some exclamation, what religion they are 
of. This opinion shows, as I have already told you, that 
men are not often attacked by lions in Persia, — Undo 
Oliver's Travels in Persia, vol. i. 

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Fkw things can be more cheering to the eye and heart 
of the philanthropist than to witness the steady pro- 
gress of social improvement among the people, involving, 
as it does, every other good. Religion, we may hope, 
will advance as the blessings the Deity has spread abroad 
upon the world become more accessible to, and therefore 
better appreciated by, his creatures generally ; literature 
and the arts, having ceased to receive or to expect indivi- 
dual patronage, must now flourish in proportion to the 
leisure and pecuniary means possessed by the many ; 
peace and good-will among men must daily become more 
nearly universal as the bond of society ensures more and 
more the comfort and happiness of all. And precisely 
because the spirit of improvement now abroad is thus 
catholic in its scope, do we rejoice to see it aided and 
encouraged, and to believe that its very universality must 
make it permanent. 

Through England and Scotland the results of this 
beneficial influence are everywhere visible. Alas for 
poor Ireland! she remains unchanged, beautiful but 
wretched as ever, productive of everything but the social 
welfare of her inhabitants! Important improvements have 
doubtless been made, imports as well as exports have 
increased, the post-office flourishes, new banks are esta- 
blished ; yet (startling anomaly !) these circumstances, 
in the main, relate only to the few whose enjoyments 
they have enhanced, not to the many for whom even the 
commonest domestic comforts remaiu to be created. We 
are not here about to inquire into the causes of the un- 
happy condition of the Irish people, but to take notice of 
one magnificeut scheme for its amelioration, and which we 
are satisfied must, to a great extent at least, accomplish 
its object : we allude to a system of railways for that 
country. . 

The advantages of railway transport are now pretty ge- 
nerally acknowledged : its speed, cheapness, and regularity 
promise to render it one of the most important agents in 
promoting the welfare of society. By an eminent French 
minister the invention is considered as second only to the 
art of printing; and it is far from impossible that the 
magnificent results thus shadowed forth should be 
realised. We are now speaking of railways in their 
application generally to populous countries ; but what 
are we to say of them in relation to Ireland ? Why, that 
their effects would be more like the art of the enchanter 
in a fairy tale than of the labours of men working with 
the uuroraantic implements of iron and stone and clay, 
with the pickaxe or the trowel for a wand, and possessing 
no deeper lore than practical science has taught them. 
In the admirable Report before us,* and which is our 
text-book on this occasion, these results are shown in 
a clear, striking, and most gratifying manner. The 
giant evil of Ireland is the superabundant amount of 
population, with reference to the means for employing 
it. The system of sub-letting, and consequent divi- 
sions of land into the smallest possible portions that will 
enable its occupier and his family barely to exist, — and 
which, being at the same time the only mode of life offered 
to the continually increasing millions, is eagerly sought 
and tenaciously retained, — must be abolished before the 
" green isle " can become permanently prosperous. How 
is this to be done ? Justice and humanity point to but 
one method : we must create for the people new and more 
profitable occupations. The establishing a system of 
railways will do this, to a certain extent, at once ; in 
time, perhaps, completely. It will withdraw so many 
from the pursuits of agriculture, that the services of those 
left will be more in request, therefore better paid, and 
(invariable consequence) the work better done. Supposing 
the projected undertakings completed, there will be, as 

* Second Report of the Commissioners appointed to consider 
Bod recommend a general system of Railways for Ireland, 

all our experience proves, such an immense increase in 
the general business of the country, that we may fairly 
conclude that many of those thus thrown out of employ- 
ment will find it again in the general increased demand 
for labour, and that the remainder will receive full and 
profitable employment in the endless series of new works 
a thriving commercial country will now more than ever 
demand. If we look at the matter simply in a com- 
mercial view, the prospects are flattering. Among the 
certain and immediate consequences we may enumerate 
the creat influx of visitors, trie opening or favourable 
markets to districts at present entirely isolated, the in- 
creased facilities for the exportation of corn, fat cattle, 
and of the produce of the mines, coal, lead, copper, 
and slate; the incalculable benefits the tradesman, 
the merchant, and the manufacturer must reap from 
the rapidity of communication, both written and per- 
sonal ; the flowing of capital into the country as safe 
and profitable opportunities offer themselves for in- 
vestment; the consequent improvement in the pro- 
cesses of agriculture, and the establishment of new manu- 
factories more and more commensurate in number and 
importance with the wants and resources of the country. 
Our own interests, abo, are most directly concerned in 
these projects, as one illustration will prove. It has been 
calculated that if the people were to consume as great an 
amount of the articles of excise, in proportion to their 
number, as the people of England, the general revenue 
would be benefited to the amount of six millions 
yearly ! 

The arrangements contemplated by the commissioners 
may be shortly summed up as follows : — 1st. The forma- 
tion of a general system of Irish railways. 2nd. The con- 
necting of London and Dublin by railway and steam na- 
vigation, so as to reduce the time of transit to the lowest 
possible amount. 3rd. The bringing of some portion, at 
least, of the great stream of traffic between England and 
America through Ireland on its way. We proceed to 
describe these arrangements somewhat in detail. The 
commissioners divide their system of railways for Ireland 
into two parts — the south-west, and the north. The 
south-west, including about 278 miles of railroad, passes 
through all the most important towns in that direction, — 
Kilkenny, Clonmel, Waterford, Cork, and Limerick; 
which places alone comprise a quarter of a million of 
people, thus brought into the most rapid communica- 
tion with the scarcely inferior population of Dublin. The 
country is of the most favourable description, consisting 
through nearly the whole line of a limestone formation. 
The cost of construction is estimated at about two mil- 
lions and three-quarters, and the lowest dividend at 31 
per cent. The railways in the north connect Dublin 
with Belfast in one direction, and with Enniskillen in 
another (this last is proposed to be continued to London- 
derry at some future period), the lines being in common 
from Dublin to Navan. The whole extent is about 190 
miles, and the estimated cost two millions and a quarter. 
The dividend on the best portion, that from Dublin to 
Belfast, is estimated at nearly 4i per cent. ; perhaps, on 
the whole, the smallest dividend may be taken alike for 
both the northern and south-western parts, at 3 J per cent. 
For a portion of the Dublin and Belfast line, viz. from 
Armagh to Belfast, an Act has been already obtained by 
a private company. Other lines are contemplated, and 
Acts for two in addition to the one just mentioned have 
been granted : these are from Dublin to Kilkenny, and 
from Dublin to Drogheda. The first was intended to 
become the main trunk for the southern portion of the 
country ; but we think, with the commissioners, it is by 
no means so good a line for that purpose as their own. 
Still they do not advise the total abandonment of it, but 
merely that the expense of a double approach to the 
capital should be avoided, by its emerging from theirs at 
some few miles distance from Dublin. The coast railway, 

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[March 30, 

north from Dublin to Drogheda, will in all probability be 
continued at no distant period to Dundalk and Newry. 
The commissioners offer no material opinion upon this 
line, as not being connected with the internal system. 
The most important of the other railways contemplated, 
but for which no acts have been obtained, is one intended 
to cross the country through Mullingar to Galway, with 
an additional line from Mullingar to Sligo; including 
no less than 213 miles, but which, running as it does 
entirely through the limestone country, might be accom- 
plished, if but one line of rails were made, at 8000/. per 
mile, or at a total cost of one million and three-quarters. 
This scheme does not obtain the support of the commis- 
sioners, principally because they conceive its success could 
only rest upon the pecuniary destruction of the Royal 
Canal and the Grand Canal, which were made at an 
outlay of above three millions and a quarter. Another 
line is proposed, from the southern trunk to some point 
on the south-west corner of the island, which it is then 
presumed would be the most favourable point for passen- 
gers from England as well as Ireland to embark for 
America. A line branching from the private company's 
Dublin and Kilkenny railway to Wexford on the south 
coast is also projected. From Armagh, on the Dublin 
and Belfast line, to Port Rush, near which is the Giant's 
Causeway, the traffic has been considered of sufficient 
importance to warrant a railway. Lastly, we may men- 
tion that the Dublin and Kingston railway, the only one 
yet in operation in Ireland, is intended to be continued 
along the coast to Bray, and perhaps ultimately to Wick- 
low and Wexford. We have thus, therefore, nearly 470 
miles of railway recommended by the commissioners for 
immediate adoption, the estimated expense of which will 
be five millions, and calculated to return a dividend of 
not less than 3i per centi We have also above 100 miles 
of additional railway, which will h\ all probability be 
executed, the sanction of parliament having been obtained, 
at a cost of 1,150,000/. Taking no account of the merely 
projected lines, which it certainly would be premature to 
do, we may expect to see in Ireland, before many years, 
nearly 600 miles of railway. 

The other objects of the commissioners may be shortly 
dismissed. The result of their inquiries on the subject 
of communication between London and Dublin shows 
that the whole distance might be accomplished by a rail- 
way to Holyhead or to Porth Dynllaen in North Wales, 
and thence by steam navigation, in eighteen hours ! All 
passengers, goods, and letters for the interior would then 
reach Dublin in sufficient time for the evening mails 
starting for the interior of Ireland, and thus save an en- 
tire day. We have mentioned that one of the railways 
contemplated is to branch from the souths est trunk to 
some port on the south-west coast, with the view of mak- 
ing such port the most convenient place of embarkation 
for passengers from England to America. But the com- 
missioners recommend Cork for this purpose, although 
less favourably situated, on account of its own importance, 
and the very material advantage of its being conuected 
with Dublin in their general system of railways. Ac- 
cordingly, between those places, they recommend that 
arrangements should be made to produce the highest 
possible speed. They then observe, " Let us suppose 
the line of railway we recommend from Dublin to Cork 
to be executed, and the most rapid possible communica- 
tion opened between London and Dublin ; persons or 
packages might then reach Cork from London in about 
29 hours (allowing 20 miles per hour for railway travel- 
ling), while a steam-vessel would be probably three days 
in completing the same distance ; and if another day be 
added in the latter case, for insuring a fixed time for 
final departure from Cork, the very saving in time, amount- 
ing to two or three days, would at once secure the con- 
veyance of the mails to be established by that route, and 
would occasion it to be greatly resorted to by passengers, 

as well on account of the additional available time which 
they would gain, as of the increased comfort and conve- 
nience which most persons would consider to attend that 
mode of conveyance. The only drawback (which would, 
no doubt, influence a portion) would be a small increase 
in the expense." 

And how, or by whom, are these great works to be 
undertaken ? The commissioners recommend an advance 
by government of a great proportion of the amount re- 
quired, " by way of loan, at the lowest rate of interest, 
and on the easiest terms of repayment, to be secured by 
a mortgage on the works." The principal individuals, 
towns, and counties interested, would, in all probability, 
furnish the remainder. They also advise that govern- 
ment should commence the undertaking, on the applica- 
tion of the counties interested. The observations in the 
Report on the necessity of state interference to protect the 
public from these giant monopolies are just and well 
timed as regards Ireland. In England this point has 
been grossly neglected. Whilst the necessary rights have 
been given by the people, through their representatives, 
for the establishment of railways, none of equivalent 
value, and equal necessity, have been secured in 
return. Justly the commissioners observe, •' So great 
are the powers, so vast the capabilities of a railroad, 
that it must, whenever established, at once supersede 
the common road ; and not only will all the public 
conveyances, now in use, disappear, but even the means 
of posting will, in all probability, rapidly decline, and 
eventually, perhaps, cease to be found along its lines ! 
. . . It therefore deeply concerns the public, whose 
welfare is inseparably connected with all that tends to 
improve the internal resources, or to maintain the com- 
mercial and manufacturing superiority of these countries, 
that such works should be promoted ; and, consequently, 
every encouragement, consistent with the regard due to 
other interests, should be given to capitalists who may 
be willing to undertake them. Their propositions should 
be submitted to a competent and duly constituted 
tribunal ; and if approved, should be adopted as 
national enterprises. As such, they should be protected 
from all unnecessary expense — from extravagant demands 
for compensation — from vexatious opposition, and from 
the ruinous competition of other companies. To that ex- 
tent they have a strong claim on the protection of the 
state. But on the other hand, the public interest would 
require that they should be bound by such conditions, 
and held subject to such well-considered regulations and 
effective control, as shall secure to the country at large 
the full benefit and accommodation of this admirable" 

In conclusion we solicit attention to the following facts 
drawn from the Report. The population of Ireland now 
exceeds eight millions and a half. Of this, a great pro- 
portion of course must consist of able-bodied labourers. 
And what may it be supposed are the average weekly 
earnings of these men? In the best districts Is. per day, 
in others Sd, in the worst 6d. The food also descends 
from meal and potatoes and milk, to potatoes and milk, 
and at last to potatoes only ! Let us not forget, when we 
hear of the turbulence of Ireland, the widely spread, all- 
absorbing misery of which it is the natural result ! Or 
whilst, as members of society, we wish to see its laws up- 
held and vindicated in the punishment of the criminal, 
let us not relax one moment in our endeavours to remove 
the manifold incitements to crime. Progress, order, and 
happiness are inseparably bound up with the physical 
well-being of society. 

Home. — He who does not make his family comfortable 
will himself never be happy at home ; and he who is not 
happy at home will never be happy anywhere. 

Digitized by 






[Continued from No. 4470 

[The French Knight and the Author of the Metrical History of Richard II.— From a MS. in the British Museum.] 

Having given a slight notice of the early state of the art 
of illuminating MSS. in Italy, we shall now briefly allude 
to a few celebrated miniature-painters who succeeded 
those already enumerated ; and then return to the western 
part of Europe, from which we hare been some time 

One of the earliest names of the fourteenth century 
is D. Silvestro, who ornamented missals with draw- 
ings, which still exist and have been described as very 
beautiful : little, however, is known of his history. 

In the commencement of the fifteenth century Don 
Bartolommeo dclla Gatta, who was educated in the 
monastery of the Angeli at Florence, flourished as a 
miniature painter, in which art he greatly excelled, but 
he also painted larger pictures, one of which, a St. 
Jerome, is still preserved at Arezzo. Two other artists 
gained much from his instructions, these were Giro- 
lamo, and Vante, the last of whom ornamented several 
MSS. for Matthias, king of Hungary. In the library 
of St. Mark at Venice, a MS. aclorned by Vante still 
exists, and is described by Lanzi as a beautiful pro- 
duction. It is a work of Marziano Capella, the illumi- 
nations to which are of great excellence. " The assembly 
of the g.TJs, the emblems of the arts and sciences, the 
grotesque ornaments here and there set off with little 
portraits, discover," says Lanzi, " in Vante a genius that 
admirably seconded the ideas of the author. The design 
resembles the best works of Botticelli ; the colouring 
is gay, lively, and brilliant ; the excellence of the work 
ought to confer on the artist greater celebrity than he 

In the latter part of the fifteenth century the principal 
miniature painters were Francesco Squarcione of Padua 
(born 1394, died 1474), whose drawings are similar to 
the productions of his scholar A. de Mantegna ; and 
Giovanni Bellini (born 1426, died 1516) ; both of whom 
were much employed in the decoration of books for the 
Papal library. 

It must not be supposed that these were the principal 
or most celebrated illuminists, merely because we have 
their names ; there were others of equal and indeed su- 
perior talents, of whom, their beautiful productions alone 
remain to attest their existence. Other artists of inferior 

note are mentioned by writers on Italian art, and many 
more remain " unnoticed and unknown." We have seen 
some illuminations to Choral books, executed during the 
pontificate of Paul IV. and his successors Pius IV. and 
V. by an artist (whose name we do not remember to 
have seen mentioned by writera on art), about the middle 
of the sixteenth century. His name was not only affixed 
to his productions, but he has added the year in which 
each performance was completed, and the name of the 
reigning pontiff. This miniaturist thus styles himself in 
these drawings, — Apollonius de Bonfratellis de Capra- 
nica, Capcllce ct Sacristuv Apostolicce Miniator. He 
appears to have copied M. Angelo, but his figures are 
somewhat defective in drawing, although the expression 
and effect is generally good. 

But the most celebrated name in the annals of minia- 
ture painting is that of Julio Clovio, a monk who, having 
exhibited considerable talent in drawing small subjects, 
was instructed in the art by Girolami da Libri of Verona, 
an illuminator of MSS. (to his excellence in which art 
is owing his surname), and in a short time attained the 
very first rank in his profession. His figures, of the 
most exquisite design and execution, are generally ex- 
tremely diminutive, though he preserves the expression 
of the features, &c, with the greatest accuracy. Michael 
Angelo was his favourite model, but with the correctness 
and grandeur of this master he combined much of the 
grace and elegance of Raffaelle, and although his drawings 
are not richly coloured, there is a fine effect of chiaro 
'scuro in his smallest as well as in his larger productions. 
He seldom employed gold, and when he did, it was only 
a slight wash. He died in 1518, at the advanced age of 

English miniature productions of the fifteenth century, 
to which we now return, are seldom to be met with, as at 
this time the art was pursued with such success in France, 
with which this country was in almost constant commu- 
nication, that the inferior productions of England obtained 
no patronage from the few persons who desired to enrich 
their libraries with such elegant ornaments. There is 
however in the Harleian Collection (No. 2278) a speci- 
men of the art of illumination of this time, of more than 
usual excellence. 

Digitized by 




[March 30, 

This is a manuscript composed and written by order 
of William Curteys, abbot of St. Edmundsbury, on the 
occasion of Henry the Sixth's visit to that monastery in 
1433. It contains the legends of St. Edmund and St. 
Fremund, translated by John Lydgate from the Latin 
into English verse, in stanzas of seven lines each, and is 
the identical copy presented to the king by the abbot. 

u In this mater there is no more to seyn, 
Sauf to the kyng for to do plesaunce ; 

Th' Abbot William, his humble chapelyne, 
Gafe me in charge to do myn attendaunce, 

The noble story to translate in substaunce, 
Out of the Latyn, after my kuunyng, 

He in ful purpos to geve it to the king." 

The above wood-cut, from one of the drawings in the 
book, represents the presentation of the volume to the 

The manuscript is a quarto of 119 leaves of vellum, 
with 120 miniatures, executed in a delicate manner, with 
most lively colours, and profusely adorned with gold. They 
furnish an extensive variety of costumes of the early part 
of the fifteenth century, to which Strutt and other writers 
on costume and manners have been much indebted. 

As one of the most beautiful and interesting examples 
of the state of art in France in the fifteenth century we 
may cite the celebrated book of prayers and devotional 
offices known as the * Bedford Missal,' from having been 
executed for John, duke of Bedford, regent of France, in 
the reign of Henry VI. This rich manuscript measures 
eleven inches in height bv seven and a half in width, and 
lontaius fifty-nine highly finished and richly decorated 
drawings nearly the size of the page, besides a thousand 
or more miniatures of about an inch and a half in dia- 
meter, with borders of foliage, &c. The subject of each 
miniature is detailed at the bottom of every page, by 
golden or richly coloured letters. It was described at 
some length by Gough in the last century ; and in the 
British Museum there is a copy of his work, in which 
three most beautiful fac-simile drawings on vellum, from 
the original illuminations, are introduced. The wood-cut 
in page 108, besides conveying some idea of the style 
of drawing in this Missal, will be interesting as giving a 
portrait of its original possessor, of whom no other is 
known. It represents the duke of Bedford, in a rich 
robe of crimson embroidered with gold, kneeling to St. 
George, who is clad in complete armour, over which he 
wears the mantle of the order of the Garter. Behind the 
saint stands his armour-bearer, holding a pennon and a 
shield, on both of which the cross of St. George is de- 
picted. A chair stands behind the duke, and before him 
is a desk covered with a rich cloth, on which is inscribed 
the motto, " A vous entier " (probably a piece of gallantry 

intended to apply to his duchess, who, in another illumi- 
nation, ia represented kneeling to St. Anne, with the 
cover of her desk embroidered with the loving words, 
" J'en suis contente"). Behind the figure a rich screen 
is placed, on parts of which are the same motto, and the 
uprooted trunks of trees. * 

This drawing is surrounded by a border (not shown in 
the cut, on account of its size), composed of the trunks 
of trees, in gold, among which are five small circular 
drawings, representing the martyrdom of as many saints ; 
and at the bottom are the arms and supporters of the 

The manuscript was presented by the Duke of Bed- 
ford to Henry VI. at the period of his coronation in 
France, as attested by John Somerset, the king's phy- 
sician, whose autograph appears in the volume. It after- 
wards became the property of Edward Harley, earl of 
Oxford, who bought it of Lady Worsley, great grand- 
daughter to W. Seymour, second duke of Somerset. 
From Lord Oxford it descended to his daughter the 
duchess of Portland, at whose sale in 1*786 it was pur- 
chased by Mr. Edwards for 213/. 3s. At the sale of 
that gentleman's library in 1815 it became the property 
of the d like of Marlborough at the sum of 687/. 159., 
from whom it passed into the hands of Mr. Milner. On 
the 21st of June,, 1833, it was for the third time sub- 
mitted to public auction, and was then bought for the 
sum of 1100/. by Sir John Tobin, the present possessor; 
not, however, without a considerable struggle, Sir J. 
Soane competing with ardour up to the last bidding for 
the possession of the prize. Mr. Esdaile contended for 
it at the sum of 900/., and several other gentlemen freely 
offered nearly the same amount. 

We have only space to allude to one other MS. (which 
indeed, in chronological accuracy, should have been men- 
tioned before), of the very commencement of the fifteenth 
century, a remarkably interesting performance in every 
respect. We allude to a " Metrical History of the 
Transactions of Richard II." from the period of his last 
expedition into Ireland to his death in 1399, preserved 
in the British Museum. The author was a French 
gentleman of distinction, who, in the company of a knight 
of the same country, paid a visit to England, and joining 
the suite of the English monarch, accompanied him to Ire- 
land ; the whole circumstances of which journey he has 
detailed in the volume in question. In the " Archaeo- 
logia " (vol. xx.) is a translation of the history, and a 
very learned and instructive commentary, by the Rev. 
John Webb. The title is thus translated :" " The History 
of Richard, King of England ; treatirg particularly of the 
Rebellion of his subjects and the taking of his person. Com- 
posed by a French gentleman of distinction (de marque), 
who was in the suite of the said king, with permission 
of the king of France ; 1399." 

The MS. is illustrated by several interesting miniatures, 
of a style somewhat resembling the English " Life of St. 
Edmund " before noticed, but executed with more care and 
on a larger scale. From the first illumination, representing 
the author accepting the proposition of the knight to accom- 
pany him to England, the cut in p. 117 has been accu- 
rately copied. It is remarkable that throughout the 
work the author never mentions either his own name or 
that of his fellow-traveller, who, however, has been sup- 
posed by Strutt to be the Janico d'Artois mentioned by 
Holinshed and other historians as being in the suite of 
Richard. From the accurate and impartial manner in 
which this manuscript is written, it has been consulted 
by the best historians ; and the illuminations have 
been found of essential service not only in illustrating 
the remarkable costume of the time of Richard II., but 
as furnishing portraits of several of the most dis- 
tinguished characters of that interesting period of English 

[To be continued 
Digitized by VjjOOQIC 





[Concluded from No. 44?.] 

The forest of Atholl, the scene of the operations so gra- 
phically described by Mr. Scrope, is one of the most 
famous of the deer forests, and consists of a tract of wild 
but romantic country, extending nearly forty miles in 
length, and in some parts eighteen in breadth. It con- 
tains 135,451 acres; of which 51,108 are reserved ex- 
clusively (with a slight exception, as to Glen Tilt, where 
sheep are occasionally pastured) for deer-stalking. The 
highest mountains in the hunting district are Ben-y-Gloe 
and Ben Dairg. Of the immense size of the former 
some idea may be formed from the statement of its di- 
mensions. The highest point, Cairn-na-Gour (or the 
goats' hill) is 3725 feet above the level of the sea, and 
the circumference of the base is estimated at twenty-five 
Scotch miles. It contains twenty-four corries, so wide 
apart, that a gun fired in one cannot be heard in the next. 
In fact, it overlooks a vast territory of mountains little 
inferior to itself, of glens, rivers, and lakes. Ben Dairg, 
or the red mountain, so called from the red blocks of granite 
that form its summit, is 3550 feet in height. The prin- 
cipal glens overlooked by these giant mountains are Glen 
Tilt, Glen Cronie, Glen Mark, Glen Dirie, and Glen 
Bruar, all bearing the names of the rivers that run 
through them. The lakes are Loch Tilt, Loch Mark, 
Loch Garry, Loch Hone, Loch Dhu, Loch Malison, and 
Loch Loch. In this forest the third earl of Atholl re- 
ceived and entertained in a most splendid style King 
James V., and with him his mother Margaret, queen of 
Scotland, and an ambassador from the pope. Mr. Scrope 
quotes the account of this visit from Pitscottie. The earl 
built, "in the midst of a fair meadow, a fair palace of 
green timber," bound with birch trees, the green leaves 
showing thickly within and without, and the floor laid 
with turfs, rushes, and flowers. The front had its but- 
tresses, portcullis, drawbridge and moat. The interior 
was hung with fine tapestry, arras of eilk, and lighted with 
a great number of " fine glass windows ;" and furnished, 
in short, with all necessaries " pertaining to a prince, as 
it had been in his own palace-royal at home." Provisions 
of all kinds, fish, flesh, and fowl, were in the greatest 
abundance. The king hunted for three days, during 
which period the earl's expense amounted to a thousand 
pounds each day. As a fit close to so magnificent an en- 
tertainment, as soon as the king had left, the whole 
" palace," with its furniture and adornments, was burned 
down. With the " pride that apes humility," the king 
observed, in answer to the wondering observations of the 
ambassador, "It is the use of our Highlaudmen, though 
they be never so well lodged, to burn their lodgings when 
they depart !" Mr. Scrope estimates the number of the 
deer in this forest at between five and six thousand. The 
other principal Scottish deer forests are in Sutherland, 
Ross-shire, Aberdeenshire, Inverness-shire, and Banff, and 
in the islands of the Hebrides. The character of the 
scenery is, generally speaking, much the same in them 
all; exhibiting lofty mountains and deep glens, rocky 
passes, and sounding waterfalls, lakes, heaths, and bogs : 
in short, Nature herself seems to reign over them, su- 
preme, in naked and savage grandeur. Through all 
these extensive districts, every rock and cavern has its 
peculiar memories, legends, and superstitions. The bogle 
and warlock, banished from the incredulous imagination 
of the inhabitant of less desolate and awe-inspiring re- 
gions, still linger about the Highland forests, crossing the 
path of the benighted forester, and making his bold heart 
throb with unearthly fear. One of the most interesting 
features of Mr. Scrope's book is his collection of many of 
these legends, so illustrative of the country described. 

The character and habits of this graceful and beautiful 
animal, the deer, we must not pass unnoticed. Of its 
graceful motion, its stately carriage, and its picturesque 
appearance, we need not speak, as there are few who have 

not had opportunities of seeing those qualities, though 
certainly in an inferior degree, in the deer of our own 
English parks. But its courage, its self-possession in 
danger, and its skill in so frequently out-manoeuvring 
the enemy from whom danger is apprehended, are traits 
less known, because only developed when the animal 
breathes freely the ajr of its native mountains. We have 
before alluded to the deer*s sagacity in running up the 
wind when pursued by the deer-stalker ; a still more re- 
markable circumstance is mentioned by Mr. Scrope, " that 
in Devonshire, when hunted by dogs who are guided by 
the scent, they reverse their usual custom, and run dmvn 
the wind! Something more than unreasoning instinct 
must be present here. Like many other animals, deer 
foresee changes of weather ; u sometimes," says Mr. Scrope, 
"even two days before the change takes place." At the 
approach of a storm they descend from the exposed hill 
tops into the shelter of the valleys : when a thaw is about 
to begin, they leave the lower grounds for the mountains. 
They are excellent swimmers, and will cross from one 
island to another in search of food, or of the hinds, and 
it is asserted that on such occasions the rear animal puts 
his head on the hinder part of the one preceding, he 
does the same to the one preceding him, and so on with 
all the corps. 

When the rutting season comes, the harts are beard 
loudly roaring defiance to each other throughout the 
forests. Each endeavours to collect a number of hinds as 
his own, and should he be disturbed by the approach of 
an intruder, a terrible battle begins, and continues till 
one, feeling himself beaten, retreats : but still unable to 
make up his mind to retreat with dignity, begins cowering 
round the hinds, followed by his conqueror, until a touch 
of the latter's horn sends him at once scampering off, or 
he bounds aside and recommences the fight. Harts have 
been known to kill each other in these encounters. A 
pair were found in one of the duke of Gordon's deer 
forests with their horns inextricably locked, one dead and 
the survivor captive, soon to share the fate of his victim. 
The horns thus involved are still preserved. This pe- 
riod of excitement lasts only a few days, during which 
the hart is a dangerous enemy, even to man, if approached 
too nigh. The alarming attack made on Mr. and Mrs. 
Maule will be doubtless in the recollection of our readers. 
While they were crossing a park in their carriage, a 
stag rushed so furiously on the horses, that one of them 
died shortly after, and their own lives were put in con- 
siderable jeopardy. About this time the coat of the hart 
becomes of a lighter cast, his neck swells, and his body 
is drawn up like a greyhound's. The repeated conflicts 
and continual anxieties of the rutting season leave him 
very weak. His flesh is now rank and unfit for food. 
The hind drops but one fawn at a time, generally in the 
high heather, where she makes it lie down by pressing it 
with her nose. She then leaves it until night, but does 
not co so far from it as to endanger its safety. Keeping 
to windward, she is soon aware of the approach of the 
wild cat or any noxious vermin. \t is said that if you 
take up a young fawn that has never followed its mother, 
rub its back and put your fingers in its mouth, that it 
will follow you. The females are easily domesticated ; 
not so the males. 

Harts shed their horns annually, a truly wonderful 
circumstance if we consider that the horn is an actual 
continuation of the bone of the table of the skull, as the 
velvet or skin is of the integuments of the head ! Nor is 
the rapidity with which this firm mass of bone is secreted 
less worthy of our admiration. After the old horns are 
shed, the new appear in ten days, and attain their full 
growth (immense as that often is) in three months. The 
age of the hart may be told from an examination of its 
horns until it has passed its sixth year. A magnificent 
pair of horns is said to be still preserved, containing each 
thirty-three antlers that belonged to a stag killed by the 

Digitized by 




March 30, 1839. 

first king of Prussia. As the process of shedding seldom 
comes under observation, even of the foresters, we quote 
from Mr. Scrope the following notice of one such in- 
stance. Whilst the hart was " browsing, one of his ant- 
lers was seen to incline leisurely to one side, and imme- 
diately to fall to the ground : the stag tossed up his head 
as if in surprise, and began to shake it pretty violently, 
when the remaining antler was discarded also, and fell 
some distance from him. Relieved from this weight, he 
expressed his sense of buoyancy by bounding high from 
the ground, as if in sport, and then tossing his bare head, 
dashed away in a confused and rapid manner." " It is a 
remarkable fact," Mr. Scrope observes, " that few of the 
horns thus cast are found." The hinds have been seen to 
eat them, but it is scarcely conceivable that all the horns 
shed every year can be thus disposed of. The velvet be- 
fore mentioned is a thick leaden-coloured skin, covering 
the new horns : when this begin to peel off, the hart is 
in good condition for the table and for the hunt. Such 
deer as have three points at the upper extremity of their 
horns are called royal, and were, we presume, the indi- 
viduals chosen in former days for the king's sport. It 
was not uncommon in cases where the hart had, in sports- 
man's phrase, shown unusually good sport, and at last 
escaped, for the king to proclaim liim ; after which no 
one waB to injure or molest him under severe penalties. 
There is an extraordinary connexion observable between 
the general health, of the hart and the horns. A wound on 
the side of the body will materially affect the correspond- 
ing horn, and any disturbance of the system, as from a 
voyage, will interfere with the horns for the time. 

In size, the deer has greatly degenerated. In For- 
farshire, and many other districts, large antlers, and not 
unfrequently whole skeletons of deer, are found much 
larger than those of the present period. Mr. Scrope at- 
tributes this to the gradual decrease, with the altered cir- 
cumstances of the country, of fitting food and shelter. 
This belief seems corroborated by the fact that the largest 
deer are now generally found in the situations best adapted 
for them. The weight of deer varies considerably : those 
in the forests of Sutherland average twenty-five stone, 
but in different parts they have been occasionally found 
of the immense weight of thirty-six stone. The age of 
the deer is a subject on which most marvellous stories have 
been told. The Highland adage says, 

* Thrice the age of a dog is that of a horse j 
Thrice the age of a horse is that of a man ; 
Thrice the age of a man is that of a deer ;** &c. 

In Germany also traditions accord an immense age to 
the deer. But setting aside this kind of evidence, there 
seems to be little other. In Richmond Park the keepers 
consider that the deer seldom live beyond eighteen years : 
at the same time, as Mr. Scrope observes, this is no proof 
against the animal's greater longevity in a more natural 
state. Almost every part of the deer is fit for food. The 
colour of the skin is usually of a reddish brown. Its 
feet are exquisitely formed so as to combine beauty, 
strength, and speed, and to enable the deer to tread se- 
curely on the otherwise most insecure places. Its Latin 
name and distinctive marks are : " Cervus Elaphus, corni- 
bus ramosis, teretibus, recurvatis." [Linnjsus.] Eight 
cutting teeth in the upper jaw, and none in the lower. 

Simple and Composite Faculties. — The mind being one, 
and entire, and invariable, without parts or composition, 
acts always as one being. It recollects, praises, judges, 
abstracts, imagines ; and when you say that it exercises a 
compound, or complex, or composite faculty, as for example, 
the imagination, you only mean that it first exerts one 
faculty, then another, and then a third. We never should 
call the process by which chemists bleach vegetable sub- 
stances a composite operation, because they first make 
oxymuriatic gas, then mix lime with water, then, by agita- 
tion of the water exposed to the gas, cause lime to combine, 

and then expose the vegetable fibre to this compound 
liquor; we say that these are so many successive operations 
performed, and not one complex operation. And so ima- 
gination is not one compound faculty, nor is imagining 
one complex operation of the mind. But that mind in suc- 
cession remembers, abstracts, judges or compares ideas, 
and reasons or compares judgments — and the whole four 
successive operations form imagination ; to which you may 
add the further operation of taste, which, rejecting one and 
selecting other results of imagination, produces the fruits of 
refined or purified fancy ; if indeed this taste itself be any- 
thing but a sound exercise of judgment— a judgment re- 
fined by experience, that is, by constant attention to what 
is pleasing, and what disagreeable. The rapidity with 
which all these separate operations are performed by the 
mind, neither prevents them from being in succession and 
separately performed, nor at all shows the mind to l>ive 
composition or parts. Giving names to certain combina- 
tions, or rather successions of operations, and not to others, 
may be correct; but it must be admitted is somewhat 
capricious. We talk of imagination as if it were one opera- 
tion, though it is many ; and yet we give no separate narao 
to several other successions as rapid of our mental opera- 
tions. So as to our moral feelings. We speak of con- 
science as one ; yet it is, as Smith describes it, a succession 
(he says a compound) of several, among which pity for the 
party injured, and fear of the consequences to ourselves, 
are the chief. Yet we give no name to the reflection on 
past enjoyments, which is as quick a succession of several 
emotions, — namely, recollection, comparison of the present, 
and sorrowing for the contrast. — Dissertations on Sub/sets 
of Science connected with Natural Theology^ by Henry 
Lord Brougham. 

Variety and Extent of Vegetable Life. — If we review every 
region of the globe, from the scorching sands of the equator 
to the icy realms of the poles, or from the lofty mountain 
summits to the dark abysses of the deep ; if we penetrate 
into the shades of the forest, or into the caverns and secret 
recesses of the earth ; nay, if we take up the minutest por- 
tion of stagnant water, we still meet with life in some new 
and unexpected form, yet ever adapted to the circumstances 
of its situation. The vegetable world is no less prolific in 
wonders than the animal. Here, also, we are lost in admi- 
ration at the never-ending variety of forms successively 
displayed to view in the innumerable species which compose 
tlits kingdom of nature, and at the energy of that vegetative 
power which, amidst such great differences of situation, sus- 
tains the modified life of each individual plant, and which 
continues its species in endless perpetuity. It is well known 
that, in all places where vegetation has been established, 
the germs are so intermingled with the soil, that whenever 
the earth is turned up, even from considerable depths, and 
exposed to the air, plants are soon observed to spring, as if 
they had been recently sown, in consequence of the germi- 
nation of seeds which had remained latent and inactive dur- 
ing the lapse of perhaps many centuries. Islands formed 
by coral reefs, which have risen above the level of the sea, 
become, in a short time, covered with verdure. From the 
materials of the most sterile rock, and even from the yet 
recent cinders and lava of the volcano, nature prepares tin 
way for vegetable existence. The slightest crevice or ine- 
quality is sufficient to arrest the invisible germs that are 
always floating in the air, and affords the means of suste- 
nance to diminutive races of lichens and mosses. These 
soon overspread the surface, and are followed, in the course 
of a few years, by successive tribes of plants of gradually 
increasing size and strength ; till at length the island, or 
other favoured spot, is converted into a natural and luxuriant 
garden, of winch the productions, rising from grasses to 
shrubs and trees, present all the varieties of the fertile 
meadow, the tangled thicket, and the widely-spreading 
forest. Even in the desert plains of the torrid zone, the 
eye of the traveller is often refreshed by the appearance of 
a few hardy plants, which find sufficient materials for their 
growth in these arid regions ; and in the realms of perpetual 
snow which surround the poles, the navigator is occasionally 
startled at the prospect of fields of a scarlet hue, the result 
of a wide expanse of microscopic vegetation. — Dr. Rogefs 
Bridgewater Treatise on Animal and Vegetable Physiology. 

Printed by Willi am Clowm and Sow, Stamford StrMt, 

Digitized by * 


montbis gsupphmmt of 



Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


February 28 to March 30, 1839. 



[Bat-relief representing the Compilation of the Digest of the Indian Laws.— From Flaxman's Monument.] 

As an example of the successful cultivation of science 
and literature, combined with the most unremitting atten- 
tion to the duties of an arduous profession, no greater 
name could be selected than that of Sir William Jones. 
This amiable and great man was born in the year 1746 ; 
but he had scarcely attained his third year when his 
father, Mr. W. Jones (distinguished at the commence- 
ment of the last century for his mathematical attainments), 
expired, leaving but a limited provision for his family. 
But though deprived of one parent to whom he would 
have looked to, had he lived, for protection and instruc- 
tion, he had yet another, well calculated, by the natural 
strength of her mind and her habits of study, in which 
she had been encouraged by her husband, to undertake 
the formation of his mind and morals, to attend to the 
elementary steps of his education, and to direct him in 
the pursuit of knowledge. In the plans pursued by this 
excellent and high-minded woman for the instruction of 
her son, she relied principally on availing herself of the 
Yoi.. VIII. 

curiosity and desire for information natural to a young 
mind, and directing it to proper objects. The maxim she 
constantly inculcated was, " Read, and you will know." 
In his fourth year he had advanced so far in his educa- 
tion that he was able to read with ease any book in his 
native language ; and in two years afterwards he had 
made some progress in the Latin tongue. In 1753 he 
was placed at Harrow, where he was distinguished for 
his diligence, and where he received nearly every prize 
offered for the best exercises. In the vacations he did 
not allow himself to be drawn into all the boisterous plea- 
sures of boyhood, but applied himself with assiduity in 
the intervals of occasional relaxation to French and Arith- 
metic, with both of which, as with every other subject in 
which he engaged, he soon made himself familiar. Even 
the playground was made subservient to some useful pur- 
pose. The following anecdote has been preserved by 
Lord Teignmouth, his biographer : — " He invented a 
political play, in which Dr. William Burnet, bishop of 

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tMARCH 30, 

Cloyne, and the celebrated Dr. Parr, were his principal 
associates. They divided the fields in the neighbourhood 
of Harrow, according to a map of Greece, into states and 
kingdoms ; each fixed upon one as his dominion, and as- 
sumed an antient name. Some of their schoolfellows con- 
sented to be styled barbarians, who were to invade their 
terrritories and attack their hillocks, which were denomi- 
nated fortresses. The chiefs vigorously defended their 
respective domains against the incursions of the enemy ; 
and in these imitative wars the young statesmen held 
councils, made vehement harangues, and composed me- 
morials, all doubtless very boyish, but calculated to fill 
their minds with ideas of legislation and civil government. 
In these unusual amusements Jones was ever the leader." 
Dr. Thackeray, the head-master of Harrow School, 
though he never praised any of the boys in their own 
hearing, lest it should generate vanity and idleness, ob- 
served privately of Jones, that " he was a boy of so active 
a mind, that if he were left naked and friendless on Salis- 
bury Plain, he would nevertheless find the road to fame 
and riches." 

Besides closely studying in his school-hours the com- 
positions of the Greek and Latin authors, he commenced 
the Hebrew and Arabic languages, in both of which he 
made considerable progress. " His ardour for know- 
ledge," says Lord Teignmouth, " was so unlimited, that 
he frequently devoted whole nights to study, taking cofiee 
or tea as an antidote to drowsiness ; and his improvement 
by these extraordinary exertions was so rapid, that he 
soon became the prime favourite of his master, who, 
with an excusable partiality, was heard to declare that 
Jones knew more Greek than himself, and was a greater 
proficient in the idiom of that language. Nor was he less 
a favourite with his fellow-students than with his master. 
He acquired popularity with them by the frequent holi- 
days that rewarded the excellence of his compositions. 
His reputation at the same time was so extensive, that he 
was often flattered by the inquiries of strangers under 
the title of the Great Scholar." 

In his seventeenth year he was removed to Oxford, 
where he applied himself with increased ardour to the 
ancient languages, and the works of ancient authors. In 
the Arabic he became in a short time perfectly proficient ; 
and as a recreation to the intense application with which 
he had studied these subjects, he devoted some portion of 
his time to Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, by which 
the works of nearly all the best modern writers, with 
whom he was not already acquainted, became opened to 
him almost as quickly as by the wand of an enchanter. 
But with all these pursuits on his hands, he found time 
to enjoy the society of his friends ; and when in London 
in the vacation, with all the excitements of the fashionable 
season, and the necessity for a continuance of his college 
studies, he exercised himself every day in riding and 
fencing, and found opportunities for the composition of a 
number of elegant poetical pieces, which, although written 
merely for the amusement of his friends, exhibit a happy 
wit and fine imagination, tempered by the chastity of his 
mind and the elegance of his language. 

He had not been long at Oxford when the situation 
of tutor to Lord Althorp, afterwards Earl Spencer, and 
father of the present earl, was offered him. In 1766 
he was elected to a fellowship on the foundation of Sir 
S. Bennett at Oxford, which brought him a trifling but 
welcome addition to his income. 

In his twenty-third year he published, at the request 
of the King of Denmark, a French translation from an 
Eastern MS. of a history of the. life of Nadir Shah, to 
which he annexed a treatise on Oriental poetry, both of 
which obtained the applause of the learned, being distin- 
guished alike for elegance and erudition. 

But it was not his intention to exercise his talents only 
as an author; for however great the honours of a literary 
life, they are seldom attended with those golden harvests 

which other occupations generally produce ; and Jones, 
who had been supported at his studies by his mother with 
a liberajity which her means could ill afford, was deter- 
mined, if possible, to repay her kindness, and minister to 
her ease in the decline of her life, by engaging in some 
pursuit likely to remunerate him for his exertions. He 
was besides prompted to the choice of some profession 
from his own laudable ambition of providing a moderate 
independence for himself, since there are few situations 
more galling to the mind of an honourable man than the 
dependence on others for what his own exertions might 
have procured. With these views he directed his atten- 
tion to the law. In September, 1770, he was admitted 
into the Temple, having' resigned his charge in Earl 
Spencer's family, that he might devote his whole time to 
the study of his profession, and in 1774 he was called to 
the bar. His reputation and practice increased, and in 
a short time his mother had the pleasure of beholding 
him among the first lawyers of his country. " We may 
conceive and participate the delight of a fond parent," 
remarks his amiable biographer, " contemplating the in- 
creasing reputation of her son : she now found her mater- 
nal care and anxiety repaid in a degree equal to her most 
sanguine expectations, and her affection rewarded by a 
full measure of filial duty and gratitude. The progress 
of the virtues is not always in proportion to literary im- 
provement ; and learning, which ought to meliorate the 
affections and strengthen the principles of duty, has been 
known to distort the mind by pride and engender arro- 
gance. In Mr. Jones we have the pleasure to see every 
moral principle promoted and invigorated by bis lite- 
rary attainments." 

In 1774 he published his ' Commentaries on Asiatic 
Poetry,' a work which had been finished in his twenty- 
third year, but which he had refrained from giving to 
the world until it had received the approbation of his 
more mature judgment. The printing of this work ap- 
pears to have revived his taste for Oriental literature, and 
he now again gave part of his time, which, for some years, 
had been devoted exclusively to the law, to the study of 
languages, and to subjects bearing upon the history, 
manners, &c, of the East. While engaged in these 
Btudies a lingering desire of visiting the distant scenes of 
his literary affection became at length almost a mania ; 
but having placed his hopes in the law, he was resolved 
not to forego his anticipations of future advancement, 
unless some similar advantages should offer themselves 
in those countries. After waiting for a considerable time, 
his hopes were at length realized, for in March, 1783, 
during the administration of Lord Shelburne, he was ap- 
pointed to a judgeship in the supreme court of judicature 
at Bengal, a situation for which he was indebted to the 
friendship of Lorfl Ashburton. He received the honour 
of knighthood on the appointment, and finding himself at 
length placed in that situation of comparative independ- 
ence on which he had placed his hopes, he married Anna 
Maria Shipley, eldest daughter of the bishop of St. Asaph, 
to whom he had long been attached ; and in April of 
the same year he embarked for the scene of his judicial 
functions, where he arrived in September, 1783, being in 
his 37th year. In the following December he delivered 
his first charge to the jury at Fort William, and as his 
probity and independence were known to be equal to his 
abilities, he was most honourably received; while his 
engaging manners won him the affections of all ranks of 

He now applied himself to his long-cherished task of 
elucidating the origin and history of the Hindoos and 
other Eastern nations ; but with the greatest desire to 
explore the hidden antiquities of India, he found it would 
be impossible for one man, even with the greatest leisure 
and industry, to achieve the task. He therefore devised 
the institution of a society at Calcutta, on the plan of 
the Royal Society of London, for the purpose of concea- 

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trating all the information which the members might 
individually collect on every branch of Asiatic knowledge, 
including history, antiquities, natural productions, arts, 
sciences, literature, &c. Of this society he was elected 
president, an office which he rilled until his death, enrich- 
ing the transactions with many elaborate and valuable 
disquisitions on many points of Eastern philological 

The life of Sir William Jones had always been a life of 
employment ; every moment was given to study or to the 
acquisition of something useful ; but never did he apply 
himself with greater zeal to study, never did he avail 
himself so eagerly of every leisure moment, as when, in 
India, he was occupied for the greater portion of his time 
in his arduous professional duties. " While business re- 
quired the daily attendance of Sir W. Jones in Calcutta, 
his usual residence was on the banks of the Granges, at 
the distance of five miles from the court ; to this spot he 
returned every evening after sunset, and in the morning 
rose so early as to reach his apartments in town, by walk- 
ing, at the first appearance of the dawn. The intervening 
period of each morning, until the opening of the court, 
was regularly allotted and applied to distinct studies." 
Thus says his biographer, and in one of his own letters he 
informs his correspondent — " I am well, rising constantly 
between three and four, and usually walking two or three 
miles before sunrise." 

At this time he was engaged in the study of Sanscrit, 
rendered necessary from the inaccuracies and misrepre- 
sentations of the Pundits, or professors of Hindoo law, 
in Calcutta. By being able to examine the authorities 
brought forward by them in support of their opinions, 
he found he could sufficiently check them, when, from 
interested or other motives, they were inclined to alter 
the evidence they would produce. The different dia- 
lects of the Indian nations also received his attention, 
and with the Chinese he had made considerable progress 
before his arrival in India. From a paper written by 
him some time after he had been in India, it appears that 
he was acquainted, either perfectly or in a slighter degree, 
with no less than twenty-eight different languages; of 
which, English, Latin, French, Italian, Greek, Arabic, 
Persian, and Sanscrit, he had studied critically : but 
mere philology was never considered by Sir W. Jones as 
the end of his studies, nor as anything more than the 
medium through which knowledge was to be acquired. 

It was the humane desire of promoting the better 
practice of the law courts in India which induced him to 
undertake the compilation of the celebrated ' Digest of 
Hindoo Laws,' which, although not completed by him 
will remain as a monument of his talents and his 
desire to promote good-will and happiness amongst his 
fellow-creatures. To appreciate the importance of this 
work, it will be necessary briefly to allude to the reasons 
which determined him to undertake it. 

The judges at the supreme court at Calcutta are re- 
quired by the legislature to decide controversies between 
Hindoo and Mohammedan parties according to their re- 
spective laws of contracts and of succession to property. 
** Nothing, indeed," says Sir W. Jones, in his letter to 
Lord Cornwallis on the subject, " could be more obvi- 
ously just than to determine private contests according to 
those laws which the parties themselves had ever con- 
sidered as the rules of their conduct and engagements in 
civil life ; nor could anything be wiser than by a legis- 
lative act to assure the Hindu and Mussulman subjects 
of Great Britain that the private laws which they seve- 
rally held sacred, and a violation of which they would 
have thought the most grievous oppression, should not be 
superseded by a new system of which they could have no 
knowledge, and which they must have considered as im- 
posed on them by a spirit of rigour and intolerance. So 
far the principle of decision between the native parties in 
a cause appears perfectly clear ; but the difficulty lies 

(as in most other cases) in the application of the prin- 
ciple to practice ; for the Hindu and Mussulman laws 
are locked up for the most part in two very difficult lan- 
guages, Sanscrit and Arabic, which few Europeans will 
ever learn, because neither of them leads to any advan- 
tage in worldly pursuits ; and if we give judgment only 
from the opinions of the native lawyers and scholars, we 
can never be sure that we have not been deceived by 
them. It would be absurd and unjust to pass an indis- 
criminate censure on so considerable a body of men ; but 
my experience justifies me in declaring that I could not 
with an easy conscience concur in a decision merely on 
the written opinion of native lawyers in any cause in 
which they could have the remotest interest in misleading 
the court ; nor, how vigilant soever we might be, would 
it be very difficult for tnem to mislead us ; for a single 
obscure text explained by themselves might be quoted as 
express authority, though perhaps in the very book from 
which it was selected it might be differently explained, or 
introduced perhaps only for the purpose of being ex- 

To remedy this Sir W. Jones offered to superintend 
gratuitously the compilation of a digest of Hindoo and 
Mohammedan law, a task for which his knowledge of the 
Sanscrit language, together with his acquaintance with 
law in general, rendered him peculiarly fitted. 

Although every disposable moment was assigned by 
Sir W. Jones to the accomplishment of this great design, 
the immense labour required for it completion, and the 
suddenness which he was cut off from his labours, pre- 
vented him presenting the work to the world in a finished 
state. At the period of his death, however, he had com- 
pleted the compilation, and it only remained to translate 
it, a task which, arduous as it was, was achieved by Mr. 
H. T. Colebrook. 

Little more of importance remains to be noticed in his 
life ; the latter years of it were almost wholly taken up 
with the great work on which he had set his heart, and in 
the prosecution of his professional duties. In April, 
1794, he was- suddenly seized with inflammation of the 
bowels, a common complaint in India, of which he ex- 
pired in less than a week, tranquil in mind, and without 
any appearance of pain. 

Sir William Jones was a man not more celebrated for 
his talents, than beloved for his private virtues; his man- 
ners, prompted by a naturally amiable disposition, evince 
that he was imbued with the true principles of Chris- 
tianity. One of his cards was found after Iub death in- 
scribed with the following verses : — 

* Sir Edward Cokb : 
•* ' Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six, 
Four spend in prayer, — the rest on nature fix.* 

" Rather : 
" Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven. 
Ten to the world allot, and all to Heaven." 

The Court of Directors of the East India Company, to 
mark their sense of his merits as a public servant, and as 
a man of talent, caused a monument to be erected to his 
memory in St. Paul's cathedral ; a statue was also for- 
warded by them to India, that it might adorn some pub- 
lic place, and incite others to emulate his great example. 
His friends in Bengal, who had received their education 
at the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and who had 
experienced the pleasures of his society for a long period, 
erected, as a testimony of their friendship, an elegant 
monument at Oxford ; where also the affection of Lady 
Jones placed a statue by Flaxman. From this latter the 
bas-relief represented in page 121 has been copied. 

Lady Jones published an edition of his works shortly 
after his decease, in 6 quarto volumes; and in 1807 
Lord Teignmouth, who had been his intimate friend for 
many years, published an edition with his Life* in 13 
volumes 8vo. To these works we must refer^our reader* 
for the number and character of his publications. 

Digitized by VjjOOQIC 





[Cuckoo m Hedge-Sparrow's Nest.] 

In no season of the year need the observer of nature be 
at a loss for objects towards which his attention may be 
directed with pleasure and advantage. But Spring is the 
busiest of all the seasons, and in the garden, the field, 
the wood, a new creation has commenced on the ruins of 
the former year. It is pleasant to watch the indications 
of quickened life as the season advances, from the cold 
snowdrop which lifts its pale head ere the snow disap- 
pears, to the time when brighter and more blooming 
flowers succeed its delicate form. But it is not until the 
swallow has made its appearance, and the cuckoo has been 
heard, that we can persuade ourselves Spring has really 
come. The beautiful lines of Wordsworth, 'To the 
Cuckoo,' have already been inserted (' Penny Magazine,' 
No. 6), or we should have been tempted to give them 
a place here, as conveying the truest idea of the sensations 
with which the voice of this " blithe new-comer" is lis- 
tened to in our rural walks. There is perhaps no one so 
destitute of feeling and imagination as to be insensible to 
its effect, and to remain untouched while tracing back 
from spring to spring, to the earliest period of life, the 
associations which the well-known voice awakens. The 
cuckoo has uever been heard earlier than the 7th of April, 
and it is not unfrequently the end of the month before 

we become aware of its arrival. In June its voice has 
lost its clearness, and by the 1st of July it has almost 
always taken its departure. It comes to us from northern 
Africa, to which region it returns in autumn, resting by 
the way in the south of Europe. The general habits and 
economy of the cuckoo are not so well known as could be 
wished, attention having been confined chiefly to its 
parasitic habits. The wings of the cuckoo are long, and 
the feet remarkably short. Its flight is rapid, and it is 
not easy to get a sight of this bird. The effect of pecu- 
liarities of conformation on its manners and life is not 
easily to be ascertained, owing to its shyness. Mr. Swain- 
son says, " The English cuckoo no doubt searches for its 
food among foliage, but its nature is so shy that wc have 
never been fortunate enough to witness its mode of feed- 
ing." Montague states that it feeds principally on cater- 
pillars. Mr. Swainson is of opinion that the form of 
the nostrils will be found to be connected with the parasitic 
habits of the cuckoo. This singular characteristic has 
rendered the bird an object of much curiosity, and has 
puzzled naturalists from the time of Aristotle to the pre- 
sent day. Shakspere, who has made use of the know- 
ledge which he acquired, as a country lad, of the habits 
of birds and living things, has introduced a passage in 

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' King Henry IV., 9 Part I., in which allusion is made to 
the parasitic cuckoo. Worcester, in reminding Henry of 
the oaths which he had forgotten, and of the succour 
which he had received when his condition and prospects 
were less promising, says :— 

* And, being fed by us, you ns'd us so 
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
Useth the sparrow ; did oppress our nest; 
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk, 
That even our love durst not come near your sight 
For fear of swallowing." 

Act V., Scene I* 

The frigate pelican and 'several of the eagle trine 
plunder other birds of their food, but the cuckoo places 
its offspring entirely under the protection of foster parents, 
leaving it to them to provide its food and to nourish it 
until it can shift for itself. Though this is not a pleasing 
trait in the character of the cuckoo, the young bird is far 
from being ill-provided for in the place which it has 
usurped ; but, turning out the nestlings from the home 
which really belongs to them, they soon perish, while the 
intruder claims the services of the defrauded and bereaved 
parent birds, and thrives rapidly under their unceasing 
exertions to supply it with food. The cuckoo always de- 
posits its egg in the nest of a bird which feeds upon 
insects. The nests of the hedge-sparrow, the reed-spar- 
row, the titlark, the wagtail, the yellow-hammer, and 
others, have been selected ; and instances are mentioned 
of the nests of the linnet and white-throat having been 
the places of deposit ; but the greatest preference is shown 
to that of the hedge-sparrow. Dr. Jenner's well-known 
paper in the ' Philosophical Transactions' of the Royal 
Society, 1788, threw great light upon this striking pecu- 
liarity ; but there is still much room for observation on 
the habit. It seems doubtful whether or not tn ». cuckoo 
ever builds a nest of its own, but the general uefief is 
that it does not ; and whether the cuckoo deposits the egg 
from her body while actually sitting upon the nest is 
equally a matter of doubt. 

The following extract from Dr. Jenner's interesting 
paper shows the process of ejectment used by the young 
cuckoo : — 

c * June 18, 1187. — I examined the nest of a hedge- 
sparrow, which then contained a cuckoo's and three 
hedge-sparrow's eggs. On inspecting it the day follow- 
ing, I found the bird had hatched, but that the nest now 
contained only a young cuckoo and one hedge-sparrow. 
The nest was placed so near the extremity of a hedge 
that 1 could distinctly see what was going forward in it ; 
and to my astonishment, I now saw the young cuckoo, 
though so newly hatched, in the act of turning out the 
young hedge-sparrow. The mode of accomplishing this 
was very curious. The little animal, with the assistance 
of its rump and wings, contrived to get the bird on its 
back, and making a lodgement for the burthen by ele- 
vating its elbows, clambered backward with it up the 
aide of the nest till it reached the top, where, resting for 
a moment, it threw off its load with a jerk, and quite dis- 
engaged it from the nest. It remained in this situation a 
short time, feeling about with the extremities of its wings, 
as if to be convinced whether the business was properly 
executed, and then dropped into the nest again. With 
these, the extremities of its wings, I have often seen it 
examine, as it were, an egg and nestling before it began 
its operations ; and the nice sensibility which these birds 
appeared to possess seemed sufficiently to compensate the 
want of sight, which as yet it was destitute of. I after- 
wards put in an egg, and this by a similar process was 
conveyed to the edge of the nest and thrown out. . . . 
It is wonderful to see the extraordinary exertions of the 
young cuckoo when it is two or three days old, if a bird 
be put into the nest with it that is too weighty for it to 
lift out. In this state it seems ever restless and uneasy. 
But this disposition for turning out its companions begins 

to decline from the time it is two or three, till it is about 
twelve days old, when, as far as I have hitherto seen, it 
ceases." , 

The causes which impel the cuckoo to deposit its eggs 
in the nest of another bird, and the instinctive feeling to 
eject its companions which is experienced by the intruder 
the moment it is hatched, are curious subjects for inves- 
tigation. Dr. Jenner attributes the peculiar habit of the 
cuckoo to the short residence which it makes in the 
countries where it is destined to propagate] its species :— 
"The cuckoo's first appearance here "is about the 
middle of April, commonly on the 17th. Its egg is 
not ready for incubation till some weeks after its arrival, 
seldom before the middle of May. A fortnight is taken up 
by the sitting-bird in hatching the egg. The young bird 
generally continues in the nest three weeks before it flies, 
and the foster-parents feed it more than five weeks after 
this period ; so that if a cuckoo should be ready with an 
egg much sooner than the time pointed out, not a single 
nestling, even one of the earliest, would be fit to provide 
for itself before its parent would be instinctively directed 
to seek a new residence, and thus be compelled to aban- 
don its young one ; for old cuckoos take their final leave 
of this country the first week in July." Dr. Jenner ob- 
serves that " the same instinctive impulse which directs 
the cuckoo to deposit her eggs in the nests of other birds, 
directs her young one to throw out the eggs and young of 
the owner of the nest. The scheme of nature would be 
incomplete without it ; for it would be extremely difficult, 
if not impossible, for the little, birds destined to find suc- 
cour for the cuckoo to find it also for their own young 
ones after a certain period ; nor would there be room for 
the whole to inhabit the nest." The same intelligent 
observer says — " I have frequently seen the young 
cuckoo of such a size that the hedge-sparrow has perched 
on its back or half-expanded wing in order to gain suf- 
ficient elevation to put the food into its mouth." There 
is a peculiarity in the back of the young cuckoo when 
first hatched, which seems to be intended to aid it in dis- 
lodging the other inmates of the nest. The scapulae 
downwards are broad, and in the middle there is a hollow 
in which the egg or nestliug is placed when the young 
cuckoo is about to eject it. This depression is filled up 
when the bird is about twelve days old, by which time 
the disposition has ceased which prompted it to make 
itself the possessor of the nest. 

The young cuckoos leave this country successively as 
soon as they are capable of taking care of themselves ; 
but they may be seen until the middle of August. For 
some time beiore the bird becomes independent of its 
foster-parents it procures some part of its subsistence by 
its own exertions, like the rook. 

Terms are the termini or spaces of time prescribed for 
the administration of justice in the courts of law, and for 
the prosecution of academical studies at our universities. 

The first part of the following statement is taken from 
Sir Henry Spelman's 'Original of the Four Terms.' To 
beat down the Roman superstition touching observation 
of days, against which St. Augustine and others wrote 
vehemently, the Christian, at first, used all days alike for 
hearing causes, not sparing Sunday itself : and, according 
to the Talmudists, the judges of the law sat on week- 
days, from morning till night, in the gates of the cities ; 
and on Sabbaths and solemn festivals, on the walls. 

For reformation of the abuse of hearing clamorous 
litigants on the Lord's day, it was ordained by the 
council of Tarragona, in 517, that no bishop or inferior 
person (infra positus) should try causes on that day. 
By the council of Friburg, in 895, secular judges were 
prohibited from holding pleas on Sundays and saints 9 
days, or during Lent, or on fast-days. In 932 the coun- 
cil of Erfurt, after confirming the prohibition of seculai 

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[March 30, 

pleas on Sundays and other feast-days, and on fast-days, 
decreed that no judicial power should he exercised dur- 
ing seven days before Christmas, or from Septuagesima- 
Sunday until the octave (i.e. a week after) of Easter, 
or for seven days before the nativity of St. John the 
Baptist. The council of St. Medard enlarged the Christ- 
mas vacation until the octave of the Epiphany. By 
the laws of Canute, trial by ordeal and by oaths (i.e. by 
the oaths of witnesses) was prohibited from Advent until 
the eighth day after the Epiphany, and from Septua- 
gesima until fifteen days after Easter. Afterwards no 
judicial proceedings were allowed to take place, except by 
consent of parties, during the hay or corn harvest, or during 
the vintage. The year was by these means broken into 
four not very unequal judicial periods, termini, or terms: 
these, from the principal festival occurring about the 
time of their commencement, were called Hilary, Easter, 
Trinity, and Michaelmas terms ; the commencement and 
termination of which respectively were from time to time 
altered by different statutes. Hilary and Michaelmas 
were called immoveable term3, the. former beginning on 
the 20th of January (the octave of St. Hilarius, whose 
feast-day falls on the 13th of January), and ending on 
the 12th of February ; the latter beginning on the 3rd of 
November (the morrow of All Souls), and ending on the 
28th of November. Easter and Trinity terms were called 
moveable terms ; the former commencing on the second 
Sunday after the moveable feast of Easter (from Easter 
in fifteen days), and ending on the Monday before Whit- 
Sunday ; the latter beginning on the day after Trinity- 
Sunday (the morrow of the Holy Trinity), and ending on 
the Wednesday three weeks after. This mode of desig- 
nating periods sounds rather oddly to modern ears. 
When tne festivals of the church were solemnly observed 
by the whole population, a reference to the time of their 
recurrence presented a more distinct idea to the mind 
than would have been conveyed by stating the day of the 
month ; and accordingly we find the former course 
adopted on ordinary occasions. The first three days of 
each term the judges did not sit, that period being 
allowed, as Mr. Justice Dodridge says, to the suitors to 
consult with their counsel. The fourth day, and in 
Trinity term the fifth day, was the day of appearance, 
and was reckoned the first day of the full term ; the 
first day of the nominal term being called the essoign- 
day, or the day on which the suitors were essoigned, or 
allowed to send excuses for non-attendance. 

As the Spring Assizes are held in Hilary vacation, the 
circumstance of Easter term being moveable was attended 
with this inconvenience, that when Easter fell early, Easter 
term began before the business of the assizes was well 
finished. But now, by 1 William IV., c. 70, sec. 13, 
Hilary term (i.e. full term) begins on the 11th and ends 
on the 31st of January. Easter term begins on the 15th 
of April, and ends on the 8th of May ; Trinity term 
begins on the 2nd of May and ends on the 12th of June ; 
and Michaelmas term begins on the 2nd of November 
and ends on the 25th. If either of these days fall on a 
Sunday, the commencement or the termination of the 
term is deferred till the Monday. By this arrangement 
Michaelmas term begins and ends three days, and Hilary 
twelve days earlier than before ; and an interval of ten 
weeks is" secured between Hilary and Easter terms. 

The Chancery and the Exchequer are not restricted by 
the terms, and may sit during any part of the year ; but 
neither the judges of the Queen's Bench nor those of the 
Common Pleas can act judicially, as a body, out of term, 
except under the provision of 1 & 2 Victoria, c. 32, which 
enables the courts of Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, and 
Exchequer to set after Hilary term and Michaelmas term, 
not more than 24 days ; and after Easter term not more 
than six days, exclusive of Sundays, for disposing of 
arrears of business. The Exchequer is included in the 
enactment, probably because it was not usual for that 

court to sit out of term, except as a court of equity, or for 
matters affecting the king's revenue. 

Formerly the mode of preparation for practising as an 
advocate in the courts of common law was a course of 
private reading, accompanied by mootings (arguments 
upon supposititious cases), and readings (public lectures) 
and attendance on the courts at Westminster. With a 
view to these objects, and particularly the two last, 
students at law or candidates for admission to the bar 
are required to be resident, or to attend at one of the four 
inns of court, Inner Temple, Middle Temple, Lincoln's 
Inn, or Gray's Inn, the societies at which form so many 
colleges for the study of the common law for a certain 
number of terms. Their residence or attendance is 
called " keeping terms, for the purpose of being called to 
the bar." It is not required that they should be kept 
consecutively. In term-time a dinner is daily prepared 
in the common dining-hall of each society or inn of court, 
for the barristers and students, of whom the society is 
composed ; and as no record is kept of the residence or 
attendance of students, except by noting down their ap- 
pearance in hall at the hour of dinner, students at law 
are sometimes represented as eating their way to the bar. 

The terms at Oxford and Cambridge appear to be 
founded upon those observed by the courts at Westmin- 
ster, though varying in time and duration, particularly 
at Cambridge. 

Oxford has four terms : Michaelmas term begins on 
the 10th October and ends on the 1 7th December ; Hilary, 
or Lent term, begins on the 14th January and ends on the 
Saturday preceding Palm-Sunday; Easter term begins on 
the second Wednesday after Easter, and ends on the 
Saturday preceding Whit-Sunday ; Trinity term begins 
on the Wednesday after Whit-Sunday, and ends on the 
Saturday after the act, which is always on the first Tues- 
day in July. If the day on which a term should have 
begun or ended falls on a festival, the commencement or 
termination is deferred to the day after, with the exception 
that if the day on which Easter term should have ended 
be a festival, the term, instead of being lengthened one 
day, expires on the day preceding the festival. Full 
term begins on the Sunday next after the first congre- 

Cambridge has only three terms : Michaelmas term 
begins on the 10th October and ends on the 16th De- 
cember ; Lent term begins on the 13th January and ends 
on the Friday before Palm- Sunday ; Easter term begins 
on the second Wednesday after Easter, and ends on the 
Friday after Commencement-day. Commencement-day 
(which corresponds to the Act at Oxford) is always the 
first Tuesday in July. 


March 31. — Easter Sunday is a moveable festival held 
in commemoration of the Resurrection ? and being the 
most important and most ancient in observance, governs 
the whole of the other moveable feasts throughout the 
year. Easter-day is now made to agree, since the change 
of style, with the ordinance of the Council of Nice m 
325, and always happens on the first Sunday after the 
full moon immediately following the 21st of March. 
Easter-day cannot fall therefore earlier than the 22nd of 
March, nor later than the 25th of April. 

Easter Monday.— The working men of large towns, 
and of London especially, make holiday on this day. 
When the holiday is made, all that is wanted to make it 
a happy holiday— happy to the working man and his 
family— is a resolution not to mistake the excesses of the 
ale-house for the cheaper pleasures which do no injury to 
the morals and the health, and which the humblest man 
may enjoy as well as the highest in the land. A walk 
into the country, in the beautiful budding season, is the 
highest happiness which a well-regulated mind can enjoy; 

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Sut a little knowledge into the mind-, and the walk is made 
oubly interesting. If the country be not attractive, every 
large town has some interesting object to be seen, where 
instruction and delight may be found together. 

April 23. — St. George was born in Cappadocia, of 
Christian parents of considerable respectability, though 
at the period of his birth possessing only a small patri- 
mony. St. George was carefully educated in the belief 
of the Gospel, in the defence of which his father lost his 
life while the Saint was yet of very tender years. Upon 
the decease of his father, St. George accompanied his 
mother into Palestine, where they came into possession 
of a large estate. Dioclesian the Tyrant, who knew not 
of his being a Christian, and admired his majestic and 
noble form, appointed him a commander in one of his 
legions, with tne dignity of a seat in the council. In the 
20th year of his age he lost his maternal parent, and 
wholly dedicated himself to his military duties, in which 
he became eminently distinguished ; but during the 
height of his reputation the persecution of the Christians 
burst forth with increased violence and aggravated cruelty ; 
upon which St. George withdrew himself from the ser- 
vice of the Tyrant, whom he had the courage publicly to 
upbraid in the senate with his barbarities, and openly 
distributed his vast fortune for the support of those 
against whom the persecutors of Christianity, headed by 
the emperor, were exerting their utmost malice. Alike 
unmoved by promises of aggrandisement and unawed 
by threats, St. George continued firm in his opposition to 
the tyrannies of the hardened emperor, for which, after 
having several times endured the torture, he was ignomi- 
niously* drawn through the city of Lydda, and beheaded 
on the 23rd of April, 290. The surviving Christians 
buried his mutilated remains, the sepulchre containing 
which remained in tolerable preservation until the year 
1 1 80 ; and we find that his head was solemnly translated 
to the great church built in honour of him in the eighth 
century by Pope Zachary, who attended the ceremony, 
accompanied by the whole of the clergy and most of the 
laity of Rome. From these facts sprang those fabulous 
statements of the combat of St. George with a dragon, to 
preserve the daughter of a king, who otherwise would 
have been devoured by a monster. 

It has been the practice from time immemorial for all 
nations to adopt some peculiar cry in their warlike 
attacks ; and such exclamations have naturally varied in 
this as in other countries, according to the fancy and ca- 
price of different sovereigns, or as the popular feelings 
and sentiments of the times prompted. Edward the 
Third, at the battle of Callice, in the year 1349, joined to 
England's then supposed principal guardian, St. Edward 
the Confessor, the name of St. Ueorge, both of whom he 
earnestly invoked to aid his arms. Victory shone on the 
banners of the king ; and the next year the Order of the 
Garter was established, dedicated to St. George, whose 
name has ever been the word of attack of England, as 
the saint himself has, from that period, been considered 
as its guardian hero and protector. 

April 25. — St. Mark the Evangelist. — St. Mark 
was first brought to the knowledge of the divine 
truth by the Apostle Peter, who calls him " Marcus, 
his son, 9 ' as a testimony of his great affection. It 
was at Rome that he compiled, from the discourses of 
St. Peter, to whom he became a constant attendant, the 
writings distinguished by the title of * The Gospel ac- 
cording to St. Mark.' Having finished this inestimable 
composition, St. Mark quitted Italy to preach the doc- 
trines of Christianity in Egypt, where he converted mul- 
titudes ; and after establishing a bishopric at Alexandria, 
extended his labours westward, successfully preaching in 
Marmorica, Pentapolis, Lydia, &c, until about the year 
61, when he returned to superintend his church at 
Alexandria. The Egyptians, jealous of the success of 
St. Mark, and exasperated by the mistaken but zealous 

ardour of some of his converts, who, . contrary to the 
mild tenets he had inculcated, attempted by violence to 

Elant the Gospel and overthrow the heathen worship, 
roke into the church while the Evangelist was preach 
ing, and tying his feet together, dragged him through 
the streets and over the most rugged ways, until his flesh 
was torn from his body, and he expired in excruciating 
agony on the 25th of April, in the year of our Lord 68, 
which day has annually been celebrated as his anniver- 
sary from its first institution in the year 1090. 


iFrom the • Penny Cyclopanlin.') 

The worm -casts, which so much annoy the gardener by de- 
forming his smooth-shaven lawns, are of no small im- 
portance to the agriculturist; and this despised creature is 
not only of great service in loosening the earth and rendering 
it permeable by air and water, but is also a most active and 
powerful agent in adding to the depth of the soil, and in 
covering comparatively barren tracts with a superficial 
layer of wholesome mould. In a paper ' On the Formation 
of Mould/ read before the Geological Society of London, 
by Charles Darwin, Esq., F.G.S., now one of the secretaries, 
the autjior commenced by remarking on two of the most 
striking characters by which the superficial layer of earth, 
or, as it is commonly called, vegetable mould, is distin- 
guished. These are, its nearly homogeneous nature, although 
overlying different kinds of subsoil, and the uniform fineness 
of its particles. The latter fact may be well observed in 
any gravelly country, where, although in a ploughed field, a 
large proportion of the soil consists of small stones, yet in old 
pasture-land not a single pebble will he found within some 
inches of the surface. The author's attention was called to 
this subject by Mr. Wedgwood, of Maer Hall in Stafford- 
shire, who showed him several fields, some of which, a few 
years before, had been covered with lime, and others with 
burnt marl and cinders. These substances, in every case, 
are now buried to the depth of some inches beneath the 
turf. Three fields were examined with care : the first con- 
sisted of good pasture-land, which had been limed, without 
having been ploughed, about twelve years and a half before ; 
the turf was about half an inch thick ; and two inches and 
a half beneath it was a layer or row of small aggregated 
lumps of the lime, forming, at an equal depth, a well-marked 
white line. The soil beneath this was of a gravelly nature, 
and differed very considerably from the mould nearer the 
surface. About three years since cinders were likewise 
spread on this field : these are now buried at the depth of 
one inch, forming a line of black spots parallel to and above 
the white layer of lime. Some other cinders, which had 
been scattered in another part of the same field, were 
either still lying on the surface or entangled in the roots of 
the grass. The second field examined was remarkable only 
from the cinders being now buried in a layer, nearly an 
inch thick, three inches beneath the surface. This layer 
was in parts so continuous, that the superficial mould was 
only attached to the subsoil of red clay by the longer roots 
of the grass. 

The history of the third field is more complete. Pre- 
viously to fifteen years since it was waste land; but at that 
time it was drained, harrowed, ploughed, and well covered 
with burnt marl and cinders. It has not since been dis- 
turbed, and now supports a tolerably good pasture. The 
section here was — turf half an inch, mould two inches and 
a half; a layer one and a half inch thick, composed of 
fragments of burnt marl (conspicuous from their bright red 
colour, and some of considerable size, namely, one inch by 
half an inch broad, and a quarter thick), of cinders, and a 
few quartz pebbles mingled with earth ; lastly, about four 
inches and a half beneath the surface was the original 
black peaty soil. Thus beneath a layer (nearly four inches 
thick) of fine particles oi earth, mixed with some vegetable 
matter, those substances now occurred, which, fifteen years 
before, had been spread on the surface. Mr. Darwin stated 
that the appearance in all cases was as if the fragments 
had, as the farmers believe, worked themselves down. It 
does not however appear at all possible that either the 
powdered lime or the fragments of burnt marl and the 
pebbles could sink through compact earth to some inches 
beneath the surface, and still remain in a continuous layer: 
nor is it probable that the decay of the grass, although 
adding to the surface some of the constituent parts «f the 

Digitized by 




[March 30, 1839* 

mould, should separate in so short a time the fine from the 
coarse earth, and accumulate the former on those objects 
which so lately were strewed on the surface. Mr. Darwin 
also remarked that near towns, in fields which did not 
appear to have been ploughed, he had ofteii been surprised 
by finding pieces of pottery and bones some inches below 
the turf. On the mountains of Chile he had been per- 
plexed by noticing elevated marine shells, covered bv earth, 
in situations where rain could not have washed it on 

The explanation of these circumstances, which occurred 
to Mr. Wedgwood, although it may at first appear trivial, 
the author does not doubt is the correct one, namely, that 
the whole is due to the digestive process by which the com- 
mon Earth-worm is supported. On carefully examining 
between the blades of grass in the fields above described, 
the author found that there was scarcely a space of two 
inches square without a little heap of the cylindrical cast- 
ings of worms. It is well known that worms swallow earthy 
matter, and that, having separated the serviceable portion, 
they eject at the mouth of their burrows the remainder in 
little intestine-shaped heaps. The worm is unable to swal- 
low coarse particles; and as it would naturally avoid pure 
lime, the fine earth lying beneath either the cinders and 
burnt marl, or the powdered lime, would, by a slow process, 
be removed and thrown up to the surface. This supposition 
is not imaginary, for in the field in which cinders had been 
6pread out only half a year before, Mr. Darwin actually saw 
the castings of the worms heaped on the smaller fragments. 
Nor is the agency so trivial as it at first might be thought, 
the great number of Earth-worms (as every one must be 
aware who has ever dug in a grass- field) making up for the 
insignificant quantity of work which each performs. 

On the above hypothesis, the great advantage of old 
pasture land, which farmers are always particularly averse 
from breaking up, is explained ; for the worms must require 
a considerable length of time to prepare a thick stratum of 
mould, by thoroughly mingling the original constituent 
parts of the soil, as well as the manures added by man. In 
the peaty field, in fifteen years, about three inches and a 

half had been well digested. It is probable however that 
the process is continued, though at a slow rate, to a much 
greater depth ; for as often as a worm is compelled by dry 
weather or any other cause to descend deep, it must bring 
to the surface, when it empties the contents of its body, a 
few particles of earth. The author concluded by remarking, 
that it is probable that every particle of earth in old pasture- 
land has passed through the intestines of worms, and hence 
that in some senses the term "animal mould" would be 
more appropriate than " vegetable mould.' 1 The agricul- 
turist, in ploughing the ground, follows a method strictly 
natural ; and he only imitates in a rude manner, without 
being able either to bury the pebbles or to sift the fine from 
the coarse soil, the work which nature is daily performing 
by the agency of the Earth-worm. 

Since this paper was read Mr. Darwin has received 
from Staffordshire the two following statements: — 1. In 
the spring of 1 835 a boggy field was so thickly covered with 
sand that the surface appeared of a red colour, but the sand 
is now overlaid by three-quarters of an inch of soil. 2. About 
eighty years ago a field was manured with marl, and it has 
been since ploughed, but it is not known at what exact 

Seriod. An imperfect layer of the marl now exists at a 
epth, very carefully measured from the surface, of twelve 
inches in some places and fourteen in others, the difference 
corresponding to the top and hollows of the ridges or butts. 
It is certain that the marl was buried before the field was 
ploughed, because the fragments are not scattered through 
the soil, but constitute a fayer which is horizontal, and 
therefore not parallel to the undulations of the ploughed 
surface. No plough, moreover, could reach the marl in its 
present position, as the furrows in this neighbourhood are 
never more than eight inches in depth. In the above paper 
it is shown that three inches and a half of mould had been 
accumulated in fifteen years; and in this case, within 
eighty years (that is, on the supposition, rendered probable 
from the agricultural state of this part of the country, that 
the field had never before been mailed) the Earth-worms 
have covered the marl with a bed of earth averaging thir- 
teen inches in thickness. 

i umee or tli* society far the Uiffurion of Usefal Knowledge it al 59. Lincoln** Inn Field* 

Printed by Whaiam Ctovu and Sox* SUmfotd Staeet, 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[April 6, 1839. 

No. II. — Chevy Chase — Sir Andrew Barton. 

[" Next day did many widows come. 
Their husbands' to bewail.'*} 

These popular ballads are of a poetic as well as historic 
order ; but their poetry is the natural fruit of the story ; 
and their romance is of truth, not of the fancy. Had 
two minstrels resolved to conceive and produce ima- 
ginative legends of sea and land, they could have 
brought forth nothing more romantic in narrative, or more 
poetic in circumstance, than 'Chevy Chase' and ' Sir 
Andrew Barton.' They are history and truth : but history 
excited, elevated, and inspired ; truth all life, spirit, and 
heroism. They record contests of a national character 
which fell out when these kingdoms were not, as now, 
united ; and they celebrate the deeds of the fiery Dou- 
glases, the heroic Percies, and the chivalrous Howards : 
they are perfect examples of our best ballad spirit, and of 
that manly feeling which generally distinguished the war- 
fare waged of old by the two nations. Blood was not 
shed from a tiger or Spanish-like love of spilling it : ven- 
geance had no part in their strife ; even the bards, who 
shared in the fray and recorded it, raise no cry of exulta- 
tion or of triumph. " The English on the one side," 
says Froissart, who lived when Chevy Chase was fought, 
and had conversed with the different warriors, " and the 
Vol. VIII. 

Scots on the other, are good men of war ; for when they 
meet there is a hard fight without sparing, as long as spears, 
swords, axes, or daggers will endure. And when they are 
well beaten, and the one party hath obtained the victory, 
they then glorify so in their deeds of arms, and are so joyful, 
that such as are taken they will admit to ransom, ere they 
stir from the field ; so that shortly each of them is so 
content with other, that at their departing they will cour- 
teously say, € God thank you.' " 

The battle of Chevy Chase had its origin in the rivalry 
of the Percies and Douglases for honour in arms : their 
castles and lands lay on the Border ; their pennons often 
met on the Marches; their war-cries were raised either 
in hostility or defiance when the Border riders assembled ; 
and though the chiefs of those haughty names had en- 
countered on fields of battle, this seemed to stimulate 
rather than satisfy their desire of glory: in the spirit 
of those chivalrous times Percy made a vow that he would 
enter Scotland, take his pleasure in the Border woods for 
three summer days, and slay at his will the deer on the 
domains of his rival. " Tell him," said Douglas, when 
the vaunt was reported, " tell him he will find one day 


Digitized by 




[April 6, 

more tnan Enough. '* Into Scotland, with fifteen hundred 
chosen archers and greyhounds for the chace, Percy 
marched accordingly, at the time "when yeomen win 
their hay ;" the dogs ran, the arrows flew, and great was 
the slaughter among the bucks of the border. As Percy 
stood and gazed on " a hundred dead fallow deer " and 
" harts of grice," and tasted wine and venison hastily 
cooked under the greenwood tree, he said to his men, 
" Douglas vowed he would meet me here ; but since he 
is not come, and we have fulfilled our promise, let us be- 
gone." With that one of his squires exclaimed — 

" I#o yonder doth Karl Douglas come, 

His men in armour bright; 
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears 

All marching in our sight ; 
All men of pleasant Tiviot-dale, 

Fast by the river Tweed. 
O cease your sport, Earl Percy said, 

And take your bows with speed." 

It was indeed high time to quit the chace of the deer and 
feel that their bow-Btrings were unchafed and serviceable, 
for stern work Was at hand, 'the coming of the Scots is 
announced with a proper minstrel flourish :— 

" Earl Douglas on his milk-whHe steed, 
Most like a baron bold, 
Rode foremost of his company, 
Whose armour shone like gold. 

Show me, said he, whose men you be, 

That hunt so boldly here; 
That without my consent do chace 

And kill my fallow deer." 

To this haughty demand the first man that made 
answer was Percy himself: he replied. "We choose 
not to say whose men we are ; but we will risk our 
best blood to slay these fallow deer." "By St. 
Bride, then, one of us shall die !" exclaimed Douglas in 
anger. " I know thee ; thou art an earl as well as my- 
self, and a Percy too : so set thy men aside, for they have 
done me no offence ; draw thy sword, and let us settle 
this feud ourselves." And he sprang to the ground as he 
spoke. " Be he accursed*" replied Percy, " who says 
nay to this ;" and he drew his sword also. 

" Then stept a gallant squire forth* 
Witherington was his name ; 
Who said, I would not have it tola* 
To Henry our king for shame, 

That e'er my captain fought on foot, 

And I stood looking on. 
Yeu are two earls, said Witherington, 

And 1 a squire alone ; 

I'll do the best that do I may, 

While I have power to stand: 
While I have power to wield my sword, 

I'll fight with heart and hand." 

This resolution met with the instant support of the Eng- 
lish bownlen. The Scottish writers allege that it was ac- 
ceptable to the chiefs on the southron side, who could not 
but feel that their Percy was no match for the terrible 
Douglas. Be that as it may, the interposition of Wither- 
ington was seconded by a flight of arrows. 
" Our English archers bent their bows, 
Their hearts were good and true : 
At the first flight of arrows sent 
Full four score Scots they slew." 

This sudden discharge and severe execution did not 
dismay Douglas : " his men of pleasant Tiviot-dale " 
levelled their spears, and rushed on the English archers, 
who, throwing aside their bows, engaged in close contest 
with sword and axe. 

u The battle closed on every side, 

No slackness there was found, 
And many a gallant gentleman 

Lay gasping on the ground. 
O, bat it was a grief to see 

And likewise for to hear, 
The cries of men lying in their gorftj 

And scattered hire and there." 

In the midst of the strife the two leaders met, and that 
single combat ensued which Witherington had laboured 
to prevent : thep were both clad in complete mail, and 
the encounter was fierce. 

" They fought until they both did sweat, 
VVith swords of temper'd steel ; 
Until the blood, like drops of rain, 
They trickling down did feel." 

" Yield thee, Percy," exclaimed Douglas, who seems 
to have thought that ne had the best of it : " Yield thee. 
I shall freely pay thy ransom, and thy advancement shall 
be high with our Scottish king." This was resented by 
the high-souled Englishman : — 

" No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then 
Thy proffer I do scorn ; 
I would not yield to any Scot 
That ever yet was born.'* 

During this brief parley the contest among their fol- 
lowers raged far and wide ; nor had the peril of Percy 
been unobserved by one who had the power to avert it : 
as he uttered the heroic sentiment recorded in the last 
Verse, an end — a not uncommon one in those days — was 
put to the combat between the two earls : — 

c With that there came an arrow keen 
Out of an English bow, 
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart 
A deep and deadly blow." 

" Fight on, my merty men," exclaimed the expiring 
hero : Percy was deeply moved : he took the dead man 
by the hand and said, " Earl Douglas, I would give all 
my lands to save thee : a more redoubted knight never 
perished by such a chance." The fall of Douglas was 
seen from a distant part of the strife by a gallant knight 
of Scotland, who vowed instant vengeance. 

11 Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called, 
Who with a spear most bright, 
And mounted on a gallant steed, 
Rode fiercely through the fight. 

He past the English archers all, 

Without or dread or fear ; 
And through Earl Percy's fair bodie 

He thrust his hateful spear. 

With such a vehement force and might 

He did his body gore, 
The spear ran through the other side, 

A long cloth-yard and more." 

The career of the Scot and the fall of the Englishman 
were observed and avenged. The Scottish spear, the 
national weapon of the north, was employed against Percy ; 
the cloth-yard shaft, the national weapon of the south, 
was directed against Montgomery. 

u Thus did those two bold nobles die, 
Whose courage none could stain. 
An English archer soon perceived 
His noble lord was slain ; 

He had a bow bent in his hand, 

Made of a trusty tree ; 
An arrow of a cloth-yard length, 

Unto the head drew he. 

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery there, 

So right his shaft he set ; 
The gray-goose wing that was thereon, 

In his heart's blood was wet.*' 

With the fall of their chiefs and leaders the contest did 
not conclude : the battle began at break of day : Douglas 
and Percy are supposed to have fallen in the afternoon ; 
but squires and grooms carried on the contention till the 
sun was set ; and even when the evening bell rung, it was 
scarcely over. "Of twenty hundred Scottish spears/* 
says the English version of the ballad, " scarce fifty-five 
did flee." " Of fifteen hundred Scottish spears," says 
the northern edition, " went home but fifty-three." So 
both nations claim the victory ; but in an older copy the 
minstrel leaves it undecided ; though Froissart, in the 

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account wmch he drew from knights of both lands, says 
the Scotch were the conquerors. On both sides the flower 
of the border chivalry was engaged. The warlike names 
of Lovel, Heron, Widdrington, Liddel, Ratcliffe, and 
Egerton, were sufferers on the side of the Percies ; while 
with Douglas fell Montgomery, Scott, Swinton, Johnstone, 
Maxwell, and Stewart of Dalswinton. The pennon and 
spear of Percy were carried with Montgomery's body to 
the castle of Eglinton ; and it is said that when a late 
duke of Northumberland requested their restoration, the 
earl of Eglinton replied, " There is as good lea land here 
as on Chevy Chase — let Percy come and take them." 

We shall not attempt to vindicate our admiration of 
this ballad by quoting the praise of Sidney : the criticism 
of Addison, or the commendations of Scott : there are, 
we believe, few memories without a portion of it : we have 
heard it quoted by the dull as well as by the bright ; by 
the learned as well as by the illiterate ; nay, we once heard 
an accomplished lady sing it to the harp while the greatest 
genius of our isle since the days of Milton witnessed its 
beauty by his tears. Nor was it the heroism and chivalry 
of the ballad which called forth such testimony : it con- 
tains bits of tenderness which our painters as well as our 
poets have felt. 

" Next day did many widows come, 

Their husbands to bewail ; 
They washed their wounds in brinish tears, 

But all would not prevail. 

Their bodies, bathed in purple gore, 

They bore with them away ; 
And k ist them dead a thousand times, 

E're they were c l ad in clay.*' 

We must treat of ' Sir Andrew Barton ' in a succeed- 
ing number. 


[From a Correspondent.] 

In a volume entitled ' Les derniers Bretons,' byM. Sou- 
vestre, published at Paris in 1836, a long account is 
given of a peculiar game which is played in Bretagne 
at Shrovetide. The following passage, quoted in the 
* London and Westminster Review ' for August last, 
p. 368, will give some idea of the sport ; and for fuller 
particulars the reader is referred to the review itself, 
where a long extract on the subject, from M. Souvestre's 
work, is given in an English translation. 

" The soule is an enormous ball of leather filled with 
bran, which is thrown in the air, and fought for by the 
players, who are divided into two parties. The victory 
rests with the party that can carry off the soule into a 
different township from that where the game has com- 
menced. This exercise is the last vestige of the worship 
which the Celts paid to the sun. . . . The very 
word is of Celtic origin, derived from heaul (soleil), in 
which the initial h is changed into s 9 as in all the foreign 
words adopted by the Romans." 

The description here given of the Bretagne game of 
the soule reminds us strongly of the Derby foot- ball 
play, peculiar, so far as our knowledge previously went, 
to the single town of Derby ; played likewise at Shrove- 
tide; interesting in the fate of the game all ranks of the 
townsmen; and, in short, resembling in all essential 
particulars its French prototype. For the credit of our 
country however we must be allowed to say that though 
at Derby we have witnessed serious broils, arising from 
the heat engendered by the contest, they have never been 
known by any means to resemble the atrocities practised 
on these occasions by the Souleurs, — the malicious maim- 
ings, the murders committed through cherished revenge, 
but so effected as to appear accidental, — as described by 
M. Souvestre. 

The town of Derby contains five parishes ; All Saints, 
St Michael's, St. Aulkmund's, St. Werburgh's, and St. 
Peter's. The last is so extensive, and furnishes so large 

a share of the foot-bali players, that it singly stands 
against the other four parishes together ; and the rallying 
cry of the two parries thus becomes " All Saints *' and 
" Peter's" respectively. The adjoining country parishes 
take part, more or less, with the side which approaches 
the nearest in position to their boundaries, and the fete 
of the game is frequently decided by the one party or the 
other bringing in an unusual influx of these outlying 
players ; and from time to time there rise up reformers, 
who would cut off these out-voters (so to speak) from the 
glories and honours of the game, and limit the foot-ball 
play to the genuine townsmen of Derby. 

The ball is made of very strong leather, about a foot 
in diameter, and stuffed hard with cork shavings. At 
two o'clock on Shrove-Tuesday begins the sport; and as 
the hour approaches, the whole town seems alive with 
expectation. It is a universal holiday? and all ranks and 
ages are seen streaming towards the market-place. Here 
the shops are found to be shut, and the houses all round 
filled with spectators, men, women, and children, crowding 
the windows and perched upon the house-tops. The 
players arrive by degrees from opposite sides of the 
market-place, coming generally in parties of a dozen or 
more, each greeted as it appears by the cheers of its re- 
spective side. The market-place is chosen as a central 
spot for the commencement of the game, and the goals 
are well known by long-standing agreement. That of 
the " Peter's " is the gate of a nursery-ground, situated 
somewhat more than a mile off, in the direction of Lon- 
don ; that of the " All Saints," the wheel of a water- 
mill at a rather shorter distance on the road towards 
Manchester by Ashbourne. The object of the game is 
the goaling of die ball at the one or the other of these 
places, a process performed by striking it three times 
against the gate or the wheel respectively. 

At the appointed hour arrives the ball, carried by the 
hero of the last year who was lucky enough to goal it 
then. The crowd of players opens to receive him ; and, 
going into the middle of the market, he throws up the 
ball ; all cluster round it, and the game begins. Hie 
thorough-going players, who know their business well, 
come unincumbered by unnecessary clothing, with trew- 
s' ers tightly strapped round the loins ; coat, and usually 
waistcoat too, removed, and arms bare. Their arms also 
they hold up above their heads on entering the fray, as 
they would be very apt to be broken from the extreme 
pressure of such a mass. On the outskirts of the throng 
hover others, whose standing in society will not suffer 
them to appear in the simple dishabille described above. 
Yet, eager as any for their party, they are there, en- 
couraging, directing, vociferating ; and ever and anon 
carried forward by their zeal ; pushing, too, as hard as 
any, and often in the middle of the throng. We have 
indeed heard of townsmen of high standing and well 
deserved reputation losing their spectacles, unused to 
such hard labour, in the cause ; and men who at any 
other time would be ashamed to appear, except in 
nicest dress, may, after two o'clock on Shrove-Tuesday, 
be seen without a hat, with half a coat, and yet without 
a blush. 

Such then is the scene in the market-place ; a dense 
central mass of uplifted arms ; and around, a throng 
closely wedged together, pushing with all their might 
towards their distant goal. And ever and anon we see 
a fresh combatant entering the mass, with broad chest 
and brawny arms, and, like one of Homer's heroes, " of 
stature far above the rest;" while others, tired and faint 
with their exertions, are coming out for a mouthful of 
fresh air, a glass of ale from the nearest public-house, or 
oranges, supplied in abundance by venders attendant on 
the game, and bought up with eagerness by the spectators 
for the refreshment of their own side. 

The ball generally follows, as might be expected, the 
slope of the market-place, which is somewhat in favour of 


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[April 6, 

the " Peter's" party ; and it is their usual policy to get 
it as soon as possible into the river, which lies in the 
same direction. Not that the river leads directly towards 
their goal ; but water-carriage is uniformly easy, and at 
any rate it takes the ball farther and farther from the 
opposite goal. The river being too deep for pushing 
as they do on land, one man swims down the stream 
with the ball, embracing it in his arms, and buoyed up 
by it as by a life-preserver. The rest of the players and 
such of the spectators as still keep up a sufficient interest 
in the protracted game, follow the course of the ball on 
the bank of the river on which lies the " Peter's" goal. 
It is now the object of this party to land the ball at the 
nearest point to their own goal, if they be strong enough 
to carry it thither at once ; or if not, to protract the game 
till darkness shall give them the opportunity of carrying 
it thither by stealth. The " All Saints" party, on the 
other hand, have little chance except in the bold stroke of 
mastering the man in the river, and landing the ball on 
the opposite side, making off with it by three, four, or more 
miles of land conveyance to their goal. Such a struggle 
in the water is occasionally attended with danger ; but is 
rarely known to produce very serious effects. Whichever 
way the game ends, it is seldom over till late when once 
the ball has thus gone down the river. Sometimes indeed 
the course which the game takes is through the streets 
pretty directly to one of the goals ; in which case its pro- 
gress, or expected progress, is marked by the closing of 
the shops, especially in the closer built parts of the town. 
This however happens only when the " All Saints" party 
are uncommonly strong and keep it by main force out of 
the river; or when the " Peter's" are strong enough to 
attempt a direct course — a dangerous policy for them, as 
they must cross the brook on which their rivals' goal is 
situated, and thus enable them to put in practice their 
own aquatic tactics, though on a smaller scale. In such 
a case as this, the ball is sometimes goaled in two or three 

In the more usual instance related above, when the 
game is adjourned till darkness conies on, it .is soon 
known at which side of the river the ball has been landed, 
and consequently at which goal it may be expected ; and 
here the final struggle takes place. The unsuccessful 
party endeavour to surround their rivals' goal so as to 
prevent the possibility of bringing the ball up to it ; and 
many are the tales mutually told, of stratagems for effect- 
ing this object. The most usual perhaps has been, to 
remove the cork-shavings, and smuggle in the cover, under 
a countryman's frock or a woman's gown, to the desired 
place. And tradition records that once, when the " All 
Saints" were approaching their goal, the water-wheel, 
which we have mentioned as forming it, was set in mo- 
tion by a device of the enemy. 

Goaled however at length the ball is, by the one party 
or the other ; and then the hero who effected the triumph 
is hoisted on his fellow-players' shoulders, and carried 
with the ball in his hands through the parish or parishes 
of the victorious party, soliciting and receiving pretty 
largely from the enthusiasm of their compatriots the hard- 
earned means of refreshment after their labours, and en- 
couragement in their glorious toils. 

The following day, Ash Wednesday, is called the 
" Boys' day," when a juvenile performance of the same 
kind takes place, on the principle of teaching a child the 
way he should go. And to say the truth, the young ones 
are very ready to learn, and give every promise of per- 
petuating the glorious game of their native town. This 
second day's sport is in one respect different from that of 
the pre vious one ; the men of both sides attend to see 
fair play, and many doubtful cases arising, of great boys 
and little men, disputes are far more frequent than on 
the men's own day. Indeed, it is said, that such as do 
arise on the Tuesday are by mutual consent deferred to 
the Wednesday. Attempts have been made to put down 

the game as tending to foment quarrels and to endanger 
life ; the fact is, however, that life is hardly ever lost, 
and we do not think the quarrels are either very serious 
or very permanent. The practice has never been put 
down ; out, we understand, continues to prevail to the 
present day. 

The following anecdote, to doubt which appears unrea- 
sonable to a true Darby man (so the natives call their 
town), shows the peculiarity and provinciality of the 
game. Two English settlers in the back-woods of Ame- 
rica, meeting by chance, began talking of the old Eng- 
land they had left. " And where did you come from ?" 
says the one. " From Darby," replies the other. " Oi 
don't think thee looks loike a Darby mon ; but oi'l troy 
thee. . . All Saints for ever !" " Peter's for ever !" 
was the instant reply, and the rival foot-ball players, thus 
proved to be fellow-townsmen, shook hands, preferring 
their common town — " the pretty, clean, little Derby," as 
travellers call it, to their hostile parishes of All Saints 
and Peter's. 

Destitution in the Highlands. — We read in the news- 
papers, ever and anon, of alarming Scarcities of food among 
the inhabitants of the Scottish islands and the coast of Ire- 
land. Why is this? The seas, beside which the lot of these 
people has been cast, abound, more than almost any others 
in the known world, with the richest and most grateful 
of food. Why do we hear of starvation among hundreds 
or thousands where Providence has prepared abundance, 
luxurious abundance, for myriads and millions? The fact 
is a very simple one, and cannot be gainsaid. The Celtic 
tribes have retained to this hour the prejudices against fish 
and fishing, which we trace in every record of the uncivilized 
period of ancient Greece. While so many plans are in agi- 
tation for the improvement of the physical condition of one 
of the principal sections of our empire, why do we hear 
nothing of some national effort to overcome this fatal absur- 
dity ? Among the most crying cases of recent Irish calamity, 
a large portion come from the little islands scattered along 
the mouths of the great Irish actuaries. These famishing 
people have their salvation before their eyes, but they win 
not turn to it with a good heart. Jt is the same, or even 
worse, with the Hebrides at this moment. And what wonder 
that such should be the. case ? We happen to number 
among the most esteemed of our personal friends, one of the 
principal proprietors of that interesting archipelago ; and we 
are assured, that though, during thirty years past, that 
family has made every effort to encourage sea fishing among 
their dependants, it has never been in their power to procure, 
except in the smoothest weather of summer and autumn, 
a decent supply of sea fish even for their own table. The 
removal of a prejudice thus rooted might surely be the 
worthy object of some legislatorial measure ; and by sueli 
only, we are well convinced, can it ever be effectually re- 
moved.— Quarterly Review; article, * Yarrell's British 

Flight of Falcons. — Their command of the air is truly 
wonderful. A few strokes of their powerful wings will send 
them up till they are hardly visible, or bring . them from 
the top of their flight to within a short distance of the 
ground. At times they will ride motionless, as if they were 
anchored in the sky ; and anon, with hardly any perceptible 
motion of the wings, they will shoot, with the rapidity of a 
meteor and the certainty of an arrow, — aye, more certainly 
and at a farther range than ever shaft that human archer 
set on the string. The collision of their pounce is terribly 
effective. If the falcon misses, we need not wonder that 
the quarry escapes before it can again rally; and if the 
falcon comes upon the bayonet charge of the quarry, as is 
sometimes the case when it stoops at the heron, we need not 
wonder that it is transfixed. The ballistic pendulum used 
in experimental gunnery, though suspended on hinges, 
gives way to the cai.oon-shot; what then shall we say of the 
stroke of the falcon, which breaks bones flying away in the 
air, and defended by feathers ? The keen point of the claw 
— of that terrible claw on the hinder toe, which concentrates 
the whole momentum of the bird, and always strikes per* 
pendicularly and penetrates— is the main instrument of the 
effect.— Mudie's British Birds. 

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[Portrait of Alexander, enlarged from a Coin in the Bodleian Library, Oxford.] 

Of Icings and warriors, no one has acted so eminent a 
part on the mighty stage of the world as Alexander, com- 
monly called the Great, third king of Macedonia of that 
name. Caesar, the other great conqueror of antiquity,- 
the equal probably of Alexander in ability, and his rival in 
renown, had far less influence on the destinies of mankind ; 
for the unwieldy commonwealth of Rome before his time 
was tending fast towards a despotism, and it remained only 
to be seen whether that despotism should be committed to 
Pompey or to him, to the representative of the aristocratic, 
or the favourite of the democratic party ; a question, as 
we may conjecture from the event, of no vital importance 
to the subject millions. The life of Alexander, on the 
contrary, was one of those critical epochs which have 
changed the history of the civilized world. It was 
foretold in prophecy as one of the appointed means of 
working out the decrees of the Almighty ; it cast down the 
mighty empires of the earth ; it substituted new dynasties, 
new manners, and a new language over the richest part of 
the known world. It forms a turning point, a link of 
sacred and profane history, and as such possesses a great 
and lasting interest, independent of that seductive glory 
which waits upon brilliant qualities and wonderful 
actions set off by success. 
The Macedonians, of whom Alexander was the here- 

ditary king, had in the more brilliant times of Greece 
been regarded as little better than barbarians, unworthy 
of being ranked with the polished citizens of the Greek 
republics ; though the kings of Macedonia were of Argive 
origin, and traced their descent from the honoured line 
of Hercules. Philip, the father of Alexander, was the 
first of them who rendered his power formidable to his 
southern neighbours. He was a brave, able, and 
ambitious prince, successful equally in negotiation 
and war. It was his favourite project to become 
the recognised leader of the Greek nation; and this 
he carried into effect, after a long course of aggran- 
disement, by the battle of Chseroncia, won against the 
Thebans, Athenians, and other allied states, b.c. 338. 
That decisive victory crushed open opposition ; and soon 
after, at a congress held at Corinth, he was appointed 
captain-general of Greece, with a view to the invasion of 
Persia by the united power of the Greek nation. But 
before this scheme could be executed he was assassinated, 
b.c. 336. Private resentment, family discord, and 
the apprehensive jealousy of Persia, have severally 
been assigned by historians as the causes of this 

Alexander was born at Pella, b.c. 356. As by his 
father he claimed descent from Hercules, so by his 

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[April 6, 

mother Olympias, of the royal house of Epirus, he traced 
his line to Achilles. Splendid, however, as was his gene- 
alogy, his birth was doubtful, for the infidelity of Olympias 
was suspected by Philip, and has been roundly asserted 
by many authors. Flattery, after Alexander had won 
his renown, asserted that Jupiter, the king of gods, had 
given life to the future conqueror of the world; and 
vanity or policy received and gave currency to the 
legend. In later times it was remembered as a re- 
markable coincidence, that the splendid temple of 
Diana at Ephesus was destroyed by fire on the night of 
his birth. His education was conducted with care and 
judgment, and he grew up robust and active, skilled in 
military exercises and the use of arms. In running and 
riding he was pre-eminent ; and one of the most cele- 
brated actions of his youth was the taming of a mag- 
nificent Thessalian horse, which had been offered for sale 
to his father, but refused, as being so fierce that no one 
could ride it. This was the celebrated Bucephalus, 
who, after carrying Alexander through his Persian cam- 
paigns, died in the battle against Porus, on the banks of 
the Hydaspes, leaving his name and fame (like the no 
less celebrated Rozinante) as an inheritance for the rest 
of his respectable species. His mind was not less care- 
fully cultivated than his body. At the age of fifteen he 
was placed under the immediate superintendence of Aris- 
totle, who continued near his person until he set out on 
the invasion of Persia. It is conjectured that the philo- 
sopher composed for his use the valuable treatises still 
extant, on logic, poetry, &c. ; and there is a letter extant 
in which he upbraids his tutor " for publishing those 
branches of science hitherto not to be acquired except 
from oral instruction. In what shall I excel others, if 
the more profound knowledge I gained from you be com- 
municated to all?" The passage may serve in some 
respects as a key both to the good and evil of Alexander's 
temper. Ardent in the pursuit of excellence, his motive 
and object seems rather to have been the desire to excel 
others, rather than excellence in the abstract, and for its 
own sake ; as in the very instance now under renew, 
in which knowledge was avowedly sought and esteemed 
for selfish purposes. How great his progress in abstract 
science may have been, we have no means to determine ; 
that his talents were carefully improved is evident. His 
style in speaking and writing was clear and pure ; his 
capacity was suited no less to civil than to military bu- 
siness ; above all, he had that talent for command, that 
ascendency over the minds of others, which seems to be a 
part of the natural constitution of those who enjoy it, 
unattainable, though improvable, by study. To judge 
from the results, his moral must have been inferior 
to his intellectual training : he was rash, headstrong, 
hot tempered; and selfish, as all must be who cannot 
bear even an equal, and with whom, therefore, self- 
aggrandisement is the first object of life. That Aristotle, 
master as he was of moral philosophy, had not taught his 
pupil the art of self-government, is evident from the 
anecdotes of Alexander's youth, as well as from the ex- 
cesses of his maturity. But we must not forget that the 
gifts of nature and of fortune combined in this instance 
to enhance the difficulty of inculcating or of practising 

The love of conquest inherent in his character, and fos- 
tered both by national habits and prejudices, and by his 
own social position, was still further strengthened by the 
passionate admiration of Homer, which Alexander mani- 
fested both in youth and manhood. Tracing his descent 
from Achilles, the hero of the Iliad, it became a passion 
with him to emulate his great ancestor's deeds and re- 
nown ; and his first care, when he first landed in Asia 
upon the coast of Troy, was to pay magnificent funeral 
honours to the shade of the hero ; during which he him- 
self, in imitation of the antieut rites, ran naked and on 

foot round the barrow* which covered the hero's re- 
mains. The Iliad and Odyssey were Alexander's constant 
companions. At night they were laid under his pillow 
with his sword; and his veneration for them is testified 
by the anecdote, that on being asked to what purpose a 
casket of extraordinary beauty and splendour found 
among the Persian treasures should be applied, he set it 
apart for the reception of his copy of these poems, as the 
worthiest purpose to which so excellent a work of human 
ingenuity could be applied. Looking to the subject and 
spirit of these wonderful poems, especially the Iliad, it is 
easy to conceive the effect which they would produce on a 
youth so circumstanced and so disposed as Alexander. 

Such as we have endeavoured to describe him, at the 
age of twenty, Alexander came to the throne. The sud- 
denness of Philip's death, and the youth of his successor, 
gave to all those who had borne with anger and impatience 
the rapid increase of Macedonian power, a favourable op- 
portunity, as it then seemed, of emancipation. Dangers 
and rebellions surrounded Alexander on all sides, but deci- 
sion and promptitude saved him. He marched an army at 
once into Thessaly, and having by his unexpected presence 
nipped in the bud the plots of the discontented party, he 
proceeded to Thermopylae, where the Amphictyonic 
Council recognised him, in place of his father, captain- 
general of Greece. This decree was confirmed by a 
general assembly at Corinth; at which he was em- 
powered to follow out his father's designs, by taking 
the command of the whole Greek nation in pro- 
secuting the war against Persia. The Lacedaemonians 
alone dissented, saying that it had ever been their privi- 
lege to lead, and not to follow. It was on this occasion 
that the celebrated interview between Alexander and Dio- 
genes took place, when the surly philosopher requested, 
as the only favour which he needed, that the king would 
move from between him and the sun. 

In the spring of the year B.C. 335 Alexander undertook 
a distant expedition against the northern barbarians, from 
whose known ill-will he apprehended danger duriug his 
absence in Persia. He forced the passes of Mount 
Haemus (now the Balkan, obstinately contested in the late 
war between the Turks and Russians), and fought his way 
to the banks of the Danube. Having re-established in that 
quarter the terror of the Macedonian name, he concluded 
peace with the Triballi and Getee, and turned westward 
against the Illyrians and Taulantii, warlike nations 
dwelling on the coast of the Adriatic. 

While he was thus engaged a report of his death be- 
came current in Greece, and emboldened the Thebans to 
attempt the recovery of their independence. On re- 
ceiving this intelligence Alexander returned southward 
by forced marches, and arrived at Thebes before the 
rumour of his death had been even contradicted. It was 
not his wish to resort to violent measures ; but his propo- 
sitions of accommodation were rejected with insult, and 
the city, being taken by storm, suffered the extremity of 
military violence. Those who survived the first indiscri- 
minate slaughter were condemned to slavery ; and the 
buildings, except the citadel, were levelled with the 
ground. The rigour of this decree, however, was softened 
by extensive exceptions. More especially the descendants 
of the poet Pindar were preserved uninjured in person 
and fortune, aud his house was left standing amidst the 
universal destruction. t Thebes never recovered from 
this blow. 

* " That mighty heap of gathered pound, 
Which Amnion's son ran proudly round." 

Bride of Abydot. 
f " The great Emathian conqueror bid spare 

The house of Pindarua, when temple and tower 
Went to the ground." 

Milton, Sonnett, 

[To be continued.] 

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J 35 

We proceed to fix a handle to our tea-cup. 

When the turner has finished his work upon a vessel, 
it passes into the department of the " handler." It is 
his business to fix on the handle, the spout, the leg, the 
rim, or any other projection which may form part of the 
vessel. If the spout or handle be complicated in form or 
decoration, it is usually made in a plaster mould consist- 
ing of two parts, each of which forms a sort of intaglio 
of half the intended object. Between these too halves 
a piece of clay is pressed, so as to cause it to assume 
the desired form ; after which it is liberated from the 

If the handle, spout, &c, be more simple in its charac- 
ter, it is made by putting a piece of clay into a cylinder, 
the bottom of which has an aperture. Into this aperture 
is placed a plug having an orifice shaped like the section 
of the intended object. Above the clay in the cylinder is 
a piston, or plunger, which is worked oy a screw, so that 
by pressing the piston down upon the clay, the latter is 
forced through the orifice in a long string or piece, 
having the same diameter, thickness, and form as the 
orifice through which h has been forced. 

Raised ornaments, such as are frequently seen on ale- 
jugs, and similar decorations, are made separately in 
plaster- moulds, and fixed on afterwards. 

When the handle, the spout, the foot, or the ornaments 
of a vessel are prepared, they are fixed on in a very simple 
manner. The lone strips tor spouts and handles are cut 
to the proper lengths, and bent into the required form : 
a piece is cut out of the upper edge of the vessel to receive 
a spout ; and two small spots are pared down in a slight 
degree in order to afford two flat surfaces for the recep- 
tion of the top and bottom ends of a handle. The parts 
which are to come in contact are then wetted with the 
slip, or creamy mixture of clay and flint, and by being 
slightly pressed on, a perfectly firm adhesion is obtained. 

If the cup or other vessel be elaborate either in form 
or in the ornaments with which it is decorated, neither 
throwing nor pressing will suffice to produce it ; the pro- 
cess of casting is here required. A model is made of clay, 
on which a modeller, who is in effect a sculptor, exercises 
his ingenuity by developing fanciful and elegant figures 
on the surface of the model, by means of fine steel, ivory, 
or wooden tools. In some large establishments modellers 
are kept constantly engaged, at high wages. We have 
said that Mr. Wedgwood gate four hundred guineas for 
the modelling of the Barberini Vase. This munificent 
remuneration led to such earnest endeavours to attain 
excellence in the art of modelling, that it is said a good 
modeller could now produce jn a fortnight that which 
took Mr. Webber many months to execute. Everything 
that is refined and elegant In the seience (A form is valu- 
able to the modeller. 

When the model is completed, a mould is taken in 
plaster of Paris, and from this mould casts are taken one 
after another, until the mould is unfit for further use. To 
make these casts, the clay is mixed up with water to the 
consistence of cream, and then poured into the mould. The 
plaster quickly absorbs some of the water from the clay 
in contact with it, and on pouring away the rest of the 
clay cream, a film remains behind adhering to the mould. 
More clay of a thicker consistence is now thrown in, and 
after a short time poured out again, by which a suffici- 
ently thick crust remains attached to the mould. This 
crust, being afterwards removed and trimmed by hand, 
constitutes the vessel intended to be made. 

Whatever the quality of the tea-cup or other vessel 
produced — whether costly porcelain, blue ware, or white 
ware — the processes above described are sufficiently exact 
to give a general idea of the subject, since the points of 
difference occur more in subsequent processes than in 
that of giving the form to a vessel. 

We have now made one tea-cup, so for as shape is 

concerned, and have next to go through the processes of 
baking, glazing, ornamenting, and gilding : first, that of 

If the clay cup were glazed without undergoing the 
process of firing or baking, it would neither possess the 
beauty nor the durability required. It is therefore ex- 
posed to an intense heat for several hours. The cup, in 
the first place, is put into a seggar, which is a kind of 
square box made of a species of clay eminently calcu- 
lated to withstand heat. The cup is placed upon a little 
stratum of sand or of powdered porcelain, on the bottom 
of the seggar, to prevent adhesion ; and it is generally 
contrived that each seggar shall contain several pieces of 
ware, so arranged as not to touch one another. In some 
manufactories the heat employed is so intense that the 
seggars can be used only once ; but this expensive pro- 
ceeding is an exception to the general rule, which is, to 
make one seggar serve several times. 

When several seggars are filled with vessels, they are 
placed in an oven side by side, and one over another, 
until the oven is nearly filled. They are built up in 
piles called bungs, each seggar serving as a cover to the 
one below it, until the pile nearly reaches to the roof of 
the oven. The piles or bungs are arranged in regular 
succession, with spaces of three or four inches between 
them, to allow for a circulation of hot air completely 
round them. The oven is then carefully closed, and the 
fire lighted. 

A very watchful degree of attention is now required 
from the attendant workmen, since either a little less or a 
little more than a particular amount of baking might 
spoil the whole assemblage ; or if the oven be so ill con- 
structed, or the seggars so ill-arranged, that different 
parts become unequally heated, some of the ware will be 
over-baked, while others will be baked insufficiently. 
The form of furnace best t adapted for this purpose has 
engaged the attention of many scientific men, both in 
England and abroad, and many different forms have 
been employed. 

The process of baking is carried on for a period ot 
about forty-eight hours, the temperature being gradually 
raised as the baking proceeds, and the workman then 
begins to ascertain the state of the contents of the oven : 
this he does in a remarkable way. There is a particular 
kind of clay — Staffordshire fire-clay — which, when 
greatly heated, changes its colour, the colour varying as 
the temperature varies. These colours, and the tempe- 
ratures at which they are produced, are known, and fur- 
nish the workman with a test by which he may determine 
the heat of the oven. He inserts small pieces of the 
clay, called <rai/-pieces, into holes in the oven, and when 
they have shared the full effects of the heat, they are with- 
drawn, and the colour which they present is compared by 
the workman to standard pieces which he has by him. 
The result of this comparison enables the workman to 
determine whether the temperature of the oven be such 
as experience has shown to be most conducive to the ob- 
ject in view. 

When the proper amount of baking is effected, the 
oven is allowed to cool gradually during a period of about 
twenty-four hours, and the seggars, with their contents, 
are taken out. The wares are now found to be consider- 
ably altered ; they present nearly a pure white colour : 
and if the ingredients were of that kind destined to pro- 
duce china or porcelain, the vessel now presents that 
beautiful semi-transparency which is one of the characters 
and one of the distinguishing attractions of porcelain. 
There is no gloss on the surface ; but the substance pre- 
sents a very fine porous structure, which fits it for the 
office of xoine-coolers. The mode in which it effects this 
latter object in warm weather is curious and instructive. 
A bottle of wine is immersed in water contained in an 
unglazed vessel, such as the baked ware of which we 
are now treating, through the pores of which the water 

Digitized by 




April 6, 1839. 

gradually exudes. On coming in contact with the ex- 
ternal air, these small streamlets (if such they may he 
called) of water evaporate, hy reason of the higher tem- 
perature of the air ; and in the act of evaporating or 
forming into steam rob the rest of the water of a portion 
of its heat. The water, in its turn, draws heat from the 
glass of the wine-bottle ; and lastly, the bottle abstracts 
heat from the wine itself : so that by this chain of ac- 
tions the wine becomes cooled down to the desired tem- 

Another purpose to which the unglazed baked pottery 
is applied is the manufacture of beautiful small statues 
and other figures. This has been done to a great extent 
at the manufactory of Sevres in France. Sometimes ladies 
order vases to be made, and decorate them ~ themselves 
by painting and gilding when in the unglazed state * 
after which they are again sent to the potter to be finished. 
The ware in the unglazed state is called biscuit, from the 
resemblance which its surface presents to the grain of 
some kinds of biscuit. Most of our readers may have 
heard of biscuit statues, and may have wondered what 
the term was meant to imply. 

If the tea-cup — which we here consider as the general 
representative of pottery wares — is intended to be plain 
white, such as most of the productions were before the 
time of Mr. Wedgwood, the glazing is the next process 
after the baking ; but if the cup be .blue or any other 
colour, the glazing is deferred till afterwards. 

A very large proportion of tea-cups are, in our own 
day, painted, or rather printed, with some coloured pig- 
ment ; in most cases blue. This is effected by a singular 
process. Before Mr. Wedgwood's improvement, the 
common wares were coloured only at the borders, and 
that in a very inferior style ; but successive improvements 
have enabled the manufacturer to give really tasteful de- 
signs on the commonest tea-cups. A copper-plate 
engraving is prepared, representing some fanciful subject, 
such as a wreath, or a cottage scene, or some other pleas- 
ing designs (for the outrageous Chinese distortions are 
becoming, very properly, obsolete). The colour which 
is to be employed is mixed with boiled linseed oil, and 
laid on the plate in the same manner as the ink em- 
ployed by copper-plate printers. The plate is then 
placed for a short time in a heated stove, to increase the 
fluidity of the ink or paint ; after which a piece of clamp 
tissue-paper is laid on it, and- both are passed through a 

The paper now presents a copy of the engraving in 
blue ink or paint, and is handed to a girl, who cuts 
away, by means of a pair of scissors, all the plain parts 
of the paper exterior to the engraving. Another girl now 
takes the engraving in her right hand, and a tea-cup 
(supposing that to be the vessel) in her left, and wraps 
the paper round the surface of the cup, either inside or 
out, as the case may be, so that the two edges shall meet. 
The size of the engraving is of course regulated to that 
of the vessel to be ornamented. When the engraving is 
wrapped round the cup, the latter is handed to another 
girl, who with a roll or wad of flannel presses the paper 
on the cup, first with a slight, and afterwards with a 
hard pressure, by which the paper is almost rubbed into 
the substance of the cup. When the paper has been left 
adhering to the cup for about an hour, both are placed in 
a tub of water, by which the paper is sufficientlv softened 
to allow of its being peeled off, leaving on the surface of the 
cup the blue paint which had before adhered to the paper. 

If brown or other colours be employed instead of blue, 
the only difference is in the kind of material employed 
for paint ; the mode of laying it on being just the same 
in both cases. 

The French potters have been accustomed to transfer 
engravings to porcelain or earthenware in a different 
manner from that above described. A certain quantity 
of glue is diluted with water, and while warm is cast 

into sheets about a quarter of an inch thick. The dilu- 
tion is so managed, that when the sheet of glue is cold, 
it shall be perfectly flexible, and have the consistence of 
leather. The sheet of glue is pressed upon the engraved 
plate, after the latter has received its supply of paint, by 
the hand, by which the impression is transferred from 
the plate to the glue. The glue is then applied to the 
cup or other vessel in the same manner as the paper be- 
fore described, so as to leave its impression on the surface 
of the ware. Two impressions may generally be made 
without a fresh supply of paint to the glue. After the 
second application the glue is washed in clean water, 
which fits it to receive a fresh impression from the en- 
graved plate. 

When the vessels are printed, they are placed in a 
highly heated room, by which they become very hot 
This is necessary to evaporate the water imbibed by the 
biscuit ware. They are then made still hotter, to fix the 
colours more firmly to the surface, and to p epare them 
for the reception of the glaze. 

Spread of Intelligence in Political Economy. — In Mr. 
Laing's 'Tour in Sweden* it is stated that the harvest in 
Norway having almost entirely failed, the government gave 
orders for the purchase of a considerable quantity of grain 
in the Baltic ports for the relief of the distressed districts. 
" Twenty years ago," says Mr. Laing, " this would hare 
been considered, in the most enlightened countries of 
Europe, as a wise and beneficial measure; and the parental 
care of government would have been lauded by all classes. 
The British government, in 1812, took similar measures for 
alleviating the scarcity and high price of grain ; and even 
in this year, although government took no part in the mea- 
sure, the charitable feelings of the British public attempted 
to remedy the local scarcity and high price of meal in the 
highlands and islands of Scotland, where the grain crops 
bad likewise failed, by furnishing grain at a cheap rate, by 
subscription, to the distressed districts. In Norway there 
was but one opinion about the policy of this measure of its 
government — that it was the surest way to starve the people, 
as neither foreign nor native merchants could venture to 
send corn to a market in which government was ready with 
a stock to undersell them and disappoint their speculations. 
The common sense of a people, so nearly equal in circum- 
stances that no class is wealthy enough to feed another 
class either from the taxes or from charitable contributions, 
came at once to the just conclusion, that the interference of 
government with the natural course of demand and supply 
would only aggravate the scarcity ; and this opinion was so 
loudly and generally expressed, that government had to 
withdraw the measure, as far as possible, and sit down with 
a lesson in political economy from the voice of the nation. 
It is the first time, perhaps, that such a measure adopted 
by a government, instead of thanks and praises, met, even 
from the most ignorant, with disapprobation." 

Manner of Tea-drinking in Koondoz. — Nothing is done 
in this country without tea, which is handed round at all 
times and hours, and gives a social character to conversa- 
tion, which is very agreeable. The Uzbeks drink their tea 
with salt instead of sugar, and sometimes mix it with fat ; 
it is then called ' keimuk chah.' After each person has 
had one or two large cups, a smaller one is handed round, 
made in the usual manner, without milk. The leaves of the 
pot are then divided among the party, and chewed like 
tobacco. — Lieut. Barnes's Travels into Bokhara, 

Dutch Gardens. — A correspondent says that within the 
last twenty years the fashion of laying-out gardens in Hol- 
land in the quaint and uniform style which prevailed in 
England a century and a half ago has become almost obsolete, 
and the stiffness and straightness which once distinguished 
a Dutch garden have disappeared. In the province of Guel- 
derland, particularly, the change is most striking, the 
gardens being remarkable for their winding and serpentine 
paths, and the fantastic forms of the flower-beds. Shrubs 
and trees, elevated knowls and fountains, are interspersed 
throughout the grounds. 

Printed by Willum Ciawis and Sons, Stamford Street. 

Digitized by 



or TUB 

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[Aprii 13, 1839. 


' [Oporto..] 

Portugal is bat a small country, in the form of an 
oblong square, extending from 3*7° to 42° N. latitude. Its 
greatest length is 350 miles from north to south, and its 
breadth averages about 115 miles; consequently the area 
of its surface is about 40,000 square miles, and it is 
therefore not much more than half the size of Great 
Britain, and about one-fifth the size of France. Yet the 
fleets and commerce of Portugal at one time were more 
extensive than those of any country in Europe ; and for 
two centuries, the Portuguese were equally pre-eminent as 
adventurous and successful navigators. Madeira, the 
Azores, and parts of the Gold Coast were settled by them 
early in the fourteenth century, and the kings of Portugal 
placed themselves at the head of that enthusiastic ardour, 
which, stimulated by the hope of finding a way by sea 
to the countries from which Europeans received ivory, 
gold-dust, and other commodities across the desert, was 
at length successful in accomplishing its object. The 
Portuguese led the way from Europe to India by sea; 
they planted colonies on the shores of the African con- 
tinent, from its northern extremities almost to its southern 
headland ; they held possession of extensive territories in 
India by the right of conquest, and claimed for themselves 
Vol. VIII. 

the exclusive right of navigating the Indian Seas. In the 
new world, Brazil was one of the earliest European 
settlements ; and Lisbon became the great European mart 
for the productions of India, Africa, and America. Being 
the first to open new paths to commercial enterprise, and 
engrossing the trade with newly discovered countries, 
great profits were made. When the trade to India was 
carried on overland, Venice was better situated as an 
entrepot for the productions of the East than Lisbon ; but 
when they were brought by sea, Lisbon, situated between 
the north and south of Europe, was most conveniently 
placed. The Portuguese endeavoured to secure to them- 
selves, if possible, the exclusive advantages which their 
adventurous spirit had placed in their hands. No other 
country was allowed to participate in the trade to the 
Portuguese settlements ; and the right to traffic with the 
natives of newly discovered countries was permitted only 
to those who had sufficient interest to obtain a licence, and 
who were often worthless adventurers. Though, for a 
considerable period, commerce flourished and profits were 
great, the system of monopolies both in the colonies and 
at home was sure to undermine the prosperity of the 
country at some future period; and many subsequent 

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[April 13, 

evils are to be traced to illiberal restrictions framed in the 
hope of excluding other countries from the African; 
Indian, or Transatlantic trade. These efforts to main- 
tain a monojxriy were fruitless ; and when other nations 
became their competitors, Portugal was in her turn shut 
out from profitable branches of foreign commerce. Thus 
she was left to her monopolies. Manufactures declined, 
though, naving such extensive colonies, it might have 
been expected that the demands on the industry of the 
mother-country would have greatly increased; and the 
direct object of their restrictive system had been to promote 
the interests of Portugal. Political events rapidly has- 
f the 
d, its 
t was 
, and 
ae or 

za, a 
l the 
: how 
by a 
F the 
it, in 
This arbitrary interference with the freedom of commerce 
has been injurious to the interests both of England and 
its ancient ally. We have debarred ourselves from the 
fine- flavoured wines of France by duties which have 
been is much as 136 per cent, higher than on the inferior 
wines of Portugal ; While the Portuguese, finding that 
they bad a monopoly of the valuable market of England, 
thought it unnecessary to be at much pains in improving 
the quality of their produce. The great Wine Company 
of Oporto, established in 1754, was the offspring of the 
Anglo-Portuguese system of commercial policy. This 
body of monopolists assumed the right of regulating the 
production of wine in the Upper Douro, which is the 
most valuable wine district of Portugal ; and it even 
went the length of ordering vineyards to be destroyed, 
with a view of making the most of their monopoly at the 
least possible trouble. In the meantime, although the 
trade of England with France, a country containing more 
than ten times the population of Portugal, was suffered 
to decline, being restricted within the narrowest bounds 
to which the mutual wants of the two countries could be 
confined, the supposed advantages secured to Portu- 
gal failed in conferring those benefits upon her which 
were anticipated. Adam Smith, writing in 1770, speaks 
of Portugal as being, after Poland, the " most beggarly 
tiftffiftty in Europe/' Under the administration of Pom- 

bal, a minister of superior energy, the country had dis- 
played some signs of life, and useful reforms had been 
effected, but both were transient benefits, disappearing 
wheu the influenqe by which the^ had been produced 
was no longer felt. In 1807, amidst the distractions 
occasioned by foreign invasion, the royal family of Portu- 
gal emigrated to Brazil, and from that time until the 
close Of the war, life and property were insecure; and in- 
dustry languished. After the peace; when the nations 
began to improve their internal resources, Portugal was 
not permitted to enjoy the Bame tranquillity, but was dis- 
turbed by civil dissensions, which raged from 1820 to the 
expulsion of Dom Miguel in 1834, and were but ill cal- 
culated to stimulate industry or to allow of the commence- 
ment of those enterprises which render a nation prosper- 
ous. But the energy and vigour which had distinguished 
the Portuguese pf the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries 
were no longer the characteristics of the nation. Ignor- 
ance and misgovernment had produced their wonted 
effects. The foreign trade of Portugal, once more exten- 
sive than that of any other power, was chiefly carried on 
at the two ports of Lisbon and Oporto, with English 
capital ; and but for the same stimulus, even the work of 
eproduction would have ceased in many instances. 

rro be Continued.] 


I^e reader may brooably have no difficulty in calling to 
mind foany narratives of truth, largely alloyed with fable, 
respecting the wondrous powers of Oriental swords : how 
that the; caliph rjarun al Rashid, when rambling about 
in the disguise* of a peaceful citizen, wore his favourite 
sword coiled up in his turban, so great was its elasticity : 
how that the Damascus blade of the Turkish headsman 
was so keen that ft cut off the head of a criminal without 
his knowledges till: beiug. told to shake himself, his head 
rolled down to his feet. More wondrous tales than these 
might be raked up ; but the only thing important to our 
preserit object which it is necessary here to observe, is 
that Such marvellous details are generally founded so far 
on truth as to merit our notice, although much less so 
than the details themselves would lead us to believe. We 
propose, to inquire briefly into the manufacture of the 
sword-blades of Damascus, which have been celebrated 
for centuries, and at the present day are highly esteemed 
by military men. 

The qualities which peculiarly mark the Damascene 
blades are, 1st, uncommon keenness of edge ; 2nd, exten- 
sive and perfect elasticity ; 3rd, a peculiar flecked or spotted 
grain ; and 4th, an odour resembling musk, which is said 
to be exhaled when the blade is rubbed or bent. In 
considering these qualities, we shall have an opportu- 
nity of detailing the mode of manufacture, so far as it is 

Swords are manufactured at Birmingham for the 
British service, as well as for exportation. The substance 
of the blade is chosen from the best cast-steel, of which 
Sheffield supplies annually a large portion, in bars called 
sword^motdds. Each mould is heated, and shaped upon 
the anvil by two men, a maker and a striker, who use 
their hammers alternately. Concave blades, ornamented 
backs, &c, are formed by hammering the heated blade 
between steel bosses. When the proper form is given to 
the blade, it is hardened by being plunged while red-hot 
into cold water; and then tempered by heat until a film 
of blue oxide forms on its surface. It is then placed be- 
tween a fork on the anvil, and twisted into its proper 
shape, and all warpings and other irregularities corrected 
It is ground and polished, and then fixed in the handle ; 
after which it is submitted to a few severe tests, which 
bend and strain it in various ways : if it resist these trial* 
successfully, it is pronounced " fit for service*" 

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Such is a very hrief notice of the office of the English 
Bword-smith. The Damascus artists are supposed to 
adopt several modes peculiar to themselves. The subject 
has been carefully investigated by a scientific Frenchman 
of the name of Clouet, who has produced blades possessing 
most of the qualities of the best Damascene instruments, 
and in point of elasticity has surpassed them. The pro- 
cesses he describes aTe three : 1st, the blapV is composed 
of a number of thin plates of different varieties of steel, 
united together in the direction of their length by forging 
and welding. The surfaces of this compound bar are 
then worked upon with a graving tool, sd as to produce 
a large variety of hollows, which are afterwards worked 
up and brought nearly to a level with the faces of the 
blade, and thus tress-like figures are formed ; hence tfils 
operation is called tremng, from it? resemblance to the 
natural curls of human hair or tresses. 2nd. A bundle 

faces afe* wiped py gelding, fly this me^tjs |p appear- 
ance qB*-pe given to the steel resembling the geckiness 
of the Da^agcene blades : this process is called tarsiqn. 
3rd. Theblacfe, after the prpcels of tQrsfon, is cu^ into 
short pieces^ and jiuite4 again/ py welding fn such £ man- 
ner H ffl »H#tf a ^W4 pf p^aip-^orft on 4* e 8urjfiace 
of J* 

pne or mprp of fhese plans, If. pjouet 
||f jimtatjijg most pf fhe peculiarities wfu'cty 
f^e surface ot pamasci|s Steel, Inhere was 
rtty, viz. the watered designs on the Damas- 
cene blades, which M. Clouet cou}<f not produce, but 
which were successfully attained Ijy }fi. Br^nf. If e 
may here observe that steel differs frqm lrprj' "by copf ain- 
ing carbon in p^emical union, whicfi union is effected ty 
subjecting iron ij) cqntect witfy charcoal to an intense Jieat. 
If more charcoal he employed TyitH the iron than \§ ne- 
cessary to form pure steej, Jwq compounds result— pne of 
steel, and the other of carburetted steel or cast-iron, the 
latter containing more carbon than the foriper. Now 
M. Breant found that when a mixture of this steel and 
of carburetted iron was fused and allowed to cool slowly 
without being disturbed, a crystalline compound resulted, 
which being afterwards forged into a sword-Wade, and 
immersed in a weak acid solution, the flecked appearance 
of the Damascus blades was produced. In another pro- 
cess, ^jt.preant, by fnixlng iron filings and lamp-black, 
produced a steel not only equal to, hut surpassing the 
Oriental steel in those qualities wjuch make the latter so 
valuable. Many precautions as to temperature are ne- 
cessary in working it. 

It appears then that Damascene blades can be manu- 
fjtetured by European artists nearly as well as hy those 
of the East. In that land of hyperbole, where almost 
everything is under the influence of exaggeration, it is no 
wonder if we find the qualities of the Damascene blades 
overrated. The results of sober inquiry have Bhown that 
the best Oriental blades cannot be bent more than 45°; 
and that its edge, though hard and keen, is pot equal to 
that of a razor. " Yet," as one writer observes, " wielded 
by a skilful hand, it would cut through a thick foil of 
sail-cloth without apparent difficulty, a feat whicty could 
not be performed with an ordinary sword, nor, it should 
he observed, with a sabre itself, in an ordinary hand, 
though the swordsman who tried could, it appears, do 
nearly the same thing with an European blade." * 

v^.s to the perfume of the blade, we cannot believe the 
.urertion that it is incorporated with the steel. Mr. 
Emerson, in his ' Letters from the iEgean,' says that he 

f - 

j* ' Manufactures in Metal,' in Laidner's ' Cyclopaedia.' The 
Aider will also find a highly dramatic account of the feat 
mentioned in the quotation, in Sir Walter Scott's s Tales of the 

never saw any Damascus blades which retained their per- 
fume for a length of time ; so that the probability is, 
that the blade is simply anointed with an odoriferous 
substance, after its manufacture is otherwise completed. 

It is not our purpose to enter into any details respect- 
ing sword-hilts, scabbards, and other trappings, which 
vary so much with the skin and taste of the maker. But 
it belongs to our subject to notice the ornaments on the 
blade itself, often forming, as they do, a part of its very 
substance. Tf ne art of ornamenting sword-blades in this 
mapner seems to have originated at Damascus, and is 
hence called pamasfieeing, or, ftflr Jjreyity, damasking. 
fhis ar£ partakes pf mosaic, where pieces of metal are 
inlaid ; — of engraving, where the hladjS is cut into ; — and 
of carving or chasing, where t)ie figures are produced in 

Damasking is performed i$ two ways. That which 
yields the finest results is ? when fhe xnetai is cut deeply 
and inlaid witfr tjiict golf} of silver wire. The incisions 
are made in the dove-tail form, ajid tfyg wire forcibly 
driven in and so, fifed- 

The aeconci mode is pjily on the surfjpe ; f^e fteel is 
heated untfl it becomes tyne or violet ; it is then hatched 
over with a knife, upon wnicty hatching the ornaments 
are df aw R T^) 1 * metal point. Jinje gpjd-wire is then 
chased accurately to the designed Pgure, and SUQ ^ mto 
the hatches already formed. 

T^p celebrated Florentine artist Benyenuto pejlini, in 
his Autobiography, states hi$ inclination to practise this 
branch of art ? differing, as it dojes, so mu(% from the pro- 
cesses pi Jhe or^iiiary goldsmith { and jhe sppp surpassed 
the Oriental performances, he speap of jt^e ornamental 

sayk "make tfye most beautiftz} wreaths, representing 

respect ; for they f pnresenjt acanthus leaves with all their 
festoons and flowers finding in a variety of forms ; and 
among these leaves they insert birds and animals of 
several sorts with great ingenuity and elegance in the 

If figures formed of gold or silver foil be placed on a 
polished steel surface, and struck suddenly and forcibly 
with a hammer, permaneut adhesion will pecur between 
the gold or silver and the steel. But this is a very im- 
perfect mode of damasking, and is seldom adopted by 
good workmen. 

This subject affords room for a few remarks on the 
progress of manufactures. The zeal and perseverance 
with which European manufactures have long been cul- 
tivated, — our improvements in science, machinery, ana 
general intelligence, — have all had the effect of completely 
transcending most of the celebrated manufactured pro- 
ductions of Eastern nations, which for hundreds of years 
have either remained stationary, or have retrograded in 
the scale of civilization- A few articles of their manu- 
facture long and deservedly excelled analogous produc- 
tions of our own : — this number has been gradually de- 
creasing ; and apart from soil, climate, and other local 
advantages, we may perhaps not be hazarding too much, 
if we regard it as a vulgar prejudice which prefers the 
manufactured productions of the {last to our owp. ^fany 
are the instances which might be adduced in which this 
preference is unjustifiable, and among them may perhaps 
be placed the object of our present notice : — the manufac- 
ture of the best sword-blades in the world is not confined 
to Damascus, since their productions can be equalled-— 
and perhaps excelled — by European artists. 

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[Ap&il 13, 


[Cedars on Mount Lebanon. — From Laborde's * Voyage en Orient/] 

The Mountains of Lebanon are frequently alluded to in 
the Scriptures, and of scarcely less frequent occurrence 
are notices of the magnificent trees which adorn them, so 
long ago were they celebrated for the great size and 
majestic appearance which at the present day render 
them so remarkable. 

The best geographical account which we have met 
with of these mountains is to be found in the notes tc 
the ' Pictorial Bible,' which has the advantage of being 
written not only with great clearness, but with great 
accuracy, and from personal observation. 

" Two parallel ranges of mountains descend from 
Syria, enclosing between them a large valley, which was 
anciently called Ccele-Syria. These are the Mountains of 
Lebanon of the Hebrews, who do not, like the Greeks, 
distinguish the western ridge as Libanus Proper, and the 
eastern as Anti- Libanus. Arriving at the north of Pa- 
lestine, the parallel ranges both incline to the west, and 
Libanus approaches the sea, and terminates near the 
mouth of the river Leontes, about five miles to the north 
of Old Tyre. The history of Anti-Li banus is more 
complicated. Contracting the breadth of valley between 
itself and Libanus, it also advances to the sea, and termi- 
nates in the White Cape {Album Promontvrium), about 
five miles south of Old Tyre. This part, where Anti- 
Libanus turns westward and crosses the breadth of Pales- 
tine to the sea, is, as the nearest and not the least elevated, 
to be understood as the most usual Lebanon of the Scrip- 

tures, in the restricted sense. '"". . '* ." The Mountains 
of Lebanon are most elevated in the north of Palestine, 
where they make a most conspicuous and striking ap- 
pearance, whether as viewed from the western sea or the 
eastern plains. . . The higher summits of Anti- 
Libanus are covered with perpetual snow ; not as Dr. 
Clarke describes it, in patches, as it may be seen during 
summer upon the tops of very elevated mountains, but 
investiug all the upper part with that perfect white and 
smooth velvet-like appearance which snow only exhibits 
when it is very deep ; * a striking spectacle,' adds the 
traveller, ' in such a climate, where the beholder, seeking 
protection from a burning sun, almost considers the fir- 
mament to be on fire/ " 

The mountains of the other range, known as Libanus 
Proper, are not generally so high, and are therefore not 
perpetually clothed at the summits with snow : a consi- 
derable quantity may however be observed, even in the 
summer months, in the clefts and fissures on the northern 
aspect of the range. The general height varies from 
about 8000 to 12,000 feet. 

The cedars of Mount Lebanon are situated a consider- 
able way up the mountains, where they are for many 
months surrounded by snow, forming, by the contrast of 
their dark and massy foliage with the pure white of the 
ground rising behind them, and sparkling with the light 
of an Eastern sun, a picture which all travellers have 
delighted to describe. The number of trees is not w 

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April 13, 

Ijpth detailed accounts and continual Reference to maps 
are essential. Our bounds confine us to indicating the 
results of each year's exertions : but we shall endeavour 
to relieve the dryness of the narrative by the introduction 
of those anecdotes which, from their celebrity or interest, 
best deserve notice. 

At first Alexander marched eastward, to encounter a 
force which the Persian satraps, or governors of provinces, 
had collected. A battle was fought on the Granicus, ap- 
parently one of those small rivers which fall into the Pro- 
pontis, or Sea of Marmora. The Persians were encamped 
strongly on the farther bank. Overruling the caution of 
his generals, Alexander ordered an immediate attack, 
which was led by the cavalry ; among whom he himself 
fought with the ardour of a common trooper. With 
his own hand he slew two of the Persian satraps ; and 
the sword of a third was about to descend upon him, 
when the arm which held it was severed by Cleitus, the 
brother of his nurse, and captain of the guards called 
Companions. The victory was complete. Instead, how- 
ever, of pursuing his cou;se eastward into the heart of the 
Persian dominions, Alexander retraced his steps along 
the ^gean Sea, receiving as he went the submission of 
the Greek cities along that wealthy shore. At the close 
of summer Alexander dismissed such of his soldiers as 
were lately married, to return to Greece, and pass the 
winter at their respective homes : he himself continued 
his march into Lycia and Pamphylia. f J' ftencene turned 
northwards, and crossing the mountain-range of Taurus, 
marched through the greater Phrygia to Gordium, the 
city of Midas, and once the capital of that wealthy king- 
dom. Here there was an ancient chariot or cart, which, 
as tradition witnessed, had belonged to Midas. The yoke 
was fastened to the pole by a complicated knot ; and an- 
cient oracles promised the empire of Asia to him who 
should unloose it. The prophecy for ages had waited its 
accomplisher, which it found in Alexander; who, as is 
usually reported, adopted the sure and expeditious method 
of cutting the cord. Hence the phrase of " cutting the 
Gordian knot" has been used, for more than 2000 years, 
to signify the eluding or breaking through a difficulty, 
which we have been unable to resolve by fair means. 
At Gordium Alexander had fixed jtbe rendezvous of the 
troops who had returned to Greece in the autumn ; and 
thence, early in the year 333, he continued his march 
towards the heart of Asia. 

He recrossed the Taurus by the passes leading to Tarsus 
in Cilioia, where his imprudence in bathing, while heated, 
in the cold waters of the Cydnus, brought on an illness 
which almost proved fatal. While he lay sick, he was 
informed that his physician Philip had been bribed by 
Darius to poison him. Discrediting the charge, he waited 
not for inquiry, but at Philip's next visit received and 
drank the offered medicine, and at the same time placed 
the letter in which the accusation was contained in the 
hands of the accused. Its falsity was proved by the 
event. The high-minded confidence of Alexander on this 
occasion has been the theme of panegyrists and a subject 
for painters. From Tarsus the Greeks marched along the 
Cilician coast, towards Syria, where Darius in person 
was waiting to defend his crown. Battle was joined about 
30 miles north of Antioch, in the plain of Issus, between 
the sea and the mountains of Amanus. The numbers of 
the Persians were vast, greater probably than had been 
collected since the armamcut of Xerxes ; and of these near 
150,000, including 30,000 Greeks, were disciplined, and 
should have been effective troops. The .Greeks, in the 
centre of the field, well clayed their part, and resisted 
successfully the formidable assault of the phalanx, as the 
close and deep array of the Macedonian infantry, armed 
with long pikes* was called. But the success of the 
Macedonian cavalry of the right wing, where Alexander, 
opposed to Darius, commanded in person, was decisive.* 

* Jn tho « Penny Magasine/ No. 14 1, a drawing hat been gnroii 

Darius quitted the field : and, as Usual in an Eastern 
army, the flight of the sovereign was the signal of disper- 
sion. The victory was complete. The tent of Darius, 
with its precious furniture, was taken ; and the family of 
the fugitive monarch, wife, children, and mother, fell into 
the victor's hands. They met with kind and honourable 
treatment, such as the usages of ancient war too seldom 
granted to the conquered ; and the temperance and ge- 
nerosity of the king on this occasion have furnished occa- 
sion for the warmest panegyrics. Statira, the wife of 
Darius, was reputed to be the most beautiful woman in 

Alexander gave a respite to Persia itself, while he 
marched southward, intent on the conquest of Egypt, 
along the coast of Phoenicia. Tyre, proud of its wealth 
and power, refused him admittance : and to punish this 
contumacy, siege was laid to the city, strong by its insu- 
lar position, its vast bulwarks, and its navy. The contest 
was long and doubtful ; and forms one of the most in- 
teresting portions of the Persian war. After a seven 
months' siege it was taken by storm. Eight thousand 
Tyrians are related to have fallen by the sword, and 30,000 
to have been sold into slavery ; it is added that 2000 
were crucified on the sea-shore. Gaza in Palestine sus- 
tained a two months' siege, and suffered similar severities : 
the rest of Palestine submitted without resistance. Jose- 
phus gives a curious and interesting account of a visit of 
Alexander to Jerusalem, on which occasion he is said to 
have received the Jewish hierarchy with every mark of 
respect, to have acknowledged the true God, and to have 
heard with lively pleasure the prophecy of Daniel, that a 
Greek should overthrow the Persian empire. The silence 
of Arrian casts a doubt, however, upon this story. 

The difficult and dangerous desert between Uaza and 
Pelusium, the port upon the easternmost branch of the 
Nile, was safely traversed in seven days. Egypt, never 
well affected towards its Persian masters, yielded to the 
Greek without resistance or reluctance. This portion of 
our history, therefore, furnishes nothing to record, except 
the foundation of Alexandria, a city eminent for arts, 
learning, and commerce, on a barren strip of land be- 
tween the Mediterranean and the lake Mareotis: and 
Alexander's expedition to the celebrated temple of Jupiter 
Ammon (the sandy), situated in one of those fertile spots 
which are called oases, deep in the inhospitable sands of 
Libya. A whole army sent by Cambyses, the Persian 
conqueror of Egypt, had perished in attempting to reach 
this place, less than 200 years before. Alexander sought 
it under a better star ; and the story of his divine descent 
was accredited by the oracle, which hailed him as the son 
of the divinity. Hence the portrait on his coins is de- 
corated with the horns of a ram, the emblem of Ammon. 
Many prodigies are related of this visit, by Quintus Cur- 
tius and Plutarch. Alexander returned across the desert 
to Memphis, and would gladly have visited Thebes and 
the wonders of Upper Egypt. But Darius was known to 
have collected a second army ; and having provided for 
the government of Egypt, the Greek retraced his steps 
to Tyre in the spring of 331 : and thence struck inwards 
to Thapsacus, one of the usual passes of the Euphrates. 

He crossed that river in July uuopposed, and con- 
tinued his march to the Tigris, which he crossed on the 
20th of September, a day marked by an almost total 
eclipse of the moon. On the ninth day after, the third 
great battle took place, near Gaugamela. The scene of 
action was an extensive plain, bounded on the east and 
west by the meeting streams of the Lycus and Tigris, and 
to the north by the Gordysean mountains. Darius had 
chosen this to be his battle-field ; and had carefully 
levelled it, to give the best advantage to his war-chariots 
and cavalry. His enormous force is calculated by the 
Greek historians at a million of infantry, 40,000 cavalry, 

of a most splendid mosaic, discovered at Pompeii, which is thought 
to represent the encounter of the rifal monarch*. 

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200 chariots, and 15 elepnants: a force go infinitely 
superior in number to the Greek, tnat even if we strike 
off one-half of the numbers, it derogates little from the 
honour of the victors. The elephants and chariots were 
placed in front ; but these unwieldy and barbarian ac- 
cessories produced little effect upon their disciplined op- 
ponents. The light-armed infantry ran in among them, 
cut the traces of the chariots, and speared the drivers ; and 
the few which reached the Greek ranks were allowed to 
pass harmlessly through openings to the rear. As before, 
the brunt of the battle fell op the cavalry ; and again 
on the right wing, where Alexander was opposed to 
Darius in person, the victory was decisive, while on the 
left the veteran Parmenion was hard pressed to main- 
tain his ground against the Sacae and Parthians. But 
when the king came to his assistance, the victory was 
complete. Darius fled early, and, as before, his chariot 
and armour remained the prize of the victor. He directed 
his course northward, towards Ecbatana, while Alexander 
proceeded southwards to gather the rich fruits of con- 
quest, the spoils of wealthy cities of Assyria and Persia. 
This battle, fought at Gaugamela, is more commonly 
called after Arbela, a place of more consequence, distant 
about 40 miles from the field. 

Babylon, once the wonder of the world, had gone to 
decay since the extinction of its empire and the conquest 
of Cyrus. The citizens, like those of Egypt, received 
Alexander with joy : and he, after his usual policy, aimed 
at gaining their attachment by treating them with confi- 
dence ; giving back the vast revenues of the priesthood, 
and restoring their sacred buildiugs, especially the mag- 
nificent pyramidal temple of Belus, which he ordered to 
be rebuilt in its original magnificence ; a project which, 
we need hardly say, was never completed. Susa, one of 
the favourite resorts and treasuries of the Persian kings, 
sent to proffer its submission ; and here, k is said, bullion 
was found to the value of ten millions sterling. The 
winter months were spent in subduing Persia Proper 
(now Fars), the original seat of the Persian tribe ; a task 
not executed without experiencing a brave resistance, and 
great difficulties in forcing the mountain-passes of that 
rugged land. The palace and stronghold of Persepolis, 
whose remains still call forth the admiration of travellers, 
was burnt, deliberately, according to Arrian, in retaliation 
of the outrages of Xerxes, the conflagration of the Greek 
temples, and the destruction of Athens. Other accounts 
intimate that it was destroyed in a drunken revel, at the 
instigation of the Athenian Thais, a tale familiar through 
Drydeu's magnificent ode, * Alexander's Feast.' Here 
and at Pasagarda, not far distant, the city and burial-place 
of the great Cyrus, immense treasures again fell into the 
conqueror's hands. 

These occupations must have consumed several months, 
bo that the spring of 330 must have been advanced when 
Alexander set out northward m pursuit of Darius, who 
fled on his approach towards the northern provinces. 
His attendants, of whom Bessus, satrap of Bactria, was 
the chief, proved faithless. First they placed him in 
confinement ; but being hard pressed by Alexander, who 
had heard of Darius's condition, and, whether from com- 
passion or policy, earnestly wished to secure his person, 
they wounded him mortally, and left him by the road- 
side to die. tlis body was carried to Persia, and depo- 
sited with the usual pomp in the royal tomb. Bessus was 
taken in the following year, and suffered condign punish- 

About this time we trace the first of those violent, 
jealous, and arbitrary actions, which have deeply stained 
Alexander's good qualities. Philotas, general of the 
Companions, and son of the brave and able Parmenion, 
incurred suspicion of conspiring against the life of Alex- 
ander. The circumstances are not clear; but it is in 
Alexander's favour "that the accused was tried by his coun- 
tryueiij according to the Macedonian forms, and by them 

was condemned and executed. Against the fidelity of 
Parmenion nothing is alleged, except that he might have 
shared the designs of his son. But he had been left in 
command of the army and Media, and his resentment 
might be dangerous. Without regard therefore to his 
services, or form of "trial, after the example of Eastern 
despots in all ages, a secret order was sent to some of his 
subordinate officers to put him to death. 

["To be continued.'} 

No. it.— Chevy Chase — Sir Andrew Barton. 

[Concluded from No. 450.] 

Let us turn from the heroic contest on land, to the no 
less heroic strife at sea between England and Scotland : 
we shall find in the ballad of • Sir Andrew Barton ' actions 
as chivalrous, a devotion as unswerving, and poetic sen- 
timent as bright and lofty as are exhibited in the song of 
* Chevy Chase.' The battle which this ballad celebrates 
was fought in the year 1511, between a gallant Scottish 
mariner, Sir Andrew Barton, and Sir Thomas Howard and 
Sir Edward his brother, sons to the earl of Surrey, after- 
Wards duke of Norfolk. Barton, it appears, having 
suffered both insult and loss from the Portuguese, fitted 
out two ships of war, by permission of James IV. of Scot- 
land, to make reprisals, and such was his success, that he 
enriched himself and became the terror of the seas. 
Under pretence of searching for Portuguese merchandise, 
he stopped and, it is added, pillaged some of the ships of 
England. This so exasperated Surrey, that he declared at 
the English council-board the narrow seas should not be 
so infested while he had an estate to furnish a ship and a 
son to command one. King Henry took Surrey at his 
word : two ships were fitted out at the earl's expense, and 
sent to sea under the command of his sons, with orders 
to intercept and capture Barton, which they were not the 
less willing to undertake, knowing that his ships were 
richly laden. The engagement which ensued was bloody 
and obstinate, and of long duration ; but the fortune of 
the Howards prevailed : Barton fell fighting valiantly ; 
his ships were carried into the Thames : the wealth ob- 
tained was large, and Sir Edward Howard was soon 
afterwards created Admiral of England. This act, com- 
mitted in the time of peace, exasperated the Scots : 
Henry, to pacify them, liberated the crews, and offered to 
allow the aggrieved parties to prosecute their claims of 
restitution in the English courts of law. 

The ballad begins by saying that one day as King 
Henry rode out on the side of the Thames to take the air, 
no less than four score of the. merchants of London came 
and knelt before .bim. " Welcome, welcome, rich mer- 
chants all," said the king, pleased with their humility. 
" By the rood, Sire," exclaimed the whole four score, " we 
are not rich merchants ; how indeed can we be so, since 
a cruel rover, a proud Scot, attacks us, as we sail, and 
robs us of our merchandise?" The king frowned on 
lord and merchant, and swore by the true cross that he 
thought no one dared to do his land such wrong : then 
fixing his eye on Howard, he added, " Have I never 
a lord in my realm who will fetch that proud Scot into 
my presence ? " "I will attempt it, at least, my liege," 
replied Howard. " Thou!" said Henry ; " no, no ; thou 
art very young, and yon Scot is an experienced ma- 
riner." " If I fail to conquer him," replied Howard, " I 
will never again appear before you." " Go, then," 
answered Henry, " and choose two of my best ships, and 
man them with my ablest mariners." Howard, though 
young, selected ships and seamen with the skill of a 

The first man that Lord Howard cho9e 
Was the ablest gunner in all the realm ; 

Though he was three score. years and ten ; 
Good Peter Simtfi was hit name. 

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[April 13, 1839. 

Peter, gays he, I muit to the sea, 
To bring home a traitor live or dead ; 

Before all gunners I have chosen thee, 
Of a hundred gunners to be the head. 

If you, my lord, have chosen me, 

Of a hundred gunners to take the head ; 
Then hang me up on yon mainmast-tree, 

If I miss my mark one shilling bread. 
My lord then chose a bowman rare, 

Whose active hands had gained fame ; 
In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, 

And William Horseley was h s name." 

This Yorkshire archer had skill equal to that of the 
veteran gunner ; so with plenty of guns and pikes and 
good yew-bows, and able crews and sea-worthy ships, 
Howard set sail on this adventure. He was but short way 
gone when he met Henry Hunt, a merchant of Newcastle, 
who with " a heavy heart and a careful mind" was on 
his voyage homeward. " Hast thou seen Andrew Bar- 
ton," inquired Howard, " or canst thou tell me ought of 
him ?" " Ah, but too well can I speak of that cruel 
Scotch rover," replied Henry Hunt; " he met me but 
yesterday, and robbed me of all I possessed ; and now I 
go to lay my complaint at the throne of King Henry." 
" Thou shalt not need, man," said Howard ; " return and 
show me Andrew Barton, and for every shilling lost I 
shall give thee three." " Ah, ye little know whom ye 
seek," answered Henry Hunt. 

" He is brass within and steel without, 

With beams on his top-castle strong,' 
And eighteen pieces of ordinance 

He carries on each side along. 
And he hath a pinnace dight ; 

St. Andrew's cross that is his guide— 
His pinnace beareth nine score men, 

And fifteen cannons on each side. 

Were ye twenty ships and he but one, 

I 8 wear, by kirk and bower and hall, 
He would overcome them every one, 

If once his beams they do cjownfal. 
This is cold comfort, said my lord, 

To welcome a stranger thus to the sea ; 
But I'll bring him and his ships to shore, 

Or to Scotland he shall carry me." 

" I'll go with you, and that willingly," said the stout 
man of Newcastle ; *' but you must have a gunner skil- 
ful enough to sink his pinnace — you must not allow 
him to send a man aloft to lower his boarding-beams — 
and you must permit me to set you a glass in which 
his ship will be reflected, be it day or night." " All 
this shall be as you wish," said Howard, and continued 
on his course. 

" The merchant set my lord a glass, 

So well apparent in his sight ; 
And on the morrow, by nine o'clock, 

He showed him Sir Andrew Barton, knight. 
His hatch-board it was gilt with gold, 

So clearly dight it dazzled the ee ; 
Now, by my faith, Lord Howard says, 

This is a gallant sight to see," 

" Take in your pennons," said Howard to his "men, 
" and put up a peeled willow-wand, and let us look like 
merchants on a voyage of profit." As they did this they 
passed Barton's ship without notice or salute : the Scot 
was incensed. " Now, by the rood," he exclaimed, " I 
have ruled the sea these full three years and more, and 
never saw churles so scant of courtesy before. Go," he 
said to the captain of his pinnace, " fetch yond pedlars 
back ; I swear they shall be all hanged at my mainmast." 
Now was the counsel of Henry Hunt of use to Lord 
Howard : the first broadside from the pinnace having 
struck down his foremast and killed fourteen of his men, 
he called Simon his gunner and threatened to hang 
him if he failed to sink the pinnace. 

" Simon was old, but his heart it was bold, 

His ordinance he laid right low ; 
He put in a chain full nine yards long, 

With other great shot, less or mo. 
And he let go his great jrun-shot ; 

So well he settled it with his ee, 
The first sight that Sir Andrew saw 

Was his pinnace sinking in the sea." 

When Sir Andrew saw this, he cried, " I will fetch 
yond pedlars back myself." " Now Bpread your pennons 
and beat your drums," exclaimed Lord Howard, w and 
let the Scot know who we are." " Fight on, my gallant 
men," said Sir Andrew, not at all alarmed ; " this is 
the high admiral of England come to seek me on the 
sea." As he said this he was assailed on both sides, 
threescore of his men fell by one shot from old Simon, 
and fourscore fell from another from Henry Hunt. 
" Ah !" cried he, " that last deadly shot came from the 
merchant who was my prisoner but yesterday. Now 
Gordon, thou wert ever good and true ; three hundred 
marks are thine, to go aloft and let my beams rail." 
Gordon went aloft in a moment, but as " he swerved the 
mainmast tree" an arrow from Horseley pierced his brain, 
and he fell lifeless on the deck ; Hamilton, the sister's 
son of Sir Andrew, went next aloft, but as he began to 
sway the beams another shaft from the same dread archer 
sent him the same way as Gordon. A sad man was Sir 
Andrew when he saw this. " Go, fetch me my armour 
of proof," he exclaimed ; " I will go myself and lower the 
beams." He clothed himself in his armour of proof, and 
brave and noble, says the minstrel, he looked, and went 
aloft dauntles8ly. " Now Horseley," said Lord Howard, 
" I will make thee a knight if thy shot is good ; but if 
bad, I will hang thee." " Your honour shall judge," 
whispered the archer ; " but I have only two arrows left." 

" Sir Andrew he did swam the tree, 

With right good will he s warred then ', 
Right on his breast did Horseley hit, 

But the arrow bounded back again* 
Then Horseley spied a privy place, 

With a perfect eye, in a secret part ; 
All under the spole of his right arm, 

He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 

Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says, 

A little I'm hurt, but yet not slain, 
III but lay me down and bleed awhile, 

And then 111 rise and fight again. 
Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says, 

And never flinch before the foe, 
And stand fast by St. Andrew's cross, 

Until you hear my whistle blow. 

They never heard his whistle blow— 

Which made their hearts wax sore adred ; 
Then Horseley said, aboard, my Lord, 

For well I wot Sir Andrew's dead. 
They boarded then his noble ship, 

They boarded it with might and main— 
Eighteen score Scots alive they found, 

The rest were either maimed or slain." 

Howard struck off Sir Andrew's head, saying, "Hadst 
thou been alive, I must not have looked on England 
for many a day :" — when King Henry saw the pale 
face, the hollow eyes, and the noble countenance, '* I 
would give," he said, " a thousand marks were that man 
alive as he is dead." Henry Hunt was advanced; Peter 
Simon received five hundred marks ; and Horseley waa 
knighted. Such was the end of Sir Andrew Barton : his 
invention of letting down beams from his mainmast, to 
the discomfiture of his enemy has perished with him, for 
no one has explained it scientifically or satisfactorily. 

A. C. 

•»• The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is «t. 
59, Lincoln'! Inn Fields. 

Printed by William Clowu and Sort, SUmford Street, 

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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



[April 20, 1839. 


Throughout Italy, and more particularly in the Tuscan 
province, there has prevailed from time immemorial a 
peculiar and highly interesting exhibition of intellectual 
power, the delivery of extempore poems, by a class of 
persons called in the language of the country the improv- 
visatori. Something of the same kind may be found in 
other parts of the world, but nowhere so fully developed. 
In Portugal the peasants may still be heard in the sum- 
mer evenings singing improvvisatised songs to the accom- 
paniment of their guitars, but their strains are of a very 
humble unambitious character. Mrs. Pioizzi * also speaks 
of a similar custom in our own kingdom : she says, " Our 
Welsh people make the harper sit down in the church- 
yard after service is over, and placing themselves round 
aim, command the instrument to go over some old song- 
tune ; when having listened awhile, one of the company 
forms a stanza of verses, which run to it in well adapted 
measure ; and as he ends another begins, continuing the 
tale or retorting the satire." But the Turkish story- 
* Writing ii 1789, 
Vol. VIII. 

[« L'lmprovisateur Napolitaine .-'—From a picture by L. Robert.] 

tellers approach the Italian improwisatori the nearest in 
ability, while their audiences perhaps surpass them in the 
deep absorbing interest with which they listen. They are 
so numerous through the Mohammedan countries" that 
they form a kind of trade or profession, with a sheikh at 
their head, entitled the sheikh of the coffee-house narra- 
tors. They are found in every place ; they mingle with 
and exercise their seductive powers upon all ranks. Even 
the wild Arab of the desert will listen with sparkling eye 
and throbbing breast to the glowing narration, exhibiting, 
perhaps, the adventures of some renowned warrior— and 
as the misfortunes of the hero become more and more 
imminent, will cry out in irrepressible emotion, " No, no ; 
God prevent it !" These are the prose improwisatori ; 
turn we now to those which more immediately concern 
us — the poetical. *~ 

It is somewhere mentioned that an English general, in- 
specting a body of Italian military, put some questions to 
a drummer-boy, which were answered in octave rhyme ! 
We do not know that we can give a more apt illustration 


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[April 20, 

of the prevalence of this cuatolti, and of the ludicrous 
lengths to which it is occasionally carried. " Through 
Tuscany," says Mr. Roscoe, " the custom of reciting 
verses has for ages been the constant and most favourite 
amusement of villagers and country inhabitants. At 
some times the subject is a trial of wit between two pea- 
sants ; on other occasions a lover addresses his mistress 
in a poetical oration, expressing his passion by such 
images as his uncultivated fancy suggests, and endeavour- 
ing to amuse and engage her by the liveliest sallies of 
humour. These recitations, in which the eclogues of 
Theocritus are realised, are delivered in a tone of voice 
between speaking and singing, and are accompanied with 
the constant motion of one hand, as if to measure the 
time and regulate the harmony ; but they have an addi- 
tional charm from the simplicity of the country dialect, 
which abounds with phrases highly natural and appro- 
priate, though incompatible with the precision of a re- 
gular language."* Another writer also observes : " On a 
fine evening in Florence you may see the streets swarm- 
ing with the lower orders, who have transformed them- 
selves into rhapsodists. The workman who has finished 
his daily task, instead of expending his little gains at the 
wine- house, equips himself with a good coat and guitar, 
and catches inspiration from what he would, we suppose, 
call the mantle and the lyre :" t and not unwisely either, 
we may add, if they inspire his heart with cheerful sen- 
sations — his imagination with innocently stimulating 
thoughts ; if they make him an active and happy bein* — 
with whom we may place in striking contrast the dull 
unrefined and unreflecting labourer, too often found nearer 
home, who is prodigally wasteful of his little means with- 
out obtaining enjoyment, who is fond of associating, but 
seldom social, often mirthful, but never happy! Let 
our readers look upon the scene which the genius of 
Leopold Robert has immortalized, and of which our en- 
graving presents an humble copy, let them watch those 
charmed spectators ; " fit audience, though few," listening 
to their inspired fellow-peasant, and then turn to our own 
country, and wish it presented like evidences of widely 
spread intellectual power, refined tastes, and common 

The more eminent of the Italian improvvisatori have 
been, of course, generally found among the higher and 
better educated classes. The most flourishing period of the 
art is considered to have been during the pontificate of Leo 
X., who not only encouraged its professors, but delighted 
in occasionally joining them in their exercises of skill. The 
ambition of the improvvisatori at that time was to exhibit 
their powers in Latin verse. Andrea Marone eclipsed all 
competitors in this way. " His recitals were accompanied 
by the music of his viol, and as he proceeded he seemed 
continually to improve in facility, elegance, enthusiasm, 
and invention. The fire of his eyes, the expression of his 
countenance, the rising of his veins, all bespoke the emo- 
tions with which he was agitated, and kept his hearers in 
suspense and astonishment. "§ 

Salvator Rosa, the distinguished painter, wa*s also emi- 
nent for his excellence in this accomplishment. Madame 
de Stacl has made an improwisatrice, Corinna, the sub- 
ject of a well known novel of that name ; and it is under- 
stood that the original was Corilla, a peasant-girl of 
Pistoja, who rose by her talents from that condition to be 
the unrivalled queen of the art, and who was actually 
crowned in the Capitol. Perhaps the extraordinary facul- 
ties possessed by the improvvisatori were never more 
strikingly evidenced than in the exhibitions of Signor 
Sgricci, who died two or three years since. He not only 
recited poems of a decidedly superior character on the 

* Roscoe's ' Lite of Lorenao de' Mediei.' 
t Rose's « Letters from Italy.' 

t For other works* and a notice of L. Robert, see Nos, 348 
gnd 414. 
} Roscoe's ' J«o the Tenth.' 

impulse of the moment, but actually before the eyes of an 
audience, on receiving a subject (and what that would be 
he' could not possibly have known beforehand), framed 
the dramatis personae of a play, the plot, the contrasts of 
character, and flow of story ; then proceeded act by act, 
and scene by scene, to pour forth the unpremeditated 
effusions of a rich fancy and warm imagination, and in 
short created a play, an entire five-act drama, in the 
mere time required for its utterance ! A power like this 
is certainly in the highest degree astonishing ; and to say 
that the play thus produced is not first-rate (in other 
words, not an impossibility) is idle. In Sgricci's pub- 
lished dramas, taken down by shorthand writers from his 
own lips as they were delivered, there is abundant evi- 
dence of a genius that under any more natural and less 
hothouse-like system of cultivation must have produced, 
we think, valuable and enduring fruits. Perhaps the 
worst consequence of the art of improvvisatising is that 
the exceeding popularity of its exhibitions, where there is 
poetical power, renders its possessors unwilling to " scorn 
delights and live laborious days," to exchange the splen- 
dours of the theatre for the dim and solitary lamp of the 
closet ; and therefore frequently to prevent the develop- 
ment of high original genius. Still it is a poor philosophy 
that is ever seeking to lessen what it is constrained to 
admire ; and the very superficiality of which we com- 
plain must doubtless be one element of its success among 
the people. And what service can be more invaluable to 
the great poet than to create for him among the many a 
capacity to appreciate and enjoy his writings ? and this, 
it appears to us the improvvisatori must do. When the 
poor gondolier is heard singing passages from Dante or 
Tasso, can we doubt for a moment that there must be 
some link of communication between the lofty and the 
lowly mind ? — that link is the improvvisator ! 

The general mode of exhibition by the greater profes- 
sors is as follows : — Two assistants appear on the stage with 
writing materials and a glass vase. Different subjects 
are proposed by the spectators, which are written on 
pieces of paper, and these, being sealed, are committed to 
the vase ; which is then shaken, and presented to the 
audience. As the papers are withdrawn, the contents are 
read, and the subject that meets the most decided appro- 
bation is chosen. The assistants now retire, and the 
improvvisator appears. The authoress of ' Rome in the 
Nineteenth Century ' has described a scene of this kind, 
when Sgricci was the actor and ' Medea ' the play ; " a 
subject so hackneyed," she says, " that when Sgricci re- 
ceived it on his entrance, he expressed a wish that another 
lot might be drawn, both from the difficulty of avoiding 
an imitation of the great writers who had already treated 
it, and from having very lately at Florence dramatised 
the same. The saloon however resounded with cries of 
' Medea !' ' Medea !' to the great joy of an Italian gentle- 
man of my acquaintance behind me, who had heard him 
on this very theme at Florence. Signor Sgricci bowed, 
paused a single minute, and then said, that to avoid repe- 
tition as much as possible he would make a different cast 
of parts. He introduced, as my Florentine friend ac- 
knowledged, two new characters, opened the action in a 
different part of the story, and neither in a single scene 
nor even speech approached to the tragedy he had com- 
posed at Florence ! The character of Medea throughout 
was supported with wonderful force and effect ; and her 
invocation to the hellish brood was horribly sublime." 
She adds, " Sgricci is a native of Arezzo, the birth-place 
of Petrarch, and the harsh Tuscan accent is very distin- 
guishable in his enunciation. His language, however, is 
remarkably pure, and its flow and variety are most won- 

Among the more curious of such exhibitions Mr. Rose 
speaks of seeing a man to whom three subjects for son- 
nets were proposed : one of which was Noah issuing froro. 
the Ark ; another, the death of C«sar ; the third, the wed 

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ding of Pantaloon. These were to be declaimed inter- 
lacedly; that is, a piece of Noah, then a piece of Caesar, 
and then a piece of Pantaloon : returning after that for 
another piece of Noah, and so on. Nor were these dif- 
ficulties enough ; he was also to introduce a particular 
verse specified by one of the audiences at a particular place 
in each sonnet. He accomplished this task in ten minutes* 

We must not suppose that all who call them- 
selves improvvisatori deserve the name ; there are pre- 
tenders in this as well as in all other things. Occasionally 
one of the street or piazza gentry ,whose ambition and power 
are in an inverse, we may say, perverse ratio, will, in the 
amplitude of his fancy, get his story so involved, that 
after many vain efforts to disentangle it for the audience, 
whose earnest attention seems to increase as he finds him- 
self less able to satisfy it, he is compelled, with a sup- 
pressed " maladetta !" to take to his heels amid the 
malicious laughter of the crowd. But where the ability 
is of a higher cast, behold the people, with crossed arms 
and eyes fixed upon the ground, form a silent circle round 
the narrator, while at their feet children of every age 
seat themselves in attitude of equal attention. The skilful 
artist, having secured the sympathy of his audience, works 
up his story to its catastrophe, which often consists in the 
casting away a poniard, or the angry rejection of a letter, 
which the cunning rogue imitates by throwing his hat 
among the spectators, who take the hint, and " point the 
moral " of the tale he has " adorned." 

With a few words on the art, we conclude. The dif- 
ferent writers who have spoken of the subject account 
for the apparently marvellous powers of the improvvisatori 
by the exceeding facility of the language, the comparative 
laxity of its poetical rules, and the mechanical skill of 
introducing similes and thoughts previously prepared. 
The two first points must undoubtedly greatly decrease 
the difficulty of making extempore verses ; the last, we 
think, not only inadequate for the object proposed, but to 
be altogether a mistake. The character of the composi- 
tions produced is not of the patchwork kind here indi- 
cated. The truth lies deeper: the exceeding vividness 
of mind that all must acknowledge to be required after 
any or every preparation, to carry along a dramatic fable 
through five acts, and by its means command the sympa- 
thies and admiration of an audience, must be sufficient in 
itself, without such preparation as has been supposed, and 
which is all that the circumstances allow. In one word, 
the improvvisatori are really inspired poets; generally 
perhaps of weak, but always of ready and most excitable 
powers, whose emotion, being genuine and poetically ex- 
pressed, naturally induces a corresponding state of feeling 
in their auditors. The practice is now, we believe, on the 
decline ; the more the pity, unless something better takes 
its place in the hearts and minds of the people who have 
so long cherished it, and enjoyed by its means so many a 

harmless and happy hour. 


[From a Correspondent.] 

The navigation of the Nile from Rosetta to Alexandria 
has been attended for many years with considerable diffi- 
culty and danger, from the constaut deposit brought down 
from the countries of Sennaar, Dongola, &c, and left at its 
mouth, and has formed a bar, which, when the wind 
blows on shore, is peculiarly dangerous to heavy-laden 
vessels. To avoid this difficulty, Mehemet Ali (Pacha), t 
in the year 1819, partly, it is said, at the suggestion of 
Mr. Briggs, and partly from having lost a valuable cargo 
himself at Rosetta, came to the determination of cutting 
a canal from Mahmoodeyeh, a part of the environs of 
Alexandria, to a village called Atneh, on the banks of the 
Nile, a distance of about 40 miles. For this purpose he 
appointed Ismael Pacha director of the works, with 
various subordinate officers, at the same time issuing 
orders to the various sheikhs of the provinces of Sakarah, 
Shizeh, Mensourah, Sharkieh, Aienouf, Bahyreh, and 

some others, to supply each a quota of fellahs (amounting 
in all to 300,000 men, women, and children), and to 
encamp them along the site of the intended canal. The 
pacha, however, had totally neglected to furnish either a 
sufficient supply of provisions for this immense multitude, 
or the requisite implements for excavation ; the conse- 
quences were, that as he had appointed several regiments 
of the Nizam (or modern troops) at various stations along 
the line to prevent any relaxation, they were compelled to 
scrape the mud and sand up in their hands, which was 
conveyed by the women and children in baskets, and 
thrown on either hand. Having frequently to dig below 
the level of the sea, and being totally destitute of pumps 
to keep the water in check, they were compelled to work 
up to their knees in mud, which brought on* ague. This, 
combined with labour to which they were totally unaccus- 
tomed, an insufficiency of provision (their daily food con- 
sisting of a little lentil broth, a small quantity of bread, 
and a few beans), ill-treatment, want of water and pro- 
tection from the cold air at night, caused a great mortality 
among them, frequently as many as a hundred dying in 
a day. In the hurry and confusion attending Buch a 
scene, as they fell they were buried (some even before life 
was extinct) with the earth thrown up from the remaining 
excavations. When this canal was finished, which was 
effected in seven months, 30,000 fellow-creatures were 
found to have been destroyed in this most barbarous ex- 
penditure of human power. 

At the termination at Atneh a sluice is erected to admit 
the Nile during its rise, and being closed on its retiring, 
the water is preserved for the purposes of navigation and 
irrigation. Alexandria is also supplied with water from 
this canal. There are several great defects in this work, 
as may be imagined, from the want of arrangement at its 
commencement. One, and not the least important of 
these, is that, from the great steepness of the banks and 
the sandy nature of the soil, great quantities of earth fall 
down at times into the bed, and for some time obstruct 
the passage of the kanjahs to and fro ; this might, how- 
ever, in some measure be remedied by planting trees, 
long grass, sedge, and shrubs on the banks, and thus 
prevent the frequent occurrence of these avalanches. 
The average breadth of this canal is about 220 feet, and 
the depth perhaps about 14 feet, very serpentine at the 
commencement at Mahmoodeyeh, but gradually im- 
proving as you proceed. The navigation on this canal 
is a great source of revenue to the pacha, as each kanjah 
pays a toll both going and returning ; the original outlay 
having been a mere nothing. 

Marching. — Marching is an art to be acquired only 
by habit, and one in which the strength or agility of 
the animal man has but little to do. I have seen Irishmen, 
and all sorts of countrymen, in their own country, taken 
from the plough-tail — huge, athletic, active fellows, who 
would think nothing of doing forty or fifty miles in the 
course of the day as countrymen— see these men placed in 
the rank as recruits, with knapsacks on their backs and a 
musket over their shoulders, and in the first march they 
are dead beat before they get ten miles. I have heard 
many disputes on the comparative campaigning powers of 
tall and snort men ; but as far as my own experience. goes, 
I have never seen any difference. If a tall man break 
down, it is immediately noticed to the disadvantage of his 
class ; but if the same misfortune befals a short one, it is 
not looked upon as being anything remarkable. The 
effective powers of both in fact depend upon the nature of 
the building. — Random Shots. 

British Museum.— On Easter Monday last, 20,359 persons 
visited the Museum. Although too much crowded to afford 
opportunity for a careful examination to any one, yet the habit 
of visiting the place on a holiday will gradually form a taste 
for making a holiday to see it more at ease. The crowd on 
Monday were orderly and well behaved $ and out of so great 
a number, only one instance occurred of any attempt at 
handKng. ^ 

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[April 20, 


[Continued from No. 448.] 

[Christine de Piian presenting her book to the Queen of France.— Harl. MS. 4431.] 

The class of manuscripts adorned by pictures or illumi- 
nations previously to the fifteenth century were chiefly 
religious or historical works, as Bibles, Psalters, Missals, 
Chronicles or Registers of monasteries, books of He- 
raldry and Chivalry, &c, with some few translations from 
the antient writers : but on the approach of the fifteenth 
century, Tales and Romances, with other productions of a 
light nature, becoming much patronised, caused a great 
improvement in art, by exciting the imaginations of the 
artists on new and more ideal subjects. Patronised by 
the courtly dames and chevaliers of " la belle France," 
the miniaturists used their best efforts to render those 
poems and romances as attractive to the eye as they were 
to the ear of youth and beauty ; and how well they suc- 
ceeded let the glittering remnants of their art, of the fif- 
teenth century ,which have escaped the destructive hand of 
time and barbarism, themselves testify. One of the earliest 
romances with which we are acquainted is one now in 
the Bodleian Library, of the fourteenth century, known as 
the ' Roman d* Alexandre,' which, for the period in which 
it was executed, is very beautifully illuminated. It is 
noticed by Dibdin, and has been described at some length 
by Warton and Ellis ; Strutt has copied several of the mi- 
matures. On the recto of the 208th folio appears an in- 
scription, informing us that the book was written on the 
18th day of December, 1338 ; and below this, in gold 
letters, is the following :— 


Che livre fu perfais de le euluminnre au xviij. jour d'avryl 
jehan de griie, L'an de grace m.cccjdiiij." 

The fifteenth century is remarkably profuse in illumi- 
nated romances, poems, &c. Of the very commencement 
is one now in the British Museum, being a collection of 
poems by Christine of Pisa. This is a large folio of 398 
leaves of vellum, written in double columns in a small 

Gothic letter. The writing itself is not deserving of no- 
tice on account of any beauty of execution, but it is illus- 
trated by so extraordinary a number of miniatures, 
generally of about, six inches in height by three or four 
in width, drawn in the most elaborate and graceful man- 
ner, that the work presents one of the most dazzling and 
elegant specimens of the art of the miniaturist which 
that period can boast, rich as it is in specimens of this 
nature. The superb illumination from which the above 
cut has been copied is at the commencement of the 
work, being on the recto of fol. 2. Often have we wished 
for the power of adequately representing the brilliancy 
exhibited by the pictorial illustrations to the MSS. we 
have noticed, sparkling as they do with gold and purple ; 
but it was not until we arrived at this period of the art, 
that we felt how impossible it would be to convey an ade- 
quate idea of the splendour of such productions. 

The above engraving gives a good representation 
(on a diminished scale) of the subject of this draw- 
ing, but the effect is so greatly heightened in the 
original by the colours, that it scarcely appears the» 
same thing. It represents the presentation of the book 
by the authoress to her patroness, Isabel of Bavaria, 
the queen of Charles VI., who, seated on a couch, 
is habited in a rich crimson robe lined with ermine, and 
covered with golden ornaments, confined at the waist by 
a green girdle. Her majesty has her hair dressed in 
the very extremity of the prevailing fashion, the cushion 
being completely covered with rubies, emeralds, and other 
precious stones. Her face and hands are finished in the 
most delicate manner, the features having all the charac- 
teristics of a portrait 'ad vivum. 9 The two ladies by her 
side — princesses, or maids of honour, — have head-dresses 
similar to that worn by the queen, being adorned like it 
with ornaments ; but the rest of their apparel is less splen • 

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did, both being c.aa in black. The four females near 
the bed are probably less distinguished ladies of the court, 
as their garments and head-dresses, though of more showy 
colours, do not appear to be so aristocratic as those in 
which the others are habited. The centre of the group is 
occupied by the fair authoress, who, dressed in a plain 
and neat blue gown, is kneeling at the feet of the queen, 
to whom she presents the volume of her poems. The 
drapery of the bed is of a bright scarlet, and the hangings 
of the walls of blue silk, fretted with fleurs de lis and 
lozenges of gold, which are also embroidered on the bed 
coverings. Beneath this drawing is the dedicatory in- 
scription, surrounded by an elegant border, which divides 
the columns, and runs up each side of the page. 

Christine de Pisan was born at Bologna (la Grasse) in 
1364.* In her fifth year she was taken to Paris by her 
father (whom she alludes to in the above MS. as being 
patronised by the king), and in her 15th year she mar- 
ried Stephen Castel, a young gentleman of Picardy, who 
died at the age of 34, in 1389. She is said only to have 
commenced authoress at the age of thirty-five, but after 
that time several productions emanated from her pen, both 
in prose and verse, some of which Caxton printed. 
We cannot leave this MS. of her poems without intro- 
ducing a copy from a very elegant miniature in the book, 
intended for the goddess Diana. It is remarkable for 
the simple beauty of the composition, and is very similar 
m character to many of the heads of the Virgin which the 
Italian painters, some few years after, delighted to por- 


* Ames's 'Typo*. Antiq.,' by T. F. Dibdin, vol. 

i., p. 7 J. 

[The Goddess Diana.— Harl. MS., 4431.] 

As a contrast to the beautiful French drawings in this 
book, we would refer to another MS. of one of the works 
of the same authoress, now in the British Museum (Harl. 
4605), which presents a specimen of the state of art in 
England at nearly the same period. It is the ' Livre des 
fais d'armes et de Chevalerie ' of Christine, written in 
French, but which, from an inscription in the last folio, 
after the word " explicit," appears to have been executed 
in London : — " Digat un Pater Noster et un Ave Maria 
permossen pey [rey] de la fita qui a escrive' aquest pre- 
sent livre en Pan de ntre senhr mil.cccc.xxxiiij. Et fut 
feit a Londres, a xv. de may." The three or four draw- 
ings in the book, which are in a wretched washy style 

tlto ©WW in tta ' Garten of Pleasure ;' from the 'Soman de la Bote,'— HwL m« 4425.] 

Digitized by VjjOOQIC 



|April 20^ 

must have emanated from one of the lowest of the few 
artists who at this time were employed in England to 
illustrate MSS. 

From the numberless treasures which weigh down the 
shelves of the manuscript department in the British Mu- 
seum, we cannot avoid noticing a volume, resplendent with 
gold and colours, to be found among the Royal MSS. 
(Reg. 15, E. vi.) This is a collection of Romances, 
executed by order of J. Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury, as a 
present to Margaret of Anjou, queen of Henry V^ 
From the pretext assigned for its presentation, viz., that 
although removed to an English court, her majesty might 
have wherewith to remind her of her native language, the 
date of its production has been referred to a period 
shortly after her marriage, at any rate between the years 
1445 and 1453. It is a large folio volume, written on 
vellum, in double columns, and contains 487 leaves. 
Each story is preceded by a large drawing, and inter- 
spersed with smaller ones, with which the 'Roman 
d'Alexandre * at the commencement is perfectly crowded. 
The illumination on the first folio represents the earl 
presenting the volume to the queen, who is seated by the 
side of her husband surrounded by courtiers. 

Willingly would we linger here to describe these spe- 
cimens of the art of the miniaturist, and to compare them 
with other contemporary volumes of equal, if not superior 
excellence; but our limits will not allow an extended 
disquisition, and we are impatient to introduce a volume 
on which our readers will forgive a more than usually 
long pause. We allude to nothing less than that 
jewel of pictorial literature, ' The Romance of the Rose,' 
the envy of collectors and the pride of the British 

It is numbered in the c Harleian Catalogue ' 4425, and 
lias thus been noticed in the edition of that work of 
1762 : — "This manuscript is so richly ornamented with 
a multitude of miniature paintings, executed in a most 
masterly manner (each chapter having prefixed to it a 
picture explanatory of the subject), that it is not to be 
exceeded by any known manuscript in this or any other 
library." (Vol. i., p. 25.) The author of that catalogue 
supposes it to have been executed about the time of 
Henry IV. ; but this is doubted by Dibdin, who says, 
44 From the Gothic Verard-like looking character of the 
writing, I should conceive it to be not earlier than 1480." 
The opinion of one so well qualified to judge as the 
author of the ' Bibliographical Decameron' may be thought 
to need no confirmation ; yet if such were required, we 
think it would be found in a comparison of the draw- 
ings with others of the end of the fifteenth century. 

'In the British Museum is a MS. entitled 4 Imagina- 
cion de Vraye Noblesse' (Reg. 19, C. viii.), executed in 
1496, in which are several drawings so extremely similar 
to those in * The Romance of the Rose,' that we might 
refer them, almost with certainty, to the same hand. 
We shall speak further of this MS. in our next paper. But 
whatever the date of the drawings, they would do honour 
to any period of art, in so far as richness of colour, fine 
and delicate execution, and the poetic character of the 
artist's imagination, is displayed in their production. 

But let us proceed to the description of the volume. 
It is a large folio, 15| inches in height by 11^ in width, 
consisting of 183 leaves of vellum, written in double 
columns, the letter at the commencement of each line 
being slightly touched with yellow, and every paragraph 
adorned with an initial letter in gold and colours. 

This favourite old poem was originally written in the 
thirteenth century by William de Lorris and John dc 
Meun ; and consist? of more than 22,000 verses. The 
whole is a dream of the author, wherein he is supposed to 
leave the town in which he resides, and to commence an 
exploratory expedition into the neighbouring fields. Ac- 
cordingly ne dresses himself and departs on his journey, 
his nerves braced by the morning breeze, and Jiis spirits 

enlivened by the carolling of the birds, the freshness of 
the atmosphere, and the general gaiety of nature. (A large 
and beautiful miniature at the head of this chapter repre- 
sents the subject. This is surrounded by a border composed 
of flowers, birds, and insects, executed in the most de- 
lightful manner on a gold ground which extends to 
the margin of the page. The chapter is headed, in red ink, 
« Cy comence le Romant de la Ruse, 
Ou tout l'art d'amours est enclose.") 

The author, continuing his walk, arrives at a beautiful 
garden, with tall trees inhabited by multitudes of birds 
sparkling with the most lively colours, and all in 
full song. But this Garden of Delight is surrounded 
by a high wall, on which are represented the personifica- 
tions of Hatred, Avarice, Envy, and other allegorical 
personages of like nature ; but as these are all on the 
exterior, it becomes a question whether the interior might 
not contain something of a more loveable or pleasing 
character. While the adventurer is seeking some means 
to obtain admittance to this mysterious enclosure, a 
young damsel presents herself, in the description of whose 
charms our author disports himself with considerable 
gusto. Her figure was graceful, her complexion clear, 
her hair delicately blond ; her eyebrows were arched, her 
eyes lovely, and her lips small, full, and pouting. Such 
a delightful creature could not but be civil, and to his 
importunate inquiries she replies by telling him that her 
name is Oyseuse (Idleness), that the garden belongs to a 
young gentleman named Deduit (Pleasure), that she is 
appointed portress, and that she has no objection to admit 
him to the interior of the orchard, through which he finds 
his way to the innermost recesses of the garden. The air is 
redolent of the fragrance exhaled by myriads of sparkling 
flowers beneath his feet; the trees, loaded with fruit, 
invite the hand of the spoiler ; while their branches, 
clothed with the most verdant foliage, afford a resting- 
place to thousands of aerial warblers, whose happy gaiety 
enlivens the scene and evinces its felicity. Through such 
a paradise our author wanders, every step presenting him 
with some new object of delight, when, in the height of 
his admiration, he distinguishes in the distance a concert 
of so beautiful a character that he is uncertain whether to 
ascribe it to celestial beings or to the renowned syTens of 
the sea. With hasty steps he advances towards the spot 
whence the sound appears to proceed, and discovers it to 
emanate' from a group of terrestrials, who, reclining on 
the green turf around a fountain bubbling in the centre, 
join their voices with the greatest sweetness and harmony 
to the accompaniment of a lute which one of the party 

This scene has been chosen by the illuminator for the 
subject of one of the most delightful drawings that ever 
adorned the pages of any manuscript. It is nearly 
twelve inches square, and has all the richness of Wattcau, 
with the ease and elegance of Stothard. 

As the author approaches, the songs cease, and the party 
betake themselves to the dance, for which, the poet says, 
" La estoient harpours, fleuteurs, 

Et de moult d'instrumes jongleurs ; 

Les ungs disoient chansons faictes, 

Les aultrcs notes novollettes." 

As he gazes on the gay party, one of the ladies, named 
' Courtoisie,' advances towards him, welcomes him to the 
garden, and invites him to the dance, which he joins with 
right good-will. But in the midst of his narrative he pauses 
to describe the persons and dresses of the joyous assemblage ; 
and leaving him to his task (which he contrives shall be a 
long one, the account of the dresses, &c. occupying several 
folios), we may refer to a miniature to which we have 
thus introduced the readeT, which may dispute the palm 
for excellence with that we have just noticed. As far as 
engraving will portray such a production, a faithful 
representation has been given of it in page 149; but O, 
that we could invest it with some of the splendour of 

Digitized by 





colouring, the gjtter of gold (rich, hut not overpower- 
ing), which the original exhibits, and trace the minute 
delicacy with which every part is finished ! 

In this illumination the author is represented standing 
on the left, clad in a blue tunic, with scarlet chaussees and 
peaked shoes, or poulaines : to him advances the lady 
above referred to. The " harpeur, fleuteur, et jongleur " 
are in the background ; and the dancers — each of whom 
becomes a prominent character in the course of the tale — 
promenade the foreground in a stately measure. Of 
these we must decline entering into any detail, yet we 
must explain that the figure with wings is intended to 
represent " young Love," who, if not so elegantly, is at 
any rate more decently represented than is generally the 
case with painters. 

(To be continued.] 


[Concluded from No. 461.] 

At the termination of the late civil war all the interests of 
Portugal were, as may be supposed, in a struggling con- 
dition ; and the physical causes which obstruct the in- 
ternal activity of the country necessarily render it a worft 
of time to overcome these difficulties. Portugal consists 
in a great measure of mountain-ridges divided by chasms. 
Alemtejo and Beira are the only provinces which contain 
plains of any extent. The rivers are few, and in sammer 
even some which are navigable at other seasons are 
nearly dry; there are no canals, and the roads are 
wretched. Thus the traffic between one part of the 
country and another is insignificant, and local prejudices 
of the most antiquated date hold undisputed sway in 
petty districts cut off from each other by ravines and de- 
solate tracts. These circumstances have also their poli- 
tical influence. At present the country is too poor to 
construct good roads, but Roman energy overcame the 
natural difficulties which the surface presented, and there 
are the remains of highways which they formed. The 
want of roads is greatest in the south, but in the northern 
provinces the main roads are tolerably g6od, and there 
are bridges where they are required, but these are of an- 
cient date, and not the result of recent improvements. 
The cross-roads resemble the tracks which cover the vast 
steppes of Russia. There are ueither stage-coaches nor 
any system established by which travellers may pursue 
their journey with post-horses ; Portugal, in this test of 
civilization, ranking lower than any other country in 
Europe. The inns are few in number, and afford very 
poor accommodation, and, indeed, are only to be found 
in the larger towns. It is evident that there are few 
arrangements based on the locomotive habits of the 
people. The wheel-carriages which are in use are in 
keeping with the roads over which they are to travel, and 
on many of the roads conveyance by wheel-carriages is 
not possible, and goods are carried on the backs of mules. 
But even on the best roads a clumsy cart drawn by bul- 
locks is used, and the rate of travelling is about thirty 
miles in the twenty-four hours ; while the cost of this 
imperfect mode of transit is so great that the carriage of 
wines from some of the inland districts not very far from 
Lisbon is equal to the cost of the article conveyed. Oxen 
are almost universally used for draught, horses seldom 
being employed, and they are therefore not numerous ; 
mules are much in request. In the streets of Lisbon 
even, primitive-looking carriages may be seen, and also 
heard as they creak along drawn by a couple of bullocks. 
The want of good roads, and the difficulty of transporting 
commodities from place to place, would alone suffice to 
keep a country in a depressed condition ; but in Portugal 
these necessary aids to the development of the national 
prosperity not only are wanting, but this evil is aggra- 
vated by a number of other causes, the united effects of 
which ore sufficient to account for the low state in which 

the public interests were ound at the close of the late 
civil war. 

The coasts and rivers of Portugal abound with fish, and 
in the sixteenth century the Portuguese were rather ex- 
tensively engaged in the Newfoundland fishery, but at the 
period of which we speak, and long before, the fisheries on 
their own coast supplied only a limited proportion of the 
home demand, and the Norwegians, Swedes, Dutch, 
English, and Americans furnished the remainder. The 
consumption is very great, and but for a tax of 20 per 
cent, on the produce of the coast-fisheries, it is incon- 
ceivable how so natural a source of employment should 
have been neglected. Manufactures at the same period 
were unimproved. No new machinery was introduced, 
and the commonest and most obvious mechanical con 
trivances for abridging manual labour were not adopted. 
The consequence of this low state of art and ingenuity 
was, that the manufactures of woollens, hats, glass and 
earthenware, cottons, &c, were of the coarsest descrip- 
tion, sheep-skins being not unfrequently worn for cloth- 
ing in the remote parts of the country. Privileged manu- 
factories secured in their monopoly by licences will partly 
account for the inferiority of Portuguese manufactures. 
The right of manufacturing tobacco, soap, and some other 
articles, was also farmed out. The common handicrafts 
were in a rude state. The retail traders, who in other 
countries are anxious to obtain custom, are in Portugal 
apathetic and too indifferent to give themselves trouble 
for the sake of obliging a purchaser. 

The mines of lead, iron,