f.l.ff
THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE
BRITISH REGISTER
LITERATURE, SCIENCES, AND THE BELLES-LETTRES.
JULY TO DECEMBER 1827.
-— PRESENTED
VOL.IV. S8DEC1949
LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY GEO. B. WH1TTAKER, AVE-MARIA LANE.
1827.
L o N n o N :
81IACKKI.L AND BAYLIS, PHINTKIIS, JOHNSON VCOURT, FLKfcT- STREET
INDEX
TO
VOL. IV.
ORIGINAL PAPERS, &c.
Page
.ACCOUNT (some) of a Lover 261
Affairs in General at Paris 500
Adventures of Naufragus 138
Agricultural Reports..... 101,213,325,437, 549, 655
Adventures of Prince Hassan, an Oriental Tale 368
Anecdotes (Characteristic) of the leading Fashionables of Berlin 268
Anecdotes and Conversations of the Rev. Thomas Botherham, S.T.P., Arch-
deacon of Leatherhead, &c 254
Beards (a Dissertation on), Historical and Literary, by an Emeritus Professor
of Shaving 593
Boys's (Captain) Escape from a French Prison 482
Books, on reading New 17
Biographical Sketch of Mademoiselle Sontag 268
Bordeaux Diligence 241
Bristol Public Charities 353
Bankrupts 104, 215, 328,440,552,657
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons 95,211,321,433,545
Camp of St.Omer, a Day at the. 613
Cervante?, Birth of 621
Coalheavers, Priises of. 345
Chanties, Public 1, 353
Carlton-House Pictures 35
Cabinet Novel, the 160
Clergyman, the Ship 463
Croonian Lecture, Receipt for a 204
Canons of Criticism 473
Calais—Travelling Particularities 4(17
Commercial Reports 103, 215,327, 439,551, 656
Dozing, on 11
Di. agreeable People, on 129
Daily Paths, our 352
Discipline Society (Prison) 416
Dust, on "...... 608
Ecclesiastical Preferments 105, 2i7, 529, 441, 553, 659
Embarrassments of a Shepherdess 16
Emigration Committee, Third Report of 561
Ends and Means 225
French, Lines from the 10
Fined, You're— a Tale of the 19tli Century 26
First of Spring 137
Full-Lengths, No. VI 463
Fame? What i? 480
Genevieve, Pauvre — a Continental Tale .. 123
INDEX.
1'age
Great Britain and Ireland, Population of 561
Hayti, Sketches of 113
Hermes, Midnight, by 366
Kitchiner's( Dr.) Traveller's Oracle 382
Laudes Carbonarium i1 345
Linesfrom the French 10
Lines to a Lady 394
Letter from Paris, on Affairs in general 500
Lunatics, Pauper 449
Language, Origin of 248
London Incidents, Marriages, Deaths, &c 106, 218, 330, 442, 553, 659
Man with the Appetite, the 590
Modern Philologist, Toils of a 49
Means and Ends, on 225
Midnight, by Hermes 366
Mother's Monitor, the 462
Mammalinga-Voda, the 30
Medical Reports 100, 212,324, 436,548, 654
Meteorological Report? ....112, 224,336,448,558, 666
Newspaper Press of Ireland 337
Notes on the Month . 57, 169,275,395,505,626
Our Daily Paths, by F. H ; 352
Our Maying 155
Origin of Language, the , 248
Pauper Lunatics 449
Public Charities 1,353
Prison Discipline Society 416
Pauvre Genevi^ve 123
People, 'on Disagreeable .'. 129
Pyram'us arid Thisbe, an Operatic Tragedy 236
Political Appointments ...';'. 329,441, 553, 659
Pocket Books, the :. 585
Provincial Occurrences 107,219,330, 442, 554, 661
Proceedings of Learned Societies 87, 203, 310, 426, 437, 650
Patents, New and Expiring 94,210,320,433,544
Reading New Books, on 17
Receipt for a Croonian Lecture 204
Reports, Agricultural 101, 213, 325, 437, 549, 655
'Commercial 103,215,327,439,551,656
Medical V 100,212,324,436,548, 654
Meteorological 112, 224,- 336, 448, 558, 666
Theatrical 201,315,422,534,645
Spring, the First of 137
Sketches (Village \ No VIII. 46, 155
Sontag, Sketch of Mile 268
Some Account of a Lover 261
Song (a Parting), by F. H 472
Stocks, Prices of 112, 224, 336, 448,558, 666
Travelling Sketches 241
Particularities 467
Traveller's Oracle 382
Theatrical Report 201,315,422, 684, 64
Varieties, Scientific and Miscellaneous 89,204,311,426,537
Village Sketches 46, 155
Voda, the Mammalinga 30
Whitsun Eve 46
World in the Open Air, the 55
Works in the Press, and New Publications 91, 207, 317, 430, 541, 652
Zephyrs, to the 266
INDEX TO WORKS REVIEWED.
Page
Andrews' (Capt.) Travels in South Ame-
rica — 297
Agineourt, Nicholas' History of the Bat-
tle of 521
Aylmers, the 196
A maud's Glorious Recovery by the Vau-
dois of their Vallies 529
Barriugton's (Sir Jonah) Personal
Sketches of his own Times, <$rc "76
Bernard Barton's Widow's Tales, &c.. . 83
Bredow's Elements of Universal His-
tory .* 420
Clarke's (S. R.) Vestigia Anglicana, or
Illustrations of the more interesting
and debateable Points of the History
and Antiquities of England, <fcc 79
Conversations on Mythology 420
Classical Manual, or a Mythological,
Historical, and Geographical Com-
mentary on Pope's Homer and Dry-
den's Virgil 409
Ellis's (Hon. Agar) Historical Inquiries
respecting the Character of Edward
Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, Lord Chan-
cellor of England 301
Emir Malek, Prince of the Assassins, an
Historical Novel of the 13th Century 639
Elizabeth Evanshaw 410
Frost's Notices relative to the Early His-
tory of the Town and Port of Hull . . 643
Foy's (Gen.) History of the War in the
Peninsula under Napoleon 637
Garbett's Nullity of the Roman Faith . . ,531
Goodbugh's English Gentleman's Manual 525
High- Ways and By- Ways, Third Series 197
Hood's Plea of the Midsummer Fairies. . 584
Hyde Nugent 421
Ho well's Essay on the War Gal lies of
the Ancients ..' 304
Page
Innes' (Misses) Annual Peerage of the
British Empire 308
Jones's (Capt. G. M.) Travels in Nor-
way, Sweden, Finland, Russia, and
Turkey, by the Sea of Azoff and
the Black Sea, <fec 192
Kitchiner's (Dr.) Traveller's Oracle . . 382
Lawrence (Sir James) on the Nobility
of the British Gentry, <fec. &c 533
Lempriere's Popular Lectures 415
Linguist (The), or Instructions in the
French and German Languages, <fec. 85
Living (The) and the Dead, by a Coun-
try Clergyman 83
Morell's (T.) Elements of the History of
Philosophy and Science 641
Mackie's Spirit and Constitution of the
Church, &c 86
Memoirs of Theobald Wolfe Tone, writ-
ten by himself; Journal of his Nego-
ciations with the French to liberate :•
Ireland, &c J9Q
Military Sketch-Book (The) 299
Miss Mitford's Dramatic Scenes §1
Notes to assist the Memory in various
Sciences „ 342
O'Briees (The) and the O'Flahertys, by
Lady Morgan 533
Papistry Storm 'd, or the Dingin' Down
o' the Cathedral 4j |
Pickersgill's (Mrs.) Tales of the Harem 3( 3
Prison Discipline Society, Seventh Re-
port 416
Practical Instructions for Landscape
Painting 644
Pioneers (The), by the Author of the
Prairie, <fcc 81
Reuben Apsley, by the Author of Bram-
bletye House, &c 199
INDEX,
Pago
Roberts 's (Miss) Memoirs of the Houses
of York and Lancaster 73
Richmond, or Scenes in the Life of a
Bow-street Officer 75
Roche's (Dr.) First Twenty-eight Odes
of Anncreon 526
Roman History (The), by G.B. Niebuhr,
translated from the German by F. A.
Walter . . 635
State of Portugal, by an Eye-witness . . 410
Stray - Leaves, including Translations
from the Lyric Poets of Germany ... 419
Page
Thackeray's History of the Right Hon.
William Pitt, Earl of Chatham 1 85
Ursino (Dr.G. F.) Logarithmi vi. Deci-
miitium scilicet numerornm ab 1 ad
100,000 et Sinuum et Tangentium ad
JO", <fec. &c. &c. Christiana? 310
Willement's Heraldic Notices of Canter-
bury Cathedral, &c 532
Woolrych's Life of Judge Jeffreys .... 300
West's Journal of a Mission to the In-
dians of the British Provinces in America 413
Young's Elements of Geometry 309
EMINENT AND REMARKABLE PERSONS,
Whose Deaths are recorded in this Volume.
Beaumont, Sir Geo.
Dodd, G. 547
Hamilton,Lord A. 545
Sapio, Signor 324
323
Daubeny, Archdeacon
Jackson, Dr. 211
Spode, Josiah 543
Burns, Mr. .G. 95
323
Kircud bright, Lord 97
StraJbroke, Earl 435
Blake W. 435
Ennismore, Lord 545
Kiesewetter, G.G.
Tttbley. Lord de 99
Bangor, Lord 547
Ferrers, Lord 98
Larive, 98
Thirlwall, Rev. T.
Canning, Right Hon;
Foscolo, Ugo 433
Manuel, M. 545
54 S
G. 321
Furlong, Mr. 436
Morton, Lord 21 J
Volta 99
Carlisle, Bishop of
Gent, Mrs. 548
Noble, Rev. M. 99
436
Gordon, Duke 98
Rowlandson, Mr. 97
Castle Coote, Lord
Guild ford, Earl 545
Rochefoucauld, Due
212
Hawker, Dr. 95
de 95
THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOL. IV.] JULY, 1827. [No. 19.
PUBLIC CHARITIES.
IN pursuance of the epitome commenced in our Number for May, we
invite our readers to contemplate now the Charities under the control of
the
Haberdashers' Company.
MONMOUTH CHARITIES, 1614. — These consist of a free-school, alms-
house, and a lecture in the town of Monmouth. William Jones, the
liberal founder of them, gave in trust to the company 9,000/., with which
sum, augmented by others to 10,580/., was purchased an estate called
Hatcham-JBarnes, in the adjoining parishes of New Cross, Surry, and St.
Paul, Deptford, now producing a rent of 77 \L A surplus vested in the
funds has accumulated, amounting now to 5,970/. 16*. 4d. ; which sum,
as well as the dividends, are destined for repairing and rebuilding. To
what extent now are the good people of Monmouth the better for all this?
Twenty poor persons receive \ll. each, and twenty- one boys are taught
Latin, Greek, and English : to read English this can only mean, because
we observe, for writing, arithmetic, geography, and merchants' accompts,
the parents pay 31. a year. Then how are these ample funds consumed ?
140?. go to the lecturer, ISO/, to the schoolmasters, and 314/. to the alms-
people, making together 634/. Of the remaining 1371., about 94 /. also
are said to be expended on the charities ; but of the surplus 43/. no
account is given. The Monmouth people are dissatisfied at these impo-
tent effects — and naturally enough. Here are funds destined by Mr.
Jones to promote the education of the town. He contemplated a hun-
dred in Greek and Latin — meaning by Greek and Latin, surely, the
general instruction of schools. In the days in which free grammar-
schools were first instituted, Latin and Greek were the medium through
which all was taught ; and the learning of Latin and Greek meant then
something more than the construing of half-a-dozen writers of antiquity,
to the exclusion of every earthly subject besides. The phrase, thus com-
M. M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 19. B
2 Public Charities. [JULY,
prehensively and practically used, schoolmasters have, every where, by
degrees, lawyer like, narrowed down to its literal sense, and, unless by
compulsion, will teach nothing but Latin and Greek. The consequence
at Monmouth is conspicuous : not more than twenty-one boys can be
found to be thus taught, and of these, probably, not half-a-dozen are
really sent to the school for classical instruction. The fact is, times are
changed, and education has changed with them. Nobody now requires
these languages but such as are destined for the church, or the higher
departments of law and medicine, and, for distinction's sake, the sons of
gentlemen. But though, at Monmouth, not twenty require such acquire-
ments, ten times twenty require the instruction which the common busi-
ness of life demands, and schools alone can furnish ; and here are abun-
dant means of supplying this essential instruction, were those means wisely
applied. But then, it will be repeated for the thousandth time, trustees
are bound by the terms of the founder. Once for all, trustees have, all
of them — and the Haberdashers are no exception — in numerous instances,
done just as they please, without caring a straw for the will of the
founder; and they might, of course, if they would, do the same in this.
Who would interfere — especially where, in any changes, the spirit of the
original institution was kept in view; that is, to extend the benefits of
education to the town. No penalty would be incurred, and the appro-
bation of the country would go with them.
NEWLAND CHARITIES. — The same William Jones bequeathed to the
same company 5,000/. for the maintenance of a lecture and an alms-house
at Newland, in Gloucestershire ; and pretty liberties appear to have been
taken with this bequest. About three-fifths of the sum, after some chop-
ping and changing, were finally mixed up in the purchase of the leases
of Hatcham-Barnes, and the remainder thrown into the company's
general funds. Out of the produce of this Hatcham-Barnes estate were
made the payments to both the Monmouth and the Newland Charities,
till the Newland people, indignant at this unjustifiable diversion of the'
endowment, bestirred themselves and petitioned the Chancery. Petition-
ing the Chancery, though always bad enough, was not, in those days, a
remedy worse than the disease. The court, in 1708, passed a decree— a
very lenient one— and the company were bound to the payment of 200/,
to the Newland Charity. The present payments, at the end of 120
years, amount to 229 /. 6,$. \OcL ; of which 66/. go to the lecturer, and
*three shillings a week to each of the alms-people. Now here, had this
trust been faithfully managed, the people of Newland might at this
moment be benefitted to at least three times the amount ; and, in common
equity, the company surely are responsible for such a sum.
The POOR OF THE COMPANY.— The same William Jones left 1,440/.
for pensions of 8/. to each of nine poor persons of the company — that is, 72/.
Seventy-two pounds is the interest, at live per cent., of 1,440/.; there-
fore Mr. Jones meant the poor of the company should receive the whole
benefit of this 1,4-JO/. What has become of this sum? If invested in
land, the produce by this time must have risen considerably above 72/. ;
and the poor are therefore defrauded by the amount of the difference —
for 72/. is all that the company pay.
LECTURESHIP OP ST. BARTHOLOMEW. — The same bountiful Mr. Jones
left also a house, which had cost him more than J ,000/., and a sum of 600£ ,
afterwards laid out on a house in Fleet-street, to institute a lecture in the
1827.] Public Charities. 3
church of St. Bartholomew. The rents of these premises now amount to
[401. , and the lecturer actually gets the whole. The clergy certainly
either keep a better look-out, or are in better luck than their neigh-
bours.
SOMERS' CHARITY. — A. tenement in St. Dunstan's, East, value 31. per
annum, given to the company; 30s. for the performance of a yearly
obit; [2s. to twelve poor freemen of the company, and the remainder for
themselves. In the embarrassments of the Haberdashers, in the seven-
teenth century, the house appears to have been sold, and the payments to
the poor were consequently discontinued — the obit, of course, long before.
The commissioners, who are very cautious of advancing an opinion, think,
however, in this case, the payments to the poor should be resumed ; and
the company accordingly express their willingness to pay 12s. into the
poor-box. Not a word of the arrears. Liberal souls !
PEACOCK'S CHARITY. — In 1535 Sir Simon Peacock left to the company
lands, in the parish of St. Sepulchre, charged with 21. 17s. 4d. for cha-
ritable purposes : the original value does not appear. The premises have
been exchanged by the company. The rental of the present property
amounts to 721. [2s., and [11. 19s. 10^. is the sum annually paid — of
which 8/. go to the debtors in Whitecross-street.
BUCKLAND'S CHARITY. — Twenty shillings to four poor members of the
company, 20s. to the churchwardens of St. Michael le Quern, and 20s.
to the poor of Shepperton — which last sum has been discontinued since
1812. Why? These payments were charged on two houses in Pater-
noster-row, sold by the company, in 1675, for 150/., to pay their own
debts. But even 150/., at the usual rate of interest, produce 11. 10s.
On what principle, then, are three pounds, or rather two, now paid ?
LADY BURGHLEY'S CHARITIES, 1583. — Two hundred pounds to the
company, to pay 10/. a year to the poor of Cheshunt, and to maintain
four sermons. What has been done about the sermons does not appear :
the 10/. are paid to the churchwardens of Cheshunt. The same consi-
derate lady left 120/. to be lent to six persons of Romford — (still lent) ;
and 80/. to be lent to six persons of Hoddesdon, Cheshunt, and Waltham
Abbey — discontinued since 1670, and supposed to have been lost by
failure of securities. That was the company's concern : let them make
the loss good to the poor of Hoddesdon, Cheshunt, and Waltham
Abbey.
FREE SCHOOL, BANBURY. — For the support of this school, 130/. was
charged by the founder, Thomas Aldersey, on the tithes of certain parishes
in Cheshire, belonging to him. The charge is a specific sum; and, of
course, though the value of the said tithes has doubtless quadrupled, the
Aldersey family pay 1 30/., and no more. The purpose of the donor is,
however, obviously defeated. He must have meant the school to be kept up
in its original condition. He had calculated the sum requisite for carry-
ing his purposes into effect: that sum was 130/. ; and 130/. he accord-
ingly charged upon property which he knew would well bear the burden.
That sum was a third, or a fourth, or a fifth of the whole value of the
estate ; and, of course, with his views — looking far into futurity — had the
good man had any notion of the depreciation of money, or of the quibbles
of lawyers, or of the graspings of families, he would have charged his
estate, not, with a fixed sum, but with a third, or a fourth, or whatever
part of the whole the 1 30/, might be. The intent of the founder, we
B"2
4 Public Charities. [«f'J*-Y,
repeat, was obvious ; and, in an age and country more equitable and less
grasping and exacting, that intent would be binding on the consciences of
his successors. With this, however, the company, in the present case,
have nothing to do — so far. But then, observe, this Thomas Aldersey
leased to the governors themselves also, for two thousand years, at the
rent of a red rose, the Chantry -house in Banbury, with several other mes-
suages, crofts, and meadows in the same parish, expressly " for the better
maintenance of the preachers, schoolmaster, and usher of Banbury-school ;
and to the intent that they might be sufficiently provided with competent
dwelling-houses, and for the better applying themselves to their several
offices." Of the disposition of this property, we have a very meagre
account. Some of the buildings and lands are occupied, it seems, by the
masters and the clergy, and all may possibly be distributed most advan-
tageously for the interests of the charity. But if, by this time, we are
made a little suspicious, it can occasion no surprise, and still less any
censure.
JETSON'S CHARITIES. — Mr. Jetson directs the company to pay 15/. 12s.
to six poor or lame of the company ; 31. to the poor of Lambeth ; 51. to
the poor of Kinver, in Staffordshire; 20/. to poor scholars of Trinity
College, Cambridge; 61. for a divinity lecture in Lambeth; and 51. for
the preachers at St. Paul's-cross. The property devised to the company
for the support of these charities consisted of eighteen houses in Haber-
dasher's-square, and five in Grub-street, St. Giles's, Cripplegate, then — in
1622 (two hundred years ago) — producing 102/. 12*. The whole now,
by some unaccountable management — a management with which the
company is not usually chargeable — rents at only 971. ; so that the com-
pany seem to be actually losers ; fore even the 5/., payable to the preach-
ers of St. Paul's-cross, are paid to poor clergymen, appointed by the
master and wardens.
NEWPORT FREE-SCHOOL. — To the Haberdashers, under the descrip-
tion of " Governors of the possessions and revenues of the Free Grammar
School of Newport, in the county of Salop," were given in trust exten-
sive estates, consisting of Knighton Grange, in Staffordshire, and other
property for the maintenance of a grammar-school, and other charities
established by him, conditioning that they should pay yearly 20/. to a
godly and orthodox minister for catechizing the scholars arid others
attending Newport church ; 60/. to the masters ; 241. for binding three
apprentices (except every seventh year, when the 24/. were to be applied
to the expenses of a visitation-committee) ; 24*. to annual examiners of
the scholars; 20*. to a poor scholar for ringing the bell ; 20*. to another,
or 10*. each to two others, for sweeping the school ; 51. for repairs ; 20/.
for four exhibitions from Newport-school to Oxford or Cambridge; 20/. 16*.
to four aged poor of Newport ; 20/. to twenty of the company ; and '2/.
to the clerk and beadles — altogether 170/. If the rents fall short, the
deficiency is to be made good out of the sum assigned for apprentice-
fees. Therefore, 170/., past all dispute, was the full value of the pro-
perty. But the rental now is 9571. 3s. 6d. ; and the payments, as
directed by a decree of Chancery, in 1797 — for these matters, by the
good management of the trustees, often get into that blessed court —
amount to 69^/. 5*., which sum leaves still a balance in favour of the
company of 264£ 18*. M. But this considerable balance is not all. The
company retain in their own hands sixty-six acres of wood-lands, and con-
1827.] Public Charities. 5
siderable falls of timber have been made ; from the sale of which, and the
accumulations of surplus income at the time of the inquiry (May 1820),
they held a sum of 12,426/., three per cent., yielding a dividend of
37'Zl. \5s. 6d., which, added to the surplus 264/., makes the whole annual
balance swell to 637 /. Here, then, is actually 6371. of surplus income,
with 12,426/. stock in hand. Again, then, we ask, as we did in the case
of Monmouth, what benefit receive the Newport people by these institu-
tions ? The instruction of thirty-eight boys in Latin, Greek — and Hebrew,
say the statutes — but that has long been dispensed with ; of thirty-eight
boys, who, of course, are precisely those who least stand in need of gra-
tuitous education ; and the maintenance of four alms-people : and all the
while here are funds that would educate the whole town — certainly all to
whom gratuitous education is an object, and to the extent that their sta-
tion in life requires ; and not only educate the whole town, but very mate-
rially relieve the parochial burdens ; not by mixing up such funds with the
poor-rates, but by relieving the distressed, and thus keeping them from the
rates. By the way, the sum appointed to the minister for catechizing the
scholars, &c. now augmented to 60/., is given to the resident officiating
curate — to the benefit, no doubt, of the incumbent. Be sure of this — the
incumbent pays his curate so much the less. We must be permitted to
ask also, whether the company contemplate spending the large savings of
this charity on some magnificent pile of brick and mortar?
MORGAN'S CHARITY, 1604. — A devise of property in Budge-row, White-
lion-court, Fleet-street — -and at Stratford-Langthorne, Essex — on condition
of paying 20/. to the poor of Oswestry. Some part of these estates was
subject to other interests ; and the part in White-lion-court is all that is
now left — producing, however, still 150/. The company have started a
doubt of their liability to this payment.
CALDWELL CHARITY, 1614. — A house in Ludgate-hill, devised to the
company for charitable uses ; the house was burnt down in 1666, and the
ground the following year sold to the city for 92/. 10s. Payments to the
amount of 9L 5s. 8d. are made annually, of which 21. 3s. 4d. go to the
poor of Rolleston, in Staffordshire.
Mils. WHITMORE'S CHARITY. — Certain property in Bishopsgate-street,
and Helmet-court, now let for 108/. 19s, on condition of paying 51. to
the poor of St. Edmund, in Lombard-street, and of delivering to ten widows
of the company, each a govvn of three yards of broad cloth, and one ell
of holland, of two shillings ; the remainder to be applied to the use of the
company. What ratio these several payments bore to the original rent,
does not appear. Indeed there is a sad lack of information frequently in
this respect. The payments, it seems, are made as directed by the testa-
tor, with some augmentation.
OFFLEY'S LEGACY, 1590. — Two hundred pounds to be lent to four
young men of the company, SOL each for five years ; 200/. to be
employed by the company, on consideration of paying twenty poor per-
sons of the company 10s. each ; and 200/. for two scholarships, one to be
named by the company's court of assistants, and the other by the corpora-
tion of Chester. For these three sums of 200/. each, nothing, it seems, is
now paid but the 1 Os. to their own poor. On the recommendation of the
commissioners, the company propose to revive the exhibitions — a matter of
the least importance.
BLUNDELL'S CHARITY, 1603. —One hundred and fifty pounds to be
6 Public Chanties. [JULY,
laid out in land or houses, out of which the company were to pay forty
shillings to the poor prisoners in Newgate, and take the remainder ' for
their pains.' With this 150/. was purchased No. 8, Poultry, now let for
]06/. net-rent. The company still faithfully pay the forty shillings, and
coolly pocket the small remaining )04/. ' for their pains/
BRAMLEY'S CHARITY. — Leasehold property in St. Bartholomew's-lane,
assigned to the company for charitable uses. It was burnt down in 1666,
and the company, unable to rebuild, surrendered the lease to the Cloth-
worker's company for 15(^. ; for which they pay 51. annually to the poor
of Lothbury, in acquittal of all obligations.
LADY WELD'S BENEFACTION, 1623. — This was a bequest of 2,000/.
for the purchase of impropriale liviags, to Merchant- taylor's company, or
any other company which would accept the trust. The Merchant-taylors,
for some unknown reason, declined accepting it; but the Haberdashers,
knowing better, we suppose, how to turn a penny, caught at the prize with
avidity, instituted a suit in chancery, and eventually got possession of the
2,000/. with another 100£ for their volunteer trouble. By her will, the
good lady directed two-thirds only of the value of the livings to be paid
to the incumbents, and the remainder to accumulate for the purchase of
more. In this way have been purchased the small tithes or the rectories
of Wigston, Bitteswcll, and Diseworth, in Leicestershire ; Albrighton, in
Shropshire ; Layston, in Suffolk ; and Chertsey, in Surry : the last so
recently as 1819. The governors of Christ's-hospital were, by the will,
appointed auditors, and a curious compromise in 1702 took place between
these auditors and the company. The Haberdashers, at the time, were
indebted to the trust 4,000/., and confessedly insolvent. These honest
auditors sanctioned a composition of five shillings in the pound, on con-
dition of alternately themselves presenting to the church preferment ; and
to this day, the governors of Christ's-hospital, alternately with the Haber-
dashers, present to the livings. Here are no slight liberties taken with a
trust ; and yet how nervously conscientious these companies are, when
any really beneficial change is proposed, particularly as to schools ; — then
nothing is heard of but the will of the founder.
HAMONO'S CHARITIES, 1638. — 1. Four hundred pounds for the erec-
tion of an alms-house for six poor old unmarried freemen of the company,
with a rent charge of 80/, on property in Tower-street and Mincing-lane,
of which 60/. go to the old men, and 20L to twenty poor men and women
of the company. The 400/. were expended on the purchase of ground
and the erection of the alms-house on Snow hill ; and the 80/. are still
distributed according to the directions of the donor. The company have
no control over this, now very valuable property. 2. The same Mr.
Hamond left J,0(JO/., like Lady W^eld, for the purchase of impropriate
livings, with which were bought the rectory of Aure, and the chapelry of
Blakeney, in Gloucestershire, worth in 1806, 600/. a-year. 3. The same
Hamond also, left 500/. to the company for loans, gratis — silk-men to be
preferred. These loans have been discontinued since J678. Have the
company ever thought of substituting any analogous appropriation of this
and other sums left for similar purposes ?
HAZLEFOOT'S CHARITY.—- In 164(5, this gentleman conveyed to the
company a freehold estate and manor, called Pitley Farm, in the parish of
Great Bardiield, in Essex, of the yeaily value of 70/. ; and directed * ~
whole 70/. to be applied to specifies uses — -20/. to the poor of the comni , ,
J827.] Public Chanties. 1
20/. to different London hospitals ; 1 01. to release prisoners ; 8/. to the
parish of St. Nicholas Cole Abbey ; SI. to buy corn (for distribution to
the poor) ; and the remaining 4/., in compensation of the company's labour,
to the warden, clerk, and beadles. The estate now produces '225/., and
43/. only disbursed. The balance of 182£ goes to the company's general
funds. For this appropriation, there is not the shade of a pretext ; every
farthing of the rent was assigned by the donor, and .the company's trouble
not forgotten.
RAINTON'S CHARITY, 1646. — A case of the same kind as the last pre-
cisely. The property consists of a large house and warehouse in Plough-
court, Lombard-street, now occupied by the well-known William Allen,
at a rent of 22 O/. ; and another, No. 97, Lombard-street, at 175/. At
the time of the bequest, the rents amounted to 87 L Js. kd. ; the whole of
which was specifically appropriated ; 321. Ws. to twenty-five poor men
and widows; 121. to St. Bartholomew's Hospital; 10/. for clothing poor
people and apprenticing children of Lincoln ; 1 01. for apprenticing chil-
dren of Enfield; JO/. 8s. for the poor of Washingborough and Heigh-
ington in Lincolnshire ; 27. to the poor of St. Edmund the King ; 21. to
the poor of St. Mary Woolchurch ; and the remainder, 8/. 8s. 4d., to the
company's officers. Supposing these sums to be still all paid — they have
not always been so — what becomes of the surplus — more than 300/.
a-year ? And by what right do the company withhold it from those for
whose benefit the donor manifestly destined it? If justice or equity
were attainable at a cheaper rate, Lincoln, Enfield, and Washingborough
would soon find it worth while to assert their unquestionable rights.
BARNES'S CHARITY, 1663. — The devise of a house in Lombard-street.
The original rent was 60/., of which 61. were to go to the company, and
remaining 54 /. to be distributed to their poor. The house is now the Sea-
Policy Office, and brings in 1507. The poor, we may suppose, receive
54 L ; but the rest, 96/., the wealthier part of the company dispose of.
CLEAVE' s CHARITY, 1605. — Two houses, one in Oxford-court, and
the other in Cannon-street, left for the poor of the company — and let in
1793, on lease, at 35/., which expired in 1824. Five pounds are given to
each of seven of the poor. The same gentleman gave 200/. in money for
the benefit of the poor of the company ; of the application of which, no
account at all is given.
ARNOLD'S RENT CHARGE, 1669. — Twenty-six pounds-, now secured,
under the authority of the chancery court, on the Angel Inn, Islington —
distributed to the poor of the company.
BOND'S RENT-CHARGE, 1671. — Fifty pounds on No. 8, Bread-street,
of which the Haberdashers were to distribute 24 L to six poor single aged
men of the company, and the remainder to their poor generally. This
rent-charge appears eventually, for some cause or other, to have equalled
the rent, and possession was in consequence given to the company. Since
1809, the rent is 2151. In this case, the company have — quite unaccount-
ably— doubled the 50/., which they were bound to distribute; and do ac-
tually distribute to the poor 100/. out of 215/., when, judging by their very
steady practice, they believed themselves bound only to 50/. This is pure
generosity. By the way, are there any members of this company burden-
some to any parish in the kingdom ? If so, such parish might as well
1 after the company, and relieve itself.
- JXTON ALMS-HOUSES, 1658.— This is one of the most inexplicable
8 Public Chanties. [JULY,
concerns wo have met with — inexplicable in its management we mean —
and the most ineffective, compared with the views of the institutor, and
the very ample funds he left for the fulfilment of those views.
ROBERT ASKE'S intentions were to found alms-houses for twenty poor
single men, free of the Haberdashers, with a pension of 20/. each; and to
clothe, feed, and educate as many boys as the surplus of the funds wonld
permit, at 20/. each. The sum originally left by him was 20,00(V; but
this sum was by others, for the purpose of promoting his wishes, augmented
to 31,905/. Twenty-one acres were purchased at Hoxton, on a part of
which the alms-houses were built ; and nearly 2,000 acres in Kent. The
income of the charity is now 3,469/. 7*. 2c?., and yearly augmenting, from
the Hoxton land being let on building leases. Now, how is this magnifi-
cent income spent ? That is very far from being manifest. {Seventeen
persons are, however, lodged and fed, receive each 8/. a year, and a gown
every second year ; and besides, twenty boys are kept, taught reading and
writing, and catechized four times a year. And this is all that is known
of the disposition of an income of 3,4691. 7s. 2d. With this sum, seven-
teen old men are supported in the lowest style of pauperism, and twenty
boys in the same miserable state ; that is, our readers will observe, at the
rate of nearly a hundred pounds a head. It is enough to make the good
Robert Aske turn in his grave. But the company have a surplus of seven
thousand pounds — is this a misprint in the reports for seventy thousand ?
and this 7,000/. or 70.000/. the company are actually laying out in brick
and mortar — building a palace for seventeen miserable paupers — to prove,
to ocular demonstration, how munificent are the charitable institutions of
England. If we are so splendid without, what may be it supposed we
are within ? The seventeen must surely tread on Turkey carpets, and be
served on plate.
TROTMAN'S CHARITIES, 1663. — Throckmortin Trotman left to the com-
pany 2,000/,, to purchase land of 100Z. a year, and appropriated the said
100*/. a year, I5/. to the maintenance of a lecture at Dursley, in Glouces-
tershire ; SOI. to the maintenance of a school in Cripplegate ; and the re-
maining 51. to the poor of the company. The same gentleman left a
second 2,000/., to be invested in the same way, in land of 100/. a year
value, arid appropriated 201. to a lecture on Sundays, in the church of
St. Giles, Cripplegate; 20/. for another on Thursdays, with 40*. each for
clerk and sexton ; 6/. for those who took care of the premises ; 4/. for
candles during the preaching in winter; 16/. to the poor of the parish ;
and 30/. for the poor of Cam, in Gloucestershire, towards building and
maintaining an* alms-house, or towards setting poor people to work, as the
company should determine. This 4,000/., however, the company did not,
as the donor enjoined, invest in land, but themselves borrowed it, and
mortgaged their own hall, &c., assessed at 300/., and other premises in
Maiden-lane, Flying-horse-court, Staiuing-lane, and Bunhill-row, the
rents of which amount to 36 1/., thus giving a security of 66 \l., if security
it can be called, where some part of the mortgage, at least, we may pre-
sume, is trust property. Of the presumed income of Trotman's 4000/. we
see 1 201. were assigned to certain specific uses, and $0/. for the mainte-
nance of a school. The 1201. are still distributed according to his original
directions. But the school — what was done about that ? One was built
in Bunhill-row, capable of accommodating two hundred boys, and no less
than TWELVE, sometimes, of late, have been taught reading, writing, and
1827.] Public Chanties. 9
aritlimetic. But will the funds allow of more ? On the present securities
the income of the school must be considered to be 130/., exclusive of the
premises — the school master's house is worth at least 70/. a year; and had
Trotman's donation been, as he directed, laid out in land, that income
would not be less than four or five hundred ; and such a sum, in common
equity, the company are bound to expend upon this institution — placed
too, as it is, in the midst of a population of 50,000, including as many
miserable and destitute persons as any in London, or more. The account
we have here given of this school is taken from the commissioners' first
report, in which the inefficiency of the school is distinctly attributed to the
age. and incapacity of the master. In the tenth report, published in 1822,
it is added, ' the master is since dead, and under his successor the school
is regaining a greater degree of efficiency/ This greater degree of effici-
ency was not very discoverable last year, when eighteen boys only, and
some of them not on the foundation, were found in the school-room, and
nobody, apparently, but a greater boy to superintend them. The present
master lives in Charles Square, and lets the school-house, and, as it should
seem, delegates the office and duties of master. The Haberdashers have
appointed a committee to inquire into the state of the school — apparently
in consequence of the publicity given to the subject, by the publication to
which we hold ourselves so much indebted.
BANKS' LEASEHOLD, 17J6. — This property consisted originally of seventy-
two houses in the parish of St. James's, Westminster, held of the crown ;
in addition to which were two freeholds in St. John's, Clerkenwell. The
rental of the Westminster houses in 1822, in which year the lease expired,
amounted to 1 764/. 4s. The conditions demanded by the commissioners
of woods and forests, for renewal, were such as the company did not, and
perhaps could not accede to ; and the original endowment of Mr. Banks
is thus nearly lost — nothing remaining but the freeholds, producing
451. 13s. 6d. The company, however, have made ample savings out of
the leaseholds, amounting, at the time of the inquiry to 54,482/., three per
cent, consols. Now under what obligations stand the company ? The
payment of 1 U/. — namely, 12/. to the minister and deacons of the con-
gr^gation, held near the Three Cranes ; 21. to the meeting-house, adjoin-
ing the company's hall ; 50/. to ten poor men and single women, of
St. Bennett's, Paul's Wharf; 251. to ten men and women of Battersea ;
and 251. to as many in the park, in the parish of St. Mary Overy, South-
wark. Here then the company have a surplus of above 1,500/. a year,
and yet the payments have never been augmented a single doit.
BENEFACTIONS FOR LOANS, amounting to 2,5 JO/., the gifts of eighteen
different individuals, and intended by them to be lent to young men of the
company gratis; and a farther sum of 1,010/. on interest, at too high a
rate perhaps to be covetable. Of the sums thus directed to be lent gratis,
3961. appear to have been lost— still leaving 2,1 14/. to be so applied. No
loans have been made since 1670; but the money has not, of course, lain
idle for a century and a half. The money was destined for the benefit of
such as required assistance; and if loans with interest, or without, were
no longer desirable, became it not the obvious duty of the company, if they
still held the money and the responsibility of it, to make the best use of it
in their power, and distribute the proceeds to the relief of indigence of some
description or other?
MISCELLANEOUS GIFTS.— Of some of these the amount is unknown;
M.M. New Series,— VOL. IV. No. 1 9. C
10 Public Chanties. [JULY,
but the sum of what is known is 3,05 1/. The purposes for which these
suras were destined were, as usual, loans on different conditions — long
ceased to be granted, or rather to be demanded ; exhibitions to poor
scholars, some of which were suspended, probably at the time of the com-
pany's embarrassments, and never after renewed, though three or four are
likely to be so now, on the recommendation of the commissioners ; some
for sermons ; some for the company's poor, and others for the poor of par-
ticular parishes — too numerous for us to enter into further detail, and quite
insignificant compared with our prior statements. The whole, however,
is trust money, and surely in a well-constituted system of jurisprudence,
means ought to be found for enforcing, if not the specific, at least some
analagous employment.
Take a general glance : — Here is a landed revenue of J3,?99/., out of
which are maintained fifty-three alms-people, and educated, and partly fed
and clothed, J20 boys — no more. In addition to these ample funds, of
which so inadequate an use is made, there are surplus sums, amounting to
80,000/. at the company's free disposal. Let them bestir themselves ;
and as they have directed an inquiry with respect to Trotraan's school,
let them appoint another to consider of the best means for giving efficiency
to their old and withering charities, and for instituting new and more effi-
cient ones, such as may realize the general views, if they can no longer
accomplish the particular directions of the benevolent founders — augment
alms- houses, liberalize the conditions of them — teach English and useful
knowledge, and abandon the now idle purpose of confining instruction to
Greek and Latin, in places, where those who require gratuitous learning,
are destined to labour and trade.
We had hoped to include the Southwark charities in the present Num-
ber; but those of the haberdashers have proved too numerous and too sub-
stantial for our condensing powers.
ABOUT TO BECOME A MOTHER.
fFrom the French.]
Tis Love, 'tis Love,
With whom you will adorn the earth ;
'Tis Love, 'tis Love,
To whom you shortly will give birth!
Doubt you the truth my verse declares ?
Who is the child whom Venus bears ? —
'Tis Love! 'tis Love!
H.N.
1827.] [11 ]
DOZING.
" Fctium quiet plurimum juval."
Dozing very much delights.
OUR corporeal machinery requires an occasional relaxation, as much as
the steam-engine does the application of oil to its divers springs ; and,
after a bond-fide slumber, we rise with a freshness equal to that of flowers
in the best-regulated flower-pots. But dozing must not be confounded
with legitimate sleep, though frequently tending to the same purpose : it
may be termed an embryo slumber, that entertaineth the body with the most
quiescent gentleness, acting on our senses as a sort of mental warm-bath ;
till, finally, the te material man" himself luxuriates in tepidity.
I enjoyed a delicious doze, a week since, in the dining-room of my uncle,
Sir Fiddle Fuz. With respect to my uncle, suffice it to say, that he is the
respected possessor of a turretted mansion in the county of Fuz : duly
supplied with the ordinary quantum of park, yew-trees, fish-ponds, hounds,
and domestics. I shall give the reader an adequate description here, in
order that he may the better estimate the heavenliness of my enjoyment —
premisingthat he will not doze himself ere he has read this chapter.
I said 1 enjoyed a doze at my uncle's : it was a little between six and
seven in the evening, and when the half-emptied wine-bottles were gra-
dually disappearing, amid the mantling shadiness of the chamber. The
dining-room itself has a drowsiness about it, arising from its antiquated
constitution. There is a row of lofty elms fronting the windows, and the
shivering sunbeams danced very poetically through their blossomed twigs.
On the day alluded to, my uncle, aunt, and a harmless member of parlia-
ment, dined en famille. Our mastications were soon concluded — my
aunt retired — and the bottle circulated among our remaining trio. I must
remark, by the way, that my esteemed relative is beset with the spirit of
vapidity; whether from the spaciousness of his person, or from the vapoury
qualities of the " metis divina," I have not yet determined. The Roman
Catholic Question, for a while, gave a lively relish to the departing port ;
but this gradually melted away in a froth of words. The Corn Laws —
that everlasting theme for pamphleteering barons — came next. The eyes
of both host and visitor were momentarily relumed by this hackneyed
discussion. As for myself, I shrugged more fondly to the back of my
chair, and amused myself by twisting my thumbs — till a soporific sort of
cloud stole over me, and the fitful grumble of my uncle's sonorous voice
became, to speak poetice, like a dying echo — or bells upon a far-off wrind
— or anything else in the same way. Oh ! reader, didst thou ever doze ?
— If not, I fairly despair of touching your imagination. There were no
candles ; the busy flickerings of light from the fire quadrilled along the
walls ; 1 just heard a conclusive grunt from the member ; the darkness
seemed to increase in density ; I leaned back — and, like a melting snow-
ball, relaxed into a doze. That delectable doze ! The wine had deli-
cately mellowed my brains, my finger-tips were in a glow, and I felt as if
I was being dipped in a basinful of down. Let no one ridicule this
grateful homage for a doze : it is a " green, sunny spot" in one's memory.
I don't remember my dream exactly ; there was something like a huge
bushel of corn, reaching from the ground to the clouds ; but I recollect
nothing else. I felt I was not sleeping; but this increased the felicity of
C 2
12 Dosing. [JcLY,
the doze — never was there such a dozing blessedness before. A poodle
snapped ray little finger — and I was startled. I do not mean the least
intentional* disrespect to the clergy, in saying that there are among them some
occasional most respectable soporific preachers. The sectarians are too
rigidly inclined to boisterons declamation to allow us a nap when seated
beneath their echoing rostrum ; they are, for the most part, supplied with
the THUNDERING-VOCATIVENESS, and are determined nobody shall go to hell
without having their ears split first. — But to return.
Nothing can be more ungodly than to enter the church with an express
purpose of dozing there. Arm-chairs, sofas, and beds are the legitimate
places for dozers. But there is no accounting for that conquering spirit of
all-besetting drowsiness that attacks us at sundry times and places. It is
in vain that we lengthen our limbs into an awakening stretch — that we
yawn with the expressive suavity of yawning no more — that we dislocate
our knuckle -bones, and ruffle the symmetry of our visage, with a manual
application : like the cleft blaze of a candle, drowsiness returns again.
Well, then, what manner of reader is he that hath never sinned by drows-
ing in church time ? Let him read on ; and I'll realize by description
what he has realized by endurance.
It is after the embodying of a good dinner with ourselves, that doziness
is most tempting. You have dined at four o'clock to-day. Well, that's a
decent Sabbatical hour. After due potations of wine, coffee, &c., your
gratitude is awakened ; and, like a good Christian, you arrange your
beaver, and walk off steadily to church. Now, remember, I give you
full credit for your wish to exhibit your external holiness — that you are
indeed conscious of the reverence that should accompany all your engage-
ments in the fane of the deity ; and yet I prognosticate that if the Rev.
Nabob Narcotic happen to preach this evening, you will, of a surety,
doze — infallibly doze — in the midst of his sermon !
'Tis a summer month, and the very church windows seem labouring
with a fit perspiration. Horribly boring — isn't it ? How your hat clings
to your moistened forehead, and the warm gloves droop from your fingers,
like roasting chicken ! Get as much room as possible ; tenderly pass little
miss there, and her unbreeched brother, over to their smiling mamma.
Now you have the balmy corner to yourself! " Psalms," first lesson —
second ditto — prayers — thanksgivings — all reverently attended to : there is
a little dreaminess settling on your lids — your lips begin to close with
languor ; but you have not dozed. Let's hear the sermon. You are
seated with tolerable erectness; and. judging from the steady determination
of your eyebrows, one would imagine that your eyes would be open for
the whole of the discourse. But, alas! 'tis Mr. Narcotic, whose spectacled
nose is just verging above the crimson horizon of his pulpit. — " Awake,
tbou that sleepest!" Why, the text is quite opposed to DOZINESS ! But
what of this, if the preacher be addicted to drawling, the weather unob-
ligingly sultry, and you yourself have gradually been dwindling from
an uncongenial state of wakefulness into a sleepy calm ? 'Tis too much
for beldame Nature, believe me !
I perceive that you have rubbed the bridge of your nose several times —
that you have tried to swell forth your eyes with a full round stare at the
parson ; but your stoicism " profiteth nothing." The sermon is irreligiously
long; and you are nodding — in a doze ! Whether there be much pleasure
in a church doze, I am not presuming enough to determine. For myself,
1827.] Dosing. 13
I have found nothing more tantalizing than the endeavour to restrain from
an occasional doze during church-time. After a certain period, I have
perceived the parson diminishing, like a phantasmagoric image — all the
ladies' black bonnets sinking away, like a cluster of clouds— and (shame
on the confession !) I have performed head-worship to the front of my
seat, instead of keeping an immoveable, post-like position, before his
reverence. However, a church doze is seldom admired by the wakeful.
Should an embryo snore escape from one's nose (and this is possible), some
old grandam, or an upright piece of masculine sanctity, is sure to rouse
you : the former will either hem you into awakening shame, or drop her
prayer-book on the floor ; the latter will most likely thump the same with
the imperative tip of his boot. How horridly stupid one seems after being
aroused ! The woman eyes you with the most piquant, self-justifying
sneer possible ; while all her little IMMACULATES, if she have any, look at
you like so many hissing young turkey-cocks; and as for the man — bless
his holiness ! — he'd. frown you down to Hades at once.
" My heart leaps up " when I behold a stage-coach — that snug, panel-
painted, comfortable, wheel- whirl ing " thing of life." O ye days of
juvenilian sensibilities — ye eye-feeding, heart-rising scenes of remembered
felicity ! — how glorious was the coach at the school door ! The whip— -
Ajax Mastigoferos never had such a powerful one as the modern Jehu !
The spokes of the wheels — they were handled with admiring fingers I
That Jupiter-like throne, the coach-box — who would not have risked his
neck to have been seated on it ? When all was " right," how eloquent the
lip-music of coachee ! how fine the introductory frisks of the horses' tails,
and the arching plunge of the fore-foot — no rainbow-curve ever was so
beauteous! 4< Oh, happy days ! who would not be a boy again ?" But
away with my puerilities. I intend the reader to take a doze in that com-
fortable repository for the person — the inside of a coach.
With all the reckless simplicity of boyhood, I maintain that travelling
by coach is by no means the least of our sublunary pleasures. Man is a
wheelable animal as well as walking one. Winter is the time for a nice
inside jaunt. What divine evaporations from the coachman's muzzle !
What a joyous creak in the down-flying steps ! — and, oh ! that comfortable
alertness with which we deposit ourselves in the padded corner, and fold
our coat-flaps over our knees, glance at the frosty steam of the window ; and
then, quite CL la Tityre, repose our recumbent bodies at our ease ! Such
moments as these are snatches of undefinable bliss. It would appear pro-
bable, that a coach was a very inconvenient place for a doze : the atten-
dant bustle, tho whip-smacks, bickering wheels, and untranquiljizing
jolts —
" Like angels' visits, few and far between," —
are not calculated for sleepiness. Notwithstanding these correlative inter-
ruptions, a doze in the coach is by no means uncommon, even in the day-
time. Let us examine this a little more intellectually.
Suppose a man is returning to his friends, with a mind composed, and
"all his business settled." (By-the-bye, how vastly comprehensive this
speech is !) Suppose he has entered the coach about four in the afternoon,
and, by rare luck, finds he is, for the present, the only inside passenger.
Such a man, I say, will be likely to doze before twenty miles have run
under the coach-wheels — speaking Hibernice. For the first half-hour, he
14 Dozing. [JULY,
will be thinking of himself — how many commissions he has performed —
how many he has left undone — and how many he intends to do. The
next, he will probably give to his home attractions — his anxious wife, sat
musingly round the tea-table — his favourite son George (so like his father)
— and all the nine hundred and ninety nine pretty nothings we hear of,
after a brief absence. These will send his heart a long way from the
coach, and therefore keep him in the full enjoyment of wakefulness. But
this train of delectable musing is by no means exhaustless. The roll of
the wheels gradually becomes naturalized to the ear, and the body moves
in sympathy with the coach ; the road gets very monotonously barren ; the
lounge in the corner — how suitable then to this solitary languor ! Lulled
here, the traveller for awhile admires the leathern trappings of the coach,
hums a tune perhaps, and affects a dubious whistle. Meantime the opera-
tions of doziness have been gently applying themselves. His eye is sated
with the road and the coach ; his hands become stationary on his lap ; his
feet supinely rested on the opposite seat ; his head instinctively motions to
the corner — and he dozes ! A doze in the coach is the flower of dozes,
when you are alone. There, you may twist your person into any shape
you please, without the fear of discomposing a silken dress, or a nurse-
maid's petticoats. No boisterous arguments from snuff-taking sexagena-
rians: all is placid — Eden-like — just as a dozer's sanctorum ought to be !
The only thing attendant on the doze of an inside passenger, is the great
chance of being suddenly aroused by the entrance of company. O tell me,
ye of the fine nerve, what is more vexing than to be startled from your nest
by the creaking slam of the steps, the bleak winter gales galloping along
your face, and a whole bundle of human beings pushing themselves into
your retreat ! There is no rose without its thorn, as myriads have said
before me :
" 0 beats Sexti,
Vitse summa brevis SPEM nos vetat inchoare LONGAM !"
Not all the morose sarcasms of Johnson, on the pleasures of rural life,
have ever weakened my capability for enjoying it at convenient intervals.
His antipathy to the country resembled his contempt for blank-verse — he
could not enjoy it. I have now moped away a considerable number of
months in thi.s city of all things — this — this London. " Well ?" Pray
restrain yourself, reader: I am coming to the point in due season. During
my metropolitan existence — although I am neither a tailor, or any trade,
or anything exactly — 1 have never beheld a downright intellectual-looking
blade of grass. I mean much by an intellectual blade of grass. The Lon-
doners— poor conceited creatures ! — have denominated sundry portions of
their Babylon " fields." But — I ask it in all the honest pride of sheer
ignorance — is there the ghost even of a bit of grass to be seen in many of
them ? I cannot easily forget my vexation, when, after a tedious walk
to one of those misnomered " fields," I found nothing but a weather-
beaten, muggy, smoky assemblage of houses of all sizes, circumscribed by
appropriate filth and abundant cabbage-stumps. Innocent of London quack •
cries, I strolled forth with the full hope of laying me down on a velvet
carpet of grass — the birds carolling around me — and, perchance, a flock of
lambkins, tunefully baying to their mammas ! ! " Said 1 to myself,"
when I reached these fields, " what a fool I am !" I had contemplated a
doze on the grass.
1827.] Dozing. 15
But leaving all thoughts of disappointment, who will not allow that there
is something exceedingly delightful in dozing calmly beneath the shade of
an o'erarching tree ?
" recubans sub tegmine fagi."
Of course, the weather should be fine, to admit of this luxurious idleness.
Let the blue-bosomed clouds be sailing along, like Peter Bell's boat ; let
the sunbeams be gilding the face of nature, and tinging the landscape with
multiform hues ; let the breezes be gentle, the spot retired, and the heart
at ease. Now, go and stretch yourself on the grassy couch, while the
branches of an aged tree shadow forth the imaged leaves around you. What
a congenial situation for philosophy — under an old tree, on a sunny summer-
day ! How much more becoming than the immortal tub of the sour-
minded Diogenes ? Who will be able to refrain from philosophizing^
I repeat it, (beneath such an old tree ? 'Tis at such times that the heart
spontaneously unbends itself — that the fancy tranquillizes its thoughts —
and that memory awakens her
" treasured pictures of a thousand scenes."
Place the palms of your hands beneath your pole, and survey the skies !
—calm, beautifully unconscious ! Bye gone times, and bye-gone friends
— the thousand commingling scenes of varied life — how they all recur to
you now ! You fancy you could lie beneath the tree for eternity — so
soothing is the employment of doing nothing — or field philosophy ! Yet,
to speak correctly, you are doing a great deal ; your imagination is flying
in all directions — from the death of Caesar to the last cup of congou that you
took with a regretted friend. What a mystery your existence is ! The
world turns round as gently as ever; the flowers bud into life; and the
winter nips them. Man lives, thinks, and dies. All very wonderous
truisms. Well, after a half-hour — or perchance more — you will be gra^
dually relapsing into a state of soporific nothing-at-all-ness (the best word
I can find to express my meaning). May there be some clear little stream
just behind you, laughing along its idle way ! — some chirping birds, sing-
ing their roundelay — some buzzing flies — you will then be lulled into
doziness. However, with or without the purling murmur of the brook —
the joyous warbling of the birds — the busy bustling flies — you will not
be able to resist the dozing temptations that will steal over you. Your
eyes will close gently as flower-leaflets — your thoughts die away in
a heavenly confusion — and then you doze ! — neither sleeping nor waking,
but absolved in delicious dreaminess ! O for such a doze !
Miss Venus was partial to a doze under a tree. — Ecce :
Densaque sideros per gramina fuderat artus,
Acclinis florum cumulo: — crispatur opaca
Pampinus, et mites undatim ventilat uvas.
Ora decet neglecta SOPOR.
Nexa subingenti requiescit Gratia quercu."— .CLAUDIAN.
There are certain families in the world that exhibit peculiar traits cha-
racteristic of the stock. Some are renowned for pug-noses : from the
16 Dozing. [JULY,
grandfather to the thirteenth grandson, you will find an ascending dispo-
sition about the tip of the nose ; and (what seems natural enough) this
disposition often decreases in a gradual proportion from the first to the last
of the flock. Others are all notable for certain coloured eyes, hair, and
small feet ; and some — the most disagreeable specimen of all — are cele-
brated for surly dispositions. I have known a family of a dozen living
creatures, where the spirit of surliness was more or less abounding in each.
They were nicknamed u The Surlys." But to come to the fact imme-
diately connected with the subject. I am in the habit of paying an occa-
sional visit to a dozing family — from the grey-locked father to the infant
in the nurse's arms. What is rather paradoxical, too, they are not remark-
able for stupidity : several of the sons are authors and magazine retainers.
Yet I never call in without finding one of the flock dozing. Sometimes
the sire is bending his head over his bosom, with an emptied wine-bottle
before him. Sometimes the mother is leant back in her arm-chair, with
her hands in a supplicatory posture. Sunday evening is the time for these
dozers. Why (erectile Pisones ?J I have often entered the room, and
actually found five or six — all in a doze ! Whether dozing, like gaping, is
catching, let the reader determine for himself. Not to be a dozer among
dozers, is perfect torture — among the narcotic race above-mentioned, for
instance; talk to the father, and his answers gradually become more
fretful, until, out of politeness, you must not pain him by a repetition of
questions. Try the mother next : she yawns (genteely, of course) — cries
" O dear me !" — that's a broad hint that can't be mistaken. If, as a last
resort, you commence an attack on the sons, their hearty intimacy with
you permits them to drop at once from the colloquy into a doze : — the best
thing you can do is to sympathize with them. R. M.
THE EMBARRASSMENTS OF A SHEPHERDESS I
A RONDO.
[From the French.]
To guard her heart and her flock too
Is too much for a shepherdess:
What can a gentle maiden do
To guard her heart and her flock too ?
When all the swains her heart pursue,
And all the wolves her flocks distress,
To guard her heart and her flock too
Is too much for a shepherdess.
H.N.
1827.] [ 17 ]
ON READING NEW BOOKS.
•' And what of this new book, that the whole world make such a rout about?" — STERNE.
I CANNOT understand the rage manifested by the greater part of the
world for reading New Books. If the public had read all those that have
gone before, I can conceive how they should not wish to read the same
work twice over; but when 1 consider the countless volumes that lie
unopened, unregarded, unread, and unthought-of, I cannot enter Info The
pathetic complaints that I hear made, that Sir Walter writes no more — that
the press is idle — that Lord Byron is dead. If I have not read a book
before, it is, to all intents and purposes, new to me, whether it was printed
yesterday or three hundred years ago. If it be urged that it has no modern,
passing incidents, and is out of date and old-fashioned, then it is so much
the newer : it is farther removed from other works that I have lately read,
from the familiar routine of ordinary life, and makes so much more addi-
tion to my knowledge. But many people would as soon think of putting
on old armour, as of taking up a book not published within the last month,
or year at the utmost. There is a fashion in reading as well as in dress,
which lasts only for the season. One would imagine that books were,
like women, the worse for being old;* that they have a pleasure in being
read for the first time ; that they open their leaves more cordially ; that
the spirit of enjoyment wears out with the spirit of novelty ; and that, after
a certain age, it is high time to put them on the shelf. This conceit seems
to be followed up in practice. What is it to me that another— that hun-
dreds or thousands have in all ages read a work ? Is it on this account the
less likely to give me pleasure, because it has delighted so many others ?
Or can i taste this pleasure by proxy ? Or am 1 in any degree the wiser
for their knowledge ? Yet this might appear to be the inference. Their
having read the work may be said to act upon us by sympathy, and the
knowledge which so many other persons have of its contents deadens our
curiosity and interest altogether. We set aside the subject as one on which
others have made up their minds for us (as if we really could have ideas
in their heads), and are quite on the alert for the next new work, teeming
hot from the press, which we shall be the first to read, to criticise, and pass
an opinion on. Oh, delightful ! To cut open the leaves, to inhale the fra-
grance of the scarcely-dry paper, to examine the type, to see who is tho
printer (which is some clue to the value that is set upon the work), to
launch out into regions of thought and invention never trod till now, and
to explore characters that never met a human eye before — this is a luxury
worth sacrificing a dinner-party, or a few hours of a spare morning to.
Who, indeed, when the work is critical and full of expectation, would
venture to dine out, or to face a coterie of blue stockings in the evening,
without having gone through this ordeal, or at least without hastily turning
over a few of the first pages, while dressing, to be able to say that the
beginning does not promise much, or to tell the name of the heroine ?
A new work is something in our power : we mount the bench, and sit
in judgment on it ; we can damn or recommend it to others at pleasure,
can decry or extol it to the skies, and can give an answer to those who
have not yet read it and expect an account of it ; and thus shew our
shrewdness and the independence of our taste before the world have had
* ft Laws are not like women, the worse for being old." — The Duke of Buckingham's
Speech in the Hoitye of Lords, hi Charles the Second's time.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. ID. D
18 On Reading Netv Books. [JULY,
time to form an opinion. If we cannot write ourselves, we become, by
busying ourselves about it, a kind of accessaries after the fact. Though
not the parent of the bantling that " has just come into this breathing
world, scarce half made up," without the aid of criticism and puffing, yet
we are the gossips and foster-nurses on the occasion, with all the myste-
rious significance and self-importance of the tribe. If we wait, we must
take our report from others; if we make haste, we may dictate our's to
them. It is not a race, then, for priority of information, but for precedence
in tattling and dogmatising. The work last out is the first that people talk
and inquire about. It is the subject on the tapis. — the cause that is pend-
ing. It is the last candidate for success (other claims have been disposed
of), and appeals for this success to us, and us alone. Our predecessors
can have nothing to say to this question, however they may have antici-
pated us on others ; future ages, in all probability, will riot trouble their
heads about it; we are the panel. How hard, then, not to avail our-
selves of our immediate privilege to give sentence of life or death — to seem
in ignorance of what every one else is full of — to be behind-hand with the
polite, the knowing, and fashionable part of mankind — to be at a loss and
dumb-founded, when all around us are in their glory, and figuring away, on
no other ground than that of having read a work that we have not ! Books
that are to be written hereafter cannot be criticised by us ; those that were
written formerly have been criticised long ago : but a new book is the pro-
perly, the prey of ephemeral criticism, which it darts triumphantly upon ;
there is a raw thin air of ignorance and uncertainty about it, not filled up
by any recorded opinion ; and curiosity, impertinence, and vanity rush
eagerly into the vacuum. A new book is the fair field for petulance and
coxcombry to gather laurels in — the but set up for roving opinion to aim
at. Can we wonder, then, that the circulating libraries are besieged by
literary dowagers and their grand -daughters, when a new novel is an-
nounced ? That Mail-Coach copies of the Edinburgh Review are or were
coveted ? That the Manuscript of the Waverley romances is sent abroad in
time for the French, German, or even Italian translation to appear on the
same day as the original work, so that the longing Continental public may
not be kept waiting an instant longer than their fellow-readers in the Eng-
lish metropolis, which would be as tantalizing and insupportable as a little
girl being kept without her new frock, when her sister's is just come home,
and is the talk and admiration of every one in the house ? To be sure,
there is something in the taste of the times; a modern work is expressly
adapted to modern readers. It appeals to our direct experience, and to
well-known subjects ; it is part and parcel of the world around us, and is
drawn from the same sources as our daily thoughts. There is, therefore, so
far, a natural or habitual sympathy between us and the literature of the
day, though this is a different consideration from the mere circumstance of
novelty. An author now alive has a right to calculate upon the living pub-
lic : he cannot count upon the dead, nor look forward with much confi-
dence to those that are unborn. Neither, however, is it true that we are
eager to read all new books alike : we turn from them with a certain feel-
ing of distaste and distrust, unless they are recommended to us by some
peculiar feature or obvious distinction. Only young ladies from the board-
ing-school, or milliners' girls, read all the new novels that come out. It
must be spoken of or against ; the writer's name must be well known or a
great secret; it must be a topic of discourse and a mark for criticism — that
is, it must be likely to bring us into notice in some way — or we take no
1827.] On Rending New Booh. 19
notice of it. There is a mutual and tacit understanding on this lioad. We
can no more read all the new books that appear, than we can read all the
old ones that have disappeared from time to time. A question may be
started here, and pursued as far as needful, whether, if an old and worm-
eaten Manuscript were discovered at the present moment, it would be
sought after with the same avidity as a new and hot-pressed poem, or other
popular work ? Not generally, certainly, though by a few with perhaps
greater zeal. For it would not affect present interests, or amuse present
fancies, or touch on present manners, or fall in with the public egotism in
any way : it would be the work either of some obscure author — in which
case it would want the principle of excitement ; or of some illustrious name,
whose style and manner would be already familiar to those most versed in
the subject, and his fame established — so that, as a matter of comment and
controversy, it would only go to account on the old score : there would be
no room for learned feuds and heart-burnings. Was there not a Manuscript
of Cicero's talked of as having been discovered about a year ago ? But
we have heard no more of it. There have been several other cases, more
or less in point, in our time or near it. A Noble Lord (which may serve
to shew at least the interest taken in books not for being neiv) some time
ago gave 2,000/. for a copy of the first edition of the Decameron : but did
he read it ? It has been a fashion also of late for noble and wealthy per-
sons to go to a considerable expense in ordering reprints of the old Chro-
nicles and black-letter works. Does not this rather prove that the books
did not circulate very rapidly or extensively, or such extraordinary patron-
age and liberality would not have been necessary ? Mr. Thomas Taylor,
at the instance, I believe, of the old Duke of Norfolk, printed fifty copies
in quarto of a translation of the works of Plato and Aristotle. He did not
choose that a larger impression should be struck off, lest these authors
should get into the hands of the vulgar. There was no danger of a run in
that way. I tried to read some of the Dialogues in the translation of Plato,
but, I confess, could make nothing of it : " the logic was so different from
our's!"* A startling experiment was made on this sort of retrospective
* An expression borrowed from a voluble German scholar, who gave this as an excuse
for not translating the Critique of Pure Reason into English. He might as well have said
seriously, that the Rule of Three in German was different from our's. Mr. Taylor (the
Platonist, as he was called) was a singular instance of a person in our time believing in
the heathen mythology. He had a very beautiful wife. An impudent Frenchman, who
came over to London, and lodged in the same house, made love to her, by pretending to
worship her as Venus, and so thought to turn the tables on our philosopher. I once spent
an evening with this gentleman at Mr. G. D.'s chambers, in Clifford 's-inn (where there was
no exclusion of persons or opinions), and where we had pipes and tobacco, porter, and
bread and cheese for supper. Mr. Taylor never smoked, never drank porter, and had an
aversion to cheese. I remember he shewed with some triumph two of his fingers, which
had been bent so that he had lost the use of them, in copying out the manuscripts of Proclus
and Plotinus in a fine Greek hand. Such are the trophies of human pride ! It would be
well if our deep studies often produced no other crookedness and deformity ! I endeavoured
(but in vain) to learn something from the heathen philosopher as to Plato's doctrine of
abstract ideas being the foundation of particular ones, which I suspect has more truth in it
than we moderns are willing to admit. Another friend of mine once breakfasted with Mr.
D. (the most amiable and absent of hosts), when there was no butter, no knife to cut the
loaf with, and the tea-pot was without a spout. My friend, after a few immaterial ceremo-
nies, adjourned to Peel's coffee-house, close by, where he regaled himself on buttered toast,
coffee, and the newspaper of the day (a newspaper possessed some interest when we were
young) ; and the only interruption to his satisfaction was the fear that bis host might sud-
denly enter, and be shocked at his imperfect hospitality. He would probably forget the
circumstance altogether. I am afraid that this veteran of the old school has not received
many proofs of the archaism of the prevailing taste ; and that the corrections in his History
of the University of Cambridge have cost him more than the public will ever repay him
for. D 2
20 On Reading New Books. [JULY,
curiosity, in the case of Ireland's celebrated Shakspeare forgery. The
public there certainly manifested no backwardness nor lukewarmness : the
enthusiasm was equal to the folly. But then the spirit exhibited on this
invasion was partly critical. and polemical, and i* is a problem whether an
actual and undoubted play of Shakspeare's would have excited the same
ferment; and, on the other hand, Shakspeare is an essential modern.
People read and go to see his real plays, as well as his pretended ones. Tho
fuss made about Ossian is another test to refer to. It was its being the
supposed revival of an old work (known only by scattered fragments or
lingering tradition) which gave it its chief interest, though there was also
a good deal of mystery and quackery concerned along with the din and
stir of national jealousy and pretension. Who reads Ossian now ? It is
one of the reproaches brought against Buonaparte that he was fond of it
when young. I cannot for myself see the objection. There is no doubt
au antiquarian spirit always at work, and opposed to the spirit of novelty-
hunting ; but, though opposed, it is scarcely a match for it in a general and
popular point of view. It is not long ago that I happened to be suggesting
a new translation of Don Quixote to an enterprising bookseller; and his
answer was, — " We want new Don Quixotes." I believe I deprived tho
same active-minded person of a night's rest, by telling him there was the
beginning of another novel by Goldsmith in existence. This, if it could be
procured, would satisfy both tastes for the new and the old at once. I fear it
is but a fragment, and that we must wait till anew Goldsmith appears. We
may observe of late a strong craving after Memoirs and Lives of the Dead.
But these, it may be remarked, savour so much of the real and familiar,
that the persons described differ from us only in being dead, which is a
reflection to our advantage: or, if remote and romantic in their interest
and adventures, they require to be bolstered up in some measure by the
embellishments of modern style and criticism. The accounts of Petrarch
and Laura, of Abelard and Eloise, have a lusciousness and warmth in the
subject which contrast quaintly and pointedly with the coldness of the
grave; and, after all, we prefer Pope's Eloise and Abelard with the modern
dress and flourishes, to the sublime and affecting simplicity of the original
Letters.
In some very just and agreeable reflections on the story of Abelard and
Eloise, in a late number of a contemporary publication, there is a quota-
tion of some lines from Lucan, which Eloise is said to have repeated in
broken accents as she was advancing to the altar to receive the veil :
" O maxime conjux !
O thalamis indigne meisl Hoc juris habebat
In tantum fortuna caput ? Cur irapia nupsi,
Si miserum facturafui ? Nunc accipe paenas,
Sed quas sponte luam." — PHARSALIA, lib. 8.
This speech, quoted by another person, on such an occasion, might seem cold
and pedantic; but from the mouth of the passionate and unaffected Eloise
it cannot bear that interpretation. What sounding lines ! WThat a pomp,
and yet what a familiar boldness in their application — " proud as when
blue Iris bends !" The reading this account brought forcibly to mind what
has struck me often before — the unreasonableness of the complaint we con-
stantly hear of the ignorance and barbarism of former ages, arid the folly
of restricting all refinement and literary elegance to our own. We are,
indeed, indebted to the ages that have gone before us, and could not well
do without them. But in all ages there will be found still others that have
1827.] On Reading New Books 21
gone before with nearly equal lustre and advantage, though by distance and
the intervention of multiplied excellence, this lustre may be dimmed or for-
gotten. Had it then no existence ? We might, with the same reason,
suppose that the horizon is the last boundary and verge of the round earth.
Still, as we advance, it recedes from us; and so time from its store-house
pours out an endless succession of the productions of art and genius ; arid
the farther we explore the obscurity, other trophies and other land-marks
rise up. It is only our ignorance that fixes a limit — as the mist gathered
round the mountain's brow makes us fancy we are treading the edge of the
universe ! Here was Heloiso living at a period when monkish indolence
and superstition were at their height — in one of those that are emphatically
called the dark ages ; and yet, as she is led to the altar to make her last
fatal vow, expressing her feelings in language quite natural to her, but
from which the most accomplished and heroic of our modern females would
shrink back with pretty and affected wonder and affright. The glowing and
impetuous lines which she murmured, as she passed on, with spontaneous
and rising enthusiasm, were engraven on her heart, familiar to her as her
daily thoughts; her mind must have been full of them to overflowing, and
at the seme time enriched with other stores and sources of knowledge
equally elegant and impressive; and we persist, notwithstanding this and a
thousand similar circumstances, in indulging our surprise how people could
exist, and see, and feel, in those days, without having access to our opportu-
nities and acquirements, and how Shakspeare wrote long after, in a barba-
rous age ! The mystery in this case is of our own making. We are struck
with astonishment at finding a fine moral sentiment or a noble image ner-
vously expressed in an author of the age of Queen Elizabeth ; not con-
sidering tiiat, independently of nature and feeling, which are the same in
all periods, the writers of that day, who were generally men of education
and learning, had such models before them as the one that has been just
referred to — were thoroughly acquainted with those masters of classic
thought and language, compared with whom, in all that relates to the
artificial graces of composition, the most studied of the moderns are little
better than Goths and Vandals. It is true, we have lost sight of, and neg-
lected the former, because the latter have, in a great degree, superseded
them, as the elevations nearest to us intercept those farthest off; but our
not availing ourselves of this 'vantage-ground is no reason why our fore-
fathers should not (who had not our superfluity of choice), and most
assuredly they did study and cherish the precious fragments of antiquity,
collected together in their time, "like sunken wrack and sumless treasuries;"
and while they did this, we need be at no loss to account for any exam-
ples of grace, of force, or dignity in their writings, if these must always be
traced back to a previous source. One age cannot understand how another
could subsist without its lights, as one country thinks every other must be poor
for want of its physical productions. This is a narrow and superficial view
of the subject: we should by all means rise above it. I am not for devoting
the whole of our time to the study of the classics, or of any other set of
writers, to the exclusion and neglect of nature; but I think we should
turn our thoughts enough that way to convince us of the existence of
genius and learning before our time, and to cure us of an overweening con-
ceit of ourselves, and of a contemptuous opinion of the world at large.
Every civilized age and country (and of these there is not one, but a hun-
dred) has its literature, its arts, its comforts, large and ample, though we
may know nothing of them; nor is it (except for our own sakes) impor-
tant that we should.
22 OH Reading New Books. £JoLV,
Books have been so multiplied in our days (like the Vanity Fair of
knowledge), and we have made such progress beyond ourselves in some
points, that it seems at first glance as if we had monopolized every possible
advantage, and the rest of the world must be left destitute and in darkness.
This is the cockneyism (with leave be it spoken) of the nineteenth century.
There is a tone of smartness and piquancy in modern writing, to which
former examples may, in one sense, appear flat and pedantic. Our allusions
are more pointed and personal : the ancients are, in this respect, formal and
prosaic personages. Some one, not long ago, in this vulgar, shallow spirit
of criticism (which sees every thing from its own point of view), said that
the tragedies of Sophocles and ^Eschylus were about as good as the pieces
brought out at Sadler's Wells or the Adelphi Theatre. An oration of
Demosthenes is thought dry and meagre, because it is not " full of wise
saws and modern instances:" one of Cicero's is objected to as flimsy and
extravagant, for the same reason. There is a style in one age which does
not fall in with the taste of the public in another, as it requires greater
effeminacy and softness, greater severity or simplicity, greater force or
refinement. Guido was more admired than Raphael in his day, because
the manners were grown softer without the strength : Sir Peter Lely was
thought in his to have eclipsed Vandyke — an opinion which no one holds
at present : Holbein's faces must be allowed to be very different from Sir
Thomas Lawrence's — yet the oue was the favourite painter of Henry VIII.,
as the other is of George IV. What should we say in our time to the
euphuism of the age of Elizabeth, when style was made a riddle, and the
court talked in conundrums ? This, as a novelty and a trial of the wits,
might take for a while : afterwards, it could only seem absurd. We must
always make some allowance for a change of style, which those who are
accustomed to read none but works written within the last twenty years
neither can nor will make. When a whole generation read, they will read
none but contemporary productions. The taste for literature becomes super-
ficial, as it becomes universal and is spread, over a larger space. When ten
thousand boarding-school girls, who have learned to play on the harpsichord,
are brought out in the same season, Rossini will be preferred to Mozart, as
the last new composer. I remember a very genteel young couple in the
boxes at Drury Lane being very much scandalized some years ago at the
phrase in A New Way to pay Old Debts — " an insolent piece of paper" —
applied to the contents of a letter — it wanted the modern lightness and
indifference. Let an old book be ever so good, it treats (generally speak-
ing) of topics that are stale in a style that has grown u somewhat musty ;"
of manners that are exploded, probably by the very ridicule thus cast upon
them; of persons that no longer figure on the stage ; and of interests that
have long since given place to others in the infinite fluctuations of human
affairs. Longinus complains of the want of interest in the Odyssey, because
it does not, like the Iliad, treat of war. The very complaint we make
against the latter is that it treats of nothing else ; or that, as Fuseli ex-
presses it, every thing is seen " through the blaze of war." Books of devo-
tion are no longer read (if we read Irvirig's Orations, it is merely that we
may go as a lounge to see the man) : even attacks on religion are out of
date and insipid. Vol take's jests, and the Jew's Letters in answer (equal
in wit, and more than equal in learning), repose quietly on the shelf toge-
ther. We want something in England about Rent and the Poor- Laws, and
something in France about the Charter—or Lord Byron. With the
attempts, however, to revive superstition and intolerance, a spirit of oppo-
1827.] On Reacting New Books. 23
sition has been excited, and PascalPs Provincial Letters have been once
more enlisted into the service. In France you meet with no one who has
read the New Heloise : the Princess- of Cleves is not even mentioned in
these degenerate days. Is it not provoking with us to see the Beggar's
Opera cui down to two acts, because some of the allusions are too broad,
and others not understood ? And in America — that Van Diemen's Land
of letters — this sterling satire is hooted off the stage, because fortunately
they have no such state of manners as it describes before their eyes ; and
because, unfortunately, they have no conception of any thing but what
they see. America is singularly and awkwardly situated in this respect. It
is a new country with an old language ; and while every thing about them
is of a day's growth, they are constantly applying to us to know what to
think of it, and taking their opinions from our books and newspapers with
a strange mixture of servility and of the spirit of contradiction. They are
an independent state in politics : in literature they are still a colony from
us — not out of their leading strings, and strangely puzzled how to determine
between the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews. We have naturalized
some of their writers, who had formed themselves upon us. This is at
once a compliment to them and to ourselves. Amidst the scramble and
lottery for fame in the present day, besides puffing, which may be regarded
as the hot-bed of reputation, another mode has been attempted by trans-
planting it ; and writers who are set down as drivellers at home, shoot up
great authors on the other side of the water ; pack up their all — a title-page
and sufficient impudence ; and a work, of which the flocci-nauci-nihili-
pili-fication, in Shenstone's phrase, is well known to every competent
judge, is placarded into eminence, and " flames in the forehead of the
morning sky" on the walls of Paris or St. Petersburgh. I dare not mention
the instances, but so it is. Some reputations last only while the possessors
live, from which one might suppose that they gave themselves a character
for genius : others are cried up by their gossiping acquaintances, as long
as they give dinners, and make their houses places of polite resort ;
and, in general, in our time, a book may be considered to have passed the
ordeal that is mentioned at all three months after it is printed. Immorta-
lity is not even a dream — a boy's conceit ; and posthumous fame is no more
regarded by the author than by his bookseller.*
This idle, dissipated turn seems to be a set-off to, or the obvious reaction
of, the exclusive admiration of the ancients, which was formerly the
fashion : as if the sun of human intellect rose and set at Rome and Athens,
and the mind of man had never exerted itself to any purpose since. The
ignorant, as well as the adept, were charmed only with what was obsolete
and far-fetched, wrapped up in technical terms and in a learned tongue.
Those who spoke and wrote a language which hardly any one at present
even understood, must of course be wiser than we. Time, that brings so
many reputations to decay, had embalmed others and rendered them
sacred. From an implicit faith and overstrained homage paid to antiquity,
we of the modern school have taken too strong a bias to what is new ; and
divide all wisdom and worth between ourselves and posterity, — not a very
formidable rival to our self-love, as we attribute all its advantages to our-
* When a certain poet was asked if he thought Lord Byron's name would live three
years after he was dead, he answered. " Not three days, Sir!" This was premature: it
has lasted above a year. His works have been translated into French, and there is a Caff&
Byron on the Boulevards. Think of a " Caffe Wordsworth" on the Boulevards !
24 On Reading New Books. JULY,
selves, though we pretend to owe little or nothing to our predecessors.
About the time of the French Revolution, it was agreed that the world had
hitherto been in its dotage or its infancy; and that Mr. Godwin, Condorcet,
and others were to begin a new race of men — a new epoch in society.
Every thing up to that period was to be set aside as puerile or barbarous •
or, if there were any traces of thought and manliness now and then discover-
able, they were to be regarded with wonder as prodigies — as irregular a*id
fitful starts in that long sleep of reason and night of philosophy. In this
liberal spirit Mr. Godwin composed an Essay, to prove that, till the publi-
cation of The Enquiry concerning Political Justice, no one knew how to
write a word of common grammar, or a style that was not utterly uncouth,
incongruous, and feeble. Addison, Swift, and Junius were included in
this censure. The English language itself might be supposed to owe its
stability and consistency, its roundness and polish, to the whirling motion
of the French Revolution. Those who had gone before us were, like our
grandfathers and grandmothers, decrepit, superannuated people, blind and
dull; poor creatures, like flies in winter, without pith or marrow in them.
The past was barren of interest — had neither thought nor object worthy to
arrest our attention ; and the future would be equally a senseless void,
except as we projected ourselves and our theories into it. There is nothing
I hate more than I do this exclusive, upstart spirit.
" By Heavens, I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn,
So might I, standing on some pleasant lea,
Catch glimpses that might make me less forlorn,
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea,
Or hear eld Triton blow his wreathed horn."
WORDSWORTH'S SONNETS.
Neither do I see the good of it even in a personal and interested point of
view. By despising all that has preceded us, we teach others to despise
ourselves. Where there is no established scale nor rooted faith in excel-
lence, all superiority — our own as well as that of others — soon comes to
the ground. By applying the wrong end of the magnifying-glass to all
objects indiscriminately, the most respectable dwindle into insignificance,
and the best are confounded with the worst. Learning, no longer supported
by opinion, or genius by fame, is cast into the mire, and " trampled under
the hoofs of a swinish multitude." I would rather endure the most blind
and bigotted respect for great and illustrious names, than that pitiful, gro-
velling humour which has no pride in intellectual excellence, and no plea-
sure but in decrying those who have given proofs of it, and reducing them to
its own level. If, with the diffusion of knowledge, we do not gain an
enlargement and elevation of views, where is the benefit ? If, by tearing
asunder names from things, we do not leave even the name or shadow of
excellence, it is better to let them remain as they were ; for it is better to
have something to admire than nothing — names, if not things — the shadow,
if not the substance — the tinsel, if not the gold. All can now read and
write equally ; and, it is therefore presumed, equally well. Any thing
short of this sweeping conclusion is an invidious distinction ; and those who
claim it for themselves or others are exclmionists in letters. Every one
at least can call names — can invent a falsehood, or repeat a story against
those who have galled their pragmatical pretensions by really adding to the
stock of general amusement or instruction. Every one in a crowd has the
power to throw dirt : nine out of ten have the inclination. It is curious
1827.] On Reading Neto Books. 25
that, in an age when the most universally-admitted claim to public distinc-
tion is literary merit, the attaining this distinction is almost a sure title to
public contempt and obloquy.* They cry you up, because you are
unknown, and do not excite their jealousy ; and run you down, when they
have thus distinguished you, out of envy and spleen at the very idol they
have set up. A public favourite is " kept like an apple in the jaw of an
ape — first mouthed, to be afterwards swallowed. When they need what
you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and spunge, you shall be dry
again." At lirst they think only of the pleasure or advantage they receive :
but, on reflection, they are mortified at the superioiity implied in
this involuntary concession, and are determined to be even with you the very.
first opportunity. What is the prevailing spirit of modern literature ? To
defame men of letters. What are the publications that succeed ? Those
that pretend to teach the public that the persons they have been accus-.
tomed unwittingly to look up to as the lights of the earth are no better than
themselves, or a set of vagabonds or miscreants that should be hunted out
of society.f Hence men of letters, losing their self-respect, become
government-tools, and prostitute their talents to the most infamous purposes,
or turn dandy scribblers, and set up for gentlemen authors in their own
defence. I like the Order of the Jesuits better than this : they made them-
selves respected by the laity, kept their own secret, and did not prey on
one another. Resume then, oh ! Learning, thy robe pontifical ; clothe
thyself in pride and purple; join the sacred to the profane; wield both
worlds ; instead of twopenny trash and mechanics' magazines, issue bulls
and decretals ; say not, let there be light, but darkness visible ; draw a
bandage over the e^es of the ignorant and unlettered; hang the terrors of
superstition and despotism over them ; — and for thy pains they will bless
thee : children will pull off their caps as thou dost pass ; women will cour-
tesy ; the old will wipe their beards ; and thou wilt rule once more over
the base serving people, clowns, and nobles, with a rod of iron !
W. H.
* Is not this partly owing to the disappointment of the public at finding any defect in
their idol ?
f An old friend of mine, when he read (he abuse and billingsgate poured out in certain
Tory publications, used to congratulate himself upon it as a favourable sign of the times,
and of the progressive improvement of our manners. Where we now called names, we for-
merly burnt each other at a stake ; and all the malice of the heart flew to the tongue and
vented itself in scolding, instead of crusades and auto-da- fes — the nobler revenge of our
ancestors for a difference of opinion. An author now libels a prince ; and, if he takes the
law of him or throws him into gaol, it is looked upon sis a harsh and ungentle manly pro-
ceeding. He, therefore, gets a dirty Secretary to employ a dirty bookseller, to hire a set
of dirty scribblers, to pelt him with dirt and cover him with blackguard epithets — till he is
hardly in a condition to walk the streets. This is hard measure, no doubt, and base ingra-
titude on the part of the public, according to the imaginary dignity and natural precedence
which authors take of kings ; but the latter are men, and will have their revenge where they
can get it. They have no longer their old summary appeal — their will may still be good —
to the dungeon and the dagger. Those who " speak evil of dignities'' may, therefore, think
themselves well off in being merely sent to Coventry ; and, besides, if they have plucky
they can make a Parthian retreat, and shoot poisoned arrows behind them. The good
people of Florence lift up their hands when they are shewn the caricatures in the Queen's
Matrimonial-Ladder, and ask if they are really a likeness of the King ?
M.M. New Scrie.s.—VoL< IV. No, 19. E
[ 26 ] [JULY
" YOU'RE FINED !"
A TALE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
WALKING the other day in Cheapside, just behind a besmirched, bespat-
tered pantaloon, which, in spite of a mid-day throng and a mud-encrusted
street, was courageously endeavouring to " pick its way," 1 was going to
moralize, when it struck me that I would pass the person who wore the
trowser, and so peep wantonly, as it were, at the countenance of one who
seemed so fruitlessly careful; and, being well stocked with modern
assurance, I ventured still farther, — and, " Sir/' said I, dropping a wag-
gish look at the sludgy pavement, "I'm afraid it won't do!" — " What
won't do, Sir ?" It was an elderly personage who spoke, with a countenance
none of the most prepossessing — in fact, rather cynical than not. " Ah!"
continued he, " my old stage-companion, Mr. Quick, how do you do, Sir ?"
Now it was that I found myself in a nice pickle, having stumbled on a
comical old q;jiz, who had borne the travel of the day with me from Cam-
bridge the week before ; and had brutally annoyed me, moreover (being
myself a Cambridge man), with sundry malevolent illustrations of the
purity which distinguishes university elections there. After having explained
the awkward street rencontre, which I set down wholly to the score of my
waggish humour, the treatment of my Alma Mater rushed freshly into my
mind ; and I was just about to exclaim, " The Morning Herald is decidedly
wrong in its calculations about Cambridge-men," — when he said, " You
remember, Mr. Quick, how soon 1 discovered you to be a lawyer!" Here
was another plaguy reminiscence ; for, although we may not feel ashamed
of our several vocations, we always love to pride ourselves on being men of
the world, and hate to have people peering into our wherewithals the
moment we are launched from the office. " I remember very well, Sir,'*
said I, with any thing but a smile. — " Aye, and I can tell anybody's
business too, Sir, after conversing with them a few minutes; they'll be
sure to blab out their calling in some way or other." I never had any
presence of mind, or I might have asked this tiresome stranger if he had
never blabbed out his own. " I tell you what, Sir," said he ; " did you
ever eat any soup at Birch's ? — because, if you never did, it is time that
you should; and, if you have, you know its value, and will be glad to eat
again. If you will go in there, I will tell you a very curious story about
the peculiarities which attend the conversation of most men, and betray
their pursuits in life." So I agreed, glad enough to escape the Cambridge
election ; and heard his story, which I propose to print as a bonne
douche.
" A few days ago/' said my old codger, having acquired a basin of
Birch's best, in which Cayenne was luxuriating, — " a few days ago I fell
into company with a parson, a lawyer, and a doctor ; and, as we were all
well acquainted, it was agreed that we should sally forth, the next day, from
the smoke of the metropolis, and spend an hour or two at Richmond. Every
arrangement being made, I proposed to start by the steam-packet, which,
you know, is a delightful conveyance ; but the doctor, who had just been
reading an account of an American vessel which blew up, positively objected,
and urged the inside of the coach. ' I demur to that/ said the lawyer;
and well he might — for it was a hot August forenoon. But a pleasant
thought struck me, — and, ' How plainly every body may see that you're
1827.] " You're Fined!" a Tale of the Nineteenth Century. 27
a lawyer V said I to my demurring friend. Well, this failed to tickle his
fancy ; for he replied, * Idefy any man to detect rue, if I take the trouble
to be on my guard.' — * Then/ I returned, ' let us, by way of frolic, impose
a fine of live shillings on each mutually, who is discovered using expres-
sions which savour of his particular calling ;' and, as they were all against
me, this was soon closed with. The parson declared he should have no
objection to walk ; but this was exclaimed against, as gothic in the ex-
treme: but, nevertheless, we strolled on. Six coal heavers on a Hammer-
smith stage, redolent of swipes and tobacco, and jolting on cheek-by-jowl,
were the first objects worth seeing; and the doctor jocosely hinted, that
they were going up to form the New Administration ! Just at this moment
the off-wheel of a chariot was locked in the near-wheel of a waggon, and
the former was overset, to the great consternation of an elderly lady and
her daughter, who were calling upon all their gods to protect them. Lucidly,
they were more frightened than hurt. * I saw the effect of a sad accident,
indeed, last week,' said our doctor. ( A poor woman, who had been thrown
from a cart, had the joint of her left shoulder luxated, so that it was with
the greatest difficulty we could return it: her head was contused, and the
occipital ' Here he became conscious of the wonderfully roguish
turn of visage which I had put on — for he was more particularly addressing
me. ' It's all over, my dear boy !' said 1 ; 'you may hand over your five
shillings.' — ' I am of the same opinion !' said the lawyer. — ' And I say,'
returned the doctor, ' that you ought to be fined for that expression, which
is quite legal.' However, not to be too strict, we agreed to let the lawyer
off; for we might have used much the same kind of speech ourselves.
Every one loves to pass the last house in Hammersmith, in hopes of seeing
a little country beyond. We had absolutely passed up to this spot, when
a debate took place whether a coach should not be instantly mounted.
' Just walk on to Kew-bridge, and then we can take a boat,' said the
parson. This was meeting half-way, which all the world yields to in a
second ; and away we went. The next object was a drunken, violent
fellow, shouting out, 'Canning for ever !' and, with a hiccough, 'No
Popery !' — ' My good friend,' said the clergyman, ' let me advise you to
walk quietly home to your wife.' — ' Do you,' said the stupid sot, gazing
upon his Mentor with ineffable vacancy, — ' you go home to your's !' Now
there were reasons which made this remark rather more poignant than
could have been expected from a peasant ; and, in vulgar phrase, the parson
was done. However, he soon opened upon us. ( Drunkenness is a vice,'
said he, ( as our good archdeacon said, in his last visitation sermon, which
no sooner enslaves the body than it corrupts the mind, and deprives us of
that delicacy which a sober man is ever apt to preserve.' — ' Very excellent,
indeed !' quoth the doctor ; ' but you're fined, you know !' Now the
poor parson's recollections had been very painfully revived towards a certain
exceedingly unpleasant domestic subject, and so he fell easily into the
snare : but I never saw a man pay a bet with better humour. ' Hallo !'
said I, 'there goes a tailor!' — ' Where — where?' was the exclamation.
And so there was ; — a little sort of man, who was gliding on with a, motion
of the feet so peculiar, as to shew that he was almost too happy in being
once more able to put one foot before the other. His hands were, more-
over, in his breeches-pockets. ' And how can you tell a shoemaker?'
inquired the simple-hearted curate. — ' You may commonly discover a
knight of Crispin,' returned I, ' by his talk ; he wiH discourse you loudly
of politics, and after a certain course, too, which you never hear from any
E 2
28 " You're Fined !" [JULY,
other brotherhood/ We now proceeded forward in high spirits, privately
complimenting ourselves on the acquisition of a wonderfully good appetite
for food. I was very cheerful, and told them Henry Dundas's story of the
tailor resting himself; till, at length, we made Kew-bridge, and beckoned
a boat. When the waterman appeared, I told Mathews's definition of a
waterman, to make a laugh "
[Here the Cayenne occasioned such acute titillations in ray friend's
throat, as to threaten both his story and ftfe together. However, like the
canon in Gil Bias, he was sure to recover ; and I asked him to tell me the
story of Mathews's waterman ; and then he went on again, as you shall
hear.]
" What ! not know the definition of waterman r ' What's the
reason they call you a waterman, Jack?' said Mathews. — ' Vy, Sir, I
suppose it's 'cause I opens the coach doors.' Well, we got into the boat,
and away we rowed. The man at the oars had sustained a severe mishap
a few days before, which did him at least one good : it served him for talk to
his customers as long as he pleased afterwards. It was not long before we
were made acquainted with it. '• As I was a-pulling up — just as it might
be now, gentlemen — the tide was very strong down-stream — there comes a
boat, right a-head, full of young chaps ; and, if you'll believe me, gentle-
men, it rann'd right down upon us, and staved in the head of my boat
here. Well, I could get no redress; and so away I goes to my lawyer,
and he advised me not to go to law about it — for there'd be no knowing-
how the matter would turn out ; and so I had it mended — but I can't think as
all that can be right.' The lawyer had forgotten the grassy banks and sunny
stream, in the complaint which this young Thames imp was pouring forth ;
and it was evident that some mighty effort of language was about to break
forth. ' My good boy,' said my legal friend, ' there is no injury, according
to the law of this country, ' which is not capable, of a remedy. You might
have recovered damages for this hurt to your vessel.' The doctor could
hardly contain himself; but, like giving an unruly fish the line, he resolved
to humour the joke. ' Hem !' said he very gravely, ' are you sure that an
action could be had for this damage ? It seems to me to be quite an acci-
dent ; and, at all events, the boys only were to blame.' — ' According to the
peculiar character of the mischief or trespass, case will lie,' said the lawyer,
in reply. ' It would cost some time to point out to you and this good
youth here the distinction between consequential and direct injury — be-
tween cases where the damage proceeds immediately from the instrument
which occasions it ' I had heard the early part of the history, but
had fallen into a reverie, thinking wholly of Stevens's ' Bull'em and
Boat'em' — where, you remember, the bull loosed a vessel from its moor-
ings, by which it was swamped ; and an action was brought against the
owner of the bull. But the learned rhetoric of my neighbour perfectly
aroused me ; and, while I could scarcely help a violent outbreak of laugh-
ter at the doctor's arch visage, I thought we had been quite sufficiently
entertained with L A W, Law. 'So the damages,' said I, .' are just a
crown, which you, for talking law, must lay down.' I told you that the
doctor paid his bet cheerfully. Now I never saw a man do it with less
good humour than the unfortunate person whom we had just fined. He '
was truly piqued and vexed.
" We had now attained Richmond, discharged the waterman, mounted
the steps which lead into the uncleanly town, debouched to the right
(where old Father Thames voyages it so beautifully, to the delight of the
1827.] A Tale of the Nineteenth Century. 29
hill-folk), and possessed ourselves of a room, where we were in momen-
tary expectation of some nice viands, and fair Calcavella or Bucellas. Din-
ner being served up, the clergyman said grace, and we were seated. But
we had scarce devoured the first slice, before our friend the lawyer (I did
not think there had been such profligacy in man !) actually urged a fine
upon the parson for saying grace, as part of his profession ! A duplex
murmur of ' No, no !' proceeded from me and the doctor; upon which the
proposer of the fine, most unluckily for him, blattered forth, that to be
sure he would be the last man in the world to have every thing ' slrictis-
simi juris ; and this sentence he rounded with an emphasis which would
have roused the weakest intellect from the fattest tureen of turtle. ' Coun-
sellor, we don't want to have things strictissimi juris ; hut, really, we
have been bred up with a decent knowledge of Latinity, and are not quite
innocent of legal phrase ; so you must help pay for the Bucellas — five shil-
lings, if you please/ said I.
" O votary of Wbitbread, of Meux, of Barclay, of Goding, of anybody,
whose ale or porter has administered to the sensuality of your corporal
man, did you ever ask at a strange place for good beer, and were damnified
with bad ? ' Have you got any good ale, waiter ?' — ' Oh, yes, Sir ! some of
our own brewing.' — ' Let us have some.' We tasted this precious nectar,
and were instantly elevated in the spirit, but quite the wrong way. « This
fellow ought to be prosecuted,' uttered the fierce lawyer; ' an indictment
will assuredly lie for vending such drugs as these : let us have the landlord
up.* That was one fine, most absolutely. ' When I was in Khorassan/
said a swarthy stranger at a side-table, ' what would I not have given for
such beer as this, bad as it is !' — ' Very lucky for you, Sir, you were not
, of our party !' thought I ; ' you would have been fined most unmercifully
for being: a traveller.' I always act upon the principle of shewing no
mercy whatever to travellers; for they're off 2,000 — aye, 10,000 miles
from you in a moment, where you can't unite with them any better than
poor Lord Eldon with an improvement-bill, or an ultra Tory with a violent
Whig. ' Shameless stuff, indeed !' said our doctor, still harping upon the
ale ; this is the very liquor to give a man the deadliest dyspepsia : I was
present at the opening of a person '
" Having collected ten shillings (the doctor having been calmly fined for
the last slip) towards a bowl of punch, we agreed to dissolve the agreement
after this— my friends being convincingly satisfied that there is extreme
difficulty in avoiding the technicalities of a profession in common conver-
sation."
My acquaintance, having finished his story and his soup, rose to go ;
and, after the usual compliments, we each went our way. But it never
struck me to ask what tribe he belonged to, or whether he acknowledged
any ; sure it is that I could not learn from his converse anything of him
further than that he was a complete citizen of the world; and, for want of
presence of mind, I feel quite certain that I shall never be able to imitate
him. Who knows but he might have been Sir Walter Scott ! !
[ 30 ] [JULY,
THE " MAMMALINGA-VODA."
AMONG the heaps of worm-eaten and dusty manuscripts which fill the
shelves of the store and lumber-rooms of the metropolitan palace at Yassy,
in Moldavia, and, thus negligently preserved, form the only historical
records of the country, some papers are to be met with of very extraor-
dinary curiosity ; and the following narrative of the strange and romantic
vicissitudes incident to the private and public life of the well-known Hos-
podar Joann, or Yanacki, surnamed Mammalinga-Voda, which was
found so late as 1817, by an English gentleman, officially employed in
Moldavia and Wallachia, may not be devoid of interest and entertain-
ment to the general reader.
Yanacki was a Greek, of humble origin, born in a village of Roomelia,
where his father had spent his life in the obscure condition of a common
labourer. He came to Moldavia in 1722, at an early age, attracted by
the resources of all kinds with which that country is ever supposed to
abound, and in the hope of acquiring a fortune, which abler adventurers
before him had succeeded in realizing.
He made his debut at Yassy, the capital of the principality, in the
modest capacity of a caviar-dealer ', and opened a shop in one of the
obscurest districts of the town, which he stocked with all those provisions
so greatly in requisition during the days of religious fasting, and when
every thing which bears the semblance of meat is held in due sacred horror;
and, with some liberality of disposition, he combined a cheerfulness in the
manner of attending to the calls of his customers, which, in the course of
a few years, made him one of the most popular and thriving daccals* of the
town, and assured him custom even from distant parts of it.
On one of the most sultry days of August, a poor Turk, covered with
dust, and apparently exhausted from the fatigues of a long journey, seated
himself on the rude steps of Yanacki's shop-door, evidently incapable of
further exertion, and with an exterior which announced great poverty and
dejection. The baccal, with his usual good-nature, invited him to come
and rest in a cool part of the inside ; and, after having spread out on the
brick floor a clean mat for the wearied Turk, laid before him some refresh-
ments, consisting of his best caviar and preserved olives, with some bread,
fruit, and a glass of brandy .f Husse'in (which proved to be the Turk's
name) ate and drank sparingly, then stretched himself out on the mat, and
fell asleep. He soon awoke, with symptoms of a burning fever ; and
Yanacki, taking compassion on his destitute condition, made up a bed for
him in his own house, and had him attended, at his own expense, by one of
the ablest medical men in the city. The Turk remained three weeks confined
with an acute disorder; during which time he received from Yanacki every
attention and care which his situation required. Having finally recovered
his health and strength, he proceeded to the business which had brought
him to Yassy, and soon after returned his thanks to the Greek for his
kindness, assuring him that he would not forget to requite it, if at any
future time he had it in his power to do so. He then took his departure
from the Moldavian capital.
It is a well-known fact, to those who have had sufficient opportunity to
* The dealers in caviar, olives, and grocery nre so called in Turkey,
t The Turks nre not forbidden the use of spirits, though many abstain from (hem
through mere excess of devotion.
1 827.] The " Mammalinga- Foda." 31
observe and become well acquainted with the Turks, that one of the most
prominent features of their national character is a peculiar susceptibility to
the sentiment of gratitude. A service rendered to a Turk, be it ever so
trifling, is not known to have been ever forgotten, though the benefactor
may have happened to belong to any other religion than his own.
Fifteen years had elapsed since Hussein bade adieu to the Baccal of
Yassi, and his existence was probably long' since forgotten ; when, on a
Sunday morning, Yanacki was suddenly summoned to appear before the
hospodar. The baccal felt conscious of no particular cause which should
bring on him the unrequired arid unexpected honour of an audience from
the acting sovereign of the country. But it was his duty to obey ; there-
fore, he instantly prepared to follow the messenger to court. He appeared
before the presence with all the due demonstrations of humility and
respect, and was addressed in a tone of sternness and severity by his high-
ness, who made known to him the arrival of a special messenger from Con-
stantinople, bearer of an order from the grand vizier, by which he (the
hospodar) was enjoined to cause a strict search to be made at Yassy after
the Baccal Yanacki, who, if found alive, was to be instantly sent to
Tsarigrad.
The alacrity with which the Greek functionaries, under the Turkish
government, attend to the least of its dictates, did riot fail to manifest itself
on the present occasion. Yanacki was neither suffered to provide himself
with any of the necessaries with which a traveller in Turkey ought to be
prepared, nor even allowed to return home for the purpose of making
known his approaching departure to his wife. His mind was seized with a
kind of stupor ; and he was hurried away into a post-c#r0w/<9#, attended
like a prisoner by some guards, and almost insensible for a time of what
was going on around him. Every circumstance seemed to announce that
his last day was at hand ; and yet, when he had fully recovered the power
of reflection, he could not conceive why the life of so insignificant an indi-
vidual as himself, if aimed at, should not at once have been taken from
him at the place of his residence, instead of being required to serve as an
example at a distant city, in which he supposed he was wholly unknown.
Full of these perplexing thoughts, he arrived at Constantinople, and was
immediately conveyed to the public residence of the grand vizier.
The system of the Turkish ministers has ever been free from those unne-
cessary formalities and often insulting affectation of importance, by wrhich
the presence of high functionaries belonging to states which boast of civili-
zation, and a proper sense of the rule of true good breeding, is rendered
inaccessible even upon occasions of the most urgent necessity. In Turkey,
the gates of every man in office, and the doors of his audience-room, are
open to the people of all ranks from sunset to sunrise ; and, from the grand
vizier down to the most insignificant delegate of authority, each commands
the respect due to his station by the gravity of his manner, and the dignity
of his deportment; and, by this means alone, he entrenches himself
against the encroachments of familiarity.*
When Yanacki was brought before the viceroy of the empire, his name
was proclaimed ; and the vizier, having cast his eyes on him, bade him
wait. The business to which he was at the moment attending having
been gone through, he ordered every one out of the room, with the only
exception of Yanacki, whom he desired, when they were left by them-
* With a little aid, perhaps, superadded from the bastinado and the bowstring.— ED.
32 The " Mammalia ga-Foda:' [JULY,
selves, to approach, and endeavour to recollect, by looking at his features,
whether they had ever been known to him. But the Greek having excused
himself for shortness of memory, the vizier then reminded him of a poor
Turk, whom he had so many years before received into his shop at Yassy,
and treated with kindness.
In Turkey, where all are equally slaves to one master, no distinction of
ranks exists, except that which is conferred by the temporary investment
of authority. The advantages of birth, and of exclusive rights and privi-
leges, are as inconsistent with the spirit of the nation, as they would be
incompatible with the absolute power of the sovereign.
The vizier here spoken of (for it was Hussein) had, perhaps by the
mere effects of chance, risen, as we have seen, from the very lowest condi-
tion in life, and had reached a station in the empire to which the sovereign
authority (the only hereditary power in Turkey) is alone paramount.* —
But to resume our narration.
When Yanacki discovered that his poor, long-forgotten friend was now
transformed into the eminent personage before him, he prostrated himself
to the ground, and besought the vizier, for the sake of the past, to spare
his life.
<c Arise," said the viceroy mildly to him ; " I have not called you hither
for the purpose of doing you any harm ; far from it ; and woe be to him
who would dare touch a hair of your head! What I had to communicate
to you could not be said otherwise than verbally, and my intentions
required your presence in the capital. You once saved my life ; and you
did it in a manner which has shewn me that you are a good man, and
which commands my acknowledgments. For years before I reached my
present station, I was constantly employed in distant parts, and therefore,
unable to give you any token of my remembrance ; but now that I have
it in my power to do so, it is my business to reward your former charity.
Know, then, that — baccal as you say you still are — I destine you to the
hospodarian throne of Moldavia. You shall be clothed and fitted out at
my expense in a manner suited to the dignity to which you are about to
be elevated, and your slightest wants, and even your wishes, shall be
strictly attended to, by my haznadarft as commands.
It was in vain that the poor baccal protested his incapacity to fill the
high functions about to be assigned to him, and his profound ignorance in
the management of public affairs. The vizier bid him take example of
himself, and assured him that his task was not so difficult as he imagined ;
and Yanacki, finding his new patron resolute, submitted at last to his will,
* The history of Mehemmed-Alli Pasha, the present well-known and much spoken-of
ruler of Egypt, affords a striking instance of the continuation of the system in the Ottoman
empire. He rose from a condition equally obscure with the Vizier HusseYn, and, for
some years, was employed at Salomon by our late consul of that place, Mr. Charnaud, in
the menial capacity of yassaktshee, or house* messenger. In this service he gained some
money, which enabled him to rise to less humble employment ; and he continued advanc-
ing in rank until he was created a pasha of three-tails, and finally entrusted with the
important mission of undermining the authority of the beys in Egypt, and destroying the
power of the Alameluks. His success enabled him, in the course of a few years, to
assume the undivided government of that kingdom, whose welfare, it must be confessed, be
has not ineffectually laboured to combine with the furtherance of his private interest. The
annals of the Ottoman empire afford numberless instances of obscure individuals being
raised to the highest dignities; but, in stating this, it is necessary to add, that, as places
under the Turkish government are purchasable, the promotion of individuals is consi-
derably assisted by gifts of money to those from whom it may depend.
t Private treasurer.
1827.] The " Mammal in ga-Voda^ 33
but not without reluctance. Indeed, this single act of the viceroy's raised
him at once to the very pinnacle of Greok pride and ambition. The hos-
podarian thrones of Moldavia arid Wallachia are objects of such covetous-
ness among the members of a few families, who have thought proper to
consider them as their exclusive property, that no sacrifice is generally con-
sidered too great, no expedient too extravagant, provided it conduces to the
glory of being seated in them for a time, and of exercising the short-lived
semblance of kingly power.
In J 737, the Baccal Yanacki was, with customary pomp, admitted to
the sultan's presence, and actually received from the imperial hands the
investiture of sovereign authority, with the title and attributes of Prince of
Moldavia. When his nomination became known, the boyars were thrown
into consternation. This corps of nobility had, with a vast share of pre-
tension to exclusive rights, been actually suffered to enjoy certain privileges,
which, with the property they possessed in the country, gave them some
influence in the administration of public affairs. Arrogant in their dispo-
sitions, as well as servile, they became intractable or docile, in proportion
to the energy or weakness they discovered in the character of the hospo-
dars, who were, every two or three years, sent to govern their country ;
and it may be supposed that the announcement of Yanacki, whom they had
seen but a few weeks before as an obscure baccal in their own capital, was
by no means calculated to give them satisfaction. No objection, probably,
would have been made against his late condition, had he now come as a
perfect stranger into the country ; but to submit to be governed by a man
who had been for years seen daily, by the inhabitants of Yassy, exercising
a mean trade, was a thing to which they could not make up their minds.
As they had not the means, however, of opposing effectually the sultan's
choice, they prepared a system of annoyance by which they hoped to
disgust Yanacki himself from power, and force him to the relinquishment of
it. The appellation of Mammalinga-Voda* was bestowed on him, and
by it he was, in the sequel, regularly designated.
Yanacki was unfortunately destitute of that natural quickness of intellect
peculiar to the majority of his nation, and of course wanted all knowledge,
as well as experience, in the administration of public affairs. The hostility
which met him on every side he found it difficult to contend against; and
things went on in a state of confusion for a long time. All his orders were
disobeyed, his decrees remained unnoticed, arid his threats treated with
derision. The boyars would not co-operate with, but, on the contrary,
declared to his face their intention to worry and annoy him. He wrote, at
last, to his patron, the grand-vizier, stating all his grievances, supplicating
that he might be allowed to withdraw from the exercise of functions for
which he felt himself so little qualified. The vizier sent him, by the same
messenger, a gold-mounted hangiar, or dagger, on which these words were
engraved : " Make use of this, and you will be obeyed."
Upon the receipt of this extraordinary present, the meaning of which he
guessed but too well, Yanacki held long council with himself; and finding
that he was forced, against his will, to continue in an office which placed
him in opposition with the whole country, he determined on a blow which
should at least end the state of suspense and controversy in which he was
existing. Accordingly, he announced a banquet at court, to which he
* Oatmeal-prince. The poorest and meanest classes of Moldavians live entirely on this
food.
M.M. New Series— VOL, IV. No. 19. F
34 The « Manimalinga-P'oda." [JULY,
invited thirty of the most refractory boyars, with their wives. The best
wines were served round to the quests in abundance, until the liquor
completely removed from their minds all possibility of suspicion. After
dinner, the ladies were invited to withdraw with the princess into the
harcmm, or female apartments ; and the men were requested to go, one
after another, into a washing-closet, situated at the extremity of a suite of
rooms, for the purpose of performing the ablution which, in this country,
as in all other parts of Turkey, follows every meal. On entering the closet
singly, the door was instantly shut, and the boyar was seized by twelve
men stationed inside ; a towel was thrown round his face, to prevent his
calling out, and he was handed over to six executioners in a further room,
where he was instantly beheaded. The preparations had been made so
well, and the boyars had taken so much liquor, that nothing occurred to
disturb this memorable execution, which was completed on the whole
thirty individuals, in the course of half an hour. After this, the hospodar
entered the harem, and conversed with the ladies gaily, telling them
that he had forbidden their husbands to appear until he should have
made a proposal which he trusted might be acceptable to them. The
metropolitan-archbishop was now ushered in, and, having taken his seat,*
referred a case to him which concerned the ladies present, and relative to
which he required instant decision, " Should each of these ladies," said
he, " have suddenly lost a worthless husband by my orders, do you not
think it would be incumbent on me to replace him instantly by another ?"
The archbishop assented, and the women began 1o look serious.
" Then, ladies," added the hospodar, " the case is such as I have men-
tioned. Your husbands have, within this hour, paid, with the for-
feiture of their heads, the crimes of disobedience, from which I have long
endeavoured in vain, by other means, to recal them. But you shall have
no reason to complain of me. It is my duty to replace your husbands by
others, and not suffer yon to depart as widows from a house which you
have this day entered as married women. Thirty of my itsh-oglans (pages)
have been selected to take the places, titles, and fortunes (which they are
to inherit, if they find no children previously existing) of your late hus-
bands. They are all handsome young men, and none of them has reached
yet the age of twenty-five. The archbishop has been summoned here by
me for the express purpose of performing the nuptial ceremony."
At this moment the itsh-oglans were introduced, one of whom was
assigned to each " disconsolate" widow, and the marriage service was per-
formed over the whole thirty couple.
Whether the ladies who figure in this history had more reason to mourn
over their losses, or to rejoice in their new acquisitions, is a point which
the historian has not taken the trouble to enlighten us upon. As to the
Hospodar Yanacki, after this extraordinory act of authority, he governed
his province, without further obstacle, for three years; at the end of which,
his patron the grand vizier being dead, he was recalled from office. He
then retired to a delightful spot on the borders of the Thracian Bosphorus,
where the remainder of his days would have been spent in uninterrupted
happiness, had his conscience been perfectly free from the pangs with
which the recollection of his former seventy now and then disturbed Ihe
enjoyment of it. W.
* The only "subject," besides the sons of hospodars, who is allowed the privilege of
being seated in the prince's presence.
1S27.J [ 35 ]
THE CA1U.TON-HOUSE PICTURES.
THERE are several reasons why a sober estimate of the character and
merits of the Carlton House Collection of Pictures should be placed on
record at this time. In the first place, it has for many years been held
up as the very best collection of its kind in Europe. Secondly, it has,
until lately, been almost entirely excluded from the public eye, and will
soon be once more withdrawn from it, probably never to meet it again.
Further, it displays, in a very marked manner, the peculiar habits of taste
indulged in, in this particular,* by a Personage about whom we are glad to
collect all that can with certainty bo known.
We must entirely approve of one principle on which this collection has
been formed, namely, that of comprising a particular class and school of
works exclusively, or nearly so; since a private collection, formed on any
other principle, must be altogether without value and effect as a collection,
because it can scarcely be made to convey an adequate notion of the
characteristic powers and qualities of any one master, much less of any one
school.
The Carlton House collection is confined almost exclusively to the
Flemish and Dutch schools ; and, in proof of the necessarily imperfect
nature of any private collection, though it comprises a splendid selection
from the abovenamed schools, it altogether fails in conveying an adequate
notion of several of the most distinguished ornaments of those schools. It
is, for instance, strikingly deficient in the works of Rubens — and espe-
cially in his historical and poetical ones ; and it is poor even in the por-
traits of that other glory of the Flemish school — Vandyke. In fact, it is
rich in the works of one great master alone — Rembrandt; and its other
attractions consist chiefly in the productions of that highly amusing and
meritorious, but assuredly inferior, because merely mechanical class of
artists, the copiers of the real and still-lii'e of Dutch interiors, &c. — the
Dows, Mieris's, A. Vandevelde's, Da Hooge's, and the rest. It must not
be supposed that we would class such admirable reflectors of nature as
Teniers, Ostade, Metzu, Jan Stcen, and the Flemish landscape painters
P. Potter, Ruysdael, Hobbima, Berghem, &c. with the abovenamed
mere copyists of her particular features. But the most striking work* in
this collection, next to the Rembrandts, and those which have evidently
been chosen as the most striking, belong to the merely mechanical class
alluded to.
Assuredly we have nothing to say against all this. No one has a right'
to carp at the taste of another, or its exercise, provided they are confined1
within private limits ; and it were hard indeed if a king might not gratify
his, where the meanest of his subjects enjoys that privilege. We there-
fore premise the above general account of this collection, because thus it
is, not because we would have it otherwise. The collection is, in many
respects, worthy of high admiration ; though the mere fact of its being the
result of a king's taste, has not yet persuaded us (as no doubt it has many
of his courtiers) that it is the finest of all possible collections — to say
nothing of actual ones — and that in fact it includes at least half a dozen of
the finest productions of RaflPaelle's pencil !
The leading features of this collection consist, as we have hinted above,
of the Rembrandts ; and these we shall notice first, as circumstances
do not make it advisable to pursue any regular or numerical arrangement
of the works.
F 2
36 The Carllon-Houst Picture*. [JULY,
Undoubtedly, the Adoration of the Magi, by Rembrandt, is the finest
work in this gallery. It is in fact a stupendous production — rich in all
the highest qualities of this extraordinary artist's pencil, and with nothing
in either the subject or the execution to counteract the prodigious effect of
those qualities. Let those who doubt that Rembrandt was the most poeti-
cal of painters, look at this work, and deny (if they dare) that it includes
all the higher qualities of poetry — truth, simplicity, grandeur, dignity,
mystery — and all these displayed in connexion with, or rather through
the medium of, another quality scarcely less poetical, namely, that asto-
nishing and intuitive power of execution, which is as much the natural
gift of the poet or painter as his imagination and sensibility are, and which
is, generally speaking, quite as often the exciting cause of our admiration
at his efforts. The scene of this picture is the Interior of a Stable or
Barn, of the rudest and most rustic kind. It has even a character of
modern rusticity about it, which is far from producing an anomalous or
mischievous effect ; but which, on the contrary, brings the subject more
home to our feelings than any other arrangement could possibly do ; just
as the merely clownish and rustic appearance of the Shepherd Hoy does,
in the same artist's incomparable production, Jacob's Dream. The scene
is lighted from one point alone, so as to gain that concentrated effect of which
Rembrandt was so fond ; and the composition is divided into three com-
partments— a centre, or principal group — a secondary, or side group — and
the figures composing the back-ground. The first group comprises the
Virgin and Child, surrounded by several figures in the act of adoration,
&c. The principal of these figures presents a fine and striking example of
that effect of light which Rembrandt occasionally produces in a way in
which no other artist ever attempted to produce it, and by a means which
has been scarcely at all remarked upon by his critics. The principal
points of the jewelled coronet of the figure in question are made so literally
prominent — they are thrown so much into actual relief above the canvas,
that they not merely seem to reflect a brilliant white light, but they
actually do reflect it ; so that the dazzling effect of these points is not an
illusion of the pencil, but a reality. The same thing occurs in other parts
of the picture, though in an inferior degree. The secondary group con-
sists of two persons merely — one approaching in the act of dignified won-
der and admiration ; and the other standing motionless by his side,
affording a fine contrast of mere animal repose. The whole of the
expressions of this front department of the picture are also singularly
fine in their way : though justly to appreciate and sincerely approve them
requires a somewhat more full reliance on the bare simplicities of nature
than our present taste can boast. There is no elegant inanity here — no
effeminate striving and hankering after artificial refinement — no finical
fining down of the mere men and women with which our world is peopled,
into sylphs of the air and sylvans of the grove. In short, " not to speak
it profanely," the Infant of Rembrandt's Adoration of the Magi is a
mere blubbering baby ; the Virgin Mother is no better than a handsome
milkmaid ; and the Magi themselves are a set of pampered, gross-feeding,
carnivorous looking persons, endued indeed with all the mere external
dignity of air and action, which high station always more or less creates,
but in other respects as little sublimated as the meanest of their
attendants : for as all the noticeable difference between the great arid the
little consists in the greater degree in which the former are enabled to give
the rein to their appetites and passions, so the more intellectual nature of
their habits and pursuits (if indeed they be more intellectual) is at the
1S27.J The Carlton- House Picture*. 37
very least counterbalanced, in its effects on that only external symbol of
intellect, the face ; and, accordingly, the expression of intellect in the
countenance is at least as conspicuous in the low as in the high. If Rem-
brandt did not know this by experience and observation, he did by
instinct — which is ten times better: and he painted accordingly. He
dared to paint men and women as they are; or rather, he did not dare
to paint them as they are not.
With the exception of the above, and one other very early and inferior
picture of Rembrandt, all his others in this collection aro portraits ; but
they are all of the very first class. The most valuable and interesting is
one of himself. In point of execution it unites finish and facility in a
very remarkable degree ; the colouring is rich, and the shadows deep and
grand ; and in respect to expression, nothing can be finer or more charac-
teristic ; the eyes seem to look out into vacancy, as if in search of some
of those imaginary effects of light, by the production of which this artist
so marvellously distinguished himself from all others; while, in all other
respects, the face is marked by nothing but that unaffected simplicity,
and that unpretending truth, and even homeliness, which pervade the
greater portion of this artist's works, and form their rarest merits.
The two other most conspicuous of Rembrandt's works in this collection
are, the celebrated portraits of the Burgomaster, Pancras, and his Wife,
and the Shipbuilder and his Wife. The first of these is a gorgeous work
as to colouring. Gold and jewels glow and glitter throughout every part,
as if the reputed riches of the subjects of it had possessed the painter's
imagination during his execution of the picture, and he had transferred
the sentiment of these to the canvas, without knowing or intending it; for
there is no great display of wealth : we speak merely of the extraordinary
splendour of the colouring — as if it were composed of the light issuing
from precious stones. In point of expression there is little to call for partir
cular remark. The Burgomaster himself is delineated with great distinct-
ness and individuality ; but the lady has little of these, and much resem-
bles some of Rubens' women, in the general character of the face and
head. This picture is worked up with infinite care and finish, as if the
wealthy subject of it had insisted upon the artist making it reach, as high
a "price as he could ; and as if he thought that high finish, high merit,
and high price were convertible terms. The other of these fine pieces —
that of the Shipbuilder and his Wife — is in a higher class of art than the
above named, though by no means so striking in us immediate effect on
the spectator, on account of the extreme sobriety of the colouring. Titian
himself never painted any thing at once more intellectual and more indi-
vidualized than each of these characters. It is impossible to believe, in
looking at them, that the artist has either added any thing to what he
saw before him, or left any thing untold. Or rather, in looking at them,
you do not think of any such matters as addition, likeness, deficiency, or
even of artist or of portraits. You see certain people before you, and
think of nothing else — .not even of the extraordinary skill which placed
them there. This, and this only, is the perfection of art.
Here are two other portraits by Rembrandt; one of a Jew Rabbi, and
the other of a Lady with a Fan. They are both admirable; and the
latter in particular is a perfect specimen of that noble simplicity of style
in which none ever succeeded so perfectly as the artist before us. But
only to think of an artist of our day painting " a Lady with a Fan" after
this fashion! Alas! no frame-maker, even, would be so deficient in taste
as to trust him with a frame to put it in ; and as to any " hanging com-
38 The Carlton- House Pictures. [JuLV,
mittee" of the nineteenth century tolerating such an enormity — it is clean
out of tlie question ! No ; before Rembrandt's style of portrait painting can
come into repute again, we must either recede or advance (which you will)
to that barbarous period when sitters either had the spirit to insist on being
painted as they were, or artists had the spirit to insist on so painting them.
This collection contains seven pictures by Rubens — two of them land-
scapes, two belonging to the historical class, and the remaining three
portraits. But none of these works, nor indeed the whole together, are
of a nature to convey any adequate impression of the talents of this truly
great painter. Still they are admirable in their way. The largest land-
scape is, as a landscape, a capital production — grand, vigorous, and
instinct with the very breath and spirit of nature. But we must think
(and therefore must say) that the allegorical figures (of Saint George and
the Dragon, &c.) which are introduced into it, and occupy the whole of
the foreground, are " weeds which have no business there." Rubens was
the worst allegory maker in the world, because the most off-hand, careless,
and profuse. An allegory, to be at all tolerable, should be perfect and
answerable in all and every of its parts; and this requires a degree of
elaborate study and reflection which Rubens could not submit to. He
had invention enough for it, or for any thing ; but he could not condense,
select and expunge. He has been truly called "the prince of painters;"
and princes are not persons to keep to themselves nine out of every ten of the
fine things that occur to them ; and the consequence is, that by saying all,
they say nothing. Allegory, whether in painting or in poetry, is mere
wit put into figures ; and every body knows (to their cost) that an inef-
fectual attempt at a witticism is ten times worse than none at all. There is"
great depth and grandeur in the shadows of this picture; and the expres-
sion of the horses, in the right hand corner, at the sight of the dead body
lying at their feet, is extremely fine.
Of the other " Landscape, with Figures and Cattle, by Rubens/1 we
shall (finding it in this collection) constrain ourselves from saying any
thing. But not so if we should ever chance to meet with it elsewhere.
The Assumption of the Virgin, by the same artist (and the only one of
this class) is small in size, but a most admirable and perfect production in
its way. Nothing can possibly be finer than the effect produced by the
astonishing variety, grace, and invention displayed in the attitudes of the
cherubs who are bearing up the virgin. They seem to float-over and
about each other, like roseate clouds attendant on the setting sun. Each
seems to be itself, and yet part of another, and of the whole. And there
is an appearance given to them which amounts in effect to that of actual
motion. This effect is aided, and perhaps in a great degree created, by
the attitudes of the figures composing the other portion of the picture.
They are straining, and, as it were, yearning after the ascending pageant,
as if it had just escaped from their touch, and wTere changing from a seem- .
ing reality into a dream. The unity of effect in this picture — that highest
and rarest achievement of the art — is very fine ; and its grandeur of cha-
racter is scarcely at all impaired by the smallness of the scale on which it
is executed — which is another infallible test of high genius.
Of the three portraits by Rubens, that of himself Is the most striking. It is
the well known one, of which there are many copies (and some repetitions)
extant ; so that it need not be particularly described. The two others are,
one of his first wife, and one of a man with a hawk. This latter is remark-
able for the singular beauty of its back-ground, which consists of a fresh
landscape, touched with infinite grace, elegance, and sweetness, and
1827.] The Carlton- House Pictures. 39
altogether different in its character from anything we have ever before
seen from the pencil of this artist.
The only other work of Rubens in the collection is a small cabinet one,
of Pan and Syrinx. The composition is admirable, the expressions full
of a rich but coarse gusto, and the colouring exquisite.
We have eight pictures by Vandyke : four of them portraits ; two of
them on Scriptural subjects ; a study of horses, &c. ; and a curious spe-
cimen of landscape — a View of the Old Palace at Greenwich. Two of
the portraits — those of the Queen Henrietta- Maria (queen of Charles I.)
— one a full-face, and the other a profile — are in the artist's most exqui-
site manner — clear, delicate, airy, and elegant in the highest degree. There
is also a triple portrait of Charles I. — shewing the head in three different
positions — which is curious, as being the picture from which Bernini
modelled his celebrated bust. The Scriptural pieces are, Christ healing
the Sick, and the Marriage of St. Catherine. The former is chiefly remark-
able for the flue intensity of expression in the sick man, and the deficiency
of it in the Christ. But the latter is a most gorgeous and imposing picture ;
— grand, less from its expression or composition, than from the elaborate
profuseness of the design — the almost gigantic character of both the mother
and the child. In the former, this character is given by the drapery
merely ; for the face of the female is more classical and ideal than is usual
with this artist. But the child is painted on a perfectly Patagonian scale :
so much so, as to produce an almost ludicrous effect. The colouring of this
striking work is also very rich and splendid, without, however, any inap-
propriate glare or shew.
Turning our attention to the landscape painters, we find Wouvermans
holds, upon the whole, the most conspicuous place. The collection contains
nine of his works — all of them of the very first quality, and in the finest
state of preservation. The most elaborate is a Horse Fair, including an
immense variety of figures and animals — all of them possessing character-
istic expression, and all finished to the very highest pitch of perfection,
yet without producing that tameness of effect which finishing so frequently
does. A Hawking Party is equally elaborate and perfect ; but produces
a still better effect as a picture, because the whole impression of it may be
received at once. There are also two Camp Scenes — exquisite in every
the minutest point of their details, and perfect in their general effect. One
of these pictures is known by the name of Le Coup de Pistolet, from an
incident included in it ; and it tempts us to remark here, that, with all
their beauty, the pictures of Wouvermans — even his very best — must be
looked at with a view to themselves almost exclusively, if we would have
them not interfere with our due appreciation of those of other distinguished
masters, as well as of nature herself; for they are no more like the latter
than they are like any of the former. With the exception of the particular
expressions of his animals, &c., and his clouds and skies, there is nothing
in the least degree natural about Wouvermans' pictures. They are pure
inventions — literally speaking, works of art; and they should be looked
at as such ; otherwise, they are calculated to mislead the taste of the
student, and offend that of the truly cultivated and enlightened lover of
art. View them as nothing better than they are, and each party may
derive infinite delight and instruction from the study of them. But per-
suade yourself, or permit others to persuade you, that they are true trans-
cripts of nature, and you had better never have seen them at all. Instead
of saying more on this point, we shall extract a passage from a little ^work
entitled " British Galleries of Art :'' premising however, that we were
40 The Carbon-House Pictures. [JULY,
induced to make the above remarks, from observing the very characteristic
manner in which the incident is treated which gives a name to the exqui-
site picture last mentioned. One of the figures in front is firing off a
pistol unexpectedly in the air ; while all the other parties — including
horses, dogs, &c. — collected about the entrance of the suttling-booth, are
evidently altogether deprived of their sense of hearing ; for not the slightest
effect can be traced from it on the countenance, air, attitude, action, &c.
of any one of them ! Now this we conceive to be highly characteristic of
Wouvcrmans, and that no other painter would have ventured upon it ; for
the probabilities are, that all the rest of the picture was finished before he
thought of introducing this incident. And why (he thought), when it was
all so beautiful, should he either alter it to correspond with the new inci-
dent; or, on the other hand, why should he omit the incident merely
because it did not exactly fail in with the rest of the picture ? The truth is,
that Wouvermans looked at nature and her effects, not with a view to pre-
sent the world with transcripts of them, but to make them subservient to his
own purposes. He was content to take friendly hints from nature, but
not to look upon her as his sole guide, companion, and model. But do we
complain of this in Wouvermans ? Assuredly not. Genius must be allowed
to choose its own course, and its own means of following that course ; and
when we hit upon any method of stopping it, with a view to turn it into a
better course, all we shall effect will be to make it go back or stand still.
The following is the passage we alluded to above : — " As the value of
all other landscapes arises from the nature they display, so I would say, if
it would not sound paradoxical, that the value of Wouvermans' land-
scapes consists in the art. His pictures are like nothing but — each other.
They are perfectly gratuitous works of art ; and yet we love them almost
as much as we do those of nature, and with the same kind of love."— •
V The truth is, Wouvermans was a man of genius, and has invented a
nature of his own, which is so lovely in itself, and at the same time so
much in the spirit of the real nature which he imitated (not copied], that
we not only permit, but admire, in him, what in a man of inferior talent
had been a mere impertinence." — British Galleries of Art, p. 177-8.
WE had heard that this collection was distinguished for its Paul Potters
— by far the rarest, and, perhaps, upon the whole (always excepting Cuyp),
the most delightful of the Flemish landscape painters. We were, there-
fore, somewhat disappointed in finding but four of his works ; and not one
that we can regard as among his very best and most characteristic. The
finest, because the most natural, is one on his favourite subject — a young
bull, with other cattle, in a landscape — the cattle occupying the principal
portion of the canvass, and the nearest possible point to the spectator's
eye. This is an excellent specimen of Potter's most unaffected style; but
there is no particular charm in the still-life part of it, and it must be looked
at as a group of cattle merely. In this light it is all truth and nature.
But the fascination which belongs to some of this artist's productions con-
sists in something else than this — namely, in that exquisite combination
and mutual adaptation of a variety of rural objects, animate and inanimate,
so as to produce an impression identical with that received from the real
objects themselves, and which no other artist whatever produces, in an
equally perfect manner — an impression which unites all the pleasure
received from the contemplation of the interesting individual details of
external nature, with all that resulting from her complete and consistent
general effects ; and wherever either of these greatly predominate (as they
cio in all the pictures of this artist in the present collection), there is no
1827.] T/ie Car /I on- House Pictures. 41
complete general effect produced at all. The only kind of subject by
which Paul> Potter produces all the effect that he is capable of producing,
'is such a one as the following, for example: — a broken fore-ground, with
a horse looking over the paling of a little farm-yard on the right ; a cow
or two feeding on a bit of rising ground beside a shallow water on the left;
with a few pollard willows standing along this first division, and throwing
their shadows, distinctly and slantwise, towards the front, so as to mark
out the bright sunshine that would otherwise cover the whole picture.
Then a middle distance of level pasture-land, green as an emerald (as
perfectly level land — which is always more or less marshy — must always
be), and extending all across the picture; with a road running through
part of it, with one traveller on it, and a few cattle feeding here and
there, but so distant as to be seen as part of the landscape merely, and not
to attract the attention from it to themselves. Then, lastly and most dis-
tant, a dimly-seen village, with its church-spire pointing to the blue sky
above it, and, on either side, a faint line of open country, scarcely dis-
cernible from the horizon into which it fades. In a scene of this kind,
however elaborate the finishing of the fore-ground may be, it will not
attract an undue share of attention or admiration from the rest, because
each portion will have its peculiar charm, and each will balance the others,
and they, together, produce but one impression. And it may perhaps be
laid down as an axiom of art, that wherever several distinct and striking
impressions are produced— however we may admire, or wonder, or feel
disposed to praise, we are never thoroughly pleased ; and, on the contrary,
whenever we are perfectly and entirely pleased, we are never much disposed
to waste our feeling in the empty and equivocal testimonials of admi-
ration and applause. Paul Potter's best pictures of the above class are
the most pleasing ones in the world; and that we are disposed to covet
them more than any others, is proved by the enormous prices which they
obtain. And, after all, there are no other such satisfactory testimonials
of merit, as pleasure received, and money paid for it : we mean, of course, so
far as the taste and judgment of the parties paying and being pleased are
of any value.
There are two other pictures by this master — admirable, and indeed
perfect in their way. One consists of Travellers stopping at the Door of
a little rural Alehouse. The scene is completely shut in by trees, &c. ;
and the horses of the two travellers are remarkable for the extraordinary
truth and distinctness of character which are given to them. The other is a
much more elaborate scene ; but less perfect in its execution, because other
things are attempted than mere natural and ordinary appearances and
expressions. This picture consists of a stable on the left, with two horses
inside, and a boy at the door running away with a puppy from its mother
—while the latter is chasing him, and has caught hold of the tail of his
coat. The boy is hallooing with fright, and squeezing the puppy, which
is squalling too ; while a woman milking a cow just by is enjoying the
hit of fun. Near this cow there are other cattle, &c., occupying the
middle of the picture ; and the left opens to a distant landscape, through
which a man is riding on horseback. The scene altogether is elaborate,
and, in many respects, admirably executed. In particular, there is a cock
scampering out of the way of the frightened boy, and a blind puppy crawl-
ing along the ground, which are capitally done. But we cannot help feel-
ing all these extraneous and accidental matters to be out of place in a
work of Panl Potter, — which should exhibit Nature under her most ordinary
M. M. New Series,— VOL. IV. No. 10. G
42 The Car hon- House Pictures. [JULY,
anc1. (so to speak) common-place aspects only. His works are, in painting,
what pastorals are in poetry ; — which, to produce their most perfect effects,
must avoid all that is in the slightest degree forced, exaggerated, or
outre. It was for other painters to improve upon their models, and add to
them, and heighten, and embellish, and contrast, and collect half a hundred
incompatible things together, to increase the effect of their productions.
It was enough for him to paint Nature as he found her; and whenever he
departs from this system, he shews beneath himself.
We have some admirable specimens of Cuyp — ten in number ; forming
perhaps, upon the whole, a better and more characteristic selection than
that from the works of any other master, except Rembrandt. One of the
best is a large landscape, in that peculiar style of the master which unites
the airy and elegant pencilling of Both, and the soft and rich tenderness of
Claude, to an imaginative and almost mysterious character belonging to
Cuyp alone. It has none of those large, solid figures and cattle in the
fore-ground, which are in their way so fine, and which also produce so
admirable an effect in throwing into distance the landscape portion of the
scene. The front is occupied, and the distance produced, by means of a
dark and broken fore-ground, with lofty trees running all over the canvass —
through and beyond which the landscape appears, dressed in a veil of
woven air and sunshine. — Another, of a different description, but inimitably
fine, represents a black boy holding the horses of two cavaliers, in front of
a dark landscape, in which a distant town is seen across a river, and,
farther on, a misty distance. The mingled (ruth and force of this piece
are the perfection of art in this line ; since they present only nature itself,
and nothing either besides or beyond it. There are several others of a
similar character with the last-named, and almost equally vigorous, spirited,
and natural ; and there is one large river scene, in which nothing but the
craft and the water are visible, which is admirable for the truth of feeling
pervading it throughout.
Continuing among the Flemish landscape-painters, we have, by Both,
only one piece, though a very charming one, and combining the delightful
characteristics of this artist's style in as great a degree as any one picture
can be expected to do. It is a large landscape, with figures in front,
representing the scripture incident of Philip baptizing the Euntich.
By the natural, vigorous, and delightfully unaffected Hobbima we have
two pictures, forming a pair. One is on his favourite subject, of a little
picturesque village, seen in a distant light, through a dark net-work of
intervening forest-trees. The other is a more open scene, with a water-
mill. These works are not of a kind to require particular description or
commendation : they are very pleasing examples of this artist's manner of
treating his subject; but they are nothing more.
The rest of the works by the Flemish landscape-painters need not be
particularized. There are specimens, more or less perfect and characteristic,
of Berghem, Ruysdael, Wynants, and Du Jardin — but none among them
that we have not seen greatly surpassed in other collections. There are
also a few specimens of those masters who do not exactly rank as land-
scape-painters, but who devoted their efforts chiefly to the delineation of
scenes and subjects connected with towns and cities ; such as Vander-
heyden, Lingleback, &c. But even of these latter the present collection
does not include any demanding a particular description. We shall, there-
fore, at once pass on to that class of the Flemish masters who illustrated
actual character, manners, and life, as they are connected with, and grow
out of the society, habits, &c. of towns and cities.
1827.] The Carlton-House Pictures. 43
At the head of the class of masters just named stands Teniers ; and wo
know not where else to point out to the student, in one collection, so many
truly admirable and characteristic examples of this hitherto, upon the
whole, unrivalled artist. We have thirteen of his works, including exqui-
site specimens of all his various styles. Perhaps the finest, because the
most natural, forcible, and unaffected work of Teniers in this collection,
is one representing an open sea-shore, with a group of fishermen in front.
Nothing was ever executed in a more spirited and efficient manner than
this scene, because nothing was ever more absolutely simple and true. The
handling is masterly for its happy facility; the tone and colouring give us
the very reflection of nature itself; and the attitudes and characters of the
persons introduced complete and perfect the illusion. In standing before
the picture, you seem to taste the freshness of the sea-breeze; and may
almost fancy that you smell the peculiar odour appertaining to the kind of
scene before you.
There is another picture belonging to the same class with the above,
which is not equally fine, but still excellent for the air of natural truth
which pervades it. It is a domestic landscape, with buildings, &c. ; and
in the front, portraits are introduced of the artist himself, with his wife, and
their favourite gardener.
In a different style, we have no less than five of the same artist's admi-
rable Village Fetes and Merry-makings. Every one of these may be looked
upon as a chef-d'ceuvre of the master, in this peculiar style. Each of them
includes such a variety of character, incident, and interest, that it would
require as much space adequately to describe the five, as we are enabled to
devote to the whole collection. We must, therefore, merely add that they
contain some hundreds of figures, not one of which but includes something
distinct and individual, and yet every one of which bears, mixed up with
its natural air, a something which could only have been communicated to
it originally by the hand of this artist ; and that all is expressed by meaa«;
of the most masterly freedom of handling, the utmost clearness, sweetness,
and natural beauty of colouring, and in connexion with a skill and facility
of composition and arrangement which never have been, or perhaps can bo,
surpassed.
In addition to the above, we have two most admirable specimens of this
master's still-life interiors — in which ease and labour are blended in a won-
derfully efficient manner. One represents a Woman peeling Turnips, and
surrounded by vegetables of every kind, culinary utensils, &c ; and the
other, an Alehymist in his Study. Besides these, we have two or three
exquisite little gems, almost on a miniature-scale, yet retaining all the
truth and spirit of the larger works. Upon the whole, the extraordinary
talents of Teniers are done full justice to in this collection.
The rest of the Flemish painters of what may be called real life-^-such
as Ostade, Jan Steen, G. Dow, F. and W. Mieris, Metzu, Terburg,
Schalken, Slingelandt, &c., are represented respectively by two or
three of their most pleasing works, but assuredly not by any of their
chef-d'&uvrcs. We have certainly seen much more striking and cha-
racteristic works by all the above-named artists, than those which we meet
with in this collection. Indeed, there are but very few of such surpassing
merit as to claim particular mention. Jan Steen has two or three excel-
lent Merry-makings, and a brilliant Interior of a Lady's Dressing- Room.
There is one admirable specimen of Ostade — of Travellers Regaling at an
Inn-Door. Metzu has several — in particular, a Gentleman playing on a
Violoncello, and an interesting portrait of himself; but not one which
seems to us adequately to illustrate that exquisite freedom and facility of
G 2
4-4 The Carlton-House Pictures.
hand which he united in so admirable a manner with his high finishing.
By Da Hooge, however, we have perhaps at least as fine a work as the
artist ever painted. It represents the Interior of a Room, with persons
playing at cards ; and through the door, at the extremity of it, is seen
another building, and figures across a court-yard, into which the sun is
shining brilliantly. Nothing can be more perfect than the illusion of this
scene. The effect of it on the spectator is magical. There is also another
belonging to the same class, which is full of merit : it is by Maaes, and
represents a woman descending a staircase with a light, and listening to
the conversation of some other figures that are in an obscure corner
behind the staircase. But of oil the attempts at creating scenic illusion,
by means of the arrangement of light and shade, without exception the
most successful we have ever witnessed, is one in this collection, by
Granet, representing the Inside of a Convent, with Monks at their Devo-
tions. There is but little general merit in the picture ; but the effect pro-
duced by the arrangement of the light and shade is managed with extreme
cleverness. The scene includes merely the aisle of a chapel, lighted by a
single square window at the farther extremity ; with the inferior monks
ranged in a row on either side, while the officiating ones are standing in the;
centre, beside a pulpit, and performing the service of the hour. The light
of a bright sun pours in at the small window opposite to, but raised some-
what above, the black pulpit; and the effect is produced by this light fall-
ing on the extreme edges only of the pulpit, the profiles of the monks, the
religious vessels which they are using, the books, &c., — and also by the
manner in which it spreads and diffuses itself, and at length blends with the
darkness, on the side-walls of the apartment. As a mere single effect of
skill in the management of light and shade, this picture is very curious and
striking : but in other respects it has little or no merit or interest, and is con-
sequently to be looked upon as of small value and importance as a work of art.
We must now take leave of the Flemish school by stating, that the pre-
sent collection is by no means rich in the admirable sea-pieces of that only
school of real, unaltered nature — especially in the class of works just
named. Here are three pieces by Vandevelde, and one by Backhuysen ;
all of them excellent, as far as they go, but none of them of a sufficiently
striking character to claim or bear a particular description.
The only masters, not of the Flemish school, whose works form a noticeable,
feature in this collection, are Sir Joshua Reynolds and Zoffani. Indeed it is
confined exclusively to the above masters, with the exception of a Landscape
by Titian ; and a little gem, said to be by M. Angelo and Venusti. The
works of Sir Joshua Reynolds are seven In number — three belonging to the
historical class, and four portraits. The defective reputation of Sir Joshua,
in regard to his treatment of poetical or historical subjects, will have led most
persons to suppose him incapable of producing such a picture as the Cymon
and Iphigenia, in this collection. It is a very fine work. The female is
designed with infinite ease and grace, coloured with great richness and
truth, and expressed with that mixture of purity and voluptuousness which
is among the highest and rarest attainments of art in subjects of this
nature. She is lying asleep in a secluded nook of a landscape, to the brink
of which her lover is led by Love himself, arid suffered to gaze for a
moment on the rich treasures of her beauty. There is a peeping, prying
look about the Cymon, which is the fault of the picture. In other
respects, the figure is well designed and expressed. The Cupid, too, is
charmingly given. The landscape part is also very vigorously, as well as
poetically executed ; and the 'whole is kept in due subservience to the prin-
cipal object of fascination — the .sleeping nymph.
1827.] The Carlton- House Pictures. 45
The other original piece of the historical class, by Sir Joshua, is greatly
inferior to the above. The subject is the Death of Dido ; but all is forced,
exaggerated, and theatrical, when compared with the unaffected repose and
simplicity of the one just described. The third historical work is a fine and
vigorous copy from Guido's Saint Michael.
The portrait* by Reynolds are the well-known ones of Count La Lippe,
the Marquis of Gran by, the Marquis of Rockingham, and the Duke of
York. They are all admirable productions, full of life, spirit, and indivi-
duality ; and, like all this artist's portraits, and w^-like nearly all his other
works, totally free from any thing extravagant, affected, or theatrical.
This collection includes four exceedingly curious, amusing, and, in.
many respects, valuable works, by Zoffarri. Those two of them which are,
no doubt, most interesting and valuable in the eyes of their royal possessor
and his family, are, — one, representing the Interior of a Room at Kew.
Palace, with portraits of the late Queen Charlotte, and his present
Majesty and the Duke of York — painted about 1768 ; and another, repre-
senting a room in Buckingham House, with portraits of the Duke of
Clarence and the Queen of Wirtemberg, painted shortly after. But the
twTo which are most intrinsically valuable and interesting are pieces of a
very elaborate and singular kind, the style of which has been successfully
adopted in several instances since, representing the Interiors of the Florence
Gallery and the Royal Academy, with a multiplicity of portraits intro-
duced into each, depicting all the most conspicuous artists and patrons of
art who lived at the time the pictures wore painted. In the Royal Aca-
demy picture, the time chosen is during the delivery of an anatomical
lecture ; so that a sort of dramatic interest and expression are given to al
the characters introduced. The Florence Gallery is still more curiously
and elaborately enriched by imitative miniatures of many of the well-
known chef-d'azuvres of the old masters, — the peculiar style of each being
very cleverly preserved. Zoffani cannot properly be looked upon as an
artist, in the highest and best sense of that term ; since he was entirely
without the faculty of invention or original conception, of any kind what^
ever. He was, in fact, not capable of imitating the productions either of
nature or of high art ; but these two amusing works prove that he could
copy them with great cleverness and effect. He was, to a real artist, what
a clever mimic is to a fine original actor.
It only remains for us to notice the two works in this collection, which,
meeting with them in the company we do, come upon us a species of grand
and beautiful anomaly. We allude to a landscape by Titian, and a
pretty little gem, on the subject of the Taking down from the Cross,
said to be painted by M. Angelo and Venusti. The last-named of these,
though very beautiful, is so small as to prevent it from including anything
characteristic, even if ar.y portion of it be from the hand of Michael Angelo.
But the Titian landscape is a fine production — full of force, grandeur, and,
truth. It is a dark, sombre scene — seeming to depict the shades of even-
ing, closing over an irregular landscape, through which, towards the front,
a shepherd-boy is driving his flock home to fold. Finding this work in
the company we do — admitting, at the same time, that company to be the
very best of its class — we must not trust ourselves to dwell upon it further,
lest we should be tempted into observations w7hich might be neither pro-
fitable nor in place, as to the judiciousness (or otherwise) of admitting any
work by Titian into a collection, the characteristic merit of which may be
almost said to be opposed to every thing Titian ever did, and even to the
very principle on which he worked.
[ 46 3
VILLAGE SKETCHES I
No. VII.
Whitsun-Eve.
THE pride of ray heart and the delight of ray eyes is my garden. Our
house, which is in dimensions very much like a bird-cage, and might, with
almost equal convenience, be laid on a shelf, or hung up in a tree, would
be utterly unbearable in warm weather, were it not that we have a retreat
out of doors, — and a very pleasant retreat it is. To make my readers
fully comprehend it, I must describe our whole territories.
Fancy a small plot of ground, with a pretty low irregular cottage at one
end ; a large granary, divided from the dwelling by a little court running
along one side ; and a long thatched shed open towards the garden, and
supported by wooden pillars on the other. The bottom is bounded, half
by an old wall, and half by an old paling, over which we see a pretty
distance of woody hills. The house, granary, wall, and paling, are covered
with vines, cherry-trees, roses, honey-suckles, and jessamines, with great
clusters of tall hollyhocks running up between them; a large elder over-
hanging the little gate, and a magnificent bay tree, such a tree as shall
scarcely be matched in these parts, breaking with its beautiful conical
form the horizontal lines of the buildings. This is my garden ; and the
long pillared shed, the sort of rustic arcade which runs along one side,
parted from the flower-beds by a row of rich geraniums, is our out-of-door
drawing-room.
I know nothing so pleasant as to sit there on a summer afternoon, with
the western sun flickering through the great elder tree, and lighting up our
gay parterres, where flowers and flowering shrubs are set as thick as grass
in a field, a wilderness of blossom, interwoven, intertwined, wreathy, gar-
landy, profuse beyond all profusion, where we may guess that there is
such a thing as mould, but never see it. I know nothing so pleasant as
to sit in the shade of that dark bower, with the eye resting on that bright
piece of colour, lighted so gloriously by the evening sun, now catching a
glimpse of the little birds as they fly rapidly in and out of their nests — for
there are always two or three birds' nests in the thick tapestry of cherry-
trees, honey-suckles, and China roses, which cover our walls — now tracing
the gay gambols of the common butterflies as they sport around the dah-
lia's ; now watching that rarer moth, which the country people, fertile in
pretty names, call the bee-bird ;* that bird-like insect, which flutters in
the hottest days over the sweetest flowers, inserting its long proboscis into
the small tube of the jessamine, and hovering over the scarlet blossoms of
the geranium, whose bright colour seems reflected on its own feathery
breast ; that insect which seems so thoroughly a creature of the air, never
at rest; always, even when feeding, self- poised, and self-supported, and
whose wings in their ceaseless motion, have a sound so deep, so full, so
lulling, so musical. Nothing so pleasant as to sit amid that mixture of the
flower and the leaf, watching the bee-bird ! Nothing so pretty to look at
as my garden ! It is quite a picture ; only unluckily it resembles a picture
in more qualities than one, — it is fit for nothing but to look at. One might
as well think of walking in a bit of framed canvass. There are walks to
be sure — tiny paths of smooth gravel, by courtesy called such — but they
* Sphinx ligustri, privet hawk-moth.
1827.] Whitsun-Eoe. 47
are so overhung by roses and lilies, and such gay encroachers— rso over-run
by convolvolus, and heart's-ease, and mignonette, and other sweet strag-
glers, that, except to edge through them occasionally, for the purposes of
planting, or weeding, or watering, there might as well be no paths at all.
Nobody thinks of walking in my garden. Even May glides along with a
delicate and trackless step, like a swan through the water; and we, its
two-footed denizens, are fain to treat it as if it were really a saloon, and
go out for a walk towards sun-set, just as if we had not been sitting in the
open air all day.
What a contrast from the quiet garden to the lively street ! Saturday
night is always a time of stir and bustle in our village, and this is Whitsun
Eve, the pleasantest Saturday of all the year, when London journeymen
and servant lads and lasses snatch a short holiday to visit their families.
A short and precious holiday, the happiest and liveliest of any ; for even
the gambols and merrymakings of Christmas offer but a poor enjoyment,
compared with the rural diversions, the Mayings, revels, and cricket-
matches of Whitsuntide.
We ourselves are to have a cricket-match on Monday, not played, by
the men, who, since their misadventure with the Beech-hillers, are, I am
sorry to say, rather chap-fallen, but by the boys, who, zealous for the
honour of their parish, and headed by their bold leader, Ben Kirby,
marched in a body to our antagonist's ground the Sunday after our melan-
choly defeat, challenged the boys of that proud hamlet, and beat them out
and out on the spot. Never was a more signal victory. Our boys enjoyed
this triumph with so little moderation that it had like to have produced a
very tragical catastrophe. The captain of the Beech-hift youngsters, a
capital bowler, by name Amos Stokes, enraged past all bearing by the
crowing of his adversaries, flung the ball at Ben Kirby with so true an aim,
that if that sagacious leader had not warily ducked his head when he saw
it coming, there would probably have been a coroner's inquest on the case,
and Amos Stokes would have been tried for manslaughter. He let fly with
such vengeance, that the cricket-ball was found embedded in a bank of
clay five hundred yards off, as if it had been a cannon shot. Tom Coper
and Farmer Thackum, the umpires, both say that they never saw so
tremendous a ball. If Amos Stokes live to be a man (I mean to say if he
be not hanged first), he'll be a pretty player. He is coming here on
Monday with his party to play the return match, the umpires having
respectively engaged Farmer Thackum that Amos shall keep the peace,
Tom Coper that Ben shall give no unnecessary or wanton provocation —
a nicely-worded and lawyer-like clause, and one that proves that Tom
Coper hath his doubts of the young gentleman's discretion ; and, of a
truth, so have I. I would not be Ben Kirby's surety, cautiously as the
security is worded, — no ! not for a white double dahlia, the present object
of my ambition.
This village of our's is swarming to-night like a hive of bees, and all
the church bells round are pouring out their merriest peals, as if to call
them together. I must try to give some notion of the various figures.
First, there is a groupe suited to Teniers, a cluster of out-of-door cus-
tomers of the Rose, old benchers of the inn, who sit round a table smoking
and drinking in high solemnity to the sound of Timothy's fiddle. Next',
a mass of eager boys, the combatants of Monday, who are surrounding
the shoemaker's shop, where an invisible hole in their ball is mending by
Master Keep himself, under the joint superintendence of Ben Kirby and
48 Whitsun-Ew. [J ULY,
Tom Coper, Bon showing much verbal respect and outward deference for
liis umpire's judgment and experience, but managing to get the ball done
liis own way after all ; whilst outside the shop, the rest of the eleven, the
less-trusted commons, are shouting and bawling round Joel Brent, who
is twisting the waxed twine round the handles of bats — the poor bats,
which please nobody, which the taller youths are despising as too little
and too light, and the smaller are abusing as too heavy and too large,
Happy critics ! winning their match can hardly be a greater delight — even
if to win it they be doomed ! Farther down the street is the pretty black-
eyed girl, Sally Wheeler, come home for a day's holiday from B., escorted
by a tall footman in a dashing livery, whom she is trying to curtesy off
before her deaf grandmother sees him. I wonder whether she will succeed !
Ascending the hill are two couples of a different description, Daniel
Tubb and Sally North, walking boldly along like licensed lovers ; they
have been asked twice in church, and are to be married on Tuesday ;
and closely following that happy pair, near each other, but not together,
come Jem Tanner and Susan Green, the poor culprits of the wheat-hoe-
ing. Ah ! the little clerk hath not relented ! The course of true love doth
not yet run smooth in that quarter. Jem dodges along, whistling " cherry-
ripe," pretending to walk by himself, and to be thinking of nobody ; but
every now and then he pauses in his negligent saunter, and turns round
outright to steal a glance at Susan, who, on her part, is making believe to
walk with poor Olive Hathaway, the lame mantua-maker, and even affect-
ing to talk and to listen to that gentle humble creature as she points to the
wild flowers on the common, and the lambs and children dis porting
amongst the gorse, but whose thoughts and eyes are evidently fixed on
Jem Tanner, as she meets his backward glance with a blushing smile, and
half springs forward to meet him; whilst Olive has broken off the con-
versation as soon as she perceived the pre-occupation of her companion,
and began humming, perhaps unconsciously, two or three lines of Burns,
Whose " Whistle and I'll come to thee, my love,'* and " Gi'e me a
glance of thy bonnie black ee," were never better exemplified tVian in the
couple before her. Really it is curious to watch them, and to see how
gradually the attraction of this tantalizing vicinity becomes irresistible,
and the rustic lover rushes to his pretty mistress like the needle to the
magnet. On they go, trusting to the deepening twilight, to the little clerk's
absence, to the good humour of the happy lads and lasses, who are
passing and re-passing on all sides — or rather, perhaps, in a happy oblivion
of the cross uncle, the kind villagers, the squinting lover, and the whole
world. On they trip, linked arm-in-arm, he trying to catch a glimpse of
her glowing face under her bonnet, and she hanging down her head and
avoiding his gaze with a mixture of modesty and coquetry, which well
becomes the rural beauty. On they go, with a reality and intensity of
affection, which must overcome all obstacles ; and poor Olive follows with
an evident sympathy in their happiness, which makes her almost as envi-
able as they ; and we pursue our walk amidst the moonshine and the
nightingales, with Jacob Frost's cart looming in the distance, and the
merry sounds of Whitsuntide, the shout, the laugh, and the song echoing
all around us, like " noises of the air."
M.
r A*
1827.] [ 49
THE TOILS OP A MODERN PHILOLOGIST.
My father had determined that I should be a very eminent classical
scholar. His veneration of the classics partook almost of adoration. The
Grecian language, of course, occupied the highest station in his mind; yet
the Latin, though he was forced to acknowledge that it owed its roots to
the Pelasgic, and had become mixed with other dialects, was always con-
sidered by him of primary importance, and he used to say, that no one
ignorant of that language could pretend that he had received the educa-
tion of a gentleman, and, a fortiori, could never claim the title of learned,
however great his attainments might be in other languages, or in the
sciences. Almost every literary fault and offence against good taste, he
ascribed to the neglect of that language, regretting that the days of the
Aschams, the Lilys, &c., had passed away.
. With these precepts constantly repeated, and my father's example always
before me, it might appear extraordinary that I did not attain the highest
eminence in the classics, were it not a fact too notorious to require illustra-
tion, that the human mind seldom proceeds in the course indicated by the
wisdom and experience of others.
When parental control, and academical tutors, no longer directed my
pursuits, and I felt myself independent of all but my own inclinations,
I began to compare my own acquirements with those of other men, and
felt, or fancied 1 felt, the ground for distinction amongst the ancients
already occupied. I, therefore, determined to abandon the often contested
fields *of Greece and Rome, and to direct my steps into other regions.
I wished not for
" The languor of inglorious days j"
nor had I any disinclination from the species of pursuit which I had fol-
lowed ; but I felt a desire to abandon only the old high road of learning,
to search my way, amongst roses or thorns, in flowery paths or briery
hedges, to the same temple of fame.
Inspired with all the ardour of a scholar for a new literary pursuit,
f determined to trace the origin and peculiarities of the modern languages
of Europe, and to select that language for peculiar study which should
be found most entitled to pre-eminence.
In this new course, instead of being overburdened by the help of
others, I felt so much difficulty in proceeding at first, that my ardour was
greatly repressed, and I almost might have merited Tacitus's observation,
of being acribus initiis, incurioso fine, it not having occurred to me to
consider beforehand the difference between a distant prospect and ,the
actual entrance into a large city : " Remotely we see nothing but spires
of temples, and turrets of palaces, and imagine it the residence of splen-
dour, grandeur, and magnificence ; but, when we have passed the gates,
we find it perplexed with narrow passages, disgraced with despicable cot-
tages, embarrassed with obstructions, and clouded with smoke."
I was much surprised to learn that the languages of Europe are upwards
of thirty in number. They appear to have been divided by the most
eminent philologists, into four principal families : —
The Celtic, or Celtic-Cimbric ;
The Latin, or Greco- Latin ;
M.M. New Series.—VoL. IV. No. 19. H
50 The Toils of a Modern Pk-ilolagistf.
The Teutonic, or Gothic, or Scythian ;
The Slavonic, or Sarmathian.
The CelUb are the oldest known inhabitants of Europe. They came
originally from Asia, and settled principally between the Rhine and the
Pyrenees; but at what precise period our historical records have not named.
They called themselves Gail, or Gael, which the Romans converted into
into Galli^ and the Greeks into Kelte. The Cymri^ a German race, drove
the Celta, subsequently, out of the north of France, and they fled to Eng-
land, where they were again dispossessed, at a later period, by the Cymri,
when these had in their turn been expelledfrom Gaul. The Cymri were
the nation chiefly in possession of the south parts of Britain, when Julius
C&sar invaded this island, and whose ultimate settlement, when the Teu-
tonic tribes obtained the predominance, was chiefly in Wales, the inha-
bitants of which country still continue to call themselves Cymri. The
Irish and Scotch are the descendants of the Celtae who first inhabited the
southern parts of this island, and are in fact the most ancient Britons, con-
ceding the title of ancient Britons to the Welch.
The Gaelic, the Erse, and Welch, being the principal languages of the
Celtic-Cimbric, I felt no inclination to cultivate an acquaintance with that
branch of the family of European languages ; and the Russian, Polish,
&c., being equally unattractive, I was not disposed to transfer my phi-
lological affections on the Slavonic tribe, which was the last race that
established settlements in Europe.
I, therefore, had the choice left of the two other branches, the one
descending from the Latin, and the other from the Teutonic ; and of these
it was natural that I should adopt the first, for which my previous studies
had prepared me.
Of this branch, the French was the language to which my attention
was first directed ; and, on consulting the native writers, I congratulated
myself on the choice that I had made, as they all agreed in a universal
concord of praise, not only of the beauties of the language itself, but of
the eminence of the French writers, as having, in every branch of litera-
ture, excelled those of other countries. Experience convinced me, how-
ever, that their statements were dictated by national vanity and ignorance,
and I believe that the following summary will be found extracted from
truth.
The French language is of very ignoble birth. Its chief progenitor was
that branch of the Latin, called the Romana rustica. This, subsequently,
became incorporated with the Celtic and Cimbric, and from this union
was formed the Romance language, which took its rise with the Trouba-
dours, about the eleventh century. The present French language rose by
slow degrees, and the national writers ascribe its perfection to the si&cle de
Louis XIF., which period they also distinguish as the most celebrated for
the literary productions of their country. What the language is wanting
in antiquity, is not compensated by richness. Having the defect of a nasal
intonation, and being monotonous for want of accent and quantity, and
moreover, abounding in mute syllables, it can never be harmonious ; and,
having, in a word, no prosody, and being incapable of transposition, it can
never be the true language of poetry, though many fine verses have been
produced by Corneille, Racine, Voltaire, &c. Perhaps the only French
writer who is really deserving of the title of poet is La Fontaine, who is
a writer perfectly per se, admitting jno competitor in fable amongst modern
1827.J The Toils of a Modern Philologist. 31
writers. To all Gay's simplicity, he adds delicacy— to his truth, grace—-
and to his ease, the happiest lightness and variety of diction. Besides Jay-
ing claim to poetry in its exclusive sense, the French claim for it, in its
connexion with theatrical subjects, the first rank among modern nations.
To this they can have no just title, not only from the defects of their lan-
guage, which have just been enumerated, but also, from their frigid imita-
tion of the ancients, the fictitious rules with which they have embarrassed
themselves, and the exclusion of true passion and romantic sentiment.
Voltaire s productions, and particularly his Zaire, have appeared to me
nearer approximations to tragedy, than the higher- vaunted statelinesses of
Corneille and Racine. When I next say that Molieres comedies do
not, in my opinion, rise to a higher rank than that of farces, I congratulate
myself on not being personally known to any Frenchman, as I should cer-
tainly tind a challenge on my table the day after these memoirs appear in
print. That the French are particularly weak In productions of legitimate
history, I believe may be named without giving them deadly offence; and,
on the contrary, it is but just to state that, in memoires pour servir &
Vhistoire, they are abundant, though they have not yet had any master-
head to arrange and select these chaotic treasures.
With all its defects, the French language is a sine qua non of every
man who wishes to pass current in the world, for it is the language par
excellence for conversation of elegant society, for epistolary intercourse,
and for diplomacy : in a word, it is la langue sociale et politique de
r Europe.
At the period when I experienced the disappointment of my expecta-
tions of French poetry, my heart became affected with that tender passion,
which has ever exercised the most powerful influence on the happiness and
destinies of mankind. Irritated at the frigidity of the authors that I was
reading, and unable to find in our native writers poetic sentiments at all
adequate to the warm conceptions of an enamoured heart, I naturally
turned to the language of song, of poetry, and of love, and commenced the
study of the Italian, inspired by the most powerful incentive to its acqui-
sition.
This language may be called the eldest daughter of the Latin, united
to a barbarian descendant of the Goths. Though this union gave birth
to the inflections and many new words of its northern parent, it has
retained many of the virtues of its maternal origin, and has superadded the
loveliest graces. Rich in vowels, and possessing a fixed quantity, its
powers of harmony are unrivalled ; and it is of all languages best adapted
to musical compositions. Nor are its merits confined to euphony, but it
possesses also the rich variety of transposition, of augmentives, of diminu-
tives, and of capability of expression of every shade of sentiment. With
.such advantages, it is much to be regretted that its literature has not
equalled its intrinsic capabilities. On the revival of learning, it was the
first that distinguished itself, and it soon became pre-eminent both in
poetry and in prose. In the latter it is well known for its tales, which
have proved the sources from which authors of all nations have drawn
their subject-matter, not to exclude even our own immortal Shakspeare.
Though less generally known, it deserves not less honourable mention,
that their prose writers have greatly distinguished themselves in history,
though they have, unfortunately for the diffusion of their reputation,
treated on subjects of a local nature, and of events when modern Europe
H 2
52 The Toils of a Modern 'Philologist.
was yet in its infancy, and its politics unformed. The reputation of its
literature rests chiefly on its poetry; hut even in this the productions of
the Italian writers fell far short of ray expectations. Dante, though
without compare their greatest poet> is obscure and diffuse; and, to those
who cannot go into the depths of Italian learning, the majestic correctness
of Tasso, and the wild sweetness of Ariosto, often prove more attractive.
With their two most celebrated lyric poets I felt the least of all satisfied.
Petrarch's feelings appear to have been the invention of his head, and
never to have been the natural overflowings of his heart; and Metastasio>
who restricted himself to the use of only about six thousand words, being
less than a seventh part of the words in the Italian language, appears
further to have restricted these words to a proportionately small number of
ideas.
Imagination and delicacy characterize the amatory poetry of the
Italians, but we look in vain for profound impressions and soothing reve-
ries, and we feel convinced that " the Italians are ignorant of characters
like the English, where the profoundest sensibilities are habitually re-
pressed, and a surface of ice is spread over a soil of fire."
The romantic wishes of my heart now turned to the language of Spain,
in hopes that I might find some vibrations in consonance with my feelings ;
and here I was not disappointed. Calderon, Lopez* de Vega, Garcilaso,
Boscan, and Montemazor add to sweetness and delicacy that plaintiveness
and melancholy which ever prevail where the heart is most sensibly
touched. The tales of this nation also contain more richness, interest,
and variety than those of Italy, though few others are known in this
country than Don Quixote and the Novelets Exemplares of the same
author. The literature of this nation is also rich in history, particularly
about the period of Charles V., when Spanish was almost the universal
language of Europe, having in the preceding reign been introduced into
South America, over which continent it by degrees became generally
extended. The language itself has the Rotnana rustica for its foundation,
on which superstructures have been erected by the Carthagenians, Suevi,
Visigoths, and Arabians; and, notwithstanding the guttural sounds;
derived from the last, it is rich, harmonious, majestic, and sonorous.
Since the sixteenth century the Spanish literature has been undeservedly
neglected.
The last language of Latin descent to which my attention was directed
was the Portuguese, but I did not feel induced to pursue the study of it
with much attention. I could not but regard it a dialect of the Spanish,
though the Portuguese themselves are particularly anxious that it should
be considered a perfectly distinct language. They also pride themselves
on having produced original writers in every department of human know-
ledge, though in its literature we hardly appear to know the Portuguese
but as the language in which Camoens wrote. In its pronunciation it is
distinguished from the Spanish by having more softness, by being free
from the guttural sounds, and by being disfigured by a nasal intonation.
I must acknowledge that I did not do perfect justice to the last language,
being anxious, after such a long course of visits to every branch of one
family, to extend my acquaintance to others, though I should, by such
means, be thrown amongst strangers, and find myself obliged to study t
characters very distinct from those with which I had hitherto been asso-
ciated. In directing my mental steps to the north, the mind rather fol-
1 827.] The Toils of a Modern Philologist. 53
lowed than led the physical progression which has obtained of late years,
many European travellers. having apparently expected that greater gratifica-
tion or novelty would be found in exploring these less accessible recesses
than in pursuing an easy course, *' with the undistinguished heap," down
the soft declivities of the south.
The Teutonic, Gothic, or Scythian, is subdivided into two principal
branches, the Scandinavian and Germanic languages. The first is con-
sidered the more ancient, and it includes four languages, the Swedish,
Danish, Norwegian, and Icelandic. The Swedish is the most musical of
all the Teutonic dialects, being rich in sonorous vowels, and abounding in
liquid combinations; and it has also the advantage of possessing a perfect
passive verb, without requiring the aid of the auxiliary.* The peculiarity
which it also has of incorporating the article into the end of the substantive,
would be too trivial to mention, did we not trace in it the origin of the
same operation in the Italian, with the article and preposition, and with the
pronoun and the verb."}* The Danish, Norwegian, and Icelandic, may
be regarded rather as dialects of the Swedish than as distinct languages,
though the first and the last have many original writers, and the Danes in
particular may lay claim to productions of considerable merit. I could not
succeed in finding any Norwegian books, and I believe it is merely a
spoken language. To the Icelandic we owe the Sagas, which have so
greatly contributed to illustrate that part of our history which precedes the
Norman Conquest. Though the presses of Sweden and Denmark teem
with productions, I found more than half of the works which I procured,
translations from the German, English, and French ; and as the best pro-
ductions of these countries have been written in Latin, I feel persuaded,
after having bestowed on these languages considerable study and application,
that their acquisition can only be valuable to the etymologist : to him they
are indispensably requisite.
The rising reputation of the productions of Germany invited my most
earnest and eager exertions to the mastery of its language. The variety
of its grammatical inflections rose up in formidable array, supported by all
the unhappy associations of early days of toil at Latin and Greek ; but
I was in some degree consoled by finding the syntax comparatively easy.
And, after having first become freed from that sense of vagueness and in-
distinctness which always attends the commencement of the study of a
language, and having subsequently passed to the capability of judging of its
merits, I am convinced that it deserves the praise which has been bestowed
on it. It must be acknowledged that it is harsh, from the constant occur-
rence of the guttural ch, and from its abundance of consonants ; but this
defect kicks the beam in the scale of its value, when weighed down by its
richness and inexhaustible resources, which are all within itself, and are
never borrowed from foreign sources ; and it is, therefore, not only the
richest of all European languages, but its treasures are in progress of con-
stant increase by those internal powers, which give it faculties that were
enjoyed by the Greek language alone to the same extent. It is the only
modern language that can translate Homer word for word. Though during
a long period but little known to the rest of Europe, it has become the
rival of the other principal languages, and, in the number and value of its
* I love, Jag, alskar. I am loved, Jag alskas. •
t A youth, yngling. The youth, ynglingen*
61 The Toils of a Modern Philologist. [Ju-tt,
productions, bids fair to surpass all but English. As the Germans also
translate almost everything from all European languages, it may be con-
sidered as forming the general and most complete depdt existing of all
human knowledge.
It would be in vain to offer observations, within the limits to which this
sketch is restricted, on the general literature of a nation of such multifarious
productions, to which new additions and fresh characteristics are daily
added. But, though the Germans have done so much, many of their
works are but raw, though valuable, materials, which still require modelling
by the hand and chisel of Taste. In fact, she will have to make great
excisions in their works of Fancy, as regards both poetry and romance,
where imagination is distorted by exaggeration, sensibility is sullied by
coarseness, and good sense, truth, and delicacy are as yet strangers.
Dutch is the only remaining language in the course which I proposed to
pursue. The words of the Earl of Chatham on another subject, may
almost be applied to this language : " It need only be mentioned that it
may be despised." Being composed merely of derivatives from Frankisb,
Flemish, German, and other dialects, it cannot interest the etymologist ;
having attained no reputation in literature, it cannot attract the man of
letters; and having a pronunciation particularly uncouth, with even more
gutturals than the German, without any of its redeeming qualities, its
application must be restricted to the purposes of Commerce, which " looks
at the use and not the ornament of things."
The history of my literary course being now completed, I find myself
once more " alia paterna riva" delighted at the prospect of enjoying the
invaluable productions of " Old England." Our native tongue, the sim-
plest of all European languages in its construction, is next to the German
in richness ; but it is even below the Dutch in point of purity of origin,
having on its Saxon foundation erected the most incongruous combinations
of Danish, Norman, French, Latin, and Greek; and it is not able to claim
a greater antiquity, as a language of public affairs, than the time of Ed-
ward III.
But it is the language of MAN, in the noblest acceptation of the word,
and the impress of MIND is stamped on every feature. Deep and con-
vincing in its philosophy, noble and overpowering in its eloquence, mas-
terly and comprehensive in its history, harmonious and tender in its
poetry, England has no rival in the combined treasures of its literature,
which is universally characterized by good sense, deep sensibility, and
manly energy of language and thought.
It must not be urged, however, that, because an Englishman is born to
such a noble inheritance of mind, he should confine his knowledge to his
native language, any more than that he should confine his person to the
paternal acres which he equally inherits.
" Quiconque ne voit guere
'• N'a guere a dire aussi."
and the acquisition of foreign languages, as well as travels in foreign coun-
tries, must have the happiest of all results, if they extend our knowledge,
improve our hearts, and bring to our minds the conviction, that
" Where'er we roam,
" Our first, best country ever is at home."
1827.] The Toils of a Modern Philologist. 66
It is not to be expected, or desired, that every man should attain to the
acquisition of so many languages as Sir William Jones,* or that he should
even study all those that have here been enumerated ; for every one
should make such selection as may best suit his particular taste, feelings,
and pursuits. It is hoped that the remarks now presented may be of
some utility in such selection, or that they will be found to exhibit a con-
centrated view of the existing principal languages of the literature of
modern Europe. They must, however, be considered as forming a mere
outline, which would require volumes to fill up ; and it is, therefore, hoped,
that its defects will be considered as owing, in great measure, to the limi-
tation of space within which it is sketched, and that they be not ascribed
solely to the deficiencies and inabilities of
B.
THE WORLD IN THE OPEN AIR.
" I have learned
To look on Nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth — but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of Humanity ;
Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue." — WORDSWORTH.
COME, while in freshness and dew it lies,
To the world that is under the free blue skies!
Leave ye man's home, and forget his care —
There breathes no sigh on the dayspring's air.
i Come to the woods, in whose mossy dells
A light all made for the poet dwells;
A light, coloured softly by tender leaves,
Whence the primrose a mellower glow receives.
The stock-dove is there in the beechen-tree,
And the lulling tone of the honey-bee ;
And the voice of cool waters 'midst feathery fern,
Shedding sweet sounds from some hidden urn.
There is life, there is youth, there is tameless mirth,
Where the streams, with the lilies they wear, have birth ;
There is peace where the alders are whispering low :
Come from man's dwellings, with all their woe !
* The following is a copy of a memorandum in Sir William Jones's hand-writing, of
his own acquisition of languages :—
" Eight languages studied critically, English, Latin, French, Italian, Greek, Arabic,
Persian, Sanscrit ;
"Eight languages, studied less perfectly, but all intelligible with a dictionary, — Spa-
nish, Portuguese, German, Reinic, Hebrew, Bengalic, Hindi, Turkish ;
" Twelve languages, studied least perfectly, Tibetian, Pali, Phalavi, Deri, Russian, Sy-
riac, Ethiopia, Coptic, Welch, Swedish, Dutch, Chinese. In all, twenty-eight languages."
Lord Teignmouth's Lifcof Sir W. Jones, 4fo./>. 376,
5(5 The World in the Open Air. [JULY,
Yes ! we will come— -we will leave behind
The homes and the sorrows of human kind ;
It is well to rove where the river leads
Its bright blue vein along sunny meads :
It is well through the rich wild woods to go,
And to pierce the haunts of the fawn and doe j
And to hear the gushing of gentle springs,
When the heart has been fretted by worldly stings:
And to watch the colours that flit and pass
With insect- wings through the wavy grass ;
And the silvery gleams o'er the ash-tree's bark,
Borne in with a breeze through the foliage dark.
Joyous and far shall our wanderings be,
As the flight of birds o'er the glittering sea ;
To the woods, to the dingles where violets blow,
We will bear no memory of earthly woe.
But if, by the forest-brook, we meet
A line like the pathway of former feet ; —
If, 'midst the hills, in some lonely spot,
We reach the grey ruins of tower or cot j —
If the cell where a hermit of old hath prayed
Lift up its cross through the. solemn shade j —
Or if some nook, where the wild flowers wave
Bear token sad of a mortal grave, —
Doubt not but there will our steps be stayed,
There our quick spirits awhile delayed ;
There will thought fix our impatient eyes,
And win back our hearts to their sympathies.
For what, though the mountains and skies be fair,
Steeped in soft hues of the summer- air, —
'Tis the soul of man, by its hopes and dreams,
That lights up all nature with living gleams.
Where it hath suffered and nobly striven,
Where it hath poured forth its vows to Heaven ;
Where to repose it hath brightly past,
O'er this green earth there is glory cast.
And by that soul, amidst groves and rills,
And flocks that feed on a thousand hills,
Birds of the forest, and flowers of the sod,
We, only we, may be linked to God ! F. H.
1827.]
NOTES FOR THE MONTH.
THE Divorce bill, in the case of Miss Turner, has passed through both
houses of Parliament in the last month. This proceeding winds up the
measure of compensation, which, as it was most richly due, it has given
us great pleasure to see dealt out, to the exploit of the two Messrs. Wakefield ;
and those persons have now nothing left to do, except to congratulate them-
selves on the extraordinary leniency of their sentence ; to wear out their
respective terms of imprisonment with such salutary studies and reflections
as may guard them against falling into similar difficulty a second time ;
and, finally, if experience can make them wise, as soon as possible after
their liberation, to quit a country, in which their names, long before that
period arrives, will have been forgotten, but in which they never can be
revived but to become the subjects of animadversion and contempt. Be-
cause there are limits within which even the least worthy or scrupulous
members of society, in thought and Reeling, are accustomed (and compelled)
to confine themselves ; men of integrity and principle hold the gamester,
who conceals his skill in order to win the money of his antagonist, a cha-
racter unfit for their association ; but all the world concurs, that the fellow
who passes these bounds of villainy, and slips a card, or substitutes false
dice, for the purposes of plunder, shall be kicked, as a thief and a gambler,
out of doors. The adventurer who can plead even the vulgar excuse of a
*' passion" for the person of my daughter, and marries her against my con-
sent — his conduct cannot be justified ; the man who simulates a passion
for a woman which he does not feel, in order to obtain possession of her
wealth, is guilty of a sordid act, and an act of disgraceful moral wrong;
but the ruffian who, by force or direct fraud, inveigles my daughter from
my house — who accomplishes this object, not even by a misrepresentation
of his own feelings, or desires, or intentions, but by forging the authority
t)f those relatives or protectors, whose directions she lawfully and unhesi-
tatingly recognizes as commands — that man is as essentially a swindler and
a robber as the fellow who knocks at the door of my house in my absence
from home, and obtains possession from my servants of my horse, my
silver spoons, or my gold watch ; his is an imposition against which I look
to the Old Bailey to secure me ; and to that tribunal, as a felon who has
robbed me — not as a fellow-citizen who has injured — I hand him over
accordingly.
That this is the view, and the only fit view which can be taken of the
conduct of Mr. Wakefield and his brother, we conceive can scarcely
admit of doubt. The common principle which, in all questions of " obtaining
property," distinguishes the criminal act of " fraud," or " false pretence,"
from the contraction of a civil " debt," applies to their case directly and en-
tirely. The law permits a man, in many transactions of common dealing —
(that is, it refuses for such a course to proceed criminally against him)— to use
misrepresentation to those with whom he deals, as far as his own objects or
intentions are concerned ; but it hangs the same man without mercy, or
at least sends him as a robber to Botany Bay, the moment he compasses his
fraud by assuming the character, or counterfeiting the authority, of a third
•person. If a swindler purchases plate or diamonds from a goldsmith , upon
the most flagrant mis-statement of his own ability or intention to pay for
them, still the law calls this a peril against which the dealer's own caution
may protect him, and the purchaser has only incurred a civil debt ; but if
M.M. New &ne»v— VOL. IV. No. 1 9. I
58 Notes for the Month.
he obtain the same goods from the tradesman, on the pretence that he has
come from Mr. A. or Mr. B., (that tradesman's known customer) with
orders that they shall be delivered to him on the account of those parties,
then he becomes a robber within the view of the criminal law ; and,
instead of going to the Fleet, or the King's Bench prison, he goes to Van
Dieman's Land for the offence. This distinction is so clear, that it can
need no pressing. The actual villainy in both the above cases perhaps is
pretty nearly the same. But the first belongs to a class of crimes which
the law (criminally) would be unable to deal with — because the very mis-
statement (which constitutes the whole offence) would become a question
of degree — it is not a simple, distinct fact, which can be given in evidence,
but a matter of inference, which it is difficult, with sufficient exactness,
to prove. But the second case stands upon a different, and upon a tangible
footing ; the offender has passed the line which the mercy and caution of
the law (rather .than its justice) has said shall be established for his pro-
tection ; and it is not because the knave, who has robbed me to-day, by
becoming a bankrupt with 3000/. of my property in his possession,
happens to leave me — according to the usages of the community — without
a remedy, that the rogue who forges a check for the same amount upon
me to-morrow — although in either case, I am but cheated of so much
money — shall be suffered to escape.
The legal propriety of the conviction of the Messrs. Wakefield, therefore,
stands beyond a question. Of their moral guilt, it is unnecessary to
sprak ; a more heartless or cold-blooded act of violence than that which
they have committed, induced by no motive beyond that of the mere de-
sire of gain, it would be difficult to conceive. And, if we try them by
that spurious sort of equitable jurisdiction under which they have set up
a miserable claim to be adjudged — by the law that gives a civic wreath
to the hat of the highwayman, who goes up Holborn-hill with his boots
well cleaned, and a nosegay in his bosom, or places an urn over the cross-
road grave of the forger, who closed his career by his own hand to escape
that of the executioner — even under this tf cutter's law" — the Brummagem
code of honour — the case of the Messrs. Wakefield becomes more inde-
fensible still; because its immunities extend "only to crimes which are
redeemed by some shew of talent or qualification ; and theirs has not a
single trait of spirit or gallantry about it — not a single bright spot — from
the beginning to the end.
It is an unlucky feature, indeed, in the practice of this court of " cas-
sation,*' to which the Messrs. Wakefield, in the desperation of their
course, have attempted to appeal, that it is a tribunal which is never
favourable to unsuccessful gamesters : and, moreover, as lawless as it
appears, it is still guided by some principles in its decisions, which find no
holding or application to their case. The sort of illegitimate complacency
with which we dwell upon the unhallowed exploits of Turpin or Jack
Shepherd, is not wholly without a foundation in reasonable feeling, or a
reference to the real interests and advantage of society. It is not that we
are disposed to excuse, or palliate crime ; but, that, where the same picture
that exhibits an act of offence, displays at the same moment an evidence of
power, we do not refuse to " look at both indifferently." Where a high-
wayman beats off, single-handed, half-a-dozen police officers — or a de-
serter from the army shoots an equal number of the soldiers, who are sent
to apprehend him — we are not rejoicing in the bloodshed, nor do we hesi-
1 827.] Notes for the Month. 5 9
tate to hang the man — because we cannot refuse to see that the same
strength and courage merited a more fortunate direction. In the same
way, where a coiner, or a stage-coach robber, compasses his violation of
the law by some process of great dexterity, and escapes with the plunder,
we are not pleased that the law is baffled ; although we feel that the offen-
der has shewn a rare ingenuity — admitting that ingenuity to have been
misapplied. But then, while we may laugh, under the influence of this
mixed feeling, at the steady eye and delicate touch of a pick-pocket, like
Barrington, who would cut off a fine gentleman's watch-chain, or abstract
his wig, while he was discussing politics with him — or excuse the clever
humbug with which an active young man of five-and-twenty years of age
(and of one shirt) gulls a widow into a second marriage at sixty years of
age,twho has " purple and fine linen" in abundance — yet we have no grain
of sympathy for the rascally footpad who waits for a passenger in a dark
alley with a bludgeon, and plunders him securely, after a blow from be-
hind which stuns him, or perhaps (for the striker's more perfect security)
beats out his brains ; and even still less with the ruffian of Connaught or
Gal way, who aided by an armed force, carries off some female whom he
knows holds him in horror or detestation, on the chance that she may
buy redemption from disgrace, by consent to " a marriage," which puts
him in possession of her portion.
In every possible point of view, therefore — this is the first time that we
have adverted to this transaction, and we are already anxious to wash our
hands of it — the case of the Messrs. Wakefield seems to us to be a hopeless and
a disgraceful one. As far as the law is concerned, the escape of the parties with
the sentences which they have received, may be considered to be a fortunate
one. Upon the moral guilt of their conduct — or upon the penalties which, in
moral justice, ought to have followed it, it would be loss of time to bestow a
word. But, in the character of a " cavalier" — the r<*le which the elder of
these gentlemen has affected to assume — in the claim to be treated, as it were,
as air" adventurer," stepping forward to execute a feat in the public eye
the success and splendour of which should draw away attention from its
criminality — taken in this light (which it was an evil hour whenever
he pretended to appear in), the failure of Mr. Edward Wakefield has been
so ludicrously complete, that it becomes worth while just to record the cir-
cumstances and extent of it ! — He obtained possession of Miss Turner's
person — using a device, which every footman in England could have used
as competently and successfully as himself — but he had possession of the
lady, and undisturbed possession. Being ashamed to talk of " love," he
courted her, not so well as a footman would have done, but like an attor-
ney's " pay" clerk — talking about debts, and bills, and bonds, and bailiffs,
and pleas, and pounce boxes, and skins of parchment. After an opportu-
nity of seven whole days to propitiate a girl of fifteen — who the deuce
could it be that deluded this gentleman to set up for a gallant, and a for-
tune hunter! — all the lady's desire is to get away from him. And he
winds up this display of rapacity, of fraud, and miserable insufficiency,
by a wretched attempt — after she has renounced him — to blacken her
reputation !
It is not an ounce of civet, but a whole apothecary's shop full, that a
man would need to sweeten his imagination after even talking about this
last offence. The effort at slander is as hopeless and absurd, as it is dis*
creditable — but, in this circumstance, it only tallies with all the other features
I 2
60 Notes for the Month. [J ULY,
'of Mr. Wakefield's enterprise. The fact attempted to be insinuated,
were it true, would have been no circumstance (at the time when it is
said to have occurred) of denial, or concealment ! if it were fact, it would
be capable, not of being hinted or asserted, but of distinct and satisfactory
proof. But, besides that the mere act of a man's coming voluntarily for-
ward as the utterer of a charge like that in question, deserves to stamp him
as unworthy of belief, there is still a stronger obstacle to credit in the
way of the accusation, as it is got up by Mr. Wakeficld ;— - most men will be
of opinion that his word could have very little worth one way or the other
in the question, whether the statement was true ; but every man will know
that, if it were true, the occasion would never have arisen for its being
uttered.
We abstained, as our readers will have noticed, from commenting upon
this case, until the last point m it was finally determined. We should,
probably, not have adverted to it at all, but from something like an attempt
at its extenuation, which has appeared (we do not very well understand
upon what principle) in a publication, where (to say the least for it) a
bolder and more manly style of policy and feeling had been commonly
displayed. It is unnecessary for us. after what we have already said, to
go into any expression of personal opinion upon the merits of the parties
concerned. But certainly, if it were possible to forget the disgust which
-one of the last circumstances connected with their case excites, the ridicu-
lous discomfiture which their "spirit and gallantry" has received through-
out the rest of it, would almost be entitled to our pity.
Politics for the month have produced nothing either very entertaining, or
very important. Every measure proposed — good or bad — has been "put off,"
lest " discussion should embarrass the New Ministry :" upon which lhe Exa-
miner, of Sunday, the 17th June, has some lively remarks. The likening
of the New Administration to the lady en famille, is carried a little too far
for good taste — some people never can give up a tolerable thought till they
have ridden it to death, if once they get hold of it ; but the idea — -among
other measures of tenderness and precaution — of " the knockers being tied
up, and Joseph Hume being thrashed for making a noise in the street," is
comical. The general discussions which have taken place, have demon-
strated with singular felicity, the proposition which we took the liberty of
submitting last month, as to the very guarded assent which ought to be given
to the declarations of statesmen, while they are in opposition. Sir James Scar-
lett, the other night, in the House of Commons, having come (with his new
seat, as the King's Attorney General) to a cautious and constitutional mode
of thinking befitting that high office, defended, or, as Mr. Peel expressed it,
" did tardy justice to," one of the late Lord Londonderry's " Six acts ;"
and Mr. Brougham lets out the fact in his dinner speech at Liverpool —
which certainly no one, who has been in the habit of listening to him for
the last five years, would ever have suspected — that he has, all along, been
(notwithstanding his incessant attacks both on the private feeling and
public conduct of that noble and learned personage), most particularly
the personal and professional 'friend of Lord Eldon ! The scene which
followed the announcement of this truth, by the honourable and learned
Member, at Liverpool, was rather whimsical; and reminds us of the result of
an attempt that Mr. Listen, the actor, once made to play " high tragedy" in
London. When Mr. Liston appeared on the stage as Octaviau, the house,
almost before he spoke, was convulsed with laughter;-— upon which he
1827.] Notes for the Month. 6 1
came forward. — " Ladies and Gentkmen ! I am serious." (This was
thought a better joke than the other, and there were shouts from all sides
of " Bravo !" with increased laughter). — " Ladies and Gentlemen ! I beg
to say this is a mistake." (Peals of incessant laughter). Once again,
with his indescribable face, the actor tried—-" Ladies and Gentlemen,
I beg to assure you, that this is meant to be a serious performance]" But
the house could not fancy it serious. The more solemn and impassioned
the performer became, the more inextinguishably they laughed ; and he
wsa eventually compelled to give the effort up. Mr. Brougham's case was
not quite so bad as this. In the end, he did, we believe, persuade his
audience that he was Lord Eldon's " friend," — although they did not
perceive altogether how he could be so. But the conviction was not uni-
versal. Several of the good people of Liverpool came away from the
dinner, muttering as they made their way homewards — " Friend ! —
Friend !" And rather inclined to exclaim with Falstaff, when they recol-
lected, the speeches of the honourable and learned gentleman in every
Chancery question for the preceding five years — " Call you this backing of
your friends ? A plague of such backing," &e. &c.
Mr. Hume, however, who sticks fast to his seat on the opposition bench,
reserving to himself the power of canvassing the measures of the new ministry,
while their general principles of policy have his support, brought forward a
motion, a few nights before the close of the session, on the subject of the
promotions in the navy. And on that occasion something like notice of an
intention to attempt instituting the practice of selling commissions in tho
naval service — or at least of trying the chance of some measure to that effect
• — was given by Sir George Cockburn. Without taking the trouble to argue
the question, how far the practice of selling promotions, may have been advan-
tageous or hurtful in the British army, the whole of the circumstances con-
nected with the two services are so essentially different, that we should he
•extremely loth to see it attempted in the navy. In the first place, wholly
apart and distinct from his trade — if a trade it maybe called — olfighting) the
naval officer has the trade of a seaman to learn, which is one of infinite nicety
and difficulty, and one, the importance of which ought to form one of the
first circumstances for consideration, when we speak of allowing men, by any
other course than that of actual service, to qualify themselves for command.
Every naval officer must be a sailor : it is not absolutely necessary that every
officer of the army should be a soldier. Five years of service in barracks,
or at Brighton, may qualify an officer of the array to go into the field as
a captain of a company ; and it is not impossible even that with that very
limited experience, he might get very well through all the duty that would
be required of him; but in what a condition would any man find himself,
who, after twenty years spent at Gravesend or Woolwich, were suddenly
called on to fill the place of lieutenant on board a man-of-war ! A
gentlemen fresh from Bond-street, may charge, with abundant courage, at
the head of a hundred bayonets, and, therefore, there may be no great
mischief in allowing him to buy the right of occupying such a place ; but
it is utterly impossible that all the gold which ever was expected to come
from South America, should qualify,; a gentleman fresh from Bond-street,
either to fight or manoeuvre a ship.
There is an objection, however, to allowing meH to purchase rank
in the navy, beyond this — an objection which arises out of the entire
and absolute trust and power, which are necessarily confided to almost
62 Notes for the Month, [JULY,
every officer of the navy, but whk>) only attaches in the army to offi-
cers of a rank to which purchase gives no access. We allow officers
in the army to purchase up to a lieutenant-colonelcy : an officer in the
navy would be allowed to purchase up to a post-captaincy : and here the
power of purchase, on both sides, would cease. But, whatever apparent
equality there may be in the rank, there is no parity at all in the degrees
of trust and authority, which we should be allowing the parties in the
two services, by their money, to become possessed of; for the post-captain
of a frigate — or even the master and commander, who commands a gun-
brig or a sloop — these persons are placed in situations constantly, where
their power is as absolute, as paramount, and as free from all guidance of
superior authority, direction, or control — not as the power (in the army)
of a captain or of a lieutenant-colonel — but of a general officer entrusted
with the command of twenty thousand men. It very seldom happens, in
the army, that a major, or other officer at the head of a regiment, acts
independently, for any length of time, and upon his own command. His
regiment forms part of a brigade, which is commanded by a brigadier-gene-
ral ; who, in his turn, is commanded by the general of division ; whose move-
ments are again directed and controlled by the commander-in-chief of the
forces. But the commander of a ship of war — though but of a third or
fourth-rate — the moment his anchor is up, is, half his time, an independent
agent. It sometimes happens that his ship forms part of a fleet, but quite as
often that a particular duty is singly and specifically committed to him.
Brigs of war, if we recollect right, are commanded by officers who have
the rank of lieutenants in the navy ; this rank is equal to that of a captain
in the army. But, although there may be no great mischief in allowing a
raw man, by money, to obtain the latter commission, where no duty of
difficulty or nicety will devolve upon him, and no duty at all in the per-
formance of which he will not be subject, five or six deep, to control and
surveillance, yet it would be a little too much to allow an individual no
better qualified to take upon himself the entire command and disposal of
a ship of war and her crew — with all that despotic authority which is
claimed and exercised by the commanders of vessels of war at sea — and tho
onus of maintaining for us that reputation for superior skill and talent in the
naval service, which is so deeply important to the honour and interests of the
country. There are other objections, and numerous ones, to the system
of selling commissions in the navy, into which our limits do not enable us
at this moment to go. But it is whimsical to observe how liable our views
of practicability and policy are to be guided by our personal convenience.
The use of the impress system has been defended — in preference to the
system of bounties and enlistment — in the navy, upon the plea that the
service required peculiar men — sailors of skill and experience — whom
money could not purchase : and now we discover that money may be a fit
and admitted circumstance of qualification, in the selection of the officers
by whom these sailors, whom money, cannot purchase, are to be com-
manded !
A Morning Paper notices, as a matter of surprise, that " a corps of
artillery" has arrived from Dublin at Woolwich, in the short space of
seven days. The journalist's statement as to the time is correct ; but his
surprise is the effect of inadvertence ; he does not perceive that the corps
which has made this rapid transit, is a corps of the " Flying Artillery."
A Complete Outfit. — The haberdashers in Cornhill aud Fenchurch-
1827.] . Notes for the Month. 63
street, who «' make up" the cadets for India, have a pleasant notion of
" purveying in general." From a saddle to a soap-box — a sword to cut one's
fingers with, to sticking plaster to heal them — every appliance that " frail
humanity" (we would think) could want, comes within the limit of their
ministry. But we never (proverbially) can tell when we have reached the
north ! — there are a set of constituted authorities, who, in their providence,
beat these calculators of man's necessities hollow. The overseers' contracts,
for the parish of St. Mary, Rotherhithe, advertised last week to be taken u by
the lowest bidder," request that " tenders" may be made for the supply
(for the benefit and consolation of the inhabitants of the workhouse of the
said parish) of the following commodities. To wit, " good ox beef, at per
pound." "' Salt butter — duly wired and scraped — at per cwt." " Glo'ster
cheese — or ditto of equal quality." " Small beer, worked clear of yeast."
" Coffins and wool shrouds, from two to four feet each — at per C. and S. !"
'* Ditto — from four to six feet — at per ditto /"
There is a delicacy in this style of giving a hint to people in a work-
house— ordering in their small beer and their coffins at the same time ?
But manner in the present day is every thing. We speak now, " for our
grace," as Master Stephen did, when he termed the cudgelling with which
Downright threatened him, <( the bastinado." So, a journeyman artisan
becomes, by courtesy, an Operative. A fellow who teaches greater fools
than himself to play at leap-frog, or climb up a pole, is a " Professor of
Gymnastics." An Irishman making speeches in a public-house is a
" Defender of his country's rights." And a flea — is a practitioner of phle-
botomy. A Sunday paper, now, for further example, before us, contains
the following parabolical advertisement, under the head of " Newspaper
chat :" — (
" Pistrucci and some Italian Refugees have been getting up a dramatic
representation at the King's Concert-room ; and we are glad to see men in
their unhappy, but yet honourable situation, occupying, by so elegant and
agreeable an amusement, some of that time which must hang heavily upon
their hands. Italian literature has become fashionable of late — it is lucky
that fashion, in this instance, has taken so useful a turn ; and we recom-
mend all those who wish to take the most agreeable kind of lesson in the
language, to attend these exhibitions. There are three more, and they
take place on the Wednesday evenings."
Now we have not the slightest objection to the success of Signor Pistrucci,
and think him on the contrary rather an entertaining exhibitor; but people
who perform in a theatre for hire, are not in general spoken of as seeking
an agreeable amusement to occupy the time which might hang heavy on
their hands !
But again, in the advertisement of a rehearsal of some music at St. Paul's,
on the occasion of" The Festival of the Sons of the Clergy," we find —
" The Committee, with the view of promoting the benefit of this charity,
respectfully beg leave to express their hope that, for admission into the
church and choir, no person will contribute less than half-a-crown."—
" Contributions of gold will admit each person to the galleries and
closets, &c."
This expedient of fixing the amount of an alms is decidedly a modern
invention. Our ancestors would certainly have said — «' Admission to the
body of the church, half-a-crown : to the galleries, closets, &c., half-a-
64 Notes for the Month. [JULY,
guinea." Apropos, however, to the mention of our ancestors — this very
charity reminds us that a " reformation" may be sometimes a sort of
jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. The Catholic clergy had no
sons : so that our ancestors, on this score, paid neither half-a-crown nor
half-a-guinea.
The advertisements of common traders — in an effort to be attractive and
eloquent — sometimes contain similar whimsicalities of expression. As,
for instance, an auctioneer advertises the sale of some unredeemed pawn-
broker's pledges, in the Herald of this morning, as — "'a short, but grati-
fying collection.'' And a pastry-cook of Dean-street, Soho, in The Times,
recommends his " plum cakes" as "an agreeable recreation!"
The hot weather being now " hourly to be expected," the magistrates
of Bow-street have issued their notice to the dogs to keep themselves duly
tied up for the next two months, and muzzled. Abundant lapping of cold
water, and a little brimstone (where it can be had) are recommended ; and
all who neglect these cautions are liable to be summarily punished with
death.
Two actions against periodical publications for libel have been tried
since our last : one against Knight's Quarterly Magazine, by Mr. Soane,
who seems desirous that people who laugh at his architecture should be in
a condition to laugh at himself into the bargain : and a second against the
Examiner newspaper, by Mr. Parry, the author of a work called " The
last Days of Lord Byron," in which a verdict, with small damages, was
obtained for the plaintiff. People seldom have patience to be prudent,
when their own foibles, or those of their connections, are attacked ; and
the Examiner certainly was ill-advised in publishing the charges that
Mr. Parry complained of. Mr. P., it will be recollected, wrote a book,
or got a book written, called " The last Days of Lord Byron," about two
years ago (some time prior to the exposures in the affairs of the " Greek
Committee") which contained, among a good many other light, pleasant,
readable, and not always uninteresting matters, a very laughable story of a
** breakfast and morning's walk," which the writer went through with
Jeremy Bentham. Now, whether it is fair to breakfast with a man first,
and quiz him afterwards, may be a point perhaps for dispute ; but, at any
rate, Mr. Parry's story contained nothing beyond quizzing; and, if Mr.
Bentham's friends had laughed at it (as other people did), in three weeks
it would have been forgotten. But, unluckily, laughing was beyond the
patience of the little party at the back of St. James's park : the Times
newspaper copied Mr. Parry's " breakfast" into its pages, which of course
sent the affair all over the kingdom ; and out came the Examiner in a
fury in reply ! — after threatening vengeance upon the Times (with which it
had about as much chance in quarrel as a Millbank wherry would have in
trying to run down a Glasgow steam boat) — with two paragraphs, in the
first of which it called Mr. Parry " an exceedingly ignorant, worthless,
boasting, bullying, and drunken individual, late a caulker, but calling
himself a Major;'* and in the next describing him, in still more direct
terms, as (" not to repeat the worst of his character") " a slanderer, a sot,
a bully, and a poltroon."
Now these were hard terms, to use against a man for no offence
beyond that of laughing at Mr. Bentham, and a few of his friends,
without conveying any imputation against their moral characters ; .and
the Examiner forgot, while it applied them, that this person, who is
J327.J Notes for the Month. £5
a " caulker," « sot," " slanderer," " bully," and " poltroon," after
lie has quizzed Mr. Bentham and a few *of his acquaintance, seems,
prior to that event, to have been an " engineer/' formally engaged and
•employed by the Greek committee ; a " Major," (as far as titles so con-
ferred'are worth talking about) in the army of the Greek government ; a
gentleman " introduced," (according to the account of the Examiner
itself) " to Mr. Bentham's table, an honour which the late Sir Samuel
Romilly, an-d other similar spirits, always duly appreciated;" and a
habitual guest (according to Mr. Leicester Stanhope's evidence) at that gen-
tleman's own table, as well as at that of the late Lord Byron. So that one
would say, either Mr. Parry is something wronged in the description that
the Examiner gives of him and his pretensions, after the quarrel about
" The last Days" or the patrons of the Greek cause, prior to the perpe .
tration of that work, must have chosen their agents and companions very
unguardedly.
A similar infelicity as regards the balance of statement and proof,
occurs again (to shew the disadvantage under which men fight when
they are wroth) in the Examinees comment upon the trial, in the
paper of the 17th instant. In noticing the evidence touching the attack
on the Turkish brig, by which the Examiner had proposed to prove the
fact of Parry's cowardice, Lord Chief Justice Best, who tried the cause,
observed to the jury that this event, whatever was the effect of it, took place
in the middle of February ; and that a letter was in evidence, written by the
Greek committee to Mr. Parry, dated on the llth of May (three months
after that occurrence) in which the committee, instead of charging him
with cowardice, express the greatest confidence in his zeal and conduct.
The learned judge then remarks that this letter must have been written
after the affair of the Turkish brig was within the knowledge of the
committee — when he is corrected by Mr. Bowring, and informed that
" two mvnths is the minimum of time in which intelligence is received from
Greece." This fact of •' two months" being the 4< minimum" of time for
intelligence to arrive, is printed in words of large Capitals in the account of
the Examiner; and a subsequent observation in the charge to the jury,
treating the fact to be otherwise, is given in italics, to mark the partiality
of the judge; while the " Foreign news," in the very same paper, only
three pages from the column in which this statement appears, contains an
account of intelligence received from Greece, and through the medium of
the French papers — after two months is stated to be the minimum — in a
less period than six weeks !
The Liverpool Mercury states, that a newspaper has just been
started at New York, which is " edited by two gentlemen of colour ,"
and " intended to circulate among the black population of the United
States ;" we understand that this publication is called the Jonkanoo Jour-
nal', but we have not yet been so fortunate as to secure any numbers
of it.
A Fact accounted for.— -In the discussion which arose in the House of
Commons, on Friday night last, on the expediency of making parochial
provision for the poor of Ireland, a well-known member for one of the
Caledonian boroughs, was pressing upon an English gentleman, who sat
near him, the impropriety of such an arrangement, and instanced the case
of Scotland, where there were no poor laws, and none were wanted.
"The enormous expence which you are at in England,." said the honour-
able member, " we entirely avoid ; and yet you never hear of any persoa, I
M.M. New Series,— VOL. IV. No. 19. K
66 Notes for the Month. [JULY,
think, dying of hunger in the streets of Edinburgh ?" — «' Why, I grant
that/' returned the party addressed; " but then look at the difference of
the two countries ! You don't consider the impossibility of starving a
Scotchman !"
The leak which broke out some weeks since in the Thames Tunnel,
and which has, of course, for the time interrupted the progress of that work,
is reported, at length, by the engineers, to be entirely stopped ; and no doubt
is entertained (by the same authorities) of their being able to proceed
securely with the excavation to the other side of the river. When the
tunnel is completed — if ever that event happens — we take it that the work
will amount to a triumph of practical skill rather than to a production of
any real usefulness ; but it may fairly be doubted, even yet, we suspect, how
far its completion is to be relied on.
If it should happen to be true that there was but one point in the whole
river on which the soil, was likely to give way, why then, no doubt (taking
all the matter touching the stoppage of the leak to be fully maintainable
that is stated), we have arrived at the point of danger and surmounted it ;
but what evidence is there — we don't perceive — that such is the case ? or
that our having come to a weak point at the spot where the present accident
has happened, is not rather an omen, that, as we advance, we shall be
likely to come to one or two more ?
Tha1>— - with all the assured statement which is now put forth, of " the
accident having been anticipated," &c. — " not at all a surprise," — but
" looked for" — the managers of the undertaking are but very imperfectly
informed as to the real condition of the bed of the river, we think must
be pretty clear; because, had the late accident really been " foreseen," it
would be supposing them insane to believe that they would not have taken
the same steps to prevent, which they eventually were compelled to use to
repair it — especially, as independent of getting rid of a horrible danger,
such a course would have saved nineteen-twentieths of their late expence.
It is impossible, therefore — unless we are to assume that the engineers are
mad — to believe that they did anticipate that, at the point just mended, tho
bed of the river would give way under them ; and, if they have been
misled in their opinion as to its security so far, there seems to be no
reason why it is impossible that they should find themselves in error again.
As regards the value of the property, perhaps it would be a matter of little
importance whether the scheme were proceeded in, or left where it lies ;
because the work will probably do well, if, when completed, it pays the
charge of its own keeping up. A very great number of carts and waggons
must suddenly begin crossing where now no carts or waggons cross at all,
to pay the expences of a road, which will have to be lighted and watched
night and day, in addition to the ordinary burthens to which such enter-
prizes are subject. We recollect, that not long back, the Southwark-bridge
speculators were reduced to such economy, that, even in the winter, they
only lighted their bridge on one side. This is putting aside, too, the very
decided possibility — for we argue a little uncertainly when we talk from
the surface of a river of all that is going on at the bottom — that the same
cause which operated in producing the present mischief, may not lead to
damage of a similar description hereafter. If the soil in the centre of the
river be generally of a spongy, loose, oozy nature, and it is the action of
the tide that has made it thinner and looser in the place where the late
accident has occurred — (which seems more than likely) — what certainty is
there that the same action may not operate hereafter, so as to sweep the
1827.] Notes for the Month. 67
soil away— in parts— even from the crown of the tunnel altogether ? No
danger to human life, probably, could result from such an event, because the
symptoms of mischief would shew themselves long enough beforehand in an
increasing and gradual leakage. But there can be little doubt — unless the
cause which has occasioned the flimsiness of the soil in that part of the
river at which the work has now arrived has been of human production or
origin (and no evidence to that effect appears) — that the same state of things
which has arisen may arise again ; and although the measures which have
been takon lately to strengthen the bed of the river, may have answered
the purpose so far as to enable the cutting of the tunnel for the present to
proceed, yet a far more operose and costly process would be necessary, we
suspect, to give it anything like soundness and security of a permanent
description.
We noticed in our last number an account, given in the French Globe j
of the death of a man of the name of Drake (an exhibitor of serpents,
wild beasts, &c.) by the bite of a rattlesnake. It is singular that a
second accident, nearly of the same fatal description, has occurred within
the last fortnight, in the collection formerly belonging to the same indi-
vidual. A young man, belonging to the caravan, holding a small rattle-
snake in water, to assist it in casting its skin, the venomous monster sud-
denly turned round, and bit him in the fore finger. The lad had suffi-
cient presence of mind to prevent the immediate escape of the serpent ;
and, twisting a ligature round his wounded finger, snatched up a cleaver,
and desired two by-stauders to strike it off upon the spot. Both the men
who were present — though partners, we believe, or assistants, in the con-
cern— hung back, and were unwilling to strike the necessary blow ; but
Mrs. Drake, who had arrested the offending reptile in its attempt to make
off, and succeeded in confining him again in his cage, with great presence
of mind, took the cleaver, and — as a Morning Paper expresses it — " per-
formed the operation.'* The wounded man lived, and has done well.
The theatres, — " summer," or " winter," — have presented nothing
very striking within the last month. New books have been abundant, and
more interesting. Robins has published a second series of " Mornings at
Bow-street," with illustrations by Cruikshank ; the plates of which are
among the very best that this very ingenious artist has produced, Lady
Morgan has a new novel, called " The O'Briens and the O' Flaherty s/'
forthcoming, by Colburn ; the latter novels of this lady have been second in
merit to none but those of Sir Walter Scott ; and no one who has read
" O'Donnel," and «' Florence M'Carthy," but will look for her production
with curiosity and interest. Miss Emma Roberts's work — the " Memoirs
of the Houses of York and Lancaster" — is out, and a more detailed notice
of it will be found in our Review Department. The subject of the
book reminds us of what used to be done by Miss Benger ; but Miss
Roberts is the more pleasing writer of the two ; her style is purer and more
simple ; and she deserves equal praise for the caution with which she has
examined her facts, and the activity and patience with which she has
elicited them. Altogether fruitful as the history or legends of the time in
question are in romantic incident and recollections — we scarcely expected
that Miss Roberts could have produced a book so well calculated to interest
all classes of readers. Her work deserves to be, and will be, popular :
it conveys considerable knowledge and instruction, at the same time that
it cannot fail to afford amusement.
K 2
6S Notes for the Month.
Lord Redesdale has a bill in progress through the House of Lords, the
object of which is to regulate the business of banking. Two important
provisions which it contains, are clauses which will compel bankers to
publish their accounts periodically, and to give security for the amount
of all notes that they may issue. There can be no doubt that if any
branch of our commercial system wants consideration and regulation,
it is that of banking. It is a trade, the direction and management of
which has been very little canvassed ; and of which the operation and
effect, we take it, are very imperfectly understood.
The long-eared portion of society will do well to attend to a reso-
lution, promulgated by the new Vice-chancellor, Sir Anthony Hart, upon
an application to his Honour, the other day, for an *' injunction" in the
case of " Hunter v. Bell." The proceeding arose out of an affair some-
thing similar to the late dirty business of " Mr. Auldjo" and his fashion-
able acquaintances. The plaintiff, who is so fortunate as to be encum-
bered more with money than with wit, was benoodled into making a
bet of 2,0007. upon the St. Leger ; and, losing it, was compelled (after a
desperate effort to back out) to give a bill for the amount. The bill,
however, was given certainly under circumstances of some duress ; when
at a distance from the coaxing ways of the winner, the dislike to pay
revived ; and the losing gentleman accordingly applied to the Court of
Chancery, for an injunction against his note being negotiated. Sir An-
thony Hart said that he should not interfere. If the bill had actually
been given for a gambling debt, that fact could be shewn, and it was of
no value, no matter how often negotiated, or into whose hands it might
fall. And, for the guidance of gentlemen who betted at races in general,
it was his opinion (founded upon mature consideration), that the best way
of protecting monied ninnies from imposition, was to let them understand
that they must learn to keep out of ill company, and to protect them-
selves. We mention this decision, because it is important that it should
be known in Pall Mall and St. James's Street.
French Politesse* — An ingenious writer observes somewhere — but so
many have copied or imitated the dictum since, that to trace it to its ori-
ginal owner would hardly be possible — that it is practicable, by the mere
difference of manner, to grant a request in such a way as shall make it
offensive — and, on the contrary, to refuse in such terms as shall make the
party denied feel that he receives a favour. A French officer at the
battle of Spires, when the ill blood ran very high between the troops of
JFrance and Germany, and orders had been issued to give no quarter in-
the field, seems to have had great reliance upon this writer's opinion. A
Hessian officer of infantry having been cut down and his sword broken,
just as the sabre was raised which was to terminate his earthly career,
entreated the victor to " spare his life." "Ah, Monsieur!" returned
the Frenchman — with a shrug, which alone certainly ought to have re-
conciled the most unreasonable man to the thoughts of death — " Ask any
thing else ; but life is impossible !"
If the theatres, however, (as we observed above) have forborne to be
pre-eminent in attraction during the last month, VAUXHALL has pre-
sented the town with an exhibition that makes amends : — no less than a
representation, by armed men and real horses, of THE BATTLE OF
WATERLOO ! An erroneous impression prevailed when this entertain-
1827,] Note* for the Month. <J9
went was first talked of, that the idea of a " battle" was allegorical — a
metaphor intended to typify the havock and destruction that (on the anni-
versary day of Waterloo, the 18th of June) was expected to be made in
the " Royal Gardens," by the company at supper. The " carnage"
being supposed to point to the hosts of fowls, ducks, and pigeons (not to
speak of tongues, lobsters, and legs of lamb) that would be devoured ;
and the '• firing" to be really nothing more than the continued feu de
joie—« p0p"__>< pop" — produced by the incessant opening of soda-water
and ginger-beer bottles. The clashing of two thousand pairs of knives
and forks, it was imagined, would aptly enough represent — especially
when eked out by the jingling of spoons — the give and take music atten-
dant on a " charge of sabres or with bayonets;" and the too clamorous
guests marched oii^ from time to time, to the watch-house, would act the
part, to the life, of " prisoners taken on the occasion." All this suspicion of
" allegory," however, was matter of mistake. When the night — " big
with the fate" of Mr. Gye, the member of parliament, and his friends —
arrived, it was found to be the REAL battle — at the expense of, Heaven
knows how many pounds of gunpowder fired off — that was to be per-
formed ; and perhaps, as we are rather pressed for room, we can hardly
convey, to those of our readers — if there be any such — who have not
visited the " gardens," a more just impression of the interest of the scene,
than by presenting them with some passages of the " bill" — premising
that all the expectations which that document holds out may be taken to
be realized to the uttermost.
The " entertainments commence," exactly at nine o'clock, with a
comic opera called Actors al Fresco ; after which the " BATTLE OF WA-
TERLOO takes place" in front of the " fire-work tower;" — the "shrubs,
&c." having been te removed and cleared away for that purpose." The
scene forms " an exact representation of the field of Waterloo," (which
the gardens of Vauxhall are demonstrated to possess incomparable advan-
tages for realizing) — vis. " La Belle Alliance on the right of the centre
of the British line :" " in the rear of their left, a small wood," &c. :
" all erected in the same relative situations as on the plains of Waterloo."
The battle then commences by " Buonaparte ordering the troops on the
left to attack the wood and chateau of Hougomont !" The assault (of
course) is " most furious and sanguinary," The walls of the gardens of
Hougomont are " loop-holed by the British troops," and every means
of defence adopted!" During the struggle, an interesting scene occurs. —
The " French cavalry'' make a " desperate rush, to surround the Duke
of Wellington .'" fortunately, they are " prevented by a quick movement
of our troops" who form a diamond square, " which encompasses him,
and baffles all their attempts." At this moment — the fight having lasted
full seven minutes — victory begins to declare for the allies; as " the
French line" is *' making a quick movement through the wood" from
"the right of the hill, the Prussian flag is suddenly seen waving!"
the troops of Bulow "cover the British:" and "their united forces"
(with incredible celerity) begin to put the French to the route !" The
consequences of a single waver are such as might be expected. A
" general attack of cavalry and infantry is made !" The enemy is forced
to retreat in disorder ! " And the whole becomes a complete scene of
havoc and slaughter; during which various accidents occur — in parti-
cular that of an ammunition waggon blowing up ! which is drawn over
70 Notes for the Month. [JULY,
the field in flames, by the terrified horses !" The ruin is now decisive.
Buonaparte, seeing his attempt to recover his lost ground ineffectual,
and his whole army in confusion, betakes himself to his chariot, and is
seen driving across the field, pursued by the British cavalry I *'• Whole
heaps of men and horses lie expiring on the ensanguined plain !" The
chateau of Hougomont is in flames ! And upon this terrible state of
things the curtain falls : the whole " forming a terrific (but glorious)
picture of the memorable 18th of June!" Immediately after the battle,
Mr. Cooke " mounts his celebrated charger, Bucephalus;" and, " at full
speed, rides up a perpendicular rock to the Temple of Fame, at the sum-
mit of the fire-work tower ;" and " there deposits the British and French
colours (as an emblem of amity) in the Temple of Concord ! — a feat
uneqaalled in the annals of horsemanship !" The " concert" com-
mences " as soon as possible after the battle." The doors are " to be
open at seven ;" and the " admission" is 4*. The affiche contains
nothing more that is entertaining or material — except the printer's name ;
but, for the entertainment, it is only justice to say that, since the sham
fights at Acton and Hornsey by the " loyal London Volunteers," we
don't recollect to have seen any thing so terrible or so true. Most of
the characters in the military drama were admirably sustained. The
Duke of Wellington, in particular, was so well hit off, that some of the
visitors, from the country, believed that it was his Grace in person ; and
cried out — in allusion to the business of the Corn Bill — " Who moved the
amendment ?— Why don't you let us have a big loaf?" &c. &c.
When Mr. Waterton published his " Wanderings in South America/'
the story of his riding upon the back of a " cayman," or crocodile, in
the operation of catching and killing the brute, was put down pretty
generally as a " wandering" of the writer's fancy. The whole adventure,
indeed — as a pleasant specimen of the Munchausen style — went, we be-
lieve, through pretty nearly every newspaper and periodical publication in
England. As there is no feeling, however, more natural — so there is no
effort more gratifying — to the mind of man, than scepticism ; and certain
it is, that the idea of " riding upon crocodiles," or, to speak more strictly,
perhaps, of mounting upon their backs, as a measure of destroying them
— the notion of executing this feat — whatever might have been the extent
on which it was performed — was no invention of Mr. Waterton's — but was
spoken of, and in print, fifty years before Mr. Waterton was born. Po-
cocke, an Eastern traveller (of the last century), of undoubted cha-
racter, who wrote his voyages in three folio volumes, in the year 1744,
speaking of the crocodiles that infest the banks of the Nile, says that
the following is an account which he received from the people of that
country, of the manner of catching and killing them.
" They make some animal cry at a distance from the river, and when
the crocodile comes out they thrust a spear into his body, to which a rope
is tied (this is in fact a common harpoon) . They then let him go into the
water to spend himself, and afterwards drawing him out, run a poll into
his mouth, and jumping on his back, tie his jaws together."
Now, Mr. Waterton's cayman, it will be remembered, was only ten
feet and a half long — not much larger than a good sized sturgeon ; so that
Mr. W.'s mastering such an antagonist, after he was tied to a rope, and with
a huge and barbed hook in his stomach, could hardly be an effort of very
particular impossibility. Not to advert to the fact (nevertheless incorn-
testible), that a man once upon the back of a crocodile, thirty feet long,
1 827.] Notes for the Month, 7 1
instead of ten, would, from the shape of the animal, so long as he could
keep his seat (which, alarm apart, could not be very difficult), be as
safe from any attack as if he were in the bowels of the earth.
We adverted a little way above to the " Notice to Mad Dogs," or dogs
likely to go mad, published by the magistrates of Bow-street. The Times
of Tuesday, the 26th instant, contains a sensible letter on the subject of
precautions for preventing the hydrophobia, by a writer who calls himself
" Medicus." This gentleman very justly observes that the practice
commonly advised, of muzzling dogs during the hot weather, is likely^
instead of doing good, to drive a great many dogs mad who would not
otherwise become so. The dog does not (like the horse) perspire through the
skin from the effects of heat ; but the relief is obtained through the mouth
— whence the habit which the dog has of hanging his tongue out, in hot
weather (after very little exertion, and sometimes without any) ; as well
as the free secretion of water, which may be observed at the same time,
from the glands in the vicinity of the jaw. The practice of muzzling,
therefore, which prevents the dog from relieving himself by opening the
mouth and throat freely, and also prevents him from drinking continually,
which he is inclined to do, is a course perfectly well calculated to worry him
into fever ; while in fact, it does not take away from him (every one con-
versant with the matter will be aware of this), the power to bite, where he
is angry and disposed to do so. The remedy, or rather precaution against
danger, which the writer in the Times points out, seems to us to be a far more
just and efficacious one. He proposes that all dogs found wandering in the
streets, without collars (bearing the owner's name, and place of abode) — say
in the months of June, July, and August — shall, invariably, be taken up
and destroyed, by officers appointed for the purpose; and that the owners
of those dogs who are found abroad in the streets with collars, shall be
fined in a fixed penalty for each offence of leaving them in that situation.
It may appear, looking at the thing in the abstract, that this would be a
harsh and a despotic law ; but we have no doubt that it is one which
would have very great efficacy in preventing the accidents which are
constantly occurring from the bite of rabid animals; and we see no
good reason why, under such circumstances, it should not be carried into
execution. One of the " Pavement acts," only a few years since, put a
stop, without the slightest scruple, to the practice of keeping pigs in the
metropolis, and allowing them to run about the streets ; a habit, the in-
convenience of which was perfectly trivial, compared with that of which,
in the present case, we seek to get rid, and where the animals prohibited
had a sort of utility to be pleaded in their favour. An arrangement like
that proposed, would not merely have the effect of protecting the lives of
the public ; but, inasmuch as it would thin the shoal of wretched dogs,
which are reared by the lowest and most rascally part of the London
population, for their sport and amusement, would in that second view
become a circumstance of considerable amendment and advantage.
A furious struggle has been raised among the evening newspapers, by
the exertion and speculating temper of the proprietors of The Sun ; who
have lately extended their paper nearly to as large a size as The Times ;
retained a regular body of reporters ; and now publish " Second Editions"
almost every evening, giving the debates in the House of Commons, &c»
up even to seven or eight o'clock. At the Westminster dinner, about a
month since, Sir Francis Burdett's speech — which he did not rise to de-
liver until after seven o'clock — was put into the honourable baronet's hand
in print, in The Sun, at ten ! and very well reported, by the way, into the
72 Notes for the Month.
bargain. This system is threatening annihilation to all the second-rate
London Evening Papers, which find their circulation chiefly in the coun-
try ; and the leading ones are not likely to regard the contrivers of it witii
a particularly charitable eye.
An essay upon the subject of procuring " subjects" for the London
schools of anatomy, with which we had absolutely proposed to visit our
readers this month, must, for want of space, be put off—" like Dr.
Drowsy's sermons," as Mrs. Hardcastle has it—" to some fitter opportu-
nity." The matter was agitated in parliament, in the course of the last
week, in a debate upon some measure proposed to regulate the arrange-
ments and powers of the College of Surgeons ; but we are afraid that
none of the expedients suggested in the course of the discussion, are
likely to be valuable in real practice. Mr. Peel's proposal for adding to
the list of parties now liable by law to be dissected — (the persons who
are executed for particular descriptions of felony) — the farther amount of
all criminals, who, being convicted of such felonies, die in prison previous to
their execution — this source of additional supply would hardly assist us much ;
inasmuch as the utmost it could afford would be about one supplementary
subject in a century. The anatomising of people who chose to commit
suicide, would — at the first blush — seem a more likely project than this ;
but then there is the objection — the offenders would get over that pe-
nalty, as they do over all the rest that attach to them, by the coroner's
inquest finding verdicts that they were " insane." Giving up all the
people who die in the hospitals to be anatomized, would be a proper course,
and unobjectionable — for no people of any consequence die in hospitals *?
but, then, the rabble of this country are so obstinate and prejudiced, that, if
they thought they were sure to be anatomized when they came out of the
hospitals, they would die at home rather than go into them ! One com-
fort is, that (unless our professors are abominably belied) we have the
practical benefit of the cantanckerous rogues, without any law, already,
Allowing people to sell their friends — (this was Sir Joseph Yorke's sug-
gestion, if we recollect right) — but we are afraid that it would be con-
sidered as rather violating public feeling. Living relatives would differ
whether or not a sale should take place ; or there would be bills filed
in the court of Chancery to decide which of several claimants was enti-
tled to the proceeds. The Times proposition comes nearest to the mark —
That all surgeons should, at their deaths, devise their own persons to the
purposes of science. But then this would furnish grown male subjects
only — we must have women and children; and such professors would
hardly be induced to adopt the second branch of the arrangement sug-
gested, and make a gift of the earthly tabernacles of their wives and
children. So that, upon the whole (subject to more detailed consideration,
in our next, or some following, number) we rather suspect that the mat-
ter— must remain as it is ; i. e. that the surgical schools must still be
supplied by robbery — there is less of general feeling violated by that
course than there could be by any other ; — and that the " resurrection-
men" must continue to be punished when they are caught — not for
having stolen the subjects found in their custody, but for having offended
public decorum by not stealing them more secretly and discreetly. Pro-
vided always that, in the mean time any person willing to bestow himself
for the benefit of his fellow-creatures shall be competent to do so ; and
that his word, in articulo mortis, shall be taken as tantamount to a will
and testament made to that purpose.
I-S27.] [ 73 ]
MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.
Memoirs of the Houses of York and
Lancaster, by Miss Roberts, 2 vrfs. 8ro.
1827.— The period which these well-writ-
ten volumes embrace iscertainly one of the
most eventful and important of English
history: — eventful, for it presents such
thick-springing and surprising changes as
almost mock description ; and important,
we add, because the results of those
changes were of so enduring a character
that the advantages of them are still felt
by ourselves, — and long may they be en-
joyed by posterity ! The country for more
than a century was split into hostile and
heated factions, the alternate and frequent
defeats of which broke a power which
spell-bound its energies, and, by breaking
that spell, developed the strength of the
Commons, and drew them forth from ob-
scurity. In these tumultuous days it was,
when the imperious barons were conflict-
ing for pre-eminence among themselves —
when the maguificos of the land were en-
gaged in intrigues and in struggles— when
their home-concerns were of' secondary
consideration — whea the great properties
of the country were every year changing
masters — and when every change, by
shaking attachments, shook the authority
of the possessors ; — in these days it was
that the Commons suddenly emerged, and
rapidly — their vigour, left to its native ex-
pansion,— shot up into strength compara-
tively commanding. The newlords,strang-
ers to their vassals, were, change after
change, shorn of the rights of prescription ;
the old retainers lost their respect and de-
votion for them; from the wants or weak-
ness of the one, the other wrested fresh
privileges ; and thus the successive embar-
rassments of the lord and the growing im-
portance of the vassal enabled that vassal
at once to secure his new privileges, and
establish an independent power.
The power which, by the contentions of
the great, the Commons thus successfully
seized, they were wise enough never to let
go again. They felt their importance, and
naturally clung to it. The appetite grew
by what it fed on , and, from that time
forth, the great sunk and the little rose,
till universal law spread and confirmed the
rights of equality over the whole surface
of society. To some we may seem, in our
days, to be gradually returning under the
sway of baronial dominion; but though it
be true enough that the potent families of
the country are sufficiently disposed to
overawe legitimate authority, they can no
longer carry that disposition into public
practice. Violence would fail, for none
will aid them; even influence, if foreseen,
may perhaps be counteracted. A breath
MM. New SmW.-rVuL. IV. No. 19.
has made them, and a breath may unmake
them. Nothing but the sword could have
cut away the lords of the middle ages, and
nothing but the sword of civil war— dou-
ble-edged, effective either in triumph or
defect — could have made a clear stage.
Of these turbulent times, so full of per-
plexing events, and many of them for ever
inexplicable, has Miss Roberts ventured on
the perilous task of giving another narra-
tive. It was a task to tax the best powers
of the best narrator ; but the lady has not
sunk under its dangers and difficulties.
She possesses, indeed, the narrative " or-
gans" very conspicuously. The tale, di-
versified and entangled as it is, she .has
unfolded with distinctness and effect. The
storyflows equablyand agreeably — always
full of animation, and occasionally exhibit-
ing no inconsiderable vigour. There is no
flagging, at all events, from beginning to
end ; nor know we of any Memoirs which
bid fairer to be read, or better deserve to
be read. Though putting herself in direct
competition with more than one successful
writer of historical memoirs, she will suffer
from no comparison. Her's, too, it deserves
to be considered, was a task of still greater
difficulty than that of any of her predeces-
sors. Miss Aikin, Miss Bsnger, Mrs.
Thompson, each of them had one indi-
vidual s character and reign to illustrate,
with whotn every thing and every body
were more or less connected. There was th us
an unity of object, and consequently more
of a dramatic interest could be easily pre-,
served. All bore naturally upon one point,,
or was with facility made to converge to-
wards it. James, or Henry, or Mary were
constantly before the writer, and formed
the point cTappui of the story, and gave
consistence and union to the whole. No
such advantage could Miss Roberts, by
possibility, possess. Her heroes and he-
roines are perpetually changing — the
scenes incessantly shifting ; she has seven
several reigns to contemplate, besides no-
bles without number, all greater than their
masters. Amidst such crowds, the first
was likely to be forgotten before the last
could be described. Nor were cotempo-
rary materials so abundant, so minute, or
so safely to be confided in. Of many once-
conspicuous personages with whom she
deals, little is known, and less of their mo-
tives of action ; and, when effects are bet-
ter known than their causes, the narrative
is necessarily wrapt in obscuritj', unless
the imagination be allowed to fill up the
gap; and the character of historical me-
moirs refuse that accommodating indul-
gence. She has made the best use of her
abundant but imperfect materials, and ge-
74
Monthly Review of Literature ,
[JULY,
nerally has consulted the dictates of a
very sound understanding, and kept her
imagination in check.
Assuredly Miss Roberts's performance
is a very creditable one. It is not merely
Hume's admirable sketch dilated ; she has
searched for herself. The British Museum
has opened to her its precious stores j the
Archicologia, possessing1 many curious ar-
ticles, very ably discussed, and little
known to the reading world, has been
enlisted in her service; Mr. Nicholas has
lent his aid in the battle of Azincourt j
and Dr. Meyrick has drilled the fair writer
in the mysteries of ancient armour, till he
has impressed her with a deep sense of its
^i-e-eminent importance, and taught her to
talk of it with the zest of an antiquarian,
and the skill of a knight-errant. The
printed materials, accessible to every one,
she has also diligently consulted, from the
cotemporary chronicles of our own coun-
trymen to the foreign memoirs of Froissart,
de Comines, and Monstrelet. The Paston
Papers also have furnished useful and un-
expected information.
But though, acting with a laudable in-
tegrity, she has stuck close to her autho-
rities, the very different aspect given to
the circumstances of some events — we are
not speaking generally — from what they
have usually borne, will naturally excite
some inquiry ; and the result of such in-
quiry will sometimes shew the new ver-
sion originating not in superior accuracy
on her part, nor in the superior authority
of her materials ; but because, finding dif-
ferent representations, she has hastily
adopted them, more on account of that
very difference than because they were
of higher value. Of this, her representa-
tion of Joan of Arc is a conspicuous in-
stance.
'« In the village of Domremi," says
Hnme, " near Vaucouleurs, on the borders
of Lorraine, there lived a country girl, of
twenty-seven years of age, called Joan
d'Arc, who was servant in a small inn, and
who, in that station, had been accustomed
to tend the horses of the guests, to ride
them without a saddle to the watering-
place, and to perform other offices which,
in well-frequented inns, commonly fall to
the share of the men-servants. This girl
was of an irreproachable life, and had
not hitherto been remarked for any sin-
gularity ; whether that she had met with
no occasion to excite her genius, or
that the unskilful eyes of those who con-
versed with her had not been able to dis-
cover her uncommon merit."
The Maid of Orleans (says Miss Roberts, giving
the whole a touch of romance, and stripping it of
it* coarseness) was born at Domremi, a small ham-
let situated between Neufchateau arid Vaucoleurs,
in Champagne; her youth was spent in tending
»heep for her Barents, who were poor mid simple
people. From the earliest age she had mani-
fested great sweetness and gentleness of disposi-
tion, a taste for the beauties of nature, and the
warmest and most unaffected piety. She shunned
the joyous revel, the song and the dance, when all
the village poured out its rustic throng into the
street, and would retire to a holy edifice to chaunt
hymns to the virgin. Constant in prayer, when
her occupations did not permit her to attend the
bell, which summoned her neighbours to church, she
would kneel down and offer up her fervent orisons
in the fields. At a short distance from Domremi
there was a magnificent beech-tree, which had
long been an object of veneration to the surround-
ing villagers. It was called the fairy-tree, and
every year in the month of May, it was the custom
for gay troop? of tlie young of both sexes to hang
wreathes of spring flowers on its boughs, and to
dance beneath its luxuriant foliage to the music
of their own voices : a fountain welled .up beside
it, -and tue bright waters and the green shade
were reported to have been in elder times the syl-
van haunts of fairies, who it was believed even
now still lingered, though invisible, around the
spot. This delicious place, and a small chapel
dedicated to the virgin, called the Hermitage of
St. Mary, often> invited Joan to their solitudes,
when her neighbours sought relaxation from toil
'in social converse with each other; and here at
the age of thirteen she first gave the reins to an
imagination, which shaped out glorious visions in
the sun-beams, and heard voices in the sighing
gales and rippling waters, &c.
Hume refers to Hall, Monstrelet, and
Grafton ; while Miss Roberts reliessolely
on the " Mem. de Jeanne d'Arc" — where
the author's fancy was evidently in con-
stant activity.
But with regard to a multitude of per-
sons, Miss Roberts has been indefatigable ;
and her account of Sir John Holand, the
elder uterine brother of Richard II. ; of
Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick ; of
Cardinal Beaufort, and Whittington and
Walworth — are very agreeable results of
her diligence. Sir John Falstolfe, parti-
cularly, of whom nothing would ever proba-
bly have been known, but for Shakspeare's
use of his name — a circumstance which
has long excited the curiosity of critics,
and the Paston Papers have at last luckily
gratified it. Owen Tudor, again : rt Ca-
therine of France, Henry V.'s widow,'7
says Hume, " married, soon after his
death, a Welch gentleman, Sir Owen Tu-
dor, said to be descended from the ancient
princes of that country : she bore him
two sons, Edmund and Jasper, of whom the
eldest was created Earl of Richmond, the
second Earl of Pembroke." This is all
Hume tells us.
Queen Catherine (says Miss Roberts) who with
the characteristic gaiety of her country, mourned
not long for her gallant and accomplished hus-
band, suffered her admiration of the personal
beauty of Owen Tudor, a simple Welch knight, to
subdue the pride of birth ; the fair and royal
matron became the wife of a commoner, who had
charmed her eye* at a ball : for it i» said, that
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign. -
« being a courtly and active gentleman, he was
commanded once to dance before the queen, and in
a turn, not being able to recover himself, fell into
her lap as she sate on a little stool, with many of
her ladies about her.1— Drayton's Epist. Sandford
bears witness to the excellence of Catherine's taste
in the selection of a husband thus singularly intro-
duced ; the person of Owen Tudor, he tells us,
was so absolute in all the lineaments of bis body
that the only contemplation of it might make a
queen forget all other circumstances. Three sons
were the fruit of this union; the two, Edward and
Jasper, were created Earls of Richmond and Pem-
broke, by their half-brother, with pre-eminence,
§ays Fuller, to take place above all earls, for kings
have absolute authority in dispensing houours ; the
younger entered into a religious community, and
died a monk. After the death of Catherine, which
happened in 1437, the government thought tit to
punish the temerity —[we may be sure we have not
th« right story here]— of the bold knight, who had
dared to match the hand of a queen, and Owen
Tudor was committed to the Tower ; but not of a
disposition to submit tamely to confinement, the
hardy Welchman, either by fraud or force, con-
trived to effect his escape. A cotemporary writer,
in recording the prisoner's attempt, make? an as-
iertion which goes far to disprove the ostentatious
accounts so industriously circulated by Henry VII.,
Hud his partizans, respecting the royal descent of
that monarch's paternal ancestor. The passage
in the chronicle runs thus — ' This same year one
Oweyn, no man of birth, neither of likelihood,
broke out of Newgate against night at searching
time, through help of his priest, and went his way,
hurting foule his keeper. The which Osveyn had
privily wedded the Queen Catherine, and had three
or four children by her, unweeting the common
people, till that she was dead and buried.'
This is extracted from an Harleian MS.,
the author of which is entirely unknown,
and therefore, historically, of little autho-
rity— perhaps a Yorkist ; at all events, not
well informed ; for he talks of Newgate,
instead of the Tower, and denies not only
the birth, but the beauty of Owen — mali-
ciously, it may seem. But the industrious
spirit of the author of these volumes, which
\v 3 warmly recommend, to our younger
readers especially, is worthy of all praise.
Richmond, or Scenes in the Life of a
Bow-street Officer. 3 vols. I2mo. ; 1827.
— Richmond, very early in life, gave mani-
festations of an adventurous disposition.
He was the son of a small farmer, and
associated with the peasant boys and girls
of his native village. A little damsel of
about twelve or thirteen attracted his
childish devolion •, and as that young lady
— pursuant, we suppose, to village custom
—was already provided with an humble
servant, of corresponding age, it soon be-
came Richmond's sole and worthy em-
ployment to plague his unfortunate rival,
and render him ridiculous in tlie eyes of
the fair oue. For this object, indefati-
g-ably and successfully pursued, he plan-
ned sortie manoeuvres not unworthy his
maturer years. These mischievous pranks
coupled with the frequent rumours in the
village of his intermeddling with the
neighbouring orchards, operated upon his
father's fears, and our hero was at length
removed to school, in the hope, which
fond parents are led to entertain for their
comfort, that the prognostics afforded by
the little darling of becoming a future
rogue and vagabond, will quietly vanish,
arid the man belie the auguries of the
boy.
Richmond, however, appeared by BO
means carved out for a thief. Oh noj
the discriminations of character are most
decided between the plunderer of orchards,
fish-ponds, and preserves, and the pick-
pocket or housebreaker ; and though
Richmond appeared on his entrance into
life to partake of many of the qualities of
the first, he did not at all share those of
the second. Nor indeed was the poaching
line of life his real bent, but rather a tem-
porary expedient only, resulting from the
untowardness of circumstances, which,
when they decidedly thwart our instincts,
induce us to tack, and to follow those pur-
suits, which may draw out our native
powers in the best way fortune admits of.
His talents and tendencies seemed to lie
in ferreting out and balking other people's
purposes and plans — sometimes in work-
ing on their follies, or virtues, or difficul-
ties, for the sake of making them instru-
ments in aiding his operations upon others ;
by dint of practice he acquired extreme
facility in turning any given complexity
of circumstances to account — following
up his game through every sort of let or
hindrance, gathering strength from defeat
and discomfiture, and making his very
failures bear him on, in the long run, to-
wards final success.
He had some genius, but no application
for science, and none for monotonous labour
of any kind. His mind was active and
various, and wanted objects to act upon,
wide as the universe. One might have
prophesied he would turn out a traveller.
No; that was uot the thing. Yet he took
French leave of the counting-house desk
at Liverpool, where his plodding parent
had intended he should sit for some years,
and set off to roam, he knew not whither,
with a reckless companion. Destiny threw
him among some strolling players; and
while the scene was new, he swam in ex-
citement, and was so fascinated by the
prospect of the Thespian style of travel-
ling through life, that he must needs in-
troduce among the set, his little village-
love, to whom his heart had still steadily
turned. She was grown a beautiful young
woman, and loved him with a deep sin-
cerity. His enterprising character, aided
by his frequent and assiduous, but stealthy
attempts upon her affections, had done it»
76
Monthly Review of Literature,
[JULY;
work. Her mind was completely withdrawn
from sober views. The stolen meetings —
the gentlemanly air of her admirer — the
notoriety (unfavourable as it was) which
he had gained in the village — the floating
prospect of an unknown and beautiful
world, free for their feet to wander over,
free from parents' controul, and unaccom-
panied by dull needle-work, or house-
work, or the confinement of regular hours
— the dresses — the compliments — the
lights — the poetic fascinations of a thea-
tre,— these were altogether far more than
sufficient to bring the enthusiastic girl to
his arms.
There is a good deal of very pleasing
naivete in the account of this connexion,
and in the tender but light-hearted affec-
tion which he bore to this young woman
from first to last— going about with her
as a kind brother till they should be able
to muster money enough to be married
•with. This, however, they could never
accomplish ; but, followed by the unre-
lenting law of poverty, which ever pur-
sues a wandering life, were reduced to
straits innumerable — thrown sometimes
among gypsies, sometimes among thieves,
and occasionally exposed to damp, and
cold, and want. The delicate village lass
was unequal to the sustainment of these
hardships, and soon died — leaving an
agreeable impression of her beauty and
simplicity, unspoiled even by the very
scum of human society among whom she
had herded.
Our hero stands alone again. He leaves
the stage, and goes a gypsying for a while,
and engages that grave and respectable
fraternity in a few rather dull pranks,
quite at variance with gypsy dignity.
Their society, however, turned out uncon-
genial— notwithstanding the- vagabond life
and reckless habits, which were quite in
his way. His sphere of activity was not
expansive enough. His spirit ga?ped to
try its powers among all ranks of society ;
but what door was open for one whoss
days had been spent as his had been t One
there was — and the master-key was with
in his reach — to lay open to his ken draw-
ing-rooms, theatres, routs, courts, closets,
studies, kitchens, boudoirs— aye, even the
penetralia of human bosoms of all ages,
ranks, sexes, and principles. The honest
and the vile, the murderer, forger, child-
stcaler — lords and ladies —men and maids
might all be made in turn to spread cut
their hearts, and expose the secret springs
of action and courses of conduct for his
peculiar gaze and study. He had only to
become a Bow-street Officer, and prove
himself able and zealous in his vocation.
The requisites for such a post are not
dissimilar to those of the statesman. A
thorough knowledge of human nature, and
of the worst part or parts of it is equally
in demand for both. And probable it is",
that an inaptitude for any specific branch
of study, engross) ve of the faculties, may
be characteristic of each, while, at the
same time, each must be gifted wilh a
prompt acuteness of perception — a power
of rapid and practical deduction — a ta-
lent for drawing out others — a seeming
facility and pliability, and a real unre-
lentingness of purpose. The statesman's
plans, however, stretch out to the end of
life, while the catchpole looks only to
bringing up his man before the magis-
trate j and is ready again to plunge into
the thickets of a new entanglement — to
unravel its details, and apply his acquired
and native treasures of wisdom to new
objects — which objects are extensive con-
sidered collectively, while separately
viewed, their bearings are few, and the
ultimate aim much more bounded.
So far as these volumes exhibit the
habits, modes of thought, and ways of pro-
ceeding incident to the kind of life which
the writer professes to depict, the whole
possesses an air of probability ; and the
style of composition is for the most part
in happy correspondence with the hero's
life and character as he describes it. There
is a smattering of learning exhibited — of
fashionable slang — of worn-out plays — of
vulgar songs — of mawkish romance, — with
some just but rather heavy remarks upon
the various classes of society, as they are
beheld from his peculiar point of view —
bearing a resemblance to Harriette Wil-
son's pert but pertinent observations, scat-
tered up and down her book. Through a
good deal of clumsiness, stupidity, and
vulgarity, there is, however, enough of
the romantic and vagabond-spirit infused
into the story to render it decidedly agree-
able, and sketches of character, we sus-
pect, true enough to make it worth the
reading.
Personal Sketches of his own
by Sir Jonah Barrinylon, Judge of the
Court of Admiralty, Dublin, 2 rofo. Sro.;
1827. — Sir Jonah Bavriagton is a gentle-
man of a good Irish family. He was born
about 1760: educated at Dublin and the
Temple; called to the Irish bar; early and
and well introduced to common- law prac-
tice, and the leading business of a circuit ;
made king's counsel, with a fair prospect
of professional honours, which honours
were nipped in the budding by his kick-
ing at the Union; and finally sunk into
insignificance and the Admiralty judge-
ship.
This gentleman's name has been fre-
quently mentioned as engaged in the writ-
iugofa History oftheTJnion; and the long
delay, nerer till now publicly accounted
for, has given rise to reports, not often
started in this country, of its suppression,
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
by the authority, open or covert, of the
government. This report, it seems, as it
\vas probable indeed it would, proves to
be unfounded; the sole cause rests with
the booksellers. Sir Jonah has been sin-
gularly unfortunate ; three publishers,
who undertook to produce his perform-
ance, have successively failed ; and he
has had some difficulty, first in discovering
his lost or forgotten labours, and next,
in recovering them. At last, however,
they have been rescued from oblivion or
peril, and are safely deposited in the hands
of the most enterprising aud successful
publisher of the day — we need not add
Mr. Colburn's. They are of considerable
busk, and will appear quickly in parts.
We look forward to them with some im-
patience. We have much to learn about
the Union — the author had singular op-
portunities; and being himself hostile to
the measure, and suffering from it, and
garrulous and indiscreet withal beyond
all repression, he will tell all he knows,
without sparing- the contrivers or the exe-
cutors of that disastrous scheme.
• The sketches before us are of a gossipping
rambling description, but frequently very
amusing — better at all events, and more
bearable than the theatrical memoirs with
which we have of late been deluged. The
author, though aiming at a dashing, off-
haud, careless, rattling kind of manner —
very unbecoming the dignity of any bench
but the Irish — has more the air than the
reality of the coxcomb, and is essentially
of a serious and thoughtful turn — suscep-
tible of grave impressions, and capable of
observing the distinctions of human cha-
racter, and of tracing the effects of poli-
tical changes. He has some very decided
opinions — many of them of a liberal and
benevolent cast — with some, the mere re-
sult of unlicked prejudice. The Union,
he thinks, and justly thinks, the ruin of
Ireland— the fruitful parent of Abseii-
-teeism, and all its wide-spreading and de-
pressing consequences. Before that fatal
event Ireland was an Irishman's home; he
lived on his estate, and knew his tenants,
and his tenants knew him, respected him,
loved him, and mutual kindness and inter-
course prevailed. Coarse and intempe-r
rate indeed was the Irish landlord of old,
but he was kind and a countryman; now
he is refined, and careless, and a foreigner
— and the poor are without their natural
friends or protectors. Sir Jonah is no
advocate for emancipation ; but neither is
he a partisan of orange violence. The
• book however is a hook of anecdotes — not
intended to inculcate opinions — it is full
of persons, once more or less, for good or
for ill, generally known in the political and
legal world — most of them have long since
quitted the scene ; but some survive ; and
with respect to the survivors, Sir Jonah's
indiscretion, to say the best of if, is very
remarkable. His account of Sir Richard
Musgrave-the orange fanatic of the days
of the Union— but particularly the tale of
Lady Musgrave. whatever an Irish court
might think of it, would at least by an
English one, be deemed a libel. We do
not think it safe to quote.
Sir Jonah has been a duellist in his day,
and duels seem to occupy much of the
thoughts of his old age. We know not
how many duels— remarkable ones too— he
has detailed. They seem to fill at least a
tenth of the pages. He gives the particu-
lars of one especially between his younger
brother and Captain Gillespie, afterwards
General Gillespie, wlio was killed at the
storming of Bengalore, and to whom a
monument was built in Westminster Ab-
bey. He tells the story with much indig-
nation. His brother, not twenty years of
age, and a Mr. McKenzie had quarrel-
led, and, as usual in Ireland, ' went out.'
After firing four shots, young Barrington
offered his hand to his antagonist. Gil-
lespie, McKenzie's second, interfered,
and said his friend should not be satisfied.
Barrington persisted in his pacific inten-
tions ; Gillespie grew warm, and suddenly
throwing his handkerchief towards Bar-
rington, asked him if he dared take the
other corner. The unhappy but high-
spirited boy snatched the handkerchief,
and at the same moment received Gilles-
pie's ball through his heart. Gillespie
was tried for the murder, but acquitted.
His death in India, Sir Jonah regards as
retributive. The cooler reader will see
noihing but the results of the same im-
petuosity. He led the storming party at
Bengalore, contrary to orders ; he was re-
pulsed ; he knew the consequences of dis-
obedience; he renewed the attack in des-
peration, took the fort, and fell. "Requies-
cat in pace," says Sir Jonah ; " but never
will I set my foot in Westminster Abbey !"
But more agreeable scenes abound in
the volumes. One of Lord Redesdale's
first dinners to the Irish bar may serve as
a specimen. It is introduced by some
anecdotes of Lord Norbury. Of him, the
author says : —
He had more readiness of repartee than any
man I ever knew, who possessed neither classical
wit nor genuine sentiment to make it valuable.
But he had a fling at every thing ; and failing in
one attempt, made another — sure of carrying his
point before he relinquished. his efforts. His ex-
treme good temper was a great advantage. The
present Lord Redesd ale was much (though unin-
tentionally) annoyed by Mr. Toler (afterwards
Lord Norbary) at one of the first dinners he gave
to the judges and king's counsel. Having heard
that the members of the Irish bar (of whom he was
then quite ignorant) were considered extremely
witty, and being desirous, if possible, to adapt him-
self to their habits, his lordship had obviously got
78
Monthly Review of Literature,
[JULY,
together some of his best bar remarks (for of wit
he wag totally guiltless, If not inapprehensive) to
repeat to bis company, as occasion might offer ;
and if be could not be humorous, determined at
least to be entertaining.
The first of his lordship's observations after din-
' Well, my lord, I'll explain the thing without
mentioning these birds of prey,' &c.
Before the year 1784 the judges were
entirely dependent on the crown ; and no
English barrister, who could earn his
ner, was the telling us that he had been a Welsh bread ai^d cheese at home, would accept
judge.andhad found great difficultyin pronouncing
the double consonants, which occur in the Welsh pro-
per names. ' After much trial,' continued his lord-
ship, 'I found that the difficulty was mastered by
moving the tongue alternately from one dog-tooth
to the other.'
Toler seemed delighted with this discovery ; and
requested to know his lordship's dentist, as he had
lost one of his dog-teeth, and would immediately
get another in place of it. This went off flatly
enough — no laugh being gained on either side.
Lord Redesdale's next remark was— that when
he was a lad, cock-fighting was the fashion ; and
that both ladies and gentlemen went full dressed
to the cock-pit, the ladies being in hoops.
'I see now, my lord,' said Toler, 'it was then
that the term cock-a-hoop was invented.'
A general laugh now burst forth, which rather
discomposed the learned chancellor. He sat for a
while silent; until skaiting became a subject of
conversation, when his lordship rallied— and with
an air of triumph said, that in his boyhood all
danger was avoided ; for, before they began to
•kait, they always put blown bladders under their
arms ; and so, if the ice happened to break, they
were buoyant and saved.
'Ay, my lord,' said Toler, 'that's what we call
blatheram-skate (nonsense) in Ireland.'
His lordship did not understand the thing at all;
and, though extremely courteous, seemed to wish
us all at our respective homes. Having failed
with Toler, in order to say a civil thing or two, he
addressed himself to Mr. Garrett O'Farrell, a jolly
Irish barrister, who always carried a parcel of
coarse national humour about him ; a broad, squat,
ruddy-faced fellow, with a great aquiline nose, and
a humorous eye. Independent in mind and pro-
perty, he generally said whatever came uppermost.
• Mr. Garrett O'Farrell,' said the chancellor so-
lemnly,' I believe your name and family were very
respectable and numerous in county Wicklow. I
think I was introduced to several of them during
my late tour there.'
' Yes, my lord,' said O'Farrell, ' we were very
numerous ; but so many of us have been lately
hanged for sheep-stealing, that the name is getting
rather scarce in that county.' His lordship said
no more &c. &c.
I never saw Lord Redesdale more puzzled than
at one of Plunkett's jeux d'esprit. A cause was
argued in Chancery, wherein the plaintiff prayed
that the defendant should be restrained from suing
him on certain bills of exchange, as they were
nothing but kites. « Kites ?' exclaimed Lord Re-
deKdale— ' kites, Mr. Plunkett? Kites never could
amount to the value of those securities. I don't
understand this statement at all Mr. Plunkett,'
• It is not expected that you should, my lord,'
answered Plunkett ; * in England and in Ireland
kites are quite different things. In England, the
wind raises the kites; but in Ireland, the kites
raise the wind.'
' I don't feel any way better informed yet, Mr.
Plunkett,' said the matter-of-fact chancellor.
a precarious offer in a strange county, and
at a paltry salary. The bench was in con-
sequence curiously manned with judges.
Baron Monckton is recorded as under-
standing black letter, and red wines, and
being very much vino deditus (this is Sir
Jonah's mag-pie style) he habitually de-
scribed the segment of a circle in making
his way to the seat of justice. Judge Boyd
was another drunkard, eulogized by the
newspapers for his singular tender-heart-
edness-so great was his humanity, that
when he was passing sentence of death
upon any unfortunate criminal, it was ob-
servable that his lordship seldom failed to
have "a drop in his eye."
I remember, says Barrington, a barrister being
raised to the bench, who had been previously
well known by the ingenious surname of Coun-
sellor Necessity — because necessitas non legem
habet; and certainly to do him no more than jus-
tice, he consistently melted the cognomen, after
his elevation, as well as before.
Old Judge Henn (a very excellent character)
was dreadfully puzzled on circuit, about 1/89, by-
two pertinacious young barristers (arguing a civil
bill upon some trifling subject) repeatedly haran-
guing the court, and each most positively laying
down the • law oi the case' in direct opposition to
his adversary's statement thereupon. The judge
listened with great attention until both were tired
of stating the law and contradicting each other,
when they unanimously requested his lordship to
decide the point.
How, gentleman, said judge Henn, how can
I settle it between you? You, Sir, positively say
the law is one way, aud you, turning to the oppo*
site party, as unequivocally affirm that it is the
other way. I wish to God, Billy Harris (to his
registrar, who sat underneath) I knew what the
law really was.'
' My lord,' replied Billy Harris most senten-
tiously, rising at the same moment, and casting a
despairing glance towards the bench — 'if I pos-
sessed that knowledge, I protest to God I would
tell your lordship with a great deal of pleasure.'
' Then we'll save the point, Billy Harris,' ex-
claimed the judge.
A more modern Justice of the Irish King's
Bench, in giving his dictum on a certain will case,
absolutely said—' He thought it very clear, that
the testator intended to keep a life interest in the
estate himself.' The bar did not laugh outright ;
but Curran soon rendered that consequence in-
evitable : ' Very true, my lord,' said he, 'very true f
testators generally do secure life-interests to them-
selves. But in this case, I rather think your lord-
ship takes the will for the deed'
His parliamentary anecdotes, are often
very good — though many of them are well
known.
Mr. Egan (one of the roughest-looking perso»t
possible) being at one time a supporter of govern-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
79
ment, made virulent philippics, in the House of
Commons, against the French Revolution. Hi8
figure was coarse and bloated, and his dress not
over-elegant witha)!,' &c. One evening this man
fell foul of a speech of Grattan's, and amongst
other absurdities, said in his paroxysm, that the
right honourable gentleman's speech had a ten-
dency to introduce the guillotine into the very body
of the house: indeed he almost thought lie could
already perceive it before him, (Hear him, hear
him! echoed Sir Boyle Roche). Grattan good-
humouredly replied, ' that the honourable member
must have a sharper sight than he had. He cer-
tainly could see no such thing ; but though, added
Grattan, looking with his glass towards Egan, I
may not see the guillotine, yet methiuks I can per-
ceive the executioner.'
This Sir Boyle Roche — Egan's sup-
porter— was eminently the butt and bull •
maker of the House. His bulls are, how-
ever pretty well known— such as the one
he made, when some one said the house
had no right to load posterity with a
debt. — * What, said he, and so we are to
beggar ourselves for fear of vexing pos-
terity. Now I would ask the honourable
gentleman, and this still more honourable
House, why we should put ourselves out
of our way to do any thing for posterity ;
for what has posterity done for us ?' — Sir
Boyle was puzzled by the roar of laughter
which followed, and supposing the House
had misunderstood him, he assured them,
that by posterity, he did not at all mean
our ancestors, but those who were to come
immediately after them.' — On another oc-
casion— a bill for the Suspension of the
Habeas Corpus, we believe — ' it would
surely be better, Mr. Speaker, to give up
not only apart, but, if necessary, even
the whole, of our constitution, to preserve
the remainder.''
Another, of a somewhat different cha-
racter— quite new to us— was made on the
petition of Dennis M'Carthy, who had
been Lord Lisle's postillion, and had been
cast in an action of damages for crim. con.
•with his lady. Not being able to pay the
excessive amount (£5,000) he lay in pri-
son many years. And what, Mr, Speaker,
said Sir Boyle, in presenting the petition,
was this poor servant's crime ? After all,
sure, Mr Speaker, it was only doing his
master's business by his mistresses orders ;
and is it not very hard to keep a poor ser-
vant in gaol for that which if he had not
done he would have deserved a horse-
whipping?' This way of putting the case
had the desired effect — the fellow was
released.
Sir Jonah professes over and over again
to be very superstitious — by which he
means, that he believes in the reality of
ghosts •, several stories are told, Irish like,
some to invalidate and some to establish.
One, a very laughable one, was the ap-
pearance to one David Lander, of a man,
whom the said David knew to have been
hanged. Being greatly alarmed, and
thinking there was no better protection
than a prayer — he endeavoured to recol-
lect; but being unable to recal one, he
started with the catechism — question and
answer — What is your name? David. Who
gave you that name ? My godfathers, &c.
&c.
Sir Jonah, however, and his lady, and
his lady's maid — all three of them, heard
a most unearthly voice, in the dead of the
night, under their window, cry Rossmore !
Rossmore! Rossmore! — and the first thing
they learnt in the morning was Lord Ross-
more's death, who had died at half past
two, precisely the time he, his lady, arid
his lady's maid, heard the dread sound of
Rossmore! Rosmore! Rossmore!
Vestigia Anylicana, or Illustrations of
the more interesting and debatable Points
of the History and Antiquities of Eng-
land, from the earliest Age» to the Ac-
eession of the House of Tudor, by Stephen
Reynolds Clarke, 2 vols. Sro.; 1826. —
Multitudes of bulky histories of our own
country as we have, scarcely any one but
Hume's is now ever glanced at, nor has-
been for the last half century. The con-
sequence is a pretty general unacquaint-
ed ness with whatever is not to be found
in his elegant volumes; and of the earlier
periods those volumes confessedly present
a mere outline — vigorous and effective no
doubt, and adequate perhaps to the com-
mon purposes of the general reader, but
productive of very little satisfaction to the
more minute inquirer. The object of Mr.
Clarke, then, is in some measure to fi^l
up this outline — to furnish a supplemen-
tary volume or two, embracing the more
important omissions of the national his-
torian up to the accession of Henry VII. ;
and to this undertaking he has brought
considerable industry, and some judg-
ment. He professes to have gone, on all
occasions, to the original sources of facts,
and certainly characterises the several
authorities with a discrimination and pro-
priety, that shews some familiarity with
them •, but for any fresh information which
his researches have discovered, he might
almost as well have spared his labour.
We assure him nothing new will strike
the reader, who has any acquaintance with
Mortimer, orTurner,or Henry, or the com-
mon "Chronicles." The general credu-
lity of the authorities to which he appeals
required the exercise not merely of sound
judgment, but of severe criticism ; and
had they been thus dealt with, we should
surely never have heard again of Boadi-
cea's killing 70,000 Romans, nor of the
Romans retaliating by the slaughter of
80,000 Britons ; nor of Alfred's hanging
up gold bracelets in the highway, secure
80'
Monthly Review of Literature,
[JULY;
of their safety either from the virtue of
the subject, or the vigilance of the. police.
It is however only iu the earlier periods
that he is so little scrupulous of receiving
things just as he fiuds them; — but num-
bers at no period startle him — and he can
coolly record, in the Crusades, the muster
on the shores of the Bosphorus of 100,000
caralry, and 600,000 infantry.
But though we have been rather inte-
rested by Mr. Clarke's book, and think it
not wholly valueless, we can say nothing
for the mode i.u which he has chosen to
convey his communications. This mode
is that of dialogue, and surely never were
talkers more stupid and unawakening, and
destitute of character than the three gen-
tlemen, who sustain the part of dialogists,
under the names of Author, Friend, and
Pupil. The author makes the longest
speeches ; the friend, as behoves a friend,
comes occasionally in aid; and the pupil
puts questions, pertinent arid impertinent,
and draws conclusions sometimes cor-
rectly to spare the author, and sometimes
incorrectly to give him the cue for fresh
observation. But they might any of them
change places at any time. The induce-
ment to this round-about course was, it
seems the advantage of digressing — an
advantage that might have been secured
in twenty more agreeable ways — few wri-
ters find any difficulty in this respect.
The whole period which he has sur-
veyed he has split into eleven divisions,
under the title of dissertations. In imita-
tion, or as he phrases it, in adherence to
a rule of the ancients, he plants the dia-
logists in some spot, calculated by its local
history, to give a natural introduction to
the discussion he contemplates. Thus, for
the Britons, we find the talkers standing
among the piles and ruins of Stonehenge ;
the origin and peculiarities of these con-
structions are minutely discussed ; and
after assigning them to the Britons, it
becomes, of course, the most obvious thing
in the world to talk of the Britons them-
selves. Dover Castle is a good position
for the Romans ; Barfreston Church, in
Kent, for the Saxons ; Canute's Tower,
St. Edmondsbury, for the Danes ; Colches-
ter Castle for the Normans; the Temple
Church, Salisbury Cathedra', Waltham
Cross, Windtor Castle, King's College,
and Crosby House, for successive pe-
riods of the history of the Plantagenets.
The style of these several buildings
enables the writer to speak of the changes
in the progress of English architecture —
nothing however but what is of every-
day occurrence is to be looked for in this
matter.
In the early account of the Saxons, we
are treated with the whole story of the
British Arthur, and Merlin, and Mor-
gana, gathered professedly from Nennius
and Geoffery of Monmouth; with sundry
reasons for substantiating the actual ex-
istence of Arthur at least.
In Athelston's reign, we meet with Guy
of Warwick, of whose existence, however,
Mr. Clarke is very doubtful ; but the
" pupil" concludes that, as some excava-
tions on the banks of the Avon are still
called Guy's Cliff, no argument could
invalidate, in that neighbourhood, the
truth of the story — meaning, among other
things, Guy's killing a dragon, a wild
boar, the dun cow, and Colbraud the
Danish giant. For our parts, we never,
heard in that neighbourhood of any thing
but the cow and Col brand ; and of these
the relics still exhibited imperatively si-
lence incredulity itself.
About the same period follows a long
account of St. Dunstan and the devil — a
story which Hume delighted to particu-
larise, and which therefore required no
supplying; and Mr. Clarke has nothing
fresh to communicate about them. But
Mr. Clarke thinks very little of his en-
gagement to confine himself to the sup-
plying of what he terms Hume's defi-
ciencies. Of Edward the Confessor he
tells us, he was the first to touch for the
king's evil — a fact mentioned by Hume.
Mr. Clarke states, indeed, from Aiired's
life of Edward, that the custom originated
in a young woman's dreaming that she
was cured of a scrofulous disease by the
king's touching her. Edward's succes-
sors, he adds, regarded this privilege as
a part of their estate, and went touching
on till William, who refused the office ;
it was resumed by Anne; but her succes-
sor finally dropped it.
Speaking of Editha, Edward's wife, who
was a sister of Harold's, and a woman of
extraordinary vigour of intellect, one of
the dialogists quotes from Ingulph : —
I saw her, says Ingulph, many times in my child-
hood, when 1 went to visit my father, at that time
employed in the palace : if she met me returning
from school, she questioned me iu the progress I had
made in grammar and logic ; and when she had
entangled me by some subtle argument, she never
failed to bestow upon me three or four crowns, and
to order me some refreshment.
Of William the Conqueror, Mr. Clarke
tells us, as Hume does, that he was the
son of Harlotta, the daughter of a tanner
at Falaise, whose name, he adds, on his
own authority, has since been , so invidious-
ly applied. What say the etymologists to
this? But William's courtship of the
daughter of the Count of Flanders is of a
very extraordinary description, and re-
minds us of Bennilong of New Holland : —
The lady at first refused William's addresses,
objecting that she would never marry a bastard ;
which giving great disgust to the lover, he lay wait
for Matilda as she returned from mass at Bruges,
and seizing her, tore her clothe?, and both beat and
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
81
kicked her— pugnis, calcibu«, calcaribns verberat.
Having performed this feat, lie rode off with im-
punity. The damsel of course took to her bed ;
but when interrogated by her father concerning
the matter, such is the unaccountableness of ladies'
tastes, she declared she would never have any
other husband than the Duke of Normandy.
Mr. Clarke questions the story of the
Curfew, because no writer speaks of it
earlier than Polydore Virgil, in the time
and haying married her, by the aivice of six bishop t
assembled at St. Paul's, she assumed the Christian
faith, and was baptised by the name of Matilda,
and became the mother of Thomas a lieckct.
The most intolerable parts of the vo-
lumes are the details of Irish aud Scotch
kings ; and the best and most agreeable
his reviews of the original sources of our
history, and his examinations of Shak-
speare's historical plays. The internal
of Henry VIII. But this was a law of evidences he produces that Falsfaff's name
police, says Hume correctly, which Wil-
liam had previously established in Nor-
mandy. See Du Moulin, Hist, de Nor-
mandie, p. 160, The same law had place
in Scotland. L. L. Burgor, cap. 86.
7'he monuments which remain of Wil-
liam Rufus, according to the historians,
are the Tower, Westminster Abbey, and
London Bridge.
William added, replies Mr. Clark, a spacious
hall to the palace at Westminster, which remained
three centuries ; but the present structure was
erected by Richard II. The account of the other
edifices is not much more correct : the London
Bridge constructed by William Rufus was of wood ;
the first stone bridge, consisting of nineteen arches,
being begun by King John ; and the " Towers of
Julius, London's lasting shame," as a truly learn-
ed and elegant poet most absurdly calls them, were
commenced by the conqueror. The principal tower
or keep, being injured by a violent storm, was re-
paired and completed by William Rufus ; its mo-
dern casing is of the age of Charles the first.
Queen Eleanor's offer of the dagger or
the bowl to poor Rosamond, vanishes at the
touch of such criticism as depends upon
contemporary and existing documents:
was originally Oldcastle, but with no
reference to Lord Cobham, and changed
to Falstatf without reference to the wealthy
knight ot'that name, are very satisfactory.
His review of Macbeth, too — with the
descent of the Stuarts from Bungro, — and,
generally, his exhibitions of Shakspeare's
complaisance to Elizabeth and James.
Of almost all the original writers of
English history he has given apparently
a ve;y faithful account. We do not pre-
tend ourselves to any very extensive ac-
quaintance with them, but so far as we
have at different times dipped into them,
our conceptions correspond pretty closely
with the author's estimate. He has given
a very full, and we have no doubt an
accurate account of the different collec-
tions of them from Parker's in 1547, to
Gales in 1691, and Baron Maseres in 1807.
But we have no complete and uniform
collection — nothing like the Recueil des
Histoires des Gauls et de la France, —
though that is yet very far from complete
— the 18th volume, folio, was published
in 1822, and reaches only to the thirteenth
century. A resolution passed the House
The old chroniclers never allude to the tragical of Commons about three or four years ago,
or violent death of Rosamond, further than by re-
lating that the furious menaces of the queen pro-
duced such an effect upon her spirits, that she did
not long survive. Her tomb being adorned with
various pieces of sculpture— one of them a cup —
probably an accidental ornament, might suggest
the notion that she was poisoned.
At the same touch flies the romance of
the queen of Edward the First sucking
the poisoned wound of her husband.
Mr. Clarke produces from the Old
Chronicles a curious account of Beckett's
family: —
Eeckett, the first man of English descent who,
after the Roman Conquest, rose to any considerable
recommending such a publication to the
care of the government; and steps, it is
said, have been taken for the accomplish-
ment of this object. We only pray the
publication may move at a quicker rate
than the French one; and, above all things,
be printed more for use than show — that
is, at an approachable price.
Dramatic Scenes, by Miss Milford ;
1827. — Our general experience of similar
attempts was little likely, we must confess,
to make us sanguine with respect even to
the particular instance of Miss Mitford.
Besides most readers, we feel convinced,
are conscious of a misgiving— almost an
preferment,, was the son of Gilbert Beckett, a citi- expec{atjoa of disappointment, on open-
ing books of a miscellaneous character,
whether those books be the productions
of a single mind in its different moods, or
the contributions of many. Few persons,
in these days of universal authorship, are
so ignorant of the process by which Ge-
nius effects her best productions, as not
to know that strong conceptions have a
tendency to dilate rather than contract
their dimensions — that images crowd and
accumulate by meditation — that the fancy
and the feeling become microscopic ; and
zen of London, who, travelling into the Holy Land
as a pilgrim, was taken prisoner, and became the
slave of a Mahometan chief. In .his captivity he
had the fortune to acquire the affections of his
master's daughter, who aided him to escape ; but
the lady, unable to endure the absence of her lover,
speedily followed him. The only English words
with which she was acquainted were London and
Gilbert ; and arriving in the metropolis, she ran
from street to street, repeating Gilbert, Gilbert, to
a deriding crowd. But true love, ever faithful to
his votaries, at length directed her steps to Beckett's
house : he received her with the utmost affection ;
M.M. New Scries,— VoL.IV. No, 19.
M
Monthly Review of Literature,
[J
that the simplest incidents, which have
once taken hold of a mind truly poetical,
soon become the nucleus — the central
point of gravitation, around which a world
of thoughts and subordinate incidents be-
gin to revolve. The inventive mind,
•whence all this universe of fancy arises,
so loves to contemplate its own creation,
t bat it will not and cannot, without pain-
ful efforts, disengage itself from the em-
ployment till the work be made a perfect
whole. In plain terms, we mean, the
powers of genuine inspiration are com-
monly thought to be competent to whole
dramas at least ; and a tacit persuasion
exists in the minds of most people, that
short productions of imagination are either
the fruits of very inferior writers, or if
they issue from the better kind, are only
shreds and patches of their higher facul-
ties— so intimately blended in human na-
ture are the ideas of greatness of power
and tenacity of object.
We were well pleased, therefore, to per-
ceive that Miss Mitford — a favourite of
ours confessedly — can effectually stir our
hearts to any variety of emotion, even in
the narrow compass of a single scene.
Considering how much time is generally
required before the matured, the hack-
nied, the world - worn reader can be
brought into a state to be moved, no
slight degree of power is evinced by a
writer, who so rapidly tunes our minds to
her own purposes. Her genius reminds
us of the quality of machinery, where the
less the time the greater the power.
We have no space to speak of each piece
separately. "Cunegunda's vow" fixed our
attention. The Duke of Mantua's speech,
•when describinghis own wife, and contrast-
ing her with Cunegunda, possesses the high-
est dramatic beauty. The " Bridal Eve " is
full of the deepest and most touching ten-
derness— we recollect reading it in one
of the New Year Souvenirs. But we must
not forget " Fair .Rosamond." The detail
of her first interview with her royal se-
ducer, as given by herself to oue of her
attendants, on that last fatal day, when
they were expecting the king, and dis-
covered too late that Queen Eleanor had
penetrated into their asylum, is well worth
extracting : —
Rosamond.— 'Twill soon be even. Did I never
tell thee
The story of his wooing ? Listen, girl,
Sit here and listen. Twas a glorious day,
A glorious autumn day, as bright and clear
As this, the small white clouds now softly sailing
Along the deep blue sky, now fixed and still
As the light western breeze arose or sank,
By fits— a glorious day ! I and my maids
Sat by the lakelet in my father's park,
Working as we do now, right merrily.
For young and innocent maids are in their
nature
Gay as the larks above their heads. The scene
Was pleasant as the season, not a spot
Of the Lord Clifford's wide demesne could vie
With this in beauty. Woods on every side,
Ash, oak, and beech, sloped downward to the
clear
And quiet waters, overhung by tufts
Of fern and hazel, and long wreaths of briar* ;
Only one little tufty bank was free.
From that rich underwood — there we sat bending
Over a tapestry loom, until we heard
A horn sound right above us, and espied
A hunter threading the rude path which wound
To our sequestered bower. Oh what a sight
It was ! The managed steed, white as the foam
Of some huge torrent, fiery, hot, and wild,
Yet reined into a lameness by his bold
And graceful rider, winding with slow steps
His way 'mid those huge trees; now seen, now
lost,
Now in bright sunshine, now in deepest shade ;
The red autumnal tint of those old woods
Contrasting well the huntsman's snow-white steed
And garb of Lincoln green. No sign bore be
Of prince or king, save in the sovran grace
Of his majestic port, his noble brow,
His keen commanding eye. My maidens fled
Soon as they saw the stranger.
Mabel.— And thou, lady ?
Rosamond.— Why I too thought to fly, but
loitered on,
Collecting the bright silks and threads of gold,
Careful excuse that to myself I made
For lingering there till he approached ; and then
When I in earnest turned to go, he stayed me
With such a smile and such a grace, and craved
My aid so piteously, for he had lost
Comrades, and hounds, and quarry, and himself
In that morn's chase, that I was fain to proffer
Guidance to our old castle.
Mabel.— He went with thee ?
Rosamond. — No. At Lord Clifford's name he
started.
— Mabel, shun thou the lover that shall start to
hear
Thy father's name. — With slight excuse he rode
To seek his partners of the chase. But oft
From that day forth we met beside the lake ;
And often, when November storms came fast,
Driving against the casement, I have wept
Drop for drop with the sky, if my dear father,
In his fond care, forbad his Rosamond
To brave the raging tempest ; all my heart
Was in that bare damp wood, and on the bank
Of that dark water, where my lover stood
To wait my coming, patiently as sits
The nightingale beside his drooping mate.
How could I chuse but love him ?
Mabel. — Didst thou know thy lover for a king?
Rosamond. — Not till my love had been con-
fessed ; then he in turn confessed
The fatal secret. What a coil of wild
And desperate passions broke within my heart —
Fear, shame, and pride, and anger, but true love
O'ermastered all ; we fled, and I am here.
Mabel — Alas I
Rosamond. — Nay, wherefore cry alas! — my
father—
I must not think of him— out on thee, wench !
That sigh of thine hath saddened me, hath brought
Fond thoughts of days of old — the blessed days
When I was innocent and happy! Girl,
J827.J
Domestic and Foreign.
Thou hast a lather, an old white-haired man,
Who loves thee. Leave him not, I charge thec,
Mabel!
Bring not those white hairs to the grave with
shame
For thy foul sin I
The Widow's Tales, and other Poems,
by Bernard Barton ; J82T. — We are glad
to see Mr. Barton again — sure of finding
good sentiments and sound sense in every
line he writes. This little volume com-
mences with the story of a shipwreck — no
new subject to be sure — of a party of mission-
aries, wilh their wives and children, on their
outward voyage. The entire crew and com-
pany of the vessel perish, with the single ex-
ception of one missionary's widow, who
lives to tell the tale of destruction— a tale
delivered with extreme simplicity, and in
the true spirit, which we must suppose a
missionary's wife to possess — standing aloof
as missionaries must seem to do from the
common ties and associations, that exert so
strong a power over bosoms yet unwearied
with the world and its concerns. She tells
of the storm's rise, and growth, and fury, and
devastation, and subsidence— of the few that
lingered after the many that were over-
whelmed, in a tone of monotonous melan-
choly— the constant concomitant of such as
sternly resolve not to let their affections rest
on any thing below. This melancholy be-
comes for a moment, or two absolutely pa-
thetic, when she describes the fate of the
children struggling in violent and helpless
terror against irresistible destruction ; and,
again, the condition of her husband, who
dies, sustained in her arms that are scarcely
able to support him the while on the frag-
ment of the ship to which she clings. We
will not mutilate the poem by an extract ;
for indeed there is not a passfige that would
appear with any advantage iu an insulated
state.
In another part of the volume are some
verses, entitled " Sea-side Reverie," the
language of which is more melodious than
is usual with Mr. Barton ; for though he
writes easily, he certainly does not write
musically. The piece is more unexcep-
tionable too, than the rest of the smaller
poems, from the entire absence of the
phraseology of the conventicle, while, never-
theless, religion and poetry seem to reign
with equal dominion over the soul of the
writer. There is a pretty large class of rea-
ders who approve of the exclusive appropria-
tion of poetry to religious topics. For our-
selves, though we shall always be eager to
do justice to Barton's gentle/devout, chaste,
and truth-worshipping mind, yet, we confess,
our taste, our longings, have a wider range
— we think there is a time to be grave, and
a time to be gay. He seems to contem plate
the extended and complex universe in one
single point of view only — taking to the very
letter the religious advice oi seeing God in
all things— of reading death and the grave
iQ stones and everything; and thus he is
obliged, like all who unnaturally and need-
lessly circumscribe their views, to employ
the microscope for the purpose of enlarging
his favourite points. And this is done too,
to a degree painfully wearisome to such as
would lain look about in every direction —
imbibing all those beauties of the moral, in-
tellectual, and physical world, of which we
seem to ba the free and natural heirs — an
inheritance, for the relinqinshraent of which
there appears to us to be no rational ground.
The Living and the Dead, by a Country
Curate; 1827..— The scribblings of a Coun-
try Curate, relative mainly to certain eccle-
siastics of some reputation, but jumbling oc-
casionally the secular with the clerical, in a
verj7 odd manner — none of any worth to any
soul breathing, unless it be in the single
chance of their proving productive to the
writer himself, who must not be supposed to
throw out his panegyrics, nor even his cen-
sures, at random. Mr. Benson, the late Mr.
Rennel, arul Archdeacon Daubeny are co-
vered with the froth of his laudations. The
Dean of Salisbury is the dedicatee — "the
able supporter'' — the dedicator informs him
arid the world — " and eloquent advocate of
our pure and apostolical (what does this
mean?) church— happily combining energy
in action with sobriety in precept, and pour-
traying all that is glowing in piety, without
the least leaven of fanatical zeal" — all
which, for any thing we know, may be very
true ; — but of what value is anonymous evi-
dence? To be sure the Dean — with a
bishoprick in immediate prospect — will never
be suffered to burst in ignorance.
But now and then, the writer en-
counters and disserts upon laymen and wo-
men. Mrs. Joanna Buillie and her sister
" Grizzle,'' are met at table, and must
both be shewn up— the brilliancy arid ma-
jesty of surpassing genius — the subser-
viency and unenvying good-humour of con-
tented inferority. Mrs. Baillie was exceed-
ingly eloquent (how easy it is to use these
fine words) upon divers topics ; unluckily for
us the writer is no " reporter," and we are
left without a specimen. Some " professor"
thought the Waverley novels would not go
down to posterity ; Mrs. Baillie thought they
would; but on what grounds either of them
thus opined, appears not ; and of course, there
is no judging from this quarter, whether they
will or will not. Then comes Francis Jeffery
in the scene; but he is a whig (by the way,
a "whig" is now, it seems, according to an
official declaration in the last Edinburgh,
a go-between, neither more nor less), bilious
to a mortal degree, mentally and bodily—
" disappointed man " stamped in large cha-
racters upon every feature; his sneer, wither-
ing ; his sarcasm, cutting : " let him," says
the writer, in deep and solemn humility,
" pride himself in both — there is no peace or
harmony within." Poor Mr. Jetfery ! could
not you, Sir, transfuse, and thus dispose of a
little of your superfluous bile ? — or has this
divine, think you. enough of his own?
M 2
Monthly Review of Literature,
84
Among other tittle-tattle, we have Lady
Byron's conduct relative to my Lord's MS.,
and Mr. Moore's surrender of it, talked over
again, with the strange and unwarrantable
insinuation that the lady made the offer of
indemnification to Mr. Moore, in full se-
curity it would not be accepted. The
money, in the opinion of this meddling per-
son, should have been settled on Muster
llussel (Moore's son), for whose benefit the
JJS., it is asserted, had been originally given ;
and then his papa could have have had no
power to refuse. "LadyB. is rich — very
rich, it seems ; and the transaction says mwch
for her pride, and little for her feeling.''
Now, manifestly, the writer knows no more
of the matter than we do — his sole authority,
the partial and suspicious intelligence of the
public prints. How dares he then — with all
his professions too — to judge of that lady's
motives in this way ? Is this in consistency
with the wish, so p.ousiy expressed in the
preface, that the volume may breathe no
sentiment, which his spiritual avocations
must condemn — contain no expression, which
may appear hostile to the interests of true
morality and true religion? Truly, to
preach is one thing, and to practise another.
The Pioneers, by the A uthor of the Prai-
rie,2fc.; 1827.— A second edition of this tale,
— very little known in this country, but writ-
ten, as every body knows who attends to
these matters, by the author of the Prairie,
of which we gave a notice last month — has
just appeared, and chronologically precedes
it. The central parts of the State of New
York, which now count nearly a million
and a half of inhabitants, were, so recently
as 1785, an untenanted wilderness. The
prodigious transmutation, therefore, is in our
own times, and distinctly traceable by living
witnesses. The purpose of the author, in
his own words, is to give some idea of the
manner in which this magical change has
been wrought, of the state of society which
existed during the process of alteration, and
of the means that were employed to' effect
it. The story is quite a subordinate matter,
though always strictly subservient to this
main purpose — to exhibit the progress of a
( clearing.'
One Marmaduke Temple, and the son of
a Major Effingbam, form an early intimacy
«.t school. The Temples are quakers, and
commercial people ; the Effirighams mili-
tary. The elder Effingham resigns his estate
rnto his son's hands, and the first act of the
son is to aid his early friend. He enables
him to set up a house of business in Phila-
delphia, and himself becomes a sleeping and
clandestine partner, to avoid shocking the
prejudices of the lather, who disdains the
pedlar principles of trade. Under Temple's
inarmgetiK'iit the concern thrives to admira-
tion, till the breaking out of the revolution.
The Efliiiglutms, before the buttle of Lex-
ington, quit the colony, but previously de-
posit in Temple's hands all their valuable
[JULY,
effects and papers for security. Soon after,
the war commenced in good earnest, and the
friends take opposite sides — the Effinghams,
of course, are loyalists. On the peace, at the
sale of the loyalists' lands. Temple pur-
chases Effingham's property, on very advan-
tageous terms, and resolves to withdraw from
business, and attend to the settlement of his
newly acquired territory. To this place —
the interior of the State of New York, he
accordingly, in 1793, goes, accompanied by
an only daughter, the heiress of all his pro-
perty, armed \iith the authority of judge;
and through his interest, a cousin ot his is
also invested with the office of sheriff. The
great purpose of Temple is to introduce
something like police into the wild district,
to check the waste of trees, and deer, and
game, and fish, which abundance generates
among new settlers.
On the settlement were three conspicuous
persons, an old Indian chief of the extin-
guished Delawares ; a young man, called by
the old chief the Young Eagle, and reported
to have Delaware blood in him, and an old
American, Natty, of Indian and independent
habits. These are living apparently as hun-
ters, and evidently consider Temple and his
associates as usurpers. On his very first ar-
rival, Temple, shooting at a buck, acciden-
tally hits the Young Eagle in the shoulder,
withoat any very serious consequences; and
in concern for the injury he had thus unwit-
tingly done him, he labours t.o conciliate, and
finally succeeds in persuading him to come
to his house. The young man is full of mys-
tery and reserve. He proves to be a person
of high intelligence and cultivation, and suf-
ficiently haughty and ungracious, attribu-
table apparently to his Indian blood ; but he
gets on for some time pretty harmoniously
with the judge's family, and officiates as a
sort of secretary — still, however, keeping up
an extraordinary degree of intimacy with his
old friends of the woods. With them, too,
there is some mystery —nobody ever saw
the inside of their wigwam, and a good deal
of curiosity is of course excited.
In the mean while, the sheriff, who is of
a bustliag, fidgetty, disposition, is intro-
ducing measures of civilization — among
others, that of the church service — and en-
forcing the observance of the laws of tbes
United States, particularly those which pro-
hibited the killing of deer in the breeding
season. Old Natty, the American, of Indian
habits, in contempt of this and all other
laws, which are not, he conceives, made for
the woods, kills a buck. A busy fellow gets
scent of this — there were already lawyers on
the settlement, — and a resolution is taken to
make an example of Natty, and enforce the
penalty. Just at this period Nutty rescues
the judge's daughter from the jaws of a
panther, and, of course, makes her his friend
for ever. The judge, in common consis-
tency could not, on being appealed to, decline
issuing a warrant to search Natty's hut for
the forbidden venison ; but Natty defends his
182?.]
Domestic and foreign.
castle stoutly, and bandies the busy-body'
informer, himself a magistrate, who also
executed, lor the nonce, the office of constable,
pretty roughly ; but eventually the case
comes before the new court under two in-
dictments ; and Natty being found guilty of
assaulting a magistrate, is sentenced to fine
and imprisonment. The judge, on a prin-
ciple of Roman justice, resists the appeals of
his daughter, and his own feelings in favour
of her preserver, but directs her to enable
Natty to pay the fine. To the prison she
flies ; the old man refuses to accept assis-
tance, and resolves to go and shoot beavers
to make up the sum. He and a companion,
an old sailor, in the judge's service, who, in
the course of the story, furnishes some coarse
but humorous scenes, and who had need-
lessly thrust himself into Natty 's embarrass-
ments, are preparing to break prison; and
lie begs here as the only favour he will ac-
cept, not to betray them, and to bring him,
the next morning to a particular spot, a
canister of powder. In his flight from the
prison he is aided by the mysterious Young
Eagle, who had previously shewn, in indig-
nant terms, his contempt for what he con-
ceived the judge's unfeeling conduct to Natty,
and renounced his service. The next morn-
ing, in fulfilment of her engagement, Miss
Temple goes to meet old Natty, when, sud-
denly, she finds herself wrapped in a circle of
flame, and presently the youngster comes in
sight. He is astounded at the sight — he him-
self had, it seems, kindled the flame, and now
makes every attempt for her rescue. The
fire strengthens and advances ; the lady re-
signs herself to her inevitable fate ; he makes
n hurried and passionate declaration of his
admiration of her, and refuses to despair.
Just, however, as all hope, even with him,
was vanishing, Natty appears, and with his
usual promptitude rescues them both. The
eclaircissemeut quickly follows. The youth's
grandfather had been concealed in Natty's
hut — for what purpose is not explicitly
stated- he now comes forth, and proves to be
the father of Temple's friend. That friend
himself was dead, and Temple had believed
the family extinct. Temple had, however,
been honest, and in his will had given to his
executors, in trust, one half of his estate for
the Effinghams, should any survive. He
now promptly resigns that portion of his pro-
perty to the Young Eagle, who has not a
drop of Delaware blood in him ; he was
Indian only 03- adoption ; and the young lady
can no longer resist. They are, of course,
happy.
Though inferior, very decidedly, we think,
to the Prairie, here are some capital scenes
of description — such as the pigeon shooting,
when the air is darkened by their numbers,
and dragging the lake for fish ; and the con-
flagration. The attempts at humour are of
the Smollett cast, and not unsuccessful.
The Linguist, or Instructions in the
French and German Languayes, calcu-
lated to enable the Student to acquire a
Knowledge of these two most useful Lan-
guages without the Assistance of a Master.
2 vols. 8vo. — These volumes were pub-
lished some time ago in weekly numbers,
and have been found to promote the pur-
pose for which the indefatigable writer-
Mr. Boileau, a man of considerable expe-
rience and success in teaching — destined
them. For this reason, we willingly con-
tribute, what we can to their publicity.
The plan upon which the author pro-
ceeds is to take a small portion — a fable,
for instance, or a song — from some writer
of established reputation, and translate it
first into plain idiomatic English. Then,
going- over the whole again, step by step,
he gives the exact meaning- of each im-
portant word, and describes besides — if a
substantive, its gender and number, with
occasional notices relative to the gender
of words of similar termination ; if an
adjective, its gender and number, what it
agrees with, and why, with the reasons
for deviations from general rules ; if a
pronoun, in like mariner its gender and
number, and mode of declension — and
whether definite or indefinite; if a verb,
its person, tense, mood, and conjugation ;
and if irregular, he partially conjug-ates
it — adding- the particular prepositions that
usually accompany each verb.
Thus the present work possesses all the
advantages of Mr. Hamilton's method,
with the additional benefit of the free
translation, which precedes the analysis
of each piece — all idiomatic phrases being-
rendered there by English ones of cor-
responding- import, with an explanation,
besides, of the origin of such phrases, and
of the figurative application, which time
brings about in expressions, originally
applicable only to objects of sense.
The first fable in the book is the Le
Coq and La Perle of La Fontaine, the
translation and analysis of which occupy
about four pages. Then comes a German
lesson, with the same view, and of the
same length. Then French again, and so
on, alternately — each succeeding- portion
exhibiting' some peculiarity of the lan-
guage unnoticed in the preceding lessons.
The work is the very thing of which
hundreds of adult persons in the middle
ranks of life stand iu need. All the books
iu the world indeed will not communicate
the pronunciation of a foreign language,
and certainly not enough so to enable the
student to speak it correctly ; but the
author, in his introduction, points out very
sensibly several modes, by which, in the
metropolis, those, who are really ardent
in the pursuit may acquire a very tole-
rable French pronunciation, free of ex-
pense ; and for the rest, the Linguist fol-
lows the only course, by which people ar-
rived at maturity can bear to learn a Ian-
Monthly Review of Literature,
guage — that is, by leading them gradually,
through the medium of agreeable stories
impressed upon the memory, up to the
general priuciples of its grammar, instead
of adopting the old process of keeping
them for months among the cloudy heights
of those principles, uncheered by any
acquaintance with their familiar appli-
cation.
The Spirit and Constitution of the
Church, in their Relation to the general
Welfare of the State, by the Rev. Charles
Mackie, M.A., Hector qfQuarley, Hants;
1827. — The " Church " is of course the
hierarchy by law established. To demon-
strate the utility of this venerable insti-
tution beyond all dispute, is the purpose
of Mr. Mackie ; but to judge of the va-
lidity of the demonstration, we must first
glance slightly over his argument. He
takes a long reach, and begins with a
laborious confutation of a very senseless
objection which he thinks it worth while
to anticipate. First, does Christianity
countenance the distinctions and grada-
tions of society? Assuredly she does —
Christianity and society have the same
divine origin. Society cannot exist with-
out some to rule, and some to be ruled
— some to work, and some to be worked
for. Inevitably, and if so designedly,
some become rich and some poor. There-
fore Christianity sanctions these inequa-
lities of station, and shapes her directions
in accordance. There are virtues for the
rich, and virtues for the poor. She is no
enemy, therefore, to civilization — none to
the farthest heights of which our nature
is capable ; for, in favourable positions,
progression in refinement is the course of
nature ; and Christianity springing from
the author aud source of nature, as was
said, sanctions, and applauds, aud acce-
lerates the career of refinement.
Well, but looking to the records of
history, has not the course of civilization
been first to culminate, and then rapidly
to decline; and what but the same cycle
of events have we to expect ? We have
now risen to a height of refinement, per-
haps beyond the point, which any nation
the world ever saw has reached. May we
not then — must we not expect a declen-
sion even more striking, and more rapid ?
No, says Mr. Mackie, with unhesitating
confidence ; — like causes produce indeed
like etiects ; but like causes are not ope-
rating now ; at least, if like causes are
operating, another and a powerful cause
is operating also, which must of course
have a powerful influence on the complex
effect. In the declensions, to which his-
tory refers us, the check, which Chris-
tianity, or rather the Church, for that is
Mr. Mackie1!* point, presents, did not
exist. The church then it is — consisting,
as it does, of a myriad of most learned,
most moral, most active, most influential
persons — which spreads the conservative
principle through the corruptible mass of
society, and must for ever obstruct the
ebbings of prosperity. The church then
it is, which it is the paramount interest
of society to support — the church, in its
integrity, unentrenched upon in power,
and privilege, and emolument.
To preserve this sacred institution in
its most effective state is an object wor-
thy, nay, demanding the most solicitous
attention. It is the sheet-anchor of so-
ciety ; and on the strength and tenacity
of its hold the wise statesman must wholly,
and then he may securely, confide. But
is it really the church of these happy
realms, that is to work this salvation for
us ? Why, what is the characteristic of
an efficient church ? Is it not an order
of men set apart for the service of reli-
gion, and not only a body so set apart,
but a body consisting of different grada-
tions of rank — of bishops and archbishops,
priests aud prebendaries, deacons aud
archdeacons — of persons calculated, some
by their acquirements, and some by their
purses, to influence every rank and sta-
tion of life — bishops for the great, priests
for the middle ranks, and curates for the
poor? Does not the English church con-
sist of these gradations — corresponding to
the gradations of society ; and if each be
conservative of each, will not the whole
be conservative of the whole ? The thing
is beyond dispute. Christianity demands
a church — a church of gradations ; such
a church is the sole protection against the
relapses of civilization ; we have this pro-
tection— an efficient church, and so long,
of course, as this church exists, we are
insured against ruin. Let us guard it
then as the apple of our eye — as the sine
qua non of existence.
Now assuredly we are not the persons
to deny the moral efficacy of the establish-
ment, but we have long felt deeply the
conviction, that this establishment — what-
ever might be its merits, and we are ready
to allow them, in spite of all counter
balances, to be great — was not so perfect
as to admit of no possible amendment. In
our simplicity, we had rashly supposed the
inequalities of the church — looking at it
as a body of teachers, all of equal preten-
sions, from all of whom certainly the same
qualifications were demanded — were al-
most intolerable; we looked with a jea-
lous eye on pluralities; and thought it
hard, peculiarly hard, that no access to
advancement existed, but through the
gates of political influence, or private and
family interest — especially when the doors
of other professions were barred against
the unsuccessful candidate for ecclesias-
tical distinctions. Little did we expect
to find the tables turned upon us, as Mr.
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
87
Mackie turns them, and to find that these
thing's, which we considered as defects, as
corruptions, were all advantages, studied,
foreseen, decided — the fruits of the highest
and most comprehensive policy — the pro-
duce of the soundest wisdom. What is cha-
racter, talent, learning-, without money ?
Therefore we must have princes in the
church with princely incomes, to enforce
good morals among- princes and nobles.
We must have pluralities, or what free
space will be left for the curates — the very
order of curates would be extinguished-—
and then what would become of the popu-
lace? We must have men in the church
with no hope or prospect of preferment,
to preserve a large moral mass of moral
influence, free of ambition, mingling among
the poor — where there is no hope there
can be no ambition. Close the gates of
the bar and the senate against disap-
pointed churchmen, and you keep them
in the church, and compel them to throw
their pearls before swine. All is then as
it should be, and we are answered— Mr.
Mackie is irresistible.
The short of the matter is, the book
before us is \\ritten for the purpose of de-
fending things as they are. The thought
of innovation is manifestly horror to the
writer, and he canuot but think it criminal
and atrocious in others. As a matter of
composition the book is wretchedly writ-
ten, with such involved and .complicated
sentences, and such a load of verbiage,
that frequently the reader will find him-
self obliged to go over the phrased three
or four times before the sense has any
chance of reaching his brain — and yet
occasionally there are passages of con-
siderable energy and vivacity. We look
ourselves oa mere style — except in works
of imagination — as a matter of very .infe-
rior consideration: but we do like direct-
ness and intelligibleuess. Take a slight
specimen — merely as a curiosity : —
Chap. V. — Of oar national prosperity, as unat-
tended by a d?generating influence, ascribed to the
nature of our established church. — Wherever we
must place the consummation of the wishes, which
philanthropy has formed, being sanctioned by rea-
son, and confirmed by revelation, from the bright-
ness of the destiny that awaits our nature in the
scene of their fulfilment, there comes a ray not
only cheering to its more distant prospects, but
which throws a light on all the intermediate por-
tion of futurity, and renders us so prescient of its
nature, that, assuming the alternative of contin-
gent circumstances, we may, if so permitted to ex-
press it, see into the coming fortunes of our country
almost with the clearness of prophetic eye.
This is manifestly a phraseology that
indicates familiarity enough with the writ-
ings of the seventeenth century, but an
absolute ignorance of the common style
of expression of his contemporaries ; and
we may pretty safely conclude, from this
fact alone, that his ignorance with respect
to the actual state of society, and the pre-
vailing opinions of the age, is equally
complete.
PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.
DOMESTIC.
ROYAL SOCIETY.
March 29. — Viscount Malion and the Rev.
C. Mayo were admitted Fellows of the So-
ciety, and the reading was commenced of a
paper on the compounds of chromium, by
Dr. Thompson. — April 5. The reading of the
above paper was resumed and concluded.
The principal object of it is to give an ac-
count of a singular compound of chromic acid
and chlorine, discovered some years since
by the author. In the investigation to which
it gave rise, he was led to a more careful
examination of the oxides of chromium than
they had before undergone, and to a know-
ledge of their composition. — 20. Dr. J.
Blackman was admitted, and the Duke of
Clarence elected a Fellow of the Society ;
and a pnper was communicated from Pro-
fessor Woodhouse, of Cambridge, on the de-
rangement of certain transit instruments by
the effects of temperature.
ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY.
The weekly lectures at this society, dur-
ing the past month, have been eminently at-
tractive. On Wednesday, the 30th ultimo,
Mr. Vigors, in an interesting and eloquent
lecture, illustrated the affinities that connect
the birds that leed by suction on vegetable
juices. This lecture was honoured by the
presence of a number of ladies distinguished
for rank and elegance. On the 13th instant,
Mr. Brookes concluded his scientific dis-
courses on comparative anatomy, by demon-
strating the thoracic and abdominal viscera
of the ostrich. Various interesting and im-
portant facts were illustrated in this lecture,
which Mr. B. concluded, by expressing his
readiness to continue his observations when-
ever an opportunity might offer itself for pro-
moting the views of the society. Mr. Vigors
delivered the final lecture, for the present
season, on the 20th instant, by continuing
his remarks on the affinities of birds. Among
the company assembled on the occasion, we
may mention the prince of Musignano
(Charles Lucian Buonaparte). Mr. Vigors,
after addressing the meeting on the prospects
of the society, and the increased success at-
tending upon its plans, entered upon his
immediate subject, by pointing out the cha-
racteristics that distinguished the five orders
of birds, as described in a diagram, exhibited
88
Proceedings of Learned Societies.
[JOLT,
for that purpose ; viz., the perching birds,
that take their food on trees ; the gallinace-
ous birds, that feed exclusively on the ground ;
the wading birds, existing partially on Irnd,
and partially on water ; the oceanic birds,
those exclusively of the water ; and the birds
of prey that support themselves alike on
trees and in the air. Of these, the gallina-
ceous birds formed the subject selected on
this occasion for particular illustration ; and
Mr. V. clearly traced the leading affinities
and analogies that connect the groupesoftbis
order. A variety of interesting and beautiful
specimens were exhibited, illustrative of the
peculiar structure and character of these birds.
ASTRONOMICAL, GEOLOGICAL, HORTICUL-
TURAL, AND LINN^AN, SOCIETIES, &C.
To none of these societies have any com-
munications of peculiar interest, been made
since our last, and for the insertion of their
routine business, election of members, <fec.,
we nave not sufficient space ; it affords us
pleasure, however, to observe the zeal they
manifest in cultivating the sciences they
Lave respectively embraced ; and feel confi-
dent, that so long as they pursue an honour-
able career, neither winking at the appro-
priation or employment of their funds for
private purposes, nor jobbing as a body for
the benefit of individuals, they will be regard-
ed by the government as highly beneficial to
the country, and be upheld by a generous
public, who may be imposed upon for a short
time by impudent pretension, when sanc-
tioned by an ancient name, but eventually
will distinguish between the real and sedulous
friends of science, and those who, under pre-
tence of upholding its purity, are betraying
its interests.
FOREIGN.
INSTITUTE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.
Paris, March 26. — M. M. C. Dupin and
Girard delivered respectively some observa-
tions on M. Lamblardie's project, for the im-
proving the navigation of the Seine. M.
Girard opposed it ; M. Dupin did not con-
sider that sufficient evidence had been ob-
tained to warrant a decisive conclusion on
the subject. M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire an-
nounced, that the ornithorynchi are ovipa-
rous, and lay their eggs in nest.s, into the de-
scription of which he entered, but postponed
the consideration of the entire subject until
he had verified his observations. A favour-
able report was delivered by M. Malthieu,
and approved by the Academy, on a clock^
of which water was the moving power, and
which was invented by M. Blanc, of Greno-
ble. M. Dupetit Thouars read a memoir
connected with the history of conifronstnes.
Colonel Bory de St. Vincent, correspondent
member of the academy, presented his work
on m;m, accompanied by a letter, addressed
and which was read by, M. Cuvier.— April 2.
M. M. Latieille and Dumeril reported on a
notice of M. Lepellatier de St. Fargeau, rela-
tive to certain hybrid generations (i. e. re-
sulting from the union of two different spe-
cies), among the genus Volucella ol Geoffroy,
A favourable report was delivered by M. M.
Cordier and Brudant, on a geological notice,
by M. M. Dulcros and Roert, geographical
engineers, respecting one portion of the de-
partment of the Bouches-du-Rhone. This
was adopted by the academy. M. M. de
Jonnes read some statistical observations on
the civil life and domestic economy of the
Romans at the beginning of the fourth cen-
tury of the empire. Another notice was
read by M. Giroux de Buzareingues, regard-
ing some experiments on the re-production
of domestic animals. — 9. M. Lorane, of the
Academy of Turin, communicated some me-
teorological observations made at Lombri-
asco during the year 1810. The minister of
the interior having requested the academy to
inquire into the facts connected with the
death of Mr. Drake, who was bitten at Rouen
by a rattle-snake, a report was made on the
subject, and referred to a commission. M.
Damoiseau read a memoir on the comet, of
which the period is 3-75 years. It was ob-
served successively in February and M;irch
1826, by M. M. Biela, at Josephstadt (Bo-
hemia), Gambart at Marseilles, and Clauzen
at Altona ; and according to their respective
calculations, this was the comet which ap-
peared in 1782 and in 1806: the ellipses cal-
culated by M. Gambardt and Clauzen, leave
no doubt on this subject. From the re-
searches of M. Damoiseau, it appears that
this comet will re-pass its perihelion the 27 ih
November 1832 (27.4808), in which year
also, Enke's comet of 1204 days will re-ap-
pear. As a further compliment to the me-
mory of M. Laplace, M.Lagendie announced,
in the name of the committee of geometry,
that they would postpone for six months
longer, the election of a successor to that
great man. — 16. M. Desgenettes proposed
himself to the academy as an associate, in
place of the late Duke de la Rochefoucault.
A memoir was read by M. Cauchy, on the
transformation of double integral functions,
and on the integration of linear equations
of partial differences ; and another by M.
Richard, entitled, " Monograph on the Or-
chide» of the Islands of France and Bour-
bon."
1827.]
VARIETIES, SCIENTIFIC AND MISCELLANEOUS.
Scienff/lc Sensibility. — In the last num-
ber df the Philosophical Magazine, a letter
is inserted from a Mr. Airy, Lucusian Pro-
fessor of Mathematics in the University of
Cambridge, complaining, that in the pre-
ceding number, Mr. Ivory had coupled his
name with terms which have never before
appeared " in the pages of that Magazine,
or he will venture to say in those of any other
scientific > journal" — had assailed him with
" opprobrious epithets," had '< mentioned
him in a gross manner,'' " attacked his cha-
racter as a gentleman," and overwhelmed
him with " a torrent of spleen.'' " On m'as-
sassine,'' cries this worthy personage — why,
as yet, they are not even whipping him !
Thus stands the case. There are in the Phi-
losophical Transactions for 1824, some pa-
pers of Mr. Ivory, on the attraction, of sphe-
roids— papers whose merit has been since
acknowledged by the award of the first
royal medal in the gift of that institution.
Of one of the conditions of equilibrium
given in these papers, Mr. Airy (in a me-
moir published in the Philosophical Trans-
actions for 1826) remarks that " the reason-
ing upon which Mr. Ivcry has founded the
necessity of such a condition, appears to
me altogether defective.'' M. Poisson, whose
scientific attainments are assuredly beyond all
doubt, had thought the same condition (though
so entirely beneath Mr. Airy'sconsideration) as
worthy of a profound and laborious investi-
gation. Mr. Ivory, aware of the space which
a Lucasian Professor of Mathematics must
occupy in the eyes of the world, complains
of Mr. Airy so " flippantly finding fault"
with his law ; and adds, " what a difference
between the supercilious importance of the
Cambridge Professor and the " candid expo-
sitions of M. Poissou.'' These are the ob-
servations which Mr. Airy denounces as " an
offensive note," as " unhandsome treat-
ment,'' as injurious to his " character as
a gentleman,3' unparalleled in the annals of
critical invective ; "gross," ''opprobrious,"
*' a torrent of spleen,'' " unworthy of the re-
spect which a gentleman ought to have
for himself, as well as- for any other who
claims that title."
Were the author of this last tirade un-
known, we should consider it merely as the
splenetic effusion of a weak, vain, irritable,
ordinary man, who was conscious of having
given offence, and apprehensive of chastise-
ment; but he is an official personage, and
his advancement is the pledge of his ability.
Had Mr. Ivory hinted that the conditions
which entered into the problem lay far be-
yond the grasp of Mr. Airy's comprehension ;
had he insinuated that, from the practice of
dogmatizing to boys, he was not aware of
the courtesy that wusdue to men ; that, elate
with the applause of an university, he had
mistaken his character in the estimation of
the world ; and that an opinion delivered
M.M, New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 19.
e cathedrd, though extolled by youth, might
be ridiculed by age ; we should have under-
stood and have partaken Mr. Airy's indigna-
tion— as it is, we only surmise that the nerves
of a professor are of exquisite sensibiliiy.
*' I console myself,'' says Mr. Ivory, " be-
cause I know with the certainty of demon-
stration, that Mr. Airy's problem, admitting
that any practical utility could be attached
to it, is not solved, and that it cannot possibly
be solved except by my theory, and indirectly
with the help of that law, with which he
(Mr. A.) so flippantly finds fault." " I con-
sole myself,'' replies Mr. Airy, " by think-
ing that Mr. Ivory has not reasoned with his
usual accuracy upon a point which is some-
what abstruse, and by believing that my prob-
lem is solved (as far as such a problem can
be solved) without the assistance of Mr. Ivo-
ry's equation." Here are wo opposite opi-
nions, of which one is maintained by John
Ivory, simply A.M., with nothing but his
public character as a mathematician to up-
hold him ; the other is supported by G. B.
Airy, Esq., A.M. and Lucasian Professor of
Mathematics in the University of Cambridge.
Who can hesitate in determining the ques-
tion ? Why, it is three to one, and the very
titles bring conviction. Beside, when we
reflect on the annual Newtons whom Cam-
bridge brings to light, when we see the re-
corded contempt in which Borda, and Biot,
and Kater are held, by professors to whom
practical knowledge belongs by intuition,
there can be no room for doubt — to be pro-
fessor in so wonderful a place— Lucasian
professor — there is something imposing in
the very sound ; the spirit of academic phi-
losophy rises before us — we see the wisdom,
and the wig. A word or two as to profes-
sors. Let us suppose, then, by way of illus-
tration, that there are five professorships,
Astronomy, Botany, Divinity, Mathematics,
and Mineralogy, and A, B, C, D,E, &c. resi-
dent members of the University, are desi-
rous of sharing these places among them —
the first step is to mystify the public with
regard to their merits ; so every place within
their reach is made to re-echo their mutual
praises. " You tickle me — I tickle you.''
Then to business; A. desires the botanical
chair, but it is that of mineralogy, which is
vacant; still, to the latter he is elected, be-
cause ultimately he may be transferred to the
former ; and so long as the appointment is
but kept in " the family" the instruction of
youth is only of secondary importance. Again,
a professor of mathematics is required — •
among a host of candidates, of superior ability,
B. and C. appear : it is clear that both cannot
succeed — possibly both may be defeated — they
coalesce : B. obtains the situation through the
influence of C. united to his own, and with the
understanding that when the chair of astro-
nomy becomes vacant, his whole interest shall
be assigned to C., who thus carries the place
N
Varieties.
[JULY,
without a question being raised ns to the
propriety oi the appointment, or any proof
required of his practical knowledge : — E.
would make the professorship of geometry a
ladder to the chair of divinity, and F. of
chemistry a stepping-stone to something else,
nndso on ; " one foot in the stirrup, and I nm
soon in the saddle." What results from this
system ? Why, that local cabal, and petty
intrigue, and boisterous pretension, and fatu-
ous self-sufficiency prevail over modest and
unassuming ability ; that men of honour and
of real talent retire with disgust from a con-
test which degrades them ; that the title of
professor is sneered at as synonymous with
charlatan ; and that in the scientific annals
of Europe, for the nineteenth century, En-
gland enrols such discoveries, as that Grego-
rian telescopes cannot be made of glass ;
that the mean density of the earth exceeds
that of gold ; and that the human body, even
when in no state of unnatural excitement,
evolves so much caloric as to derange the
operation of a transit instrument.
French AchromalicTeleseope. — The mag-
nificent achromatic telescope which we no-
ticed, some time since, as having been con-
structed by the late M. Fraunhoper for the
observatory at Dorpat, has awakened a strong
spirit of emulation in France; and M. Cau-
choix, a Parisian optician, has nearly com-
pleted an achromatic telescope, about nine-
teen feet focal length, and of twelve inches
and three-quarters aperture, from some flint
glass of the late M. Guinaml. It is reported
that some remarkable appearances h;ive been
observed with this instrument, in the ring of
Saturn, by M. M. Arago and Mathieu, of the
Royal Observatory at Paris ; an account of
which will be published when they shall
have been fully verified . Have they seen the
phenomenon remarked last year by Captain
Kuter, viz. that the external ring consists of
several concentric ones, of which an account
appeared in this journal at the time ?
Spiders. — To our readers in general, and
to entomologists in particular, we conceive
that the following instance of ingenuity in a
spider, which was witnessed by the writer of
this article, will not be uninteresting.- A
web was observed to be tightly stretched
across a garden path, about five feet in
breadth, the reticulated portion occupying the
centre, and one of the principal threads to
which this part was attached, had a vertical
direction ; upon examining in what manner
this was fastened to the ground, it was
found that the ingenious insect, instead of
having permanently fixed it to the gravel
path, Lad coiled it round a stone a little
larger than its own body, and had raised
this about a foot from the walk, where it
was swinging in the air, giving the neces-
sary degree of tension to the net- work of
the web, but not affording a sufficient resis-
tance to the wind to occasion its destruc-
tion.
Sugar from Melons. — To render France
icJt pendent of tfce co'ooies for a Mipply of
sugar, was a favourite object with Buona-
parte, and the extraction of it from beet, in
some measure justified his hopes : it would
seem that, nt the present time, the subject, is
not altogether overlooked by the chemists,
as M. Payen has succeeded in extracting
from one hundred parts of the juice of the
melon, 1,5 of well crystallized sugar, pos-
sessing all the properties of that from the
sugar-cane.
Bugs. — A sort of prejudice exists in Eng-
land, in London especially, that while all.
ohl houses swarm with bugs, the newly-built
ones are exempt from this execrable annoy-
ance. Without stating the reverse to be the
fact, it will be found, that in no part of the
metropolis are these noxious insects to be
met with in such abundance as in the rie\v
houses erected in the Regeut's-park, into
which they have been introduced in the
American timber employed in their con-
struction. On examining this timber, ys if
comes from the ship, it will be found that
the bugs absolutely fill up the crevices.
Could no prohibitory duties be laid upon
their importation ?
Steam, Boilers. — In our last number, or in
the one which preceded it, we gave an ac-
count of the various causes which had been
assigned of the explosion of steam-boilers,
by Mr. Perkir.r, in the London Journal of
Arts, and by Mr. Taylor and others in the
Philosophical Magazine ; in the number for
June of the last mentioned work, Mr. Moore,
of Bristol, has stated, that steam-engines
have often exploded on their being stopped ;
and that the immediate cause of explosion in
these cases is, probably, an additional strain
on the boiler from within, produced by the
steam, which previously had a free passage,
being prevented from escaping any where
but at the safety valve ; the aperture of
which, compared with the content of the cy-
linder into which the steam passed before, is
very small. Mr. Moore also suggests, for
the purpose of obviating accidents from such
a cause, the application of a large valve on
the tube adjacent to the part where the stearu
is prevented from passing to the engine.
Zooloyy.— No where is the difference re-
sulting from the public museums being in
the hands of government as in France, and
of private individuals as in England, more,
apparent than in the Zoological collection
m the Jurdin ties Plantes at Paris. To this
unrivalled collection, an American condor
was added in the course of last year ; and,
after great apprehension that it could not.
survive the winter, this, we believe, unique
specimen, is in perfect health, und in full
plumage.
Discovery of an ancient Monument in
Sicily. — In constructing a bridge near Syra-
cuse, and at some distance from the church
of Saint John, where the ancient catacombs
are found, an ancient stew or warm-bath
has been discovered. It is in breadth 10
palms, about 8-5 feet English. In height,
to the springing of the vaul^ 7 palms, uliout
182 7. J Varieties*
6 feet English, and in length. 12 palms, or
10-31 feet English measure. The interior is
ornamented with paintings ; two children
are represented on the roof, flowers and
birds on the walls. The structure of the
vaulted roof is extremely curious, it being
composed of square channels interwoven with
great skill. A door which' has been disco-
vered, has given rise to a hope, from the
manner in which it is placed, that it leads to
a suite of chambers and monuments, which
may prove worthy of interest.
Egyptian Mummies. — An eminent French
chemist, M. Julia Fontenelle, in a discourse,
pronounced at the opening of an Egyptian
Mummy in the Amphitheatre of the Sorbonne
at Paris, has delivered an opinion regarding
(he cause of embalming in Egypt, which is
worthy of attention : it is, that the Egyp-
tians were led to it from physical necessity ;
and he supports this opinion by the following
reasons. During four months of every year,
the inundations of the Nile cover almost en-
tirely the whole surface of Egypt which is
under cultivation ; it is, therefore, evident,
that the villages, towns, and cities, must be
placed in elevated situations. Now, if this
country be examined at the epoch of its
greatest prosperity, under the reign of Sesos-
tris, it will be found, that for an extent of
territory of about 2,250 square leagues, ac-
cording to D'Anville, there would be a popu-
lation of 0,232 per square league, which
would allow in the whole 350,000 deaths per
annum, reckoning, as usual, one death to
forty living persons. These corpses must be
gotten rid of either by burning or by inter-
ment ; methods equally impracticable iti
Egypt, for they must be buried around the
inhabited spots, or in tho^e which were inun-
dated by the Nile, and then the decompo-
sition of these bodies, it must be evident, in
affecting the purity of the air, would have
been to the population at large, a source of
destruction— as to the cremation of the dead,
the insufficiency of wood would have ber,ii
an insurmountable obstacle. A more avail-
able resource was open to the Egyptians—-
the soil of their beautiful country abounds iti
springs of natron (subcarbonate of soda),
and as this substance is a perfect antiseptic,
the inhabitants were naturally led to pre-
serve with it the corpses of the dead. In
support of the opinion that sanitary views
alone were the cause of embalment down
to the third century, before the Christian a?ra,
when the practice was abandoned, the pro-
fessor observes — ihat during the whole of
this period, the plague was unknown in
Egypt, where, according to the opinion of
M. M. Desgenettes and Saverey, it is now
endemic.
WORKS IN THE PRESS, AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.
WORKS IN PREPARATION.
The Reasons of the Laws of Moses, from
the More Nevochim^of Maimonides, with
Notes, Dissertations, and a Life of the Au-
thor, by James Townley, D.D.
The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies, Hero
and Leander, Lycus the Centaur, and other
Poerns, by T. Hood.
A Translation of the Life and Writings of
the German-Patriot acd^Poet, Koerner, with
Engravings.
A Narrative of the Capture, Detention,
and Ransom, of Charles Johnston, of Bo-
tetourt County, Virginia, who was made
Prisoner by the Indians, on the River Ohio,
i« the year 1790, is nearly ready.
Lieut.-Gensral the Marquis of London-
derry's Narrative of the late War in Spain
aud Portugal, is in the press.
Dr. Moseley is preparing for publication,
a Dictionary of Latin Quantities ; or, Proso-
dian's Guide to the different Quantities of
every Syllable in the Latin Language ; al-
phabetically arranged, with Authorities from
the best Poets ; to which is prefixed a Trea-
tise on Prosody.
. Mr. J. . R. Young, Author of an Elemen-
tary Treatise on Algebra, will shortly pub-
lish Elements of Geometry, containing a
New and Universal Treatise on the Doctrine
of Proportion, together with Notes ; in which
are pointed out and corrected some important
errors that have hitherto remained unnoticed
in the writings of Geometers ; also, an Exa-
mination of the various Theories of Parallel
Lines, that have been proposed by Legeudre,
Bertrand, Ivory, &c.
A new edition of the Butterfly Collector's
Vacb Mecum ; or a Synoptical Table of
English Butterflies. With Directions for
collecting and preserving them ; the peculiar
character of the Eggs, Caterpillars, and
Chrysalises of each kind ; and a minute De-
scription of each Butterfly, with coloured
Plates, is nearly ready.
A Series of Views in the Isle of Wight,
illustrative of its Picturesque Scenery, Na-
tural Curiosities, and Seats of Nobility and
Gentry, is on the eve of publication, from
Drawings made during the last Summer, by
Mr. F. Calvert, accompanied with descrip-
tions.
No. III. of Robson's « Picturesque Views
of English Cities,' '' containing eight En-
gravings of Lincoln, York, Canterbury, Ox-
ford, Ely, Gloucester, Bath, and Peterbo-
rough, will be ready in a few days.
"The Architectural Antiquities of Nor-
mandy ;>' No, IV., to finish that Work, will
be published in the ensuing month ; and, at
the same time, Mr. Britton announces his
intention of giving to the Subscribers a vo-
lume of letter-press.
Now publishing, the History and Antiqui-
ties of the Cathedral Church of Peterborough,
illustrated by a Series of Engravings of
Views, Elevations, Plans, and Architectural
N Z
List of New Works.
[JULY,
Details of that Edifice ; including a History
of the Abbey and See ; an Architectural De-
scription of the Church, Biographical Anec-
dotes of the Bishops, and of other Eminent
Persons connected with the Catl4edr.il, by
John Britton, F.S.A. F.R.S.L., and Member
of several other Foreign and English Socie-
ties.
The pleasant History of Thomas of Read-
ing, or the Six Worthy Yeomen of the West,
by the celebrated ballad-maker, Thomas De-
lany, will form the Third Part of Mr. W. J.
Thorn's early Prose Romances.
LIST OF NEW WORKS.
FINE ARTS, &C.
A Series of Practical Instruct ions in Land-
scape-Painting in Water- Colours. By John
Clark, complete in. Four Parts. Illustrated
by fifty-five Views from Nature, descriptive
Objects, <fec., mounted in imitation of Draw-
ings. Price 61. 6s. in a handsome box.
A Selection of Architectural and other Or-
naments, Greek, Roman, and Italian ; drawn
from the Originals. By John Jenkins, and
William Hoskins, Architects. Part I., price
6s. Super-royal folio, imperial paper, India
proofs, 10s. 6d., to be completed in VIII.
Parts.
No. XIX. of " Illustrations of the Public
Buildings of London," with eight Engrav-
ings.
Light's Views of Pompei. Part I. 4to.
10s. 6d. India paper 15s.
Horcz Poetica, or a Series of Verses, Ori-
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Foolscap 8vo. 5s. 6d.
Flora Australasica. By Robert Sweet.
Coloured Plates. Part I. 3s.
The History and Antiquities of Peter-
borough Cathedral. By J. Britton. No. II.
A third Number will finish this Cathedral,
when the author commences on that of Glou-
cester.
Shaw's Antiquities of the Chapel at Luton
Park. Folio. Part I. I5s. India paper.
30s.
The Union of Architecture, Sculpture, and
Painting ; exemplified by a Series of Illustra-
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and Galleries of John Soane, Esq., Architect,
&c. By John Britton, F.S.A. Thirty-three
Engravings, and five Wood Cuts. I vol. me-
dium 4 to. 2 gs. Imperial 4to. 3 gs.
Six Sheets of a New Atlas of India. Being
the Surveys of the Mountainous Districts.
By Captains Hodgson, Herbert and Webb,
aud of Bundelcund, by Captain Franklin, on
a Scale of Four Miles to an Inch. 21. 8s.
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Memoirs of the Rival Houses of York and
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The Hon. F. De Roos's Personal Narra-
tive of Travels in the United States ; with
Observations on the Maritime Resources of
America, Emigration, &c. cfec.
Travels in the Tumnmee, Kooranko, and.
Soolima Countries, in Western Africa. By
Major Alexander Gordon Laing. 8vo. 18s.
boards.
Two Years in Ava. 8vo. 16s. boards.
PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.
New Patents sealed 1827.
To William John Hobson Hood, of
Aruudel-street, Strand, Lieut. R. N-, for
improvements on pumps or machinery for
raising or forcing water, chiefly applicable
to ships — Scaled 28th May ; 6 months.
To George Burges, of Bagnigge Wells,
Middlesex, Gent., for improvements in the
construction of wheeled carriages, and
wheels to be attached to the said carriages,
or tor other purposes — 26th May ; 6 months.
To Thomas Clarke, of Market Hnrbo-
lOugh, Leicester, carpet and worsted manu-
facturer, for improvements in manufacturing
carpets— 26th May ; 4 months.
To Malcolm Mnir, of Glasgow, for ma-
chinery for preparing boards for flooring and
other similar purposes — 1st June ; 2 months.
To John Were Clark, of Tiverton, for an
improved mode of attaching, fixing, or
searing the dead eyes to the channels and
sides of ships or vessels — Sth June ; 6
months.
To Joseph Cliseld Daniell, of Stoke,
Wilts, clothier, for improvements in pre-
paring wire cords, and dressing woollen and
other cloths — Sth June; 6 months.
To Charles Phillips, Esq., of Rochester,
Kent, Capt. R. N., for improvements on
capstans — Sth June ; 6 months.
To Hugh Evans, of Great Surrey- street,
Surrey, Lieut. Royal Marine Corps, and
William Robert Hale King, of Snow Hill,
London, Tin Plate Worker, for a new table
apparatus to promote the ease, comfort, and
economy of persons at sea, or on nautical
excursions — 12th June; 6 months.
To Thomas Don, of Lower James-street,
Westminster, millwright, and Andrew Smith,
of Wells-street, Oxford-street, in the parish
of MarjMe-bone, Middlesex, builder, for
methods of making and constructing shutters
and blinds of iron or steel, or any other
metals or compositions thereof, and im-
proved methods of constructing and fixing
shutters and blinds of iron or steel, or any
other metals or materials, and methods of
uniting in shutters the double properties of
shutters and blinds — 1,5th June; 2 months.
To Solomon Robinson, of Leeds, York,
Flax Dresser, for improvements in machinery
for hackling or dressing and clearing hemp,
flax, and tow — 16th June ; 6 months.
To Lambert Dexter, of King's Arms
Yard, Colerran-street, London, Esq., for
certain improvements in machinery for the
purpose of spinning wool, cotton, and other
fibrous substances — 16th June ; 6 months.
List of Patents, which, having been granted
in July 1813, expire in the present
month of July 1827.
1. John Ambrose Stickell, Lambeth, for
an alarm and machinery for the discovery
of depredators in a house or premises.
3. Edward Thomason, Birmingham, for
improvements in the construction of whips.
7. Robert Adams, London, lor aw improved
method of preparing blacking.
14. John Millard, London, for a method
of manufacturing cotton ivool free front
mixture, into cloth, for the purpose of regu-
lating perspiration.
— John Clark, Bridgewater, for a method
of constructing beds, pillows, hammocks,
cushions, fyc.
Alexander Moody, Southwark, for a me-
thod of tanning and dressing white, buff,
or losh leather.
— William Godfrey Kneller, Croydon,
for a methQd of manufacturing verdigris of
the same quality as what is called " French
verdigris.'''
— George Ferguson and Joseph Ashton,
Carlisle, for their improved light, elastic,
water-proof hat, commonly called a beaver.
19. Robert Pretyman, Ipswich, for an
improvement in the pan, touch-hole, and
pan-cow of a gun-lock.
23f John Lewis, Llanelly, for his improve-
ments in the art of smelting copper ore.
— Charles James Mason, of Lane Delph,
Staffordshire, for a process for the im-
provement of the manufacture of English
porcelain.
— Frederick Kcenig, London, for addi-
tional improvements on his method of print-
ing by means of machinery.
— Richard Perring, Stoke Damarel, Devon,
for his anchor made on new principles.
31. Joseph Hamilton, Dublin, for his new
application of earths and other materials
to useful purposes.
- William Horrocks, Stockport, for fur-
ther improvements to a machine for weav-
ing of cotton and other goods by handt
steam, fyc.
1827.]
96 J
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.
THE DUKE DE ROCHEFOUCAULD.
The Duke de Rochefoucauld, long known
as the Duke de Liancourt, a title which he
derived from his estate in the Beauvais, was
born in the year 1747. It was at the restora-
tion of the monarchy that he took the title
of Rochefoucauld, which had descended to
him from his cousin, the Duke de Roche-
foucauld d'Enville, who was assassinated at
Gisors, in 1792. When the revolution be-
gan he was Grand Master of the Wardrobe
to the King, an office previously held by his
lather, the Duke d'Estissac. In the As-
sembly of the States General he was one of
the deputies for the noblesse, and was one of
the early advocates of reform. At the time
when the bastille was destroyed, he appears
to have had great influence with the king.
On the morning of the 15th of July, the bas-
tille having been taken on the preceding
evening, it was openly maintained that
Louis XVI. ought to be compelled to de-
scend from his throne. M. de Liancourt
was, at this moment, in the presence of his
unfortunate sovereign ; and, fearing to behold
his crown torn from him, and his life endan-
gered, lie prevailed on him to recal Neckar,
ami to remove the troops encamped in the
neighbourhood of Paris and Versailles. The
king did so, whether wisely or not it would
be difficult, if not impossible, to determine.
In the same year M. de Liancourt pro-
nounced a discourse in the Assembly, on
the necessity of the royal veto against all
legislative acts deemed by the King con-
trary to the interests of his people or of his
crown. He contended also (hat the military
in actual service blight not to be permitted
to take part in the deliberations of the politi-
cal clubs. Subsequently M. de Liancourt
occupied himself chiefly in subjects con-
nected with practical improvements in the
condition of society. He was a member of
the constitutional body termed the Feuillans.
On the question of replacing the ancient
academies by new institutions, be proposed a
plan, differing but little from that of the Na-
tional Institute, established in 1795.
In the affair of the 10th of August the
Duke saved himself by flight— retired to
England, and afterwards proceeded to Ame-
rica, where be remained till 1799. There
he travelled much, applying himself closely
to the study of American arts, agriculture,
commerce, political economy, &c. Alter
the 18th of Brumaire (19th of Nov. 1799,)
he returned to France. The greater part of
his estates had been confiscated and sold ;
but a larga property was still in the posses-
sion of his wife in her own right, she, for
the purpose of preserving it for "the family,
having obtained a divorce during the Duke's
absence. M. de Liancourt fixed his resi-
dence in a part of his mansion that had es-
caped i-he fury of the populace, and estab-
lished within it a cotton manufactory, which
speedily attained considerable importance.
He uniformly declined receiving employment
from Buonaparte, who, notwithstanding,
conferred on him the decorations of ihe Le-
gion of Honour. He devoted himself exclu-
sively to the concerns of his factory, from
which the neighbouring poor derived constant
employment and support.
It is chiefly owing to the Duke de Roche-
foucauld that France has participated so ex-
tensively as she has done the benefit of vac-
cination. From his estate of Liancourt, into
which he introduced this life-preserving art,
it has spread to every part of the king-
dom.
In 1814 the Duke was named by the King
a Peer of France. During the government
of the Hundred Days he protested, in his
capacity of member of the Electoral College
of the Oise, against the revolution of that
period. On the second return of the King
he was again named a member of the Cham-
ber of Peers ; in which, whenever he has
spoken, he has evinced the firmest attach-
ment to the principles of a constitutional
monarchy. He was a zealous advocate of
every improvement in the moral character
of the poor ; and he not long since an-
nounced to the Society for the Encourage-
ment of Elementary Instruction, that be had
established a school at Liancourt, according
to the new and popular mode of teach-
ing.
In the course of his life the Duke d?
Rochefoucauld published several valuable
works, of which his " Travels in the United
States" is the most important. He died oa
the 27th of March ; his funeral was on the
30th. It was attended by some of the lead-
ing members of the Chamber of Peers, and
of the Chamber of Deputies, and by a great
number of other persons of distinction. The
students of L'Ecole des Arts et Metiers of
Chalons, of which the deceased had been
Inspector General, assembled at the family
hotel, and carried the body to the church
of the Assumption, where the service was
performed. On the question, however, of
carrying the body from the church to the
barrier of CJichy, a disgraceful disturbance
occurred between the military escort and the
students, in which several of the latter \ver«
wounded, and the coffin was thrown to the
ground and rolled in the kennel. Ths com-
mander of the escort has been strongly cen-
sured for this disturbance ; and the King of
France has been pleased to convey an ex-
pression of regret at the occurrence to the
family of the deceased. Sterne, -we appre-
hend, would not have said that they ma-
naged such affairs best in France.
DR HAWKER.
The Rev. Dr. Hawker was born about the
year 1753. He was educated at Magdalen
College, Oxford ; and, for the long period of
Biographical Memoirs of 'Eminent Persons.
[JllLY,
fifty years previously to his decease, he had
been vicar at the parish of Charles the Mar-
tyr, at Plymouth. He was one of those cler-
gymen who assume the epithet of evangelical.
He has always been conspicuous amongst his
class ; and numerous are the controversies in
which he has, atdifferent times, engaged with
his brethren of the church.
Dr. Hawker had been for some time in a
declining; state. Aware, as it is said, of his
approaching end, and urged by a wish once
more to see his daughter, Mrs. Ball, who was
confined by indisposition at Totness, he, con-
trary to the advice of his medical friends,
went to that town, from Plymouth, about a
fortnight before his death. His strength was
greatly impaired by the journey ; and, on
reaching Ivy-bridge, on 'his way home, he
felt the tide of life ebbing fast. " My time
is drawing near,'' said he ; " be quick
— put on additional horses, or I shall not
reach home alive !" In accordance with his
wish, additional horses were put to the car-
riage ; but, after proceeding for a short time
at a rapid pace, his weakness so increased
that it was found impracticable to travel
faster than a walk. Reaching home, he par-
took of some refreshment, from which he
derived a temporary revival of strength. In
the course of the evening he called his family
around him ; and, having read and expounded
to them the llth chapter of the Epistle to
the Ephesians, from the 5th to the 12th
verse, he said, " I shall not long be with
you— I am leaving you— but God will still be
with you." He had scarcely uttered these
word?, when he leaned back in his chair, and
expired, as though he bad fallen asleep, with-
out a sigh ; some time, indeed, elapsed be-
fore those who stood around him were aware
that the spirit had departed. It was at three
o'clock in the afternoon (April 6th) that he
arrived at home, and at ten minutes before
eight he died.
As a preacher, Dr. Hawker was exceed-
in^ly popular ; and, in his occasional visits to
the metropolis, he drew such crowded con-
gregations that the limbs and lives of his
auditory were frequently endangered. He
was the founder of many charities ; be was
benignant and affectionate to all.
Dr. Hawker was the author of—Several ser-
mons on the Divinity of Christ, 1792 ; Evi-
dence of a Plenary Inspiration, 1793; Ser-
mons on the Divinity and Operations of the
Holy Ghost, 1794; Misericordia, 1795;
Christian's Pocket Companion, 1797 ; Ser-
mons, 1797; Youth's Catechism, 1798;
Specimens of Preaching, 1801; Life of W.
Coombes, 1802; his own Works, complete
in 6 vols., 1805; Life and Writings of the
Rev. H. Tanner, 1807; Two Letters to a
Barrister, 1808; Letter to W. Hale, in De-
fence of the Female Penitentiary, 1810 ; the
Bible, with a Commentary, 1816 ; the Poor
Mao's Commentary on the New Testament,
1810; <fec.
MR. GILBERT BURNS.
Gilbert Burns was born about the year
1760. He was eighteen months younger
than his brother Robert, Scotland's most
gifted bard. With him he was early inured
to toil, and rendered familiar with the hard-
ships of the peasant's lot ; like him, too, he
was much subject to occasional depression of
spirits, and from whatever cause, he had con-
tracted a similar bend or stoop in the shoul-
ders : his frame, like that of Robert, was cast
in a manly and symmetrical mould. The
profile of his countenance resembled that of
his brother, and their phrenological deve-
lopments are said to have been not dissimi-
lar : the principal disparity lay in the form
and expression of the eye, which in Gilbert,
was fixed, sagacious, and steady — in Robert,
almost always " in a fine phrenzy rolling."
Gilbert Burns was the archetype of his
father, a very remarkable man : his piety was
equally warm and sincere ; and, in all the
private relations of life, as an elder of the
church, a husband, a father, a master, and a
friend, he was pre-eminent. His writings
want that variety, originality, and ease,
which shine so conspicuously even in the
prose works of the post ; but they have many
redeeming points about (hern. His taste was
as pure as his judgment was masculine. He
has been heard to say, that the two most
pleasurable moments of his life were — first,
when he read Mackenzie's story of La Roche,
and secondly, when Robert took him apart.,
at the breakfast or dinner hour, during har-
vest, and read to him, while seated on a
barley sheaf, his MS. copy of the far-famed
Cotter's Saturday Night,
When Robert Burns was invited by Dr.
Blacklock to visit Edinburgh, Gilbert was
struggling in the unthrifty farm of Mosgiel,
and toiling lute and early to keep a house
over the heads of his aged mother and un-
protected sisters. The poet's success was
the first thing that stemmed the ebbing tide
of his fortunes. On settling with Mr. Creech,
in February 1788, he received, as the profits
of his second publication, about £500 ; and,
with that generosity which formed a part of
bis nature, he immediately presented Gilbert
with nearly half of his whole wealth. Thus
succoured, Gilbert married a Miss Brecon-
ridge, and removed to a better farm at Din-
ning, in Dumfriesshire. While there, he was
recommended to Lady Blantyre, whose estates
in East Lothian he subsequently managed
for nearly a quarter of a century. He died
at Grant's Braes, in the neighbourhood of
Haddington, on one of the Blantyre farms,
on the 8th of April. He had no fixed com-
plaint; but, for several months preceding
his dissolution, a gradual decay of nature had
been apparent. It is probable that his death
was accelerated by severe domestic afflic-
tions ; as, on the 4th of January, he lost a
daughter, who bad long been the pride of his
family hearth ; and, on the 26lh of February
following, his youngest son, a youth of great
promise, died at Edinburgh, of typhus fever,
Biographical Me/nofrv of Eminent Persons.
OD the eve of bis being licensed for (be minis-
try. Mrs. Burns, who brought him a family
of six sons and five daughters, of whom five
SOBS and one daughter are living, survives.
It ought, to be- mentioned that the two
hundred pounds which Robert Burns lent to
his brother, m the year 1X88, was not repaid
till 1 820. Gilbert was far from affluent ; in
early liie he had to struggle even for exis-
tence ; and, therefore, to know that his aged
mother and one or two sisters, were pro-
perly supported, was, in the poet's eyes, a
full acquittance of all claims. The children
of Robert viewed the subject in the same
light. In 1819, Gilbert Euros was invited
by Messrs. Cadell and -Da vies, to revise a
new edition of his brother's works ; to supply
whatever he found wanting, and correct
whatever he thought amiss. He accepted the
invitation; and, by appending much valu-
able matter to the late Dr. Currie's biogra-
phy, he at once vindicated his brother's
memory from many aspersions which had
been cast upon it, and established his own
.credit as an author. On receiving payment
for his labour, the first thing he did was, to
balance accounts, to the uttermost farthing,
with the widow and family of his deceased
brother. The letter which accompanied the
remittance of the money was, in the highest
degree, creditable to his feelings.
MR. ROWLANDSON.
Thomas Rowlandson, an artist of no mean
celebrity in his day, was born in the Old
Jewry, in the month of July 1756. His
father was a merchant. He was educated
at Dr. Barrow's school, Soho Square.
Amongst his school- fellows were Richard,
son of the late Edmund Burke, Holman, the
tragediaa, &c. At an early period he gave
indications of future talent, having drawn
humorous caricatures of his master, and many
of the boys in the school. In his sixteenth
year he was sent to Paris, and was entered
a student in one of the drawing academies
there, where he made rapid advances in the
study of the human figure. In the course of
a residence of nearly two years, he not unfre-
quently indulged his talent of satirical por-
traiture. Oa his return to London, he re-
sumed his studies at the Royal Academy,
having been admitted on the list of students
previously to his sojourn at Paris. Mr. John
Banister, afterwards one of the first comic
actors of the age, was one of his fellow-
students, and a friendship commenced be-
tween them, which continued till the death
of Rowlandson. His father having become
embarrassed through manufacturing specula-
tions, our young artist was, in a great mea-
sure, thrown upon his own resources before he
.reached the age of manhood. His aunt, how-
ever, (a Mademoiselle Chattelier, who had
married his father's brother, Mr. Thomas
Rowlandson) amply supplied him with money,
and, at her death, she left him £7,000, be-
sides other valuable property. Thus enabled
to indulge his predilection for a joyous life,
M.M. New Series.—- VOL. IV.
he mixed with high company, acquired an
uncontrolable passion for gaming, and
speedily dissipated the amount of more than
one valuable legacy. He frequently played
throughout a night and the next day ; and
once, according to his own statement, he con-
tinued at the gaming table nearly thirty-six
hours, with the intervention only of the time
for refreshment, which was supplied by a
cold collation. Yet Rowlandson was scru-
pulously upright in all bis pecuniary transac-
tions, and ever avoided getting into debt.
After having beggared himself, he has been
known to return home to his professional
studies, sit down coolly to produce a series
of new designs, and "to exclaim, with stoical
philosophy, "I have played the fool; but
(holding up his pencils) here is myresouree."
Though the generality of his humorous
and political etchings were coarse and slight,
many of his early works were very carefully
wrought ; and his studies from the human
figure, at the Roya! Academy, were scarcely
inferior to those of Mortimer. Dispatch was
one of his great characteristics. Had he
been systematic in his studies he might have
become a great historical painter. Sir Joshua
Reynolds, and his successor in the presiden-
tial chair of the Royal Academy, have each
declared that some of his drawings would
have done honour to Rubens, or to any of
the greatest masters of design of the old
schools. His drawings for the Dance of
Death, tha Dance of Life, Dr. Syntax in
search of the Picturesque, &c., made to illus-
trate the writings of the late Mr. Coombe,
.were sufficient to establish his graphic fame.
They are, we believe, in the possession of
Mr. Ackermaun, of the Strand.
Mr. Rowlandson died at his chambers in
the Adelphi, on Saturday, the 21st of April ;
and, on the Saturday following, his remains
were followed to the grave by the two friends
of his youth, Mr. Banister and Mr. Aogelo,
senior, and by his constant friend and em-
ployer, Mr. Ackermann.
LORD KIRCUDBRIGHT.
Sholto Henry M'Clellan, Lord Kircud-
bright, was born on the 15th of August 1771.
He succeeded his father, John, the seventh
lord, on the 24th of December, 1821. Ac-
cording to history, his lordship's family was
anciently of great power, and heritable
sheriffs of all Galloway, till the reign of
James II. of Scotland. At one period its
branches were so numerous, that there were
in Galloway twelve knights of the name of
M'Clellan, of whom Sir Patrick M'Clellan,
tutor of Bombie, was thechief. Gilbert, one
of his great grandsons, was one of the ances-
tors of Lord Kircudbright. His lordship was
short in stature, and somewhat deformed in
person. Though eccentric in manner, he
possessed many good qualities. He had been
travelling for the last two years, in the care
of a servant, for the benefit of his health ;
and he was brought home to Raeberry Lodge,
Southampton, in a state of extreme debility,
O
98
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
[J ULY,
°n the 13th of April. He died early on the
morning of the 16th. His Lordship married
in the year 1820, Miss Cantes, but left no
issue. He was, consequently, succeeded by
his brother, Camden Gray, the present lord,
an officer in the guards.
LARIVE.
M Larive, the oldest, and one of the most
celebrated of the French tragedians, was born
at Rochelle, in the year 1749. He made his
first theatrical appearance at Lyons, under
the management of Madame Lobreau. In
17T1 he went to Paris, where he appeared
at the Theatre Franpois, under the patronage
of the celebrated Mademoselle Clairon. That
lady regarded him as her prottgti ; but the
public, indignant at the unqualified panegy-
ric which she heaped upon him, estimated
him below his real value. However, his fine
person, and his powers of declamation, soon
commanded applause ; and, for many years,
he stood upon a level with Le Kain.
At the commencement of the French re-
volution, many of the players, it is well
known, were amongst the most active of the
insurgents. Larive was not one of the ex-
ceptions ; he appeared at the head of the
electors of Paris, before the Constituent
Assembly, with an address of adherence to
the new system, and was admitted to the
honours of the sitting. On the 12th of Fe-
bruary, 1 790, he made a present to the Mar-
quess de la Fayette, of the chain which the
Chevalier Bayard used to wear round his
neck.
Larive quitted the theatre rather earlier
than is usual with first-rate actors. By some
his retirement was ascribed to the severe cri-
ticisms of Geoffroi ; but it may more rea-
sonably be assigned to the superior merits of
Talma, who supplanted him in the estima-
tion of the public, and successfully introduced
on the French stage. Larive afterwards re-
paired to Naples, on the invitation of Joseph
Buonaparte, by whom he was liberally re-
warded. He was the author of Pyramus and
Thisbe, Reflections on the Theatrical Art,
a Course of Declamation, <fec. He died
lately atMontignon.
LORD FERRARS.
The Right Hon. Robert Shirley, seventh
Earl Ferrars, Viscount Tamworth, Lord of
the Honour of Chartley, fourth Baronet of
England, and F.A.S., was born on the 7th of
September, 1756. The family of Shirley is
descended from Sewallis, whose residence, at
the time of the conquest, was at Ellington,
in the county of Warwick. His descendant,
James of Ettington, first assumed the name
of Shirley in the time of Henry III. Lord
Ferrars was the eighteenth in lineal descent
from prince Thomas of Woodstock, youngest
son of king Edward the Third, whose arms
bis lordship was entitled to quarter, as well
as those of the intermediate illustrious houses
of Bourchier and Devereux, Earls of Essex.
His Lordship's mother was Catherine,
daughter of Rowland Cotton, of Etwald, in
the county of Derby, Esq. He succeeded his
father, Robert, the sixth earl, on the 18th of
April, 1787; having previously married on
the 13th of March, 1778, Elizabeth Prentise,
by whom (who died in 1799) he had issue,
Robert Sewallis, Viscount Tamworth, born
in 1778, and died in 1824, without issne.
The Viscount had married, in 1800, Sophia
Caroline, daughter of Nathaniel Curzon,
Lord Searsdale.
Earl Ferrars married, secondly, in 1799,
Elizabeth, daughter of the late Wrightson
Mundy, of Marsheaton, in Derbyshire. His
Lordship died at Hastings on the 23d of May,
and was succeeded in his titles and estates
by the Hon. Washington Shirley, his only
brother, now the eighth earl.
THE DUKE OF GORDON.
The territory of Gordon, in Berwickshire,
anciently of great extent, was granted during
the reign of David I. of Scotland, to an An-
glo-Norman settler, who assumed from it the
name of Gordon. In the reign of Robert I.,
Sir Adam de Gordon obtained a grant of the
barony of Strathbogie, in the county of Atholl.
His great great-grandson, Sir Adam Gordon
of Huntley, was killed at Hamildon, in thfc
year 1402, leaving an only daughter and
heir, married to Alexander Seaton, second
son of Sir William Seaton, of Seaton. These
were the ancestors of the Dukes of Gordon.
Alexander Seaton, Lord of Gordon, assumed
the surname of Gordon, and was created in
1449-50, Earl of Huntley. George, the sixth
earl, and sixth in lineal descent from Alex-
ander, was, in 1599, created Marquess of
Huntley. His great Grandson, the fourth
Marquess, was created Duke of Gordon, in
1684. His great grandson,
Alexander, fourth Duke of Gordon, Mar-
quess and Earl of Huntley, and Earl of
Enzie, Viscount Inverness, Baron Gordon of
Strathbogie, Lord of Badenacn, Lochabar,
Strathaven, Achindown, Bulmore, Gartley,
and Kincardine ; — Scots honours ; Premier
Marquess in Scotland, Earl of Norwich,
Baron Beauchamp, of Bletshoe ; Baron Mor-
daunt, of Turvey, county Bedford ; and Baron
Gordon, of Huntley, county Gloucester, in
the Peerage of the United Kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland; K.T.,F.R.S.; Keeper
of the Great Seal of Scotland ; Chancellor
of King's College, Aberdeen; Lord Lieu-
tenant, county Aberdeen ; and Hereditary
Keeper of Inverness Castle, was born in the
year 1743. He succeeded his father, Cosmo
George, the third duke, in 1752 ; and he
married in 1767, Jane, daughter of Sir Wil-
liam Maxwell, Bart., by whom he had issue :
— 1st, George, Marquess of Huntley, the
present duke, born in 1770 ; — 2d, Charlotte,
married in 1789, Charles Lennox, fourth
Duke of Richmond; — 3d, Madelina, mar-
ried in 1789, Sir Robert Sinclair, Bart., and
secondly, in 1 805, Charles Palmer, of Lock-
1827.]
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
99
ley Park, Berkshire, Esq.; —4th, Susan,
married in 1793, William Moatagu, fifth
Duke of Manchester ; — 5th, Louisa, married
in 1797,Charles,secorid Marquess Cornwallis ;
—6th, Georgiana, married in 1803, John,
present and sixth Duke of Bedford ; — and,
7th, Alexander, a captain in the 59th regt. of
foot, who died in 1808.
Jane, Duchess of Gordon, distinguished by
her beauty, talents, and gallantry, having
died in the year 1812, the duke married, in
1820, a lady of the name of Christie ; but,
by her, who died in 1824, he had no issue.
His Grace died at half-past ten, on the night
of Sunday the 17th of June, at his residence
in Mount Street, Berkeley Square. Notwith-
standing his advanced period of life, his
Grace was in. the enjoyment of excellent
health, and had been as far as Clapton Com-
mon only a few hours before he died.
George, his Grace's eldest son, and succes-
sor, the present duke, was summoned to the
House of Lords, in 1807, as Baron Gordon
of Huntley, in the county of Gloucester. He
is a general in the army, and colonel of the
1st regt. of foot. He married in 18 J3, a
daughter of Alexander Brodie, of Arne Hall,
North Britain, Esq.
LORD DE TABLE Y.
As a munificent patron of literature, and
the Fine Arts, the death of Lord de Tabley,
will be extensively and sincerely lamented.
The ancient Cheshire family of Leicester, re-
presented by his Lordship, derives its origin
from Sir Nicholas Leicester Kirk, who was
seneschal to Henry de Lacey, Earl of Lin-
coln and Constable of Leicester, in the reign
of Edward I. and 1 1. The family appears to
have been seated at Tabley for many gene-
rations. Sir Peter Leicester, fourteenth in
descent from Sir Nicholas, was created a
baronet in the year 1660. Sir Peter's grand-
son, Sir Francis, had a daughter, and heiress,
who married, as her second husband, Sir
John Byrne, of Timogue, in Ireland, Bart.
Her eldest son, Sir Peter, succeeded his
father in the Irish baronetcy, and his mater-
nal grandfather in the estate of Tabley. In
the year 1744, he, by Act of Parliament,
assumed the name of Leicester only. He
married, in 1755, Catherine, third daughter,
and co-heiress, of Sir William Fleming, of
Ryddal, Bart. Of this marriage, John Flem-
ing, late Lord de Tabley, was the fourth, and
eldest surviving son.
Sir John was born on the 4th of April,
1762. Almost from infancy he was devoted
by personal attachment, and by congeniality
of mind and pursuits, to his present Majesty,
by whom be was honoured by close and fami-
liar intercourse. In early life he visited Italy,
where he spent a considerable time with the
late Francis, Duke of Bedford, in the culti-
vation of his taste for literature and the Fine
Arts. This taste became almost a passion
with him ; and, it is not too much to say,
that by his death, the English school of
painting has lost one of its best friends. ID
the encouragement of painting, sculpture,
and engraving, he was at once liberal, gene-
rous, and indefatigable. As a connoisseur, his
judgment was correct — his taste exquisite;
and, as a painter, he possessed great merit.
His superb collection, formed at immense
cost, was frequently opened for public in-
spection. Regarding it in a national light,
it is anxiously to be hoped that this collection
may not be dispersed.
It may be said of Lord de Tabley, that he
was an elegant scholar, and a perfect gentle-
man. His manners were refined ; and, in
all the relations of life, he was an object of
respect, esteem, and love. Nothing could
surpass the delight of his domestic circle at
Tabley.
Sir John Leicester married, in the year
1810, Georgiana Maria, daughter of Lieu-
tenant-Colonel Cotton. In the year 1826, he
was elevated to the peerage, by the title of
Baron de Tabley, of Tabley House, in the
county Palatine of Chester. His Lordship
was colonel of his Majesty's regiment of
Cheshire yeomanry.
By Lady de Tabley, whose beauty, kind-
ness, and intelligence, diffused a charm over
all who came within the sphere of her influ-
ence—of whom the exquisite portrait, as
Hope, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, can never
be forgotten — his Lordship has left two sons ;
George, his successor, born on the 28th of
October, 1811; and William Henry, born on
the 4th of Julj', 1813.
Lord de Tabley, who had endured a linger-
ing and painful illness, since the llth of De-
cember last, died at Tabley, on the J 8th of
June.
THE REV. MARK NOBLE.
The Rev. Mark Noble, F.A.S., a gentle-
man well known in the literary world, as an
antiquary and historian, was rector of Barm-
ing, in Kent. Residing upon his living, his
leisure allowed him to write and publish a
variety of works, extremely valuable, from
the indefatigable industry and research which
they display. Regarding his productions as
extremely useful for reference, we subjoin
the following list :— Two Dissertations on the
Mintand Coins of the EpiscopalPalace of Dur-
ham, 4to. 1780; — Genealogical Histories of
the present Royal Families of Europe, 8vo.
1781 ; — Memoirs of the Protectorate House
of Cromwell, 2 vols. 8vo., 1781 ;— Memoirs
of the House of Medici, 1797 ;— Lives of the
English Regicides, 2 vols. 8vo., 1797 ;— His-
tory of the College of Arms, 4to., 1801 ; —
Biographical Anecdotes of England, in con-
tinuation of Granger, 2 vols.Svo., 1809.
Mr. Noble died on the 26th of May.
VOLTA.
This celebrated natural philosopher, who
has just terminated his honourable career,
was born at Como, in the month of Febru-
ary, 1745. At the period when bis classical
J 00 Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons. [X ULY,
studies were completed, his destination in afford to part with so able a professor; and
life was undecided ; but, after hesitating for in 1779, be was called to the chair of
sometime between science and literature, be physics, which lie contrived to occupy till
declared for the former, and soon became 1804. At length, through years of unre-
one of the most distinguished men of the age. milting labour, his health was impaired-, and
His fame was established by two treatises, he was compelled to relinquish teaching,
published respectively in the years 1769, and Volta did not marry till he had attained
1771. In 1774, he was appointed regent of the age of fifty-one; but it is gratifying to
the gymnasium of his native town. The know that he has left several sons, who are
University of Pavia, however, could not worthy of such a parent.
MONTHLY MEDICAL REPORT.
THE temperature of the air during the last month has been happily moderated by
refreshing showers, and a more genial season has seldom been witnessed in this coun-
try. Acute diseases have prevailed, as reasonably might have been anticipated ; but,
in point of extent and severity, they have fallen far short of the common average.
Fever of the synoshal or inflammatory type has been met with, requiring a moderate
use of the lancet, and frequent doses of active evacuants ; but to the judicious employ-
ment of these means it has yielded, in almost all cases, with perfect readiness. No
instances of a fatal termination to it have occurred under the Reporter's observation j
and he can scarcely call to mind one case which has given him even momentary unea-
siness. The blood which he has had occasion to see drawn during the period of time
now under review, has not been generally or deeply buffy j and upon the whole it may
be remarked, that the inflammatory complaints of the season have been mild and
manageable. Hooping-cough still continues to shew itself. Measles has been common
in different parts ot the town, and, within the last week, small-pox has taken the lead
among the eruptive fevers. The tendency of warm weather to increase the proportion
of exanthemata, and to aggravate their symptoms when arising from any other cause,
is well known to all who are engaged in the practice of medicine ; and the reason of
this will readily suggest itself even to the unprofessional reader, in the strong deter-
mination of blood to the surface which warmth occasions. A curious illustration of
this principle occurred within the last few days, in the Reporter's practice. A young-
gentleman, sixteen years of age, had an attack of fever, attended with sickness at
stomach and pain of the back. These symptoms were relieved by the coming out of
an eruption on the legs and knees, of the kind called erythema nodosum — a form of
cutaneous disease seldom witnessed, except in females, and not very often even in
them.
Affections of the head have prevailed to a considerable extent. Giddiness, lethargic
sleepiness, and fulness of blood in the body generally, have been the leading symp-
toms. Such a state of disease is very general in London. It will be found in that por-
tion of the population who are engaged in sedentary occupations, and whose circum-
stances of life admit of their indulging in the daily use of porter. This favourite beve-
rage of the Londoners is not so harmless as they imagine. Great bodily exertion,
indeed, carries it off by the skin, and considerably diminishes its evil tendencies ; but
to those whose occupations, though constant, are sedentary, especially to females en-
gaged in needlework, a pint of porter taken daily will quickly prove the source of bad
health. A plethoric state of the blood-vessels is its common result, which sometimes
shews itself in the form of asthma and palpitation, but more usually in the characters
of head affection just adverted to. In the relief of that most distressing symptom, gid-
diness, no means can be put in competition with cupping-glasses applied to the nape
of the neck. Their effect is as certain as it is speedy j nor does it appear that repe-
tition diminishes, in any sensible degree, the value of this useful remedy. The Reporter
has now under his care an elderly man, who, for many years past, has been regularly
cupped every three months for giddiness, and invariably with the same good effect.
Among the most severe complaints which the last month has produced may be
ranked gaslropynia — that painful state of the stomach, which is a frequent attendant
on indigestion. It is described by patients as peculiarly distressing, rivetting their
attention, and poisoning all the sources of their enjoyment. Some persons suffer from
it whenever the stomach is, even in the slightest degree, disordered ; while, in others,
dyspepsia may go to a great extent without such a symptom ever developing itself.
The causes of this peculiarity are difficult to unravel. The circumstance depends pri-
1827.] • Monthly Medical Report. 101
marily on the secretion of an acid or acrid matter by the stomach, which offends its
delicate nerves. Absorbents and demulcents relieve this unpleasant feeling, and the
subnitrate of bismuth is unquestionably a medicine of considerable efficacy in this con-
dition of the stomach; but its permanent cure can only be effected by those means
which restore the tone of the stomach, and which are available against every other
form of dyspeptic ailment.
Several cases of neuralgia have lately come under the Reporter's care ; not, indeed,
in that aggravated form to which the term tic douloureux is appropriated, but in some
of its lighter and less formidable grades. Of the benefit of tonics in this kind of
disease, the Reporter can speak very favourably. The powder of the best crown bark,
in doses of twelve grains, repeated three times a day, is very efficacious. The subcar-
bonate of iron also, as recommended by Mr. Hutchinson of Southwell, merits in an
equal (perhaps even a superior) degree the confidence of the medical practitioner.
The Reporter cannot conclude without expressing the gratification he experienced
from a visit, on the 6th of June last, to the Seaman's hospital-ship Grampus, moored off
Greenwich for the accommodation of the numerous shipping in the Thames. The order
and the cleanliness which prevailed in every part — the facility of admission — the atten-
tion which is paid to the peculiar habits of sailors — the simplicity of the practical regu-
lations for the conduct of the establishment — the professional skill displayed in the
treatment of the sick, and the content manifest in their countenances— >all conspired to
form a gratifying picture, highly creditable to Mr. Arnot, under whose superintend-
ence the medical department of the hospital is placed. The scene would have beea
interesting, even to the common observer. On one side were seven or eight natives of
the South Sea Islands, one of them most curiously and beautifully tattooed, suffering
severely from the cold and changeableness of our climate. In a different part of the
ship might be seen the slender but graceful form of the Hindu. Here was the true
scurvy, and beside the bed a huge bowl of salad. The peculiarities in national man.
uers were exemplified in the different modes of amusement which the convalescents
were following. Such an institution deserves to be better known to the country
at large ; and it is in the hope of contributing to this desirable end, that the Reporter
has ventured to exceed the usual limits to which his communication extends.
GEORGE GREGORY, M.D.
8, Upper John Street, Golden Square, June 25, 182T.
MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
REPORTS are still fortunately a mere recital of the prosperous state of the growing-
crops, the improved condition of live stock, and of the activity and forwardness of
cultivation. To compare the present luxuriant deep-green and waving masses of vege-
tation upon the bosom of the earth with the withered, yellow, and scanty covering;
which gave it such a parched, dreary, and un-English appearance during the drought
of last summer, forms a most delightful and exhilarating contrast. Not that the late
proved the most mild, and, as might be supposed, genial spring ; for the weather was
subject to constant vicissitudes throughout, and the occasional prevalence of the east
and north east winds could not fail to have, in a considerable degree, its usual effect
on vegetation. But this effect was not so severe and excessive as it sometimes proves :
the malignancy and force of the east wind was frequently tempered by an inclination to
its southern side; and when the winds had continued so long in an easterly direction
that the course of vegetation became impeded, and blight was obviously advancing, the
vigilant and anxious cultivator of the soil,; at his 'uprising, exulted to find that the
wind had suddenly shifted to the genial west ; the incipient blight was happily arrested
in its course, and the healthful and growing state succeeded. These fortunate turns
have not failed during the spring ; and thus far lave the crops escaped. From the
102 Monthly Agricultural Report. [JULY,
fete frequency of the easterly winds, and the quantity of rain which has fallen, we may
indulge the hope of a mild and fortunate blooming season for the wheat, and of exemp-
tion from excess in the summer rains.
Wheat, on the best lands, is said to be so rank and luxuriant, that, should it fail in
grain, there will be no lack of straw. The lands, however, were so thoroughly pulve-
rized and mellowed by the latter frost, that it may be well hoped they will be able to
carry a heavy crop both of straw and corn. The Lent corn and pulse, universally, are
said to have an appearance as promising as is expected in the most fruitful season. Par-
tial complaints have been made of damage to the oats, from the grub and wire- worm j
and it is to be regretted that we hear too much of foul tilths, and of crops of weeds
equally luxuriant with the corn. This has always been a blot in the escutcheon of
British agriculture. To make the most of land, surely it ought to be restricted to one,
the profitable one, and not to be exhausted by a double crop ; and, in rational proba-
bility, those farmers who are so extremely solicitous for wide drilling and cleaning
their root crops, would not find their attention misapplied if directed also to their per-
haps equally important crops of corn. Getting in all the root-crops is by this time
finished, and most successfully ; the breadths extensive, beyond all former experience
— one of the best features in our present Husbandry. The high prices which butchers*
meat has borne gives a full sanction to this extended culture. Indeed we are now in
the state which the old French economists represented as the acme of national prospe-
rity— exuberant plenty and high price. Some suspicious hints have reached us,
respecting the number of labourers even yet unemployed, and on the parish lists. The
weather has been thus far propitious to the hay harvest, and a heavy burden may be
expected, with plentiful aftermath. The hops have suffered most from the north-east
malady, but to what degree cannot be yet ascertained. The clip of wool has not
been heavy 5 but the quality fully answers expectation, considering the difficulties and
short keep of the past winter. Fat cattle, and fat things of all kinds, find extraordinary
prices j and stores are improved in price, excepting where money and keep run short.
More complaints since our last, of " the uncommon scarcity of money causing a stag-
nation in all country dealing." But this, however correct, must not be lugged into the
hacknied subject of currency, with which it has no more connexion than with the
lunar influences. There is money plenty, in both town and country, for those who can
produce a title to it, which many an unfortunate farmer cannot. By accounts from the
north, wool is at last making a start, although at a low price. Two of our Essex landed
gentlemen, Mr. Tower and Mr. Westerne, have, as we conceive, rationally and meri-
toriously, persevered in the breeding and improvement of Merino sheep— two of which,
the property of Mr. Westerne, have lately been slaughtered in London, of the weight
of eleven stone, at three years old, the animals wearing their wool unshorn to that
period. The weight of mutton obtained is probably of most consequence in the case,
since length of staple is not the prime object in fine wool. Mr. Tower, with a sound
judgment, has adopted the plan of winter sheltering and well feeding his Merino sheep
— the mode, and the only mode, which has enabled the sheep- farmers of the Continent
to excel us in the fineness of clothing- wool. This seems to have been so prolific a
season for fruit, the grape more especially, and for all garden productions, that the tax
of spring blight will not be felt. The metropolis was never more early or more plen-
teously supplied with every necessary. The horse markets are overdone with numbers
—not, indeed, of good ones, which was never the case, even in England. The Corn
1 827.] Monthly Agricultural Report. \ 03
Bill has suffered an unexpected side-blow, the effect of which will be the introduction
of a new bill. This proceeding is viewed by the people at large as an impolitic
engrossing of the precious time of the legislature, so greatly in request for a multitude
of the most important national objects.
Smithfield.—Eeef, 4s. to 5s. 4d. —Mutton, 4s. to 5s. 2d.— Veal, 5s. to 6s.— Pork, 5s,
to 6s. -Lamb, 5s. to 6s. 4d.— Raw fat, 2s. 7d.
Corn E xc hange.-~ Wheat, 54s. to 74s. — Barley, 44s. to 50s. — Oats, 21s. to 42s.—
Bread, 9£d. the 4 Ib. loaf.— Hay, 70s. to 140s.— Clover ditto, IOOs. to 160s.— Straw
38s. to 48s.
Coals in the Pool, 28s. to 38s. 9d. per chaldron.
Middlesex, June 18, 1827.
MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.
Sugar. — The Sugar Market continues brisk, and there is a good demand for Muscovadoes
for town trade. The grocers have purchased freely during this last month, and the stock in
the West-India Dock is considerably reduced. The prices of Jamaicas may be quoted at
46s. to 66s. per cwt.
Cotton. — The Cotton Market, both here and at Liverpool, continues very dull. Prices
are nominal, and no sales of any consequence have been effected.
Coffee — Remains dull and heavy in the market, for want of orders from the Continent ;
and the home consumption, at this season of the year, is very dull ; therefore, prices are
nominal.
Rum, Hollands, and Brandy. — The former article is in demand, for fine old Jamaioas
are worth 4s. per gallon; Leward Islands, 2s. 6d. ; but Hollands and Brandy are dull of
sale, and prices nominal.
Hemp, Flax, and Tallow — Are without alteration in price ; and sales continue very dull,
particularly in Tallow.
Course of Foreign Exchange.— Amsterdam, 12. 7. — Rotterdam, 12. 7. — Antwerp,
12. 8.— Hamburgh, 37. 6.— Altona, 37. 7.— Paris, 25. 85.— Bordeaux, 25. 85.— Berlin,
0. — Frankfort on the Main, 144^. —Petersburg, 9£. — Vienna, 10.21. — Trieste, 10.21.—
Naples, 38|.— Palermo, 4 4|.— Lisbon, 58|.— Oporto, 58|.— Gibraltar, 34.— Cadiz, 34.
— Bilboa, 34.— Seville, 33|. — Barcelona, t34.— Buenos Ayres, 43.
Bullion per Oz. — Foreign Gold in bars, £3. 17s. 6d.-— New Doubloons, £3. Os.— New
Dollars, 4s. 9d.— Silver in bars, standard 4s. 1 Id.
Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint-Stock Companies, at the Office of WOLFE,
BROTHERS; 23, Change Alley, Cornhill.— Birmingham CANAL, 295/.— Coventry, 1250J. —
Ellesmere and Chester, 1051.— Grand Junction, 31 11. — Kennet and Avon, 251. 5s.— Leeds
and Liverpool, 395J.— Oxford, 700J.— Regent's, 2SJ. 55.— Trent and Mersey, 1,800/.
—Warwick and Birmingham, 285J.— London DOCKS, 84*. 1 0*.— West- India, 200/. 10s.—
East London WATER WORKS, 1237. — Grand Junction, 63/. — West Middlesex, 66J.— -
Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE.— 1£ dis.— Globe, 151/. — Guardian, 19/. 10s. —
Hope, 5^. — Imperial Fire, 93Z.— GAS-LIOHT, Westminster Chartered Company, 611. —
City Gas- Light Company, 165/.— British, n^dis.— Leeds, J95J.
[JULY,
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 2lst of May
and the 2lst of June 1827 ; extracted from the London Gazette.
BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.
Ailsup, G. Holy well, Flintshire, maltster
Allan, J. Truro, Cornwall, tea-dealer
Barnes, T. Wittershain.Kent, linen-draper
Bowman, R. late of Boughton-Malherbe, Kent,
• grocer
Crofts, G. Wycombe-marsh, Buckinghamshire,
paper-maker
Gregson, E. Habergamheaves, Lancashire, cotton-
spinner
.Harrison, H. Knutsford, Chester, merchant
Heill, G. Compton-street, Clerkenwell, baker
Randall, S. Ilminster, Somersetshire, victualler
BANKRUPTCIES. [This Month 119.]
Solicitors' Names are in Brackets.
Bancks, C. Latebrook, Staffordshire, dealer. [Ro-
binson and Co., Dudley; Wimburn and Co.,
Chancery-lane
Bracewell. J. Liverpool, coal-merchant. [Foster,
Liverpool ; Jayes, Chancery-lane
Bailey, J. late of Horncastle, Lincolnshire, iron-
monger. [Eyre and Co., Gray's-inn ; Selwood,
Horncastla
Berthon, J. late of Liverpool, merchant. [Had-
field and Co., Manchester ; Hurd and Co., Tem-
ple
Bretton, H. Oxford-street, woollen-draper. [Phipps,
weaver's-halt, Basinghall-street
Brimmell, J. Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, rope-
man uf a cturer. [Boustield, Chatham - place ;
Winterbotham, Tewkesbury
Brockbank, J. junior, Whitehaven, Cumberland,
spirit -dealer. [Falcon, Elm-court, Temple;
Hodgson and Son, Whitehaven
Burridge, R. Chenies - street, Bedford -square,
builder. [Beverley, Garden-court, Temple
Barnes, T.Wittersham, IsleofOxney, K-ent.linen-
' draper. [Hoar and Co., Maidstoue ; Egan and
Co., Essex-street, Strand
Burgess, R. late of Rainham, Kent, brick-maker.
fGresham, Barnard's-inn, Holborn
Beswick, G. and I. Beckley, Dover-street, Picca-
' dilly, hotel-keepers. [Gates, Lombard-street
Barham, J. T. Bread-street, Cheapside, lace-dealer.
[Evans and Co., Gray's inn-square
Badnoll, R. Leek, Staffordshire, banker. [James,
Charlotte-row, Mansion-house.
'Bellchambers, E. Gloucester, printer. [King and
Co., Gray's-inn square ; Reed, Cheltenham
Baynard, E. Deptford, wine-merchant. [Wil-
liams and Co., Gray's-inn
Eidmead, W. Cheltenham, plasterer. [Packwood,
Cheltenham; King, Hatton-garden
Cook, W. Exeter, saddler. [Adlington and Co.,
Bedford-row ; Furlong, Northinghay, Exeter
Cleminson, J. Salford, rope-maker. [Perkins and
Co., Gray's-inn-square ; Thompson, Manches-
ter
Cosserat, J. N. P. Torquay, Devonshire, money-
scrivener. [Kitson, jun., Torquay ; Bicknell and
Co., Lincoln's-inn
Collis, G. Romford, Essex, ironmonger. [Fair-
thorne and Co., King-street, Cheapside
Cross, G.Chalcroft -terrace, Lambeth, corn chand-
ler. [Elgie, Old Jewry
Clarke, F. alia
ias Clerk, Great Yarmouth, Norfolk,
butcher. [Worship, Great Yarmouth ; Frances,
New Bosw ell-court.
Cousins, S. W. Norton - falgate, linen - draper.
[James, Bucklersbury.
Campion, J. Guisbrough, Yorkshire, grocer. [Lowe,
Temple; Clarke, Guisbrough.
Cole, T. East Stonehouse, Plymouth, plumber.
[Pontifex, St. Andrew's-court, Holborn
Croft, R. and S. Cheapside, lacemen. [Brooking
and Co. Lombard-street
Demaine, J. Preston, draper. [Hurd and Co.,
Temple ; Buckley, Manchester
Daniel, G. jun., Birmingham, merchant. [Amory
and Co.. Throgmorton - street ; Parkes, Bir-
mingham
Davis, .F and P. Woodnorth, Whitehaven, earthen-
ware-manufacturers. [Perry, Whitehaven ; Clen-
nell, Staple-inn
Edwards, H. Cheltenham, brick-maker. [White,
Lincol»'s-inn ; Whitley and Co., Cirencester.
English, F. Birmingham,' draper. [Burman, Bir-
mingham ; Walker, Lincoln's-inn-fields
Finney, C. Derby, cabinet-ma'ker. [Moulsey and
Co., Derby ; Fen and Co., Henrietta-street, Co-
vent-garden.
Ford, J. Reading, Berkshire, bricklayer. [Bart^
lett, Reading; Ford, Great Queen-street, Lin-
coln's-inn-fields
Fox.G. R. Blatkheath, merchant. [Swin and Co.,
Frederick's-place, Old Jewry
Femvick, T. Gateshead, Durham, woollen-draper.
[Bell and Co., Bow-church-yard ; Willis and
Co., Gateshead.
Fernihougli, J. Frognell, Staffordshire, timber-
merchant. [Barber, Fetter lane ; Brandon and
Co.,Cheadle
Fisher, J. Birmingham, draper. [Holme and Co.,
New-inn ; Slater, 'Birmingham
Fairbotham, J. otherwise J. Fairbothams, Naffer-
* ton, Yorkshire, coal-merchant. [Ellis and Co.,
Chancery-lane ; Scotchbum, Great Dufficld
Greaves, W. H. New -court, Crutched - friars,
druggist. [Richardson, Ironmonger-lane, Cheap-
side
Gregory, J. Sun-street, Bishopsgate-strcet, gro-
cer. [Adlington and Co.,' Bedford-row
Goddard J. and A. F. Cope, Walworth, sugar-
refiners. [Lloyd, Bartlett's buildings, Holborn
Gunson, R. Buck'lersbury, warehouseman. [Fowel
and Co., Nicholas-lane
Garese, D. Hackney-road, merchant. [Bown'.an,
Union-court, Broad-street
Graves, I. Richmond-place, East-street, Wal-
worth, sugar-refiner. [Lloyd, Bartlett's-build-
ings, Holborn.
Haldy, F. Craven-street, Strand, wine-merchant.
[Isaacs, Bury-street, St. Mary-axe
Hedges, C. Aldermanbury, warehouseman. [Tho-
mas and Co, New Basinghall-street
Howell, T. and I. Howell, junior, Bath, uphol-
sterers. [Jones, Crosby-square, Bishopsgate-
street ; Hellings, Bath
Hetherington, H .Kingsgate-street,Holborn, printer.
[Green and Co., Sambroke-court, Basinghall-
street
Killer, F. T. Dover, Kent, builder. [Shipden and
Co., Dover,; Abbott and Co., Pecks-buildings,
Temple
Haslem, J. Bolton-le-moors, Lancashire, tripe-
dresser. [Adlington and Co., London ; Cross
and Co., Bolton-le-moors
Hunt, — Blakenham Parva, Suffolk, lime-burner.
[Rodwell and Co., Ipswich ; Bridges and Co.,
Red-lion-square
Holliug, J. Nether Knutsford, Chester, dealer.
[Cole, Serjeant's-inn, Fleet-street ; Dumville,
Knutsford
Hay, E. W. Oxford-street, tobacconist. [Ford,
Great Queen-street, Westminster.
Jeffreys, I. Lambeth, ironmonger. [Webb and
Co., Dean-street, Southwark
Jefferies, I. St. Phillip and Jacob, Gloucestershire,
victualler. [Keene, Furnival's-inn ; Frankis,
Bristol
Jones, E. Compton-street, Soho, grocer. [Amory
and Co., Throgmorton-street
Joyce, I. and I. HouSman, Smith-street, Northamp-
ton-square, colour-manufacturers. [Dax and
Co., Holborn-court, Gray's-inn
Jennings, J. W. Birmingham, factor. Norton and
Co., Gray's-inn-square ; Wills, Birmingham
Jackson, J. St. Swithin's-lane, shipowner. [God-
mond, Nicholas-lane, Lombard-street
Jones, E. W. Tewkesbury, Scrivener. [Platt,
New Boswell-court ; Beale, Upton-upon-Se-
vern
Kenyon, J. Blackburn, glass dealer. [Holme find
Co, New-inn ; Meredith, Birmingham
182?.]
Bankrupts.
105
Kieran, W. Great George-street, Bermondsey, but-
ter-merchant. [Keene, Furnival's-inn
Leaker, G. F. Bristol, earthenware-dealer. [King,
and Co., Gray's-inn-square ; Gary and Co., Bris-
tol
Latham, J. Liverpool, wine and spirit-merchant.
[Jones, Liverpool ; Jones, Pump-court, Temple
Loveland, W. Bermondsey, shipwright. [Whiting,
London Bridge-foot, Southwark
Lee. J. Leicester, corn-dealer. [Milner and Co.,
Temple ; Cape, Leicester
Lomax, J. Stockport, bookseller. [Back, Veru-
lam-buildings, Gray's - inn ; Newton and Co.,
Heaton-norris, near Stock-port
Lloyd, A. Dolgelly, Merionethshire, grocer.
[Clarke and Co., Chancery-lane; Williams,
Shrewsbury.
Mera, J. L. Market-row, Oxford-market, vic-
tualler. [Turner, Clifford's-inn
Miller, W. late of Roehampton, Surrey, butcher.
[Turner, Percy-street, Bedford-square
Moiton, W. Great Carter-lane, Doctor's Commons,
plumber. Hewitt, Tokenhouse-yard
Mclntyre, — Stockwell-park, Surrey, schoolmaster.
[Ewington, Bond-court, Walbrook
Manington, T. Hastings, ironmonger. [Parker
and Co., Sheffield ; Bishop and Co., Hastings ;
Walter, Symonds-inn
Nightingale, E. Manchester, porter-dealer. [At-
kinson, Manchester; Makinson and Co., Tem-
ple
Nightingale, E. and G. Worthy, Manchester, por-
ter-dealers. [Hurd and Co., Temple; Had-
iield and Co. .Manchester
Nathan. I. Wellington-place, Shepherd's-bush,
music-seller. [King, Hatton-garden
Pullan, S. P. Knaresborough, Yorkshire, money-
scrivener. [Adlington and Co. Bedford-row ;
Watson and Co., Liverpool
Plunkett, W. and I. Whitechapel-road, iron-
monger. [Ashley and Co., Tokenhouse-yard
Pearson, T. Mitre-court, Fleet-street, wine-mer-
chant, [Robinson, Walbrook
Parsons, W. Melksham, Wiltshire, rope-maker
[Moule and Co., Melksham; Frowd and Co.,
Lincoln's-inn
Price, T. St. Clement's-lane, victualler, [Bean,
Friar-street, Blackfriar's-road
Pimiinger, W. and W. Pinninger, junior, Calne,
Wiltshire, clothiers. [Parker, Dyer's-buildings,
Holborn
Phillips, H. Stepney-house, Yorkshire, merchant.
t Edmonds, Exchequer -office, Lincoln's -inn ;
age, Scarborough
Phillips, G. Brighthelmstone, confectioner. [Free-
man, Brighton; Freeman and Co., Coleman-
street
Pinnington, D. Queen-head-yard, Great Queen-
street, Lincoln's-inn-fields,horse-dealer. [Smith,
New Clement's-inn Chambers
Pasheller, C. and I. Huntingdon, bankers. [Sweet-
ing and Co., Huntingdon ; Lowe and Co., South-
ampton-buildings, Chancery-lane
Parkis, J. Regent-street, oilman. [Duncombe,
Lyon's-inn
Paraguen, J. Francis - street, Tottenham-court-
road, baker. [Routledge, Furnival's-inn
Robinson, R. Hastings, Sussex, grocer. [Mil-
ler, Rye, Sussex ; Miller, Great James-street,
Bedford-row
Robson, E. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, saddler. [Py-
bus, Newcastle-upon Tyne ; Swain and Co.,
Frederick's-place, Old Jewry
Rutherford, T. Agnes-place, Waterloo-road, m«r-
[chant. Burn, Raymond-buildings, Gray's-
inn
Richards, G. Argoed, Monmouthshjre, grocer.
[Smith and Co., Red-lion-square ; Franklyn,
Bristol
Ross, G. and W. Hammond, Strand, wine-mer-
chants. [Paterson and Co. Old Broad-street
Regnardin, A. Great Winchester-street, wine-
merchant. [Ogle, Great Winchester-street
Reynolds, H. Cheltenham, saddler. [Watson and
Co., Falcon-square ; Smollenge, Cheltenham
Rose, W. Strand, music-seller. [Drawbridge,
Arundel-stieet, Strand
Ralph, T. Crutched-friars, surgeon. [Fitzgerald
and Son, Laurence Poultny-hill, Cannon-street
Rich, J. Lime-street, merchant. [Owen, Mark-
lane
Rcdpatb, 0. Greenwich, Kent, builder. [Atkins
and Co., Fox Ordinary-court, Lombard-street
Smith, S. Hastings, Sussex, innkeeper. [Kell,
Battle ; Ellis and Co., Holborn-court, Gray's-
inn
Stratford, D. W. Ripley, Derbyshire, grocer.
[Hall, Alfreton ; Hall and Co. New Boswell-
court
Spooner, C. Chelsea, linen-draper. [Ewington,
Bond-court, Walbrook
Strubell, R. East Moulsey, Surrey, carpenter.
[Guy, Hampton-wick, Middlesex ; and King-
ston, Surrey
Smithers, I. H. Liverpool, provision-merchant.
Mawdsley, Liverpool ; Adlington and Co., Bed-
ford-row
Sadler, J. Jermyn-street, wine merchant. [Score,
Copthall-buildings
Salmon, W. Rltham, Kent, victualler. [Cookney,
Bedford-row
Stockall, I. Bedford-street, Covent-garden, wool-
len-draper. [Scarth, Lyon's-inn
Scholetield, W. Wardleworth, Rochdale, shop-
keeper. [Norris, John-street, Bedford - row ;
Sweet and Co.,Basinghall-street
Smith, M. H. Little Chester-street, Grosvcnor-
place, stone-mason. [LJurgoyne and Co., Duke-
Street, Manchester-square
Tilston, T., Tilston, T. and I. Jones, Mold, Flint-
shire, ironfounders. [Roberts, Mold ; Milne
and Co., Temple
Tarralst, T. Bath, haberdasher. [Hamilton and
Co., Berwick-street, Soho
Watlin, J. Leicester-place, Leicester-square, piano-
forte maker. [Gangrave, Leicester-place, Lei-
cester-square
Walke, A. and J. Sanders, King-street, Cheapside,
victuallers. [Quallelt and Co., Prospect-row,
Dockhead, Bermondsey
Waters, W. Luton, Bedfordshire, baker. [Au-
brey, Tooke's-court, Chancery-lane ; W illis,
Luton
Wren, T. Preston, Lancashire, ironmonger. [Hurd
and Co., King's Bench-walk, Temple ; Trough-
ton and Co., Preston
Webb, J. Stioud, Gloucestershire, draper. [Green
and Co., Sambroke-court, Basinghall-street
Woffall, W. C. Worcestershire, glove-manufac-
turer. [Holdsworth and Co. Worcester ; White,
Lincoln' s-inn
Wortley, N. W. Uppingham, Rutlandshire, dealer.
[Clowes and Co., King's Bench-walk, Temple
Worrall, T. H. St. John's-street, West SmithneM,
wine-merchant. [Hindmarch and Co., Crescent,
Jewin-street, Cripplegate
ECCLESIASTICAL
Rev. I. H. Seymour, to the Prebend of St. Mar-
garet's, Leicester.— Rev. T. H. Elwin, to the Rec-
tory of East Barnet, Herts.— Bev. R. G. Harris,
to the Rectory of Letterston, Pembroke. — Rev.
J. Griffith, to he Domestic Chaplain to the Lord
Chancellor. — Rev. J. Morris, to he Domestic
Chaplain to Lord Lynedock. — Rev. W. Levett, to
be Sub-dean of York Cathedral.— Rev. E.T.Bid-
MM. New Series.— Vol.. IV. No. 19.
PREFERMENTS.
well, to the Rectory of Orcheston, St. Mary, Wilts.
—Rev. H. Roberts, to the Rectory of Baxterley,
Warwick. — Rev. G. Evans, <to the Vicarage of
Pofterspury, Northampton. — Rev. S. Vernon, to
be Chancgllor of the Church in York Cathedral .—
Rev. I. C. Matchett, to the Vicarage of Catton,
Norfolk.— Rev. J. H. Robertson, to the Church
and Parish of Coldingham, Berwick.— Rev. T.
106
Ecclesiastical Preferments.
[ J U LY7
Brown, to the Chapel of Ease, Ivy Bridge, Devon.
—Rev. J. Harries, to the Perpetual Curacy of
Newcastle Ejnlyn, Carmarthen. — Rev. J. Hughes,
to the Perpetual Curacy of St. Michael, Aberyst-
with.— Rev. D. Price, to the Perpetual Curacy of
Llanfihangel Vechan. — Rev. J. Leach, to the Liv-
ing of Tweedmouth, Durham.— Rev. W. Hewitt,
to the Living of Ancroft, Durham.— Rev. Mr.
Home, to the Rectory of Hotham, York.— Right
Rev. J. B. Jenkinson, Bishop of St. David's, to be
Dean of Durham — Rev. W. Fisher, to be Chap-
lain to H.R.H. the Duchess of Kent.- -Rev. W. E
Hony.to the Rectory of Baverstock, Wilts.— Rev.
W. Hildyard, to be Chaplain to the Lord Chan-
cellor.—Rev. Professor Scholefield, to be Official
to the Archdeacon of Ely.— Rev. I. Todd, to be
Chaplain to H. R. H. the Duke of Sussex.— Rev.
G. W. Brooks, to be Chaplain to the Duke of
Leeds.— Rev. I.Russell, to a Prebend in Canter-
bury Cathedral.— Rev. R. Lucas, to the Rectory
of Edith Westoii, Rutland.
INCIDENTS, MARRIAGES,
May 28.— Hit Royal Highness the Lord High
Admiral inspected the Woolwich division of Royal
Marines.
29.— His Royal Highness inspected the ships in
the river.
— The Admiralty Sessions commenced at the
Old Bailey.
31. — Sessions commenced at the Old Bailey.
June 1.— It was officially announced to a Court
of Common Council, on the authority of the Home
Secretary (Mr. S. Bourne), that His Majesty's
health precluded him at present from receiving, on
the throne, the address which the corporation had
voted to him lately on the change of ministers.
4. — The seventy-fifth anniversary of the Society
f»r the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and
Commerce, was celebrated at the King's Theatre,
by the presentation of the rewards to the respec-
tive candidates. H. R. H. the Duke of Sussex
presided.
5. — Charlotte Augusta Matilda, Princess Royal
of England, and Queen of Wirtemberg, landed
safely at Greenwich, after an absence of nearly
30 years. She was escorted by the Life Guards
from Greenwich to the palace of St. James's.
7. — His Majesty's message sent to the Parlia-
ment, announcing the expediency of providing for
the expense of H.M.'s forces in Portugal.
7.— The English Roman Catholic Association
held their annual meeting at the Crown and
Anchor, but abstained from all attempts at urging
their claims at present,
8.— The Sessions terminated at the Old Bailey,
when 33 were condemned to death, 109 sentenced
to be transported, and 117 to imprisonment for va-
rious periods.
J3. — At a Court of Common Council, an address
waa unanimously voted to the Queen of Wirtein-
berg, congratulating Her Majesty on her return
to her native land.
20.— At a Court of Common Council, notice vras
received from the Queen of Wirtemberg, graciously
acknowledging the address voted to Her Majesty ;
but declining to receive it in state, as her visit to
England was solely "of a private nature, and to
see her family.
MARRIAGES.
At St. George's, Hanover-square, E. C. Whin-
yates, esq,, K. G. O., and Maiov Royal Horse Ar-
tillery, to Miss S. Compton, sister to S. Compton,
esq., M.P., Derby.— T. J. Owst, esq., to M,rs.
Dearsley.— At St. George's, Hanover-square, J. C.
B. Trevanion, epq.,to Charlotte Trelawny, daugh-
ter of C. T. Brereton, e»q., Shotwick-park, Che-
AND DEATHS, IN AND NEAR LONDON, ETC.
shire. — At Kennington, E. Batten, esq., to Miss
A. E. Withers.— At Mary-le-bone Church, Hon.
Capt. A. Legge, brother to the Earl of Dartmouth,
to Lady Anne Catherine Holroyd, sister to Lord
Sheffield.— T. Welsh, esq., to Miss Wilson, late of
Drury-lane Theatre. — In Stratton-street, Picca-
dilly, William de Vere Aubrey, Duke of St. AK
bans, to Harriet, widow of the late Thomas Coutts,
esq.— At St. George's, Hanover-square, G. Palmer,
esq., to Miss E. C. Surtees.
DEATHS.
At Tunbridge Wells, Lady Lismore, relict of the
late Lord Lismore, and daughter of the late Right
Hon. John Ponsonby.— Mr. James, the able author
of the " Naval History." — In Berner's-street, Mrs.
Goodenough, wife of the Bishop of Carlisle.— At
Colne Engainc, the Rev. Dr. Trollope, late upper
grammar master of Christ's Hospital. — At Bar-
ming, the Rev. M. Noble, F.S.A., author of seve-
ral literary, historical, and antiquarian produc-
tions ; he had been rector of Banning upwards of
40 years.— In King-street, Covent-garden, Mr. C.
Richardson; he was a collector of prints and
documents illustrative of the university and county
of Oxford ; his collection is, we understand, very
large and valuable, as is also his collection of
papers relative to Covent-garden Theatre. — In
Cadogan-place, Lady Selina Bathurst, sister to
Earl Bathurst. — In Charles-street, Berkeley-
square, 91, the Countess Dowager of Stamford
and Warrington. — At Islington, /O, E. Hughes,
esq.— In Seymour-place, the Right Hon. Lady Ju-
lian Warrender.— At Wickham, Admiral T. R.
Shivers. — In Mansfield-street, the Marchioness of
Waterford, widow of the late, and mother to the
present Marquis of Waterford.— In Stafford -place,
Miss Diana Gertrude. — In Stanhope-street, Rev.
C. Anson, Archdeacon of Carlisle. — At Wimbledon,
the Duchess of Somerset, sister to the Duke of
Hamilton.— Mrs. Hart, wife of General Hart,
M.P., and governor of Londonderry.— At Clonfert-
house, 82, Susan, wife of the Bishop of Clonfert.: —
100, Mrs. Saxby, of Aylesbury.— In Surrey-street,
J. Yates, esq. — In Mount-street, Grosvenor-square,
the Duke of Gordon.— In Mount-street, 62, W.
Martin, esq.— Viscount Chichester, infant son of
the Earl and Countess of Belfast.
MARRIAGES ABROAD.
At Malta, David Grant, esq., to Miss Emma
Morice Raynsford.— At Charlottenburg, Prince
Charles of Prussia, to the Princess Maria of Saxe-
Weimar.— At the British Ambassador's Chapel,
Paris, W. G. Bicknell, esq., to Ann Elizabeth,
1827.]
Incidents, Marriages,
107
daughter of T. Stodel, epq.. Consul of the United
States of America, at Bordeaux.— At Rome, and
afterwards at the Chapel of Lord Burgbersh, at
Florence, Count Ranghiasci Brancaleoni, to Sarah
Matilda, daughter of Sir Benjamin Hobhouse,
bart.
DEATHS ABROAD.
At Sidney, New South Wales, Commodore Sir
James Brisbane, late commander-in-chief in the
East Indies.— At New York, 73, the Hon. Rufus
King, late Ambassador from the United States to
this country ; and Henry Cruger, esq. ; he bad
been representative in Parliament with Edmund
Burke, for Bristol, from 1/74 to 1/30.— On the
Lake of Geneva, J. B. Story, csq., of Woodbo-
rough-hall, Nottingham- — At Naples, the Marchio-
ness of Abercorn, sister to the Earl of Arran.— At
Tunis, her Highness Lilla Fatima, consort of the
Bey; three days previous to her death she had
been delivered of a prince, her fourteenth child ;
at her funeral 1,000 slaves received their liberty. —
Lieut. -Col. R. C. Garnham, on b'oard the Fairlie
on his passage from Calcutta to the Cape; he was
formerly Resident at the court of one of the na-
tive princes.— At Aleppo, of the plague, Hon. H.
Anson, brother of Lord Anson.— At Falmouth,
Jamaica, 140,RebeccaFury, a black woman, whose
age has been correctly traeed from the deeds of
her owners ; she retained her reason to the last.
—At Jersey, Lieut.-Col. Campbell, of the 58th
regt.— At Chateau-dun, P. Herv£, esq., the founder
of the National Benevolent Institution.— At Ver-
sailles, J. E. Lord, esq., of Tupton-hall, Derby.
MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES;
WITH THE MARRIAGES AND DEATHS.
NORTHUMBERLAND AND DURHAM.
The sixth annual exhibition of the Northumber>
land Institution for promoting the Fine Arts has
been recently opened, and has displayed a variety
of good pictures.
The Newcastle Sunday School Union Society
held its anniversary meeting on Whit-Tuesday;
when upwards of 3,000 children, and 300 teachers
were present. By the report, it appeared that
the society has under its fostering care 117
schools, 12,818 children, taught by 2,161 gratui-
tous teachers! !!
Friday, June 8, theHylton Jolliffe steam-packet,
arrived at Newcastle from London, being her first
voyage. She left the metropolis on Wednesday
morning at 7, and reached Shields at 5 on Friday
morning. She has two engines of 100 horse-
power, and is 300 tons burthen.
The railway from Witton to Stockton, a distance
of 25 miles, was formed for the conveyance of
coals, and such has been its effect in lowering the
expence of carriage, that coals, which formerly
sold at 18s. per ton, in Stockton, are now sold
there for 8s. 6d. The railway passes through
Darlington, which is at a distance of 12 miles
from Stockton, and two coaches now travel the
road daily, conveying great numbers of passengers,
at the rate of a penny per mile each. These ve-
hicles are the bodies of old six-inside coaches,
placed upon new and lower wheels, fitted for th#
railway : they are drawn by a single horse, which
often draws 20 to 30 passengers, at the rate of 10
miles an hour, with quite as much ease as a horse
moves in a gig; indeed the traces are generally
loose, and his principal effort is to maintain his
speed.
On the 2/th of May, a thunder-storm visited
Newcastle, and the eJectric fluid struck the house
of Mr. Swan, shattering the chimney, and passing
(being conducted by the bell-wires) along the edge
of the ceiling and a bed room beneath, leaving
traces of its fiery progress in the tinged papering
of the room. There were twelve persons in the
house, none of whom were hurt. The lightning
also struck a goose dead, which was swimming
with others at the White-mare Pool, between New-
castle and Sunderland ; its under jaw was split,
and it was burnt down the belly.
A new Roman Catholic Chapel was opened at
Durham on the 31st of May; and one at Darling-
ton on the 29th.
Married.'] At Cheter-le-street, E. Wylam, esq.,
to Miss Bird.— At Newcastle, Mr.Tulloch,to Miss
Hirst.— At St. Helen's, Auckland, Mr. J. Quart,
to Miss Routledge.
Died.] At Sunderland, 101, W. Geddes.— At
Northallerton, Miss P. Gabrielli.— At Alnwick,
92, Mrs. Wilson.— At Glanton, 88, Mrs. B. Wake.
— At Newcastle, 82, J. Thompson, esq. — At Gates-
head, 76, Mrs. Randyll.— At Esh Loude, Rev.
J. Yates, who for 40 years bad been a zealous
minister of the Roman Catholic religion. — At
Birch's Nook, 101, Mr. J. Green.— At Ayton, near
Stokesley, the Rev. W. Deason.
YORKSHIRE.
As an undoubted proof of the improvement which
has recently taken place in the Sheffield trade, we
are enabled to state, that the applications to the
overseers for relief, have for some time past been
rapidly decreasing, and in a late week only eight
were applied for ; whereas for some time past the
average was eighty per week. We are likewise
happy to state that trade is improving at Leeds
also.
As two persons were lately walking along the
shores of the Humber, in the township of Welwick,
south-west of the church, they discovered, at the
foot of the clay cliff, about 60 yards from the foot
of the present bank, which is not a modern one,
and 13 inches under the general surface, some-
thing like the corner of a wooden chest or coffin,
which the tides had recently laid bare. Curiosity
induced them, with much labour, to uncover it,
when it proved to be a coffin of strong oak plank,
which had been originally two inches think, well
joined together, battened across both above and
below in three places, and made double at the
ends. It was a perfect parallelogram or long
square, measuring 7 feet 1 inch long, and 1 foot
10 inches wide within— a space which the corpse
seems to have fully occupied, as the bones of the
skeleton extended very near the whole length.
The skull (which is in the possession of a profes-
sional gentleman at Patrington), is large, and re-
markably prominent about the eyebrows. About a
P 2
108
Provincial Occurrences : Stafford, Salop, $ c.
[JULY,
yard without the spot where the corpse had been
deposited, is the site of an ancient bank, and it
may be supposed that the body was buried when
that bank was in existence ; but at what period it
is not easy to say. The teeth were good and per-
fect, and it is conjectured the person had been a
man of middle age, and, from the strength and
goodness of the coffin, to have been no ordinary
personage. After a diligent search, nothing was
found likely to lead to further discovery, and the
remains, except the skull, were re-interred. Pro-
bably this is the site of the abbey of Burstall, part
of which was standing not a century ago.
In the night of the 23d of May, three men en-
tered the house of Mr. Shackellton, a lone man-
sion, at Greave, in the parish of Wadsworth, a
wild and uncultivated part of the county of York.
After having plundered the house, one of them
shot Mr. Shackellton in the back, who almost im-
mediately expired. They got off, and have not ytt
been apprehended.
At the review of the Yorkshire Hussars, on the
28th of May, upon Knavesmire, near York, the
officers presented Lord Grantham, their com-
mander, with a splendid piece of plate, of the
ralue of .£450, and weighing 300 ounces, as a
mark of their respect and esteem.
A singular circumstance occurred at Mr. John
Bulmer's, of Lane House, near Bedale, on Sunday
last, the 10th June. A hive of bees cast for the
third time within twelve days ; and another swarm,
which had lived during last summer in the bole
of an old tree, cast upon the top of the tree, from
whence they were safely brought down, the per-
sons employed escaping without a single sting-
It was curious to observe a new swarm of bees
on the top of this tree, whilst there was an old
swarm in the bole, and a duck sitting on her eggs
at the bottom.
Married.] At Eastrington, J. Farrar, esq., to
Miss E. Robinson.— At Rotherham, F. Holcombe,
esq., to Miss Walker.— At York, Hugh Powell,
esq., to Miss Wilkes; Hale Munro, esq., to Miss
Mac Dowgall. — At Leeds, M. Langdale, esq., to
Miss Barhill.— At Swine, J. Aldorson, esq., to Miss
Harrison.— At Northallcrton, N. Smith, esq., to
Miss Irvine.— At Sirsayingham, the Rev. C. Binns,
toMissW.i' -a.
Died.'] At Redcar, J. Maddington, esq.— At
York, M. Botterill, esq. — At Middlesmoor, the
Rev. T. Lodge.— At Leeds, Mrs. Kirkley,and Mrs.
Granger.— At Leeds, W. Petty, esq.— At York,
90, Mrs. Gelson ; she received the sacrament at
church in the morning, went home rather unwell,
and died before eight o'clock in the evening. — At
Lawley-hall, C. Norton, esq.— At Halifax, 91,
Gamaliel Breary ; he served in the army 33 years,
and was at the battle of Minden : he had been a
pensioner 26. — At Gisburn-park, Miss Lister, sister
to Lady Ribblesdale.
STAFFORD AND SALOP.
The disbursements of the public stock last year
for the county of Salop, amounted to .£10,406. 8s. Id.
in which .£3,267. 5s. 8d. was charged for the Jail
and House of Correction, and .£2,329. 10s. 5d. for
bridges and roads.
A petrifaction, resembling part of the trunk of
a tree towards the butt, was recently found in the
Moat Colliery, Tipton, Stafford. It measured in
length 2 feet 4 inches, and in circumference 4 feet
10 inches, with the bark formed into coal ; it was
in nearly an upright position among the strata of
ironstone, at the depth of upwards of 200 yards
below the surface, and which, in the exit action of
it was broken from the upper part of the trunk,
which still remains in the earth. On the exposure
of this fossil to the atmospheric air, the coal formed
from the bark shivered from the trunk. The proprie-
tors of the colliery mean to send it to the British
Museum.
The new church at Bilston has recent'y been
opened for public service, when nearly .£300 was
collected.
Married ] At Highley.T. Rose, esq., to Miss A.
Evans.— At Ellesmere, the Rev. T. Golightly, to
Miss F. Boydell.— At Dudley, Mr. Bloxedge, to
Miss M. Bond.— At Bromneld, W. Lloyd, esq., to
Miss Tench. — At Wolverhampton, B. Gardner,
esq., to Miss Glover.
Died.'] At Quinton-house, S3, A. Foley, esq.
—At Pipe-gate.T. Latham, esq.— At Bridgnorth,66,
Mr. J. Pugh, supposed to be the heaviest man in
the county, his weight being twenty score pounds ;
his body was borne to the grave by 16 men. — At
the Wyie-cop, 86, Mrs. Hughes.— At Madeley, 75,
W. Yonee, esq.— At Little Eaves, Bucknall, 105,
Mr. W. Willett.
LANCASHIRE.
We are glad to state that the recent Improve-
ments In trade have not been confined to Man-
chester alone, but that they have extended to
Wigan, Blackburn, Burnley, Colne, &c., where the
weaver*, we are informed, are all in full employ.
Died,\ At Manchester, 84, I. Touchett, esq.—
At Walton-hall, Liverpool, T. Leyland, esq., be-
lieved to be worth .£1,500,000.
NOTTINGHAM AND LINCOLN.
A new workhouse, for the parish of St. Mary,
Nottingham, has been commenced.
The Methodists of the New Connexion, at Bos-
ton, have purchased a piece of ground for the site
of a new, large, and commodious chapel.
The Primitive Methodists are erecting a chapel
at New Radford.
By the annual report, recently made, of the Not-
tingham Auxiliary Missionary Society, it appears
that the number of members on station of this
society, amounts to 33,152; the receipts for last
year to .£45,380. 17s. 2d.; and that 12,000 children
are educated in their schools.
Died.] At Mansfeld, 77, Mr. E. Clifton; 83,
Mr. J, Shipham ; 84, Mrs. Sykes.— At Notting-
ham, 83, Mr. Heron. — At Beeston, 81, Mrs. Good-
all.— At Nottingham, 79, D. Love; he was well-
known as a poet in his neighbourhood.
DERBY AND CHESTER.
By the abstract of the account of expenditure
under the Derby improvement act, it appears that
from March 31, 1826, to March 31, 1827, it amount-
e*d to the sum of .£6,522. 6s. 2^., out of which
sum upwards of.£3,500 were expended in foot-pave-
ments, carriage-roads, scavengers and labourers,
wages, watering and lighting the streets.
Married.] At Doveridge, F. B. Page, esq.. to
Miss M. Smith.
Died.] At Edge-hill, Chester, T. C.Dod, esq.— At
Hulland, 74, T. Borough, esq. — At Spondon, 74,
Mfs. Rowbotha.n.— 85, W. Cox, esq., of Culland-
hall, Derby.— At Tabley-hall, Lord de Tabley.—
At Nantwich, 70, the Rev. J. Smith.— At Codnor-
park, 81, C. Royston, esq. — At Little Brompton,
72, Mr. J. Hutchinson ; he had been in the em-
ploy of Messrs. Smith and Co., of the Brompton
Foundry, upwards of half a century.
LEICESTER AND RUTLAND.
Coal has lately been discovered on some land at
Ibstcck, within 12 miles of Leicester, and also on
1827.] Warwick, Northampton, Worcester, Hereford, fyc.
109
Bagworth Heath, making the fourth discovery of
this useful article which has been made in the
same neighbourhood within the last few weeks.
Lord Maynard's workmen have been employed in
boring for more than twelve months, but their
efforts were not crowned with success till the
other day, when the gratifying fact was commu-
nicated to the neighbouring villages by the ring-
ing of the bells of Thornton church. This disco-
very is an event of the first importance to the in-
habitants, and must prove a great benefit to all
classes, especially if a rail-road should be esta-
blished for the purpose of conveyance : similar
advantages would thus be felt here as those speci-
fied above in Northumberland and Durham.
Considerable activity, we are happy to say, pre-
vails in the hosiery business at Leicester.
Died.] At Leicester, 85, N. Cooper, esq.; 50
years of which he held a commission in the Leices-
tershire Militia; and Miss Flint.— At Earl SM1-
ton, Mr. Thorneloe.— 81, Mr. W. Ellis, of Ashby-
de-la-Zouch.
NORTHAMPTON.
Married.'] Atlsham, Mr. Manton, to Miss C.
H. Norman.
Died.] At Kettering, 94, Mrs. Humphrey.— -At
Northampton, 62, Rev. J. Stoddart: for more
than 30 years head-master of the grammar-school
there.
WORCESTER AND HEREFORD.
The twelfth exhibition of the Ross Horticultural
Society was of the most splendid description, and
was attended by all the first families round the
neighbourhood. The grand stand was covered
with 300 geraniums (in full bloom) and green-
house plants ; 350 bottles were filled with beauti-
ful tulips, besides a rich variety of other speci-
mens of flowers.
The needle trade at Redditch, &c., we are happy
to say, is on the improving state.
Died.] At Mansel-lacey, 87, Mr. W. Lloyd ;
78, Mrs. Davies.— At Worcester, E. Long, esq.—
At Hereford, Mrs. Ann Griffith.— At Stourbridge,
81, Mr. J. Dovey ; he was the first person who in-
troduced glass-cutting into Staffordshire.
GLOUCESTER AND MONMOOTH.
A complete and most satisfactory trial was
made last week of the improvements at the Old
Passage Ferry. The steam-packet began crossing
the Severn on Wednesday, and has already con-
veyed several thousand passengers, besides many
hundred horses and carriages of all descriptions.
The cattle, which have been unusually numerous
at the Ferry, in consequence of the late fairs, were
carried over in the proper boats for that purpose,
and occasionally towed by the steam-vessel when
required by the state of the wind and tide. The
oldest inhabitant at Beachley does not remember
so large a concourse at the Ferry. On Wednesday,
also, the first direct coach was started between
Chepstow and London. The Old Passage Ferry
is now separated from the inns, and placed under
the management of a respectable superintendant.
The fares are reduced considerably ; and the Di-
rectors of the Association publicly state, that they
are ready to encourage all descriptions of con-
veyances on the roads communicating with the
Ferry, and to accommodate the public in visiting
Tintern-abbey, Wyndcliff, Piercefield, and the
other celebrated attractions of the neighbourhood
of Chepstow.
Married.] At Ragland, Mr. Allan to Miss
Chambers. — At Stroud, Mr. Randall, to Miss
Hogg.— At Clifton, the Hon. J. Southwell, to
Miss M. Farmer.— At Cheltenham, A. H. Hinu-
ber, esq., to Susanna Elizabet-'i, daughter of Sir
Rupert George, bart.
Died.] At Coombhay, 86, Rev. E. Gardiner,
rector of Tintern Pavva. — At Stroud, Mrs. Sandys.
—At Monmoutli, Mr. Richards.— At Nailsworth,
Mrs. Westley.
OXFORDSHIRE.
Oxford has now coaches to all parts of the king-
dom; and great benefit has already arisen from
the improvement of the hills and roads generally
between London and Birmingham, and London
and Cheltenham. The very great alterations made
in Stokenchurch hill, that of Long Compton, and
the whole line of road between London and Holy-
head, have made it, in point of travelling, equal to
any in the kingdom.
Married.] At Oxford, D. V. Durell, esq., to
Miss M. Le Breton.— At Iffley, W. Cole, esq., to
Miss Rebecca Wootten.— At Oxford, S. Miller,
esq., to Miss Barry.
Died.] At Henley, 75, T. Theobald, of the So-
ciety of Friends.— At Coomhe-lodge, 72, S. Gar-
diner, esq. — At Hampton, 87, Mrs. A. Johnson.—
At Abingdon , Mrs. Badcock.
HANTS AND SUSSEX.
A meeting of the inhabitants and visitors of
Brighton has lately been held, for the purpose of
taking into consideration the best means of render-
ing the method invented by Mr. Vallance, for the
conveyance of passengers and goods by atmosphe-
ric pressure, beneficial to the town of Brighton ;
when, after the report was read, seveial resolu-
tions were entered into, expressing their strong
approbation of the plan, as being entitled to the
most cordial support of the town.
Married.] At Clatford, H. Bosanquet, esq., to
Miss Richards.
Died.] At Winchester, the Right Hon. Lady
Mary Murray.
HERTS.
Two destructive fires have lately happened at
Hemel Hempstead and Cottenham. At the former
no lives were lost ; but at the latter, a poor boy
(W. Carrier) in attempting to save his clothes, was
burnt to a mere cinder ; and another poor man is
suffering from the effects of the fire. It appears no
insurance was made at Hemel Hempstead ; but at
Cottenham a large proportion of the property was
ensured.
- Died.~] At Gadesbridge, Anne, wife of Sir Ast-
ley Cooper, bart.
ESSEX AND KENT.
The choice collection of tulips, belonging to the
late Mr. Andrews, of Coggeshall, has lately been
disposed of by public auction. The best bed of 80
rows (7 flowers in each) fetched .£222 ; one row,
in which was an extraordinary fine Louis 16tb,
sold for .£19. 15s. The whole realized upwards
of .£300.
Lately, some workmen, employed In digging
stone at Boughton-hall, near Maidstone, disco-
vered bones and teeth of several animals, some
of which were transmitted to the Geological So-
ciety. As they were found to be those of the
hyena, considerable interest was in consequence
excited, and it was determined that some of the
Fellows should examine the quarry, as there seemed
reason to conclude that a ca\e might be found
110
Provincial Occurrences: Cambridge, Norfolk, $c. £JuLY,
there like that of Kirkdale, in Yorkshire. Ac-
cordingly Dr. Buckland, Mr. Lyvell, and several
other scientific gentlemen have visited Boughton,
when tt was discovered that the bones in question
had been found in a fissure of the rock, which had
evidently been filled up by diluvial action. The
bones of at least two hyenas (of the extinct Kirk-
dale species), were found, together with the bones
and teeth of the horse, rat, &c.; but the fissure
extended so deeply in the solid rock, that it could
not be traced to the bottom, and it will not be pos-
sible to ascertain whether it leads to a cave for-
merly inhabited by hyenas, or is merely a fissure
filled up by the effects of deluge, until the quarry
is considerably enlarged. The fact, however, of
the bones of a race of extinct hyenas having been
found so far southward is highly important , and
we trust that, ere long, our own county, which
the researches of one gentleman have proved to
be so rich in the remains of a former world, will
be found to rival the north in these more com-
paratively recent savage inhabitants of our island.
Married.] At Cheriton, Rev. F. Twistleton, to
the Hon. Emily Wingfield, daughter of Viscount
Powerscouvt.— At Westerham, J. M. Leslie, esq.,
of Huntingdon, to Anna Sophia, daughter of Dr.
Mackie, late of Southampton.
Died] At Waltham Vicarage, MissE. C. Clarke.
— At Eppins, 71, Mr. J. Butler.— At Harwich, the
Rev. W. Whiufield.
CAMBRIDGE.
The South Level Act has received the Royal
assent. The defective state of the rivers has been
a subject of loud and general complaint for many
years; they have been found equally ill adapted
for the drainage of the country in the winter, as
for the navigation in the summer. The leading
object of the Act is the deepening and improving
them, so as to afford to the navigators an unin-
terrupted passage at all seasons of the year, and
at the same time to benefit the general drainage,
by giving a free course for the waters, and lower-
ing the surface against the banks, and other
works of drainage. This is one of the greatest
public improvements sought to be effected in this
part of the country for many years.
Married.'] At Barton-mill, Rev. C. Jenkin, to
Miss E. M. Walker.— At Cambridge, Rev. R. M.
White, to Miss A. Sadler.
NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK.
Great rejoicings have taken place at Norwich
in consequence of the bill for making that place
a pert having past ; and amongst the various dis-
plays on the memorable occasion, during the pro-
cession, thirteen men and one woman, whose united
ages amounted to 1,100 years, regaled themselves
at one of the public-houses in a temperate way,
as becoming their venerable situations, rejoicing
to have lived to see such a day. The operations
of the Norwich and Lowestoft Navigation Com-
pany will commence, it is understood, with the for-
mation of the harbour at Lake Lothing.
A petition from the operatives of Norwich has
been presented to the House of Commons, and
ordered to be printed, praying the House to de-
vise some means for settling by law the rate of
wages in the city of Norwich.
A very alarming riot took place lately at Nor-
wich, caused by the committal of several persona
to gaol, for having destroyed looms, and committed
other devastations at AshweltUurpe. The calling
in of the military, and the judicious arrangements
of the mayor and police at length put an end-
to it ; and several of the ringleaders were incar-
cerated.
A correspondent from Yarmouth says, the im-
provement our herring curers have manifested is
so great, that they obtain the high prices in the
Hamburgh market usually given to the Dutch
fishermen, whose goods are now looked upon only
as second best. Indeed the herring fishery of
Great Britain has increased 850 per cent, in the
last 10 years. This fact is obtained from the last
year's report made to Parliament by the Com-
missioners for the Herring Fisheries, which states
that in the year ending April, 1826, 379,233 bar-
rels of white herrings were cured — being an in-
crease of 31,600 barrels over the preceding year ;
and that the quantity exported was 217,073 bar-
rels— being an increase in exportation in the same
period of 15,056. In the year 1810 only 34,701
barrels were cured ; the whole of which were sent
out of the country.
By the fifteenth annual report recently made,
it appears that during the last twelve months there
have been opened in Norwich, 13 daily and 10
Sunday-schools, affording instruction to 1,600 chil-
dren ; the number of schools now in union with
the society is 1/5, and the total of children 9,357!
Married.] F. K. Eagle, esq., of Lakenheath,
to Miss S. A Blake, (laughter of Sir James Blake,
bart., of Langham. — At Chattisham, Rev. F. Cal-
vert, to Miss S. Hicks.
Died.] At Framlingham, 86, Mrs. Bucking-
ham.—At Yarmouth, 84, Mr. F. Brook; and, 77,
Mr. J. Armstrong.— At Stradsett-hall, T. P. Bagge,
esq.— At East Dereham, 72, Mr. W. Salter.— At
Norwich, A. Browne, esq.— At Yarmouth, 74, Mr.
W. Fisher.
DORSET AND WILTS.
Notwithstanding there is now as much cloth
manufactured at Trowbridge as at any preceding
period, yet there are 3,000 persons unemployed ;
and the poor-rates are extremely heavy : the
farmers paying 20s. an acre.
Mr. Spence, of Wimborne, lately hearing a sin-
gular noise behind the wainscoat of one of his
chambers, removed a small portion of it, and in-
stantly a flight of bats rushed out, on which an
attack was made ; ninety of them were killed,
and, it is imagined, nearly half as many escaped.
The building is ancient, and once formed part of a
religious house.
Sunday, June 10, a camp meeting was held In
a field near Dunclift-hill, Shaftesbury, by 11
(8 men and 3 women) of the Primitive Christians,
or Ranters ; the number of persons assembled was
supposed to be at least 2,000. A considerable sub-
scription was made on the spot for the completion
of their chapel at Enmore Green, which is nearly
finished.
It is calculated that no less than 2,000 deer
perished in Cranbourne Chase during the early
months of this year ; and if we add the probable
number of 1,000 supposed to have strayed feway,
or been destroyed by various means of night-
hunting, and in necessary defence of the farmers'
and cottagers' preduce in fields and gardens, there
is reason fo believe that the decrease of deer since
last autumn is not less than 3,000 ! !!
Married.] At Kemblc, Capt. Bentham, R.N.,
and Knight of St. Michael and Louis, to Emma
Pelew Parker, niece of Lord Exmouth.
1827.] Somerset, Devon, Cornwall, Wales, and Scotland.
Ill
Died.] At Wclla, Sir J. Galbraith, bart., of
Dublin, formerly crown solicitor, and M.P.-At
Lyinc, Mr«. Ro«s.— At Devizes, Miss F. Elliott.—
AtTrowbridge, Mr. Buckpitt.
SOMEBSET AND DEVON.
On Whit-Monday and Tuesday, the Dissenters-
Union School, of upwards of 1,000 children, and
the National School of 800, were entertained with
roast beef, plurn-cakcs, cyder, &c. &c., at Frome,
after attending their respective services at meeting
and church ; 300 teachers attended on the part of
the dissenters.
A subscription of .£50 has been sent from Fromo
also, for the promoting religious knowledge in
Ireland.
A collection of .£30 was made at Bridgewater
Church lately for their infirmary, after a sermon
preached for the occasion.
Glastonbury Canal Bill having passed, will give
immediate employment to the labouring classes
of the neighbourhood ; and a mass of population,
amounting to upwards of 55,000, will be supplied
with many of the necessaries of life at a less price
than heretofore ; an extensive market will be
opened for the produce of the country round ; and
a barren uncultivated track will in a few years
become highly productive land.
The new bridge from Teig'nmouth to Shaldon
was opened June 4, with all due ceremony of pro-
cession, bands of music, feasting, &c.
The ceremony of laying the first stone of the
new church at W'iveliscombe, took place on June
6, .when there was collected such a concourse of
people as have scarcely ever assembled in that
neighbourhood on any former occasion ; and
amongst the public dinners, the poor charity chil-
dren were not forgot ; the town was adorned with
triumphal arches, festoons of laurel, roses, and
other flowers.
Married.] At Bath, A. Corbet, esq , of Ynysy-
maengwyn. to Julia, youngest daughter of General
Garstin. — R.Anstice, esq., Mayor of Bridgewater,
to Miss Boys.— At Frome, Rev. E. Wilson, to Miss
King.— At Bathwick, T. Allen, esq., to Mrs. M. A.
Tolfrey.
Died.] At Sampford Courtenay, 72, Rev. W.
Beauchamp; he had been rector of that parish
32 years.— At Shepton Mallet. Lieutenant J. Tur-
ner; he had been in H.M.'s service 57 years!! —
At Stonehouse, 69, J. Kent, esq. — At Exeter, Mrs.
Moore.— At Taunton, 86, Miss Ball.— At Lam-
bridge-house, 88, Dr. Haygarth, F.R.S.— At Brad-
ninch, Mr. Dewdeney.— Near Bath, Capt. Sausse,
supposed to have been the last surviving officer
engaged in Lord Rodney's celebrated action with
Comte de Grasse.— At Sidmouth, 93, Mrs. May.—
Mr. J. Heard, for 48 years parish clerk of Bick-
leigh. — At Branscombe, Rev. T. Puddicombe.
CORNWALL.
The deputation which was lately sent from this
county, from the merchants and others interested
in the pilchard fishery, had an audience with the
President and Vice-president of the Board of
Trade, accompanied and supported by the mem-
bers for Devon and Cornwall, and several of the
principal land-owners in the two counties. Though
the deputation received no encouragement as to
the success of the principal point of their petition
—the renewal of the bounty on fish— yet the Pre-
sident held out hopes of something being done next
year towards its more gradual reduction.
Died.] At Penzance, Mr. W. L. Matthews,
architect; under the direction of Mr. Repton, he
drew all the elevations of Regent-street, before a
single house was removed ; 77, J. Vigurs, esq.—
At Towednack, 106, Mrs. Anne Martins.
WALES.
The annual district meeting of the Welsh Wes-
leyan Methodists has been lately held at Carmar-
then, when it appeared by the report that much
good had been done through the medium of the
printing-press and book-room established in North
Wales. The congregations were exceedingly nu-
merous throughout the meeting, which lasted
several days. The number of members- in their
society in Wales is rapidly increasing, and now
amounts to 7,000.
A Mariners' Church has been opened between
Newport and Pilgwenlly, Monmouthshire ; being
the first place of worship erected in the principality
for the accommodation of seamen.
A meeting has bren held of the inhabitants of
Bridgend and neighbourhood, for the purpose of
forming a rail-road from the Dtrffryn-Llynir rail-
road to that town, when it was resolved that the
capital should consist of .£6,000, to be raised by
subscription of 300 shares, at .£20 each, and a
committee formed to prepare a bill for next session
of Parliament.
A meeting has been held at the Guildhall,
Swansea, for the formation of a Savings' Bank,
when it was unanimously agreed to, and the Duke
of Beaufort accepted the office of patron.
Married.] AtTenby, J. B Beasley,esq.,toM5s§
H. M. Boater.— At Newport (Monmouth) Mr. Ven-
nor, 84, to Miss Baker, 17.— At St. George's, W.
Gamier, esq., to Miss S. Thistlethwaite. — AtLlan-
girrig, near Llanidloes, Mr. E. Davies, 19, to Mrs.
Thomas, 70, relict of the late Mr. R. Thomas,
Tynymaes ; she married Mr. Thomas 55 years ago,
when 15 years old.
Died.] At Swansea, 71, Mrs. Wilkins. — At
Lansamlet, 81, Mrs. Davies.— At Crickhowell,
Mrs. G. Hood O'Neil.— At Nantyglo (Monmouth),
Mrs. M. Bailey.— At Cardiff, 82, Mr. Willett.— At
Lwyncwtta (Radnor), Mrs. E. Davies.— At Cow-
bridge, 75, Mr. W. Meredith.— Isabel, wife of W.
Crawshay, esq., of Cyfartha-castle. — At Fynon-
carradog, 78, Mr. J. Roberts.— At Neath, 87, Mrs.
Miers.— At Pantglass, 97, Mr. W. Samuel.— At
Syddin, 101, Mr. J. Reynor.,
SCOTLAND.
The good effects resulting from the revival of
trade are becoming more and more manifest, and
extending farther among the working population
of the suburbs. In Calton and Bridgeton, all the
cotton-mills and power-weaving-mills, and, in
general, public works of every kind, are fully em-
ployed ; and as the weavers are also fully em-
ployed, very few idle persons are to be seen going
about the streets ; indeed, it is remarked in that
neighbourhood, that, generally speaking, the great
body of the population have not been so well em-
ployed for the last two years. This remark ad-
mits of an exception in the case of labourers, who
have some difficulty in finding employment — the
great number of persons who were employed at
labouring work during the last year by the Relief
Committee, having considerably lessened the de-
mand for labourers, and exhausted the usual
sources of labour in this department. It is also
considerably lessened by the small number of
buildings that are going on this season.
Died] At Kirriemuir, 100, J. Macgregor ; when,
after the battle of Culloden, Lords Kilmarnock and
Balmerino were concealed in the woods of Glan-
tanner, he was employed in carrying them daily
provisions.
DAILY PRICES OF STOCKS,
From the 2Qth of May to the ZMh of June 1827.
Bank 3 Pr. Ct. 3 Pr. U.:3iPr.Ct. 3§Pr.Ct. N4Pr.C
Stuck. Hed. Consols. Consols. "Red. Ann.
Long
Annuities.
India India Exch. Consols
Slock. Bonds. Bills, for Ace.
203*J
2033204*
204*
2033204
204
2035 204 A
204 i
2033 I
204*
204F i
204 4
204
204|205*
20a_*
205* f
205 i
206 i
206
205£20G
82*
83| 84
89J 90
jbi
90*
ff
92
19 3-16 £
19ft ~ 3-16
9 3-16 5-16
19 5-16 7-16
19 5-16
19 5-1
19
19 | 7-1
19 § 7-16
19 | 7-16
19 7-16 |
19 5-16 9-16
19 11-16 13-16
19 3 13-
19 13-16
19 11-16 13-16
19 11-16 13 16
80p
83 84p
8270{r
8286p
7780p
7879p
7678p
7678p
79 80
78p
8485p
8385p
83p
84 85p
86p
5253p
52G3p
41 49p
444/p
5o59p
44 50p
48 50p
4749p
4648p
4547p
45 46p
4446p
454/p
4750p
4951p
5051p
50 51p
5051p
5051p
5052p
51 53p
52 54p
83*
SIT
E. EYTON, Stock Broker, 2, Cornhill and Lombard Street.
MONTHLY METEOROLOGICAL REPORT,
From. May ZOth to 19th June inclusive.
By WILLIAM HARRIS and Co.. 50, High Holborn.
8,
Therm.
Barometer.
De Luc's
Hygro.
Winds.
Atmospheric Variations.
3
o
g
*s
S'
£
c
"S
I
•<
a
n
9A.M.
10P.M.
<
p-'
9A.M.
10 P, M.
9AM.
2P.M.
10 P.M.
s
r
S
at
S
i
o
o
20
63
70
53
29 93
29 94
77
76
E
W
Fair
Fine .
Fine
21
60
72
55
30 00
30 03
73
74
NE
W
_
_
63
64
55
2!) 99
2!) 94
80
89
wsw
W
Clo.
Rain
Clo.'
23
20
64
69
52
29 88
21) 59
83
92
wsw
sw
Rain
24
57
60
45
29 31
29 27
87
88
\v
wsw
Clo.
25
55
€
52
60
48
29 24
29 28
90
87
w
sw
Rain
Rain
Clo.
26
53
64
49
29 33
29 41
90
87
sw
sw
__
Clo.
—
27
10
59
66
54
29 46
29 54
82
88
wsw
ssw
Fair
Rain
28
60
67
56
29 58
29 69
88
92
sw
sw
Clo.
Clo.
_
29
60
66
'52
29 6tt
29 67
85
90
sw
sw
—
30
63
70
57
29 75
29 69
84
78
sw
sw
__
__
Fine
31
63
70
52
29 67
29 67
78
83
ssw
sw
— !
Fair
—
June.
1
55
66
52
29 5/~
29 68
88
73
sw
w
S.Rain
_
Clo.
2
12
3
56
65
45
29 54
29 .''5
92
85
ssw
w
Rain
Rain
Fine
3
51
64
51
29 67
29 76
82
76
w
wsw
Fair
Cio.
4
r>6
66
54
29 78
29 85
76
78
w
WNW-
—
—
—
5
59
62
48
29 75
29 50
78
82
sw
w
Clo.
__
—
6
10
54
61
49
29 53
2d 75
82
76
WNW
NW
_
—
_
7
56
63
49
29 83
29 94
75
81
NNW
NE
Fair
Fair
Fine
8
54
63
52
30 07
30 16
80
76
NE .
SB
—
Fine
9
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THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
Nefo Series.
VOL. IV.] AUGUST, 1827. [No. 20.
SKETCHES OF HAYTI.*
A MOMENT'S reflection cannot fail to excite astonishment, that the
history of modern Hayti has been thus long disregarded. We say disre-
garded, because, most unquestionably, if there be one important part of
the history of our own time on which the English reader in general is
more ignorant than another, it is the transactions which have occurred in
.that island during the last thirty years. Barbarities, almost unprece-
dented, have been perpetrated ; a new nation has started into existence,
even within sight of our own colonies ; has effected a total revolution
in the most fertile of the West-India Islands ; and still no record of
its progress, acknowledged to be accurate, has yet appeared. Wre con-
cur, therefore, in the opinion, that a good account of the internal con-
dition of Hayti, written from personal observation, appears to be one of
the greatest desiderata in modern geography ;t arid we are glad to find
that in the Sketches of Hayti, an attempt has been made to supply some-
thing of the deficiency complained of. Before, however, we investigate
the merits of Mr. Harvey's volume, it may be worth while to inquire
what causes have operated during so long a period to continue the public
in comparative ignorance, upon a subject which is highly interesting, both
as it affects the great question of the abolition of negro slavery, and the
security of our possessions in the West Indies. Has the torpor of the
press been occasioned by some insuperable difficulty opposed to the ac-
quirement of information ? We apprehend not. Mr. Wilberforce and
many other distinguished persons in this country have long been in corres-
pondence with natives of Hayti, and English residents there, and have,
from time to time, been supplied with a great mass of memoires pour
* Sketches of Hayti ; from the Expulsion of the French to the Death of Christ ophe.
By. H. W. HARVEY, of Queen's College, Cambridge, pp. 416. 8vo. London : Seeley
and Son. 1827.
f Encyclopaedia Metropolitans.
M.M. New Series— VOL. TV. No. 20. Q
J 1 1 Sketches of Hayti. [AUG.
servir d Ihistoire. Has it then proceeded from policy ? We should
answer, yes. There are two great contending parties, for such they really
are, who are especially interested in the subject, the planters, and the most
active of the abolitionists ; and we believe that their silence has proceeded,
not from a dearth of knowledge of the facts, but from the impracticability
each party has experienced of giving to many of the occurrences that
complexion which would forward its particular views. It is not to be
supposed that the most enthusiastic abolitionists have avoided shuddering
at the numerous wanton and atrocious cruelties which have been perpe-
trated by the negroes ; nor can it be imagined that the planter would be
so blind to his own interest as to invite the public discussion of the ques-
tion, without the certainty of attaining an overwhelming triumph. His
position was the defensive. If, indeed, the progress and the condition of
Hayti had been referred to and enforced as an argument for the hasty
abolition of slavery in our own West-India islands, then the planter might
have appeared " ten thousand strong" by the use of tbe very same
statements, which, if advanced without provocation, would have made
him seem desirous, not so much of protecting his own property from
destruction, as of advocating that horrid system of personal bondage,
which in the abstract cannot be too bitterly condemned. Interest has,
therefore, trammelled the parties who are most conversant with Hayti ;
and thus the details of its progress have not received that attention which
they seem to require. It is true, that short occasional notices have been
inserted in different periodical journals ,* and in addition to several publi-
cations in France,* an anonymous work was sent forth in Edinburgh in
1818, entitled " History of the Island of St. Domingo, from its disco-
very by Columbus to the present period ;" still, nothing satisfactory has
appeared ; and as it is high time that the veil of mystery should be thrown
aside, we agree with Mr. Harvey in thinking, " that any information,
however imperfect, will at this time prove peculiarly acceptable."
The author informs us in his preface, that " the materials of the volume
are principally derived from printed documents, procured in Hayti, and
from short notes made during my residence there ;" and he adds, " I beg
to state most distinctly, that I undertake to furnish nothing more than
brief and imperfect sketches of Hayti, such as, I hope, may be found in-
teresting to general readers." The precaution taken in the last sentence,
was not unnecessary ; but we shall not quarrel with Mr. Harvey from the
scantiness of his information. We regard his endeavour as likely to prove
the precursor of many more, and as it is the first, so, in all probability,
will it rank among the weakest.
The first revolt in Hayti occurred in August, 1791; but it is wrong to
attribute it principally, as the volume before us does, "to the impolicy
and injustice of the planters and colonists themselves." It was the work of
the French revolutionists ; and, from its commencement to its close, it ex-
hibited an appalling picture of the influence of their diabolical machinations.
The French system of colonization might have been bad, and, as it affected
the wealth of the mother-country, it was most decidedly so. Its leading
features were these : — The French planter generally looked upon his settle*
* As Gregoire, de la Litter at ure des Negres, 1808; Guillernim, Precis Historigue
df.s derniers Evenements de Saint Doming uet 1811 ; Regis, Memoir ~e Historique sur
Touissaint UOuverture, suini d^une Notice Historique sur Petion, 1811; Civique de
Gastine, Histoire de la Itfpubliqve de Haiti, 1819, <fec.
1 827.] Sketches of Hayli. 1 1 5
raent as his home, and oftener expended its proceeds in his new and
adopted country, than stored them up carefully with a view of ultimately
enjoying them in his native land. He seemed to have no intention to be
an ephemeral visitor, and to amass wealth rapidly at the expense of negro
life, in order that he might take his departure the more speedily. This is
proved to have been the case, by the costly mansions erected, the money
and labour expended in the cultivation of pleasure grounds, and the efforts
made to give a permanency and attraction to the establishments, which
should dissipate the remembrance of other scenes. Even to this day it is
impossible to sail along the shores of the gulf of Hayti, without being
struck with the wreck of his designs, and acknowledging that, before the
hand of desolation had disfigured them, they must indeed have been beau-
tiful. His intercourse with his slaves, especially with those about his per-
son, was far more familiar than is that of the English colonist. It was,
however, extremely badly regulated, for the negro was one moment treated
as the companion of his master, and the next reminded that he was his
slave. But this inconsistency was not peculiar to the French colonist, for it
has formed a leading feature in the national character of France from time
immemorial, and still exists in undiminished vigour. It was, nevertheless,
the great vice of the system, and prepared the minds of the negroes for a
change, although it cannot be said to have brought about that event.
Under this system it is evident that the French planter had a double
motive to labour for the preservation of his estates; both his property and
his home were at stake ; but he found it impossible to withstand the in-
trigues of revolutionary France. Long previous to 1791, it was customary
for free mulattoes and negroes, of whom there were many, to repair from
St. Domingo to France, for the purpose of acquiring education, and when
the National Assembly was not content with decreeing that " all men are
born and continue free and equal as to their rights," but employed agents
to inspirit the people of colour to act upon that doctrine, the planters
thought it high time to endeavour to legislate for themselves. Upon this
a society was formed in Paris, designated Amis des Noirs, and a just esti-
mate may be made of its real character from the fact, that the abhorred
Robespierre was one of its chief members. Immediate emancipation was
the word ; and an emissary, a mulatto, named Ogee, was despatched to
St. Domingo, to light the torch of desolation. The colonists naturally
refused to grant emancipation. Massacre and revenge soon commenced
their horrid career, and crimes were perpetrated which surpassed the con-
ception of even Robespierre himself. The most detestable of cruelties
Were practised by either party ; but the planters necessarily endured the
greatest miseries. The habits and constitution of the negroes gave them
incalculable advantages ; and, in addition, the planters found that those
to whom, at other times, they would have appealed for support, their own
countrymen, were ranged among their direst foes. It was, therefore, the
French revolutionists, and not the planters, who occasioned the first com-
motions in St. Domingo ; and the proceedings were stamped with that
demon spirit which deluged France. If the following lines, which were
Written at the time, are destitute of poetic grace, they, at least, record the
truth :
" Still view in western climes death's palest horse
With pestilence and slaughter mark his course j
Q 2
J 1 6 Sketches of H&yti. [ Auc .
While dusky tribes, with more than maniac rage,
Rending their brazen bonds, in war engage :
For France still burns to make, with dire intent,
' Hell and this world one realm — one continent.' "*
In September 1 793, when the contest between the planters and negroes*
had arrived at the height, the English invaded the island. Thus alarmed,
the colonists proclaimed freedom to the negroes, many of whom united
with the French ; and the English were compelled, by climate and reverses,
to abandon their project in 1798. But the power of the colonists was now
crushed — the greater part of their property was devastated — and Touissaint
L'Ouverture, a free African, became civil and military chief. He appears to
have been a man of virtue and ability ; but his influence was of brief dura-
tion. The supremacy of France was disavowed; and, in 1802, an expe-
dition, despatched by Buonaparte, and commanded by General Le Clerc,
arrived off the island. It was conceived in villainy, conducted with shallow
duplicity, and rendered worse than nugatory by imbecility. Touissaint
was treacherously seized, and perished in a French dungeon ; Le Clerc
lost his life ; and, after almost incredible atrocities had been committed by
both parties, the French forces were finally expelled from the island in
1803. On the capture of Touissaint, Dessalines became chief; and a short
account of his life and character will be the best comment that can be
made on the state of Hayti during his supremacy. We select it from the
volume before us, and are satisfied, from inquiries made in the island, that
it is correct:—
" He was originally a slave of the lowest order, his master being himself a negro ;
and, while in that condition, he was remarkable chiefly for his strength and acti-
vity, an unconquerable obstinacy, and a low sort of cunning, not unusual among
negroes. He joined in the early commotions, and soon became one of the most
active in conducting the proceedings of the insurgents — one of the most daring, in
proposing and carrying into effect schemes of the greatest hazard — and one of the
most cruel and barbarous in his treatment of the planters and other whites who fell
into his hands. He left no means untried in order to prevail on the negroes to
abandon the service of their masters ; and, having collected a considerable number
into one body, placed himself at their head, and then caused them to lay waste the
plantations, to destroy the mansions which had been erected on them, and to mas-
sacre their unprotected proprietors without distinction. After the declaration of
freedom by the French, Dessalines joined their forces in endeavouring to expel the
English. He engaged in this contest with his accustomed activity and fierceness,
and his exertions were considered as an atonement for his previous misconduct.
The service to which he was called during this period fitted him to act the firm and
courageous part which he took, when the attempt was made to re-establish slavery.
He turned a deaf ear to all the dictates of pity and humanity; and regarding the
French as the relentless enemies of his race, he treated all who were so unfortunate
as to fall into his hands with excessive rigour and barbarity. Previously to the
seizure of Toui&aint, he was second in command ; and, on the removal of that
distinguished negro from the island, he succeeded to his authority. For, although
deficient in military skill, his zeal, activity, and courage supplied, in some measure,
what he wanted in this respect, and, with his violent hatred of the French, ren-
dered him? the most popular of all the negro generals.
" On the expulsion of the French forces, a considerable number of residents
remained at Cape Franqois and the other towns of the colony; some from a vain
hope of aHeast securing a part of their property, and others from having lost the
opportunity of returning to Europe with the remains of the army. Shortly after
the entrance of Dessalines at the Cape, he invited these men to continue in the
* Pursuits of Literature.
1827.] Sketches of tiayti. 117
island, and assured them that their persons and property should be protected as
long as they felt disposed to remain. The majority accepted this unexpected offer.
But it soon appeared that Dessalines was as destitute of veracity as of forbearance
or generosity. A few weeks only had elapsed, when he issued 'a proclamation of
so inflammatory a nature as astonished even his own officers, and suddenly deprived
the French residents of every hope. ' It is not enough,' he says, ' to have driven
from our country the barbarians who, for ages, have stained it with our blood. —
It is become necessary to ensure, by a last act of national authority, the permanent
empire of liberty in the country which has given us birth. Those generals, who
have conducted your struggles against tyranny, have not yet done. The French
name still darkens our plains ; every thing reminds us of the cruelties of that bar-
barous people.— What do I say ? There still remain Frenchmen in our island
When shall we be tired of breathing the same air with them ? What have we in
common with that bloody-minded people? — Citizens! men, women, young and
old, cast round your eyes on every part of the island ; seek there your wives, your
husbands, your brothers, your sisters : — Whatdid I say ? Seek your children—-
your children at the breasts ; what is become of them ? Instead of those interest-
ing victims, the affrighted eye sees only their assassins, — tigers still covered with
their blood, — whose frightful presence upbraids you with your insensibility and
slowness to avenge them. Why then do you delay to appease their manes ?'
" Dessalines was not the man to rest in mere threats. Shortly after he issued
the proclamation, he visited the towns in which the French lived, and put them to
the most violent deaths, personally assisting in destroying them. At Cape Frangois
his proceedings were marked by the basest treachery. Having carefully marked
the houses in which the helpless victims of his fury resided, as soon as the day was
closed he proceeded, at the head of his savage band, to execute his dreadful pur-
poses. This was a night of horrors. The negroes themselves, accustomed as they
had been to scenes of blood, shuddered at this renewal of massacres. — But Dessa-
lines soon ascertained that, notwithstanding the strictness of his orders and his
search, several had escaped discovery. To these he now offered forgiveness and
protection, provided they would publicly appear to receive his assurances. Many
of them, hoping that some remains of sincerity might still exist in the heart of this
savage, and knowing that at best their lives were in continual danger, appeared on
the appointed spot at the time specified. He was waiting their arrival, surrounded
by the companions of his cruelty j — when, instead of granting the promised protec-
tion, he caused them all to be shot.
«' He now proceeded to take such steps as appeared to him necessary for the
permanent establishment of his authority. The name of Governor of the Haytians
he rejected, as indicating a degree of power more limited than that which he
actually possessed. He determined, therefore, to assume the title of Emperor ;
and on declaring his intention, with little previous consultation either with his
officers or the people, he was hailed as such by the army, and conducted by them
to the house which now became his palace, amidst their applauses and apparent
good wishes for a long and prosperous reign. His power was absolute ; and it may
easily be conceived in what manner and for what purposes he employed it. In the
mean time, his employments were as trivial and absurd as his treatment of the
people was impolitic and tyrannical. He was even delighted, when assuming some
comic character, he endeavoured to represent it before his officers and the people.
He was especially anxious to be considered an elegant and accomplished dancer,
and would sometimes exhibit himself in public. At length his principal officers,
convinced of his inability, disgusted at his follies, and wearied with his cruelties,
resolved on cutting him off, and electing another chief in his stead."
De Vastey, the only writer Hayti has yet produced, denies that Chris-
tophe participated in the conspiracy against, and murder of, Dessalines ;
but he is no authority, for he was dependent upon Christophe ; and had he
written otherwise, his life would have been the penalty of his hardihood.
Dessalines was destroyed in 1806; and two claimants of the first station
speedily appeared, in Christophe, the Governor of Cape Francois, and
Petion, the Governor of Port-au-Prince. The majority of Petion's officer*
J 18 Sketches of Hayti. [Auo.
were raulattoes, while those of Christophe were negroes. The popularity
of each leader in his own district was unrivalled ; and after several years of
irregular warfare, their strength being nearly balanced, a mutual cessation
of hostilities took place, without Union, truce, or treaty ; and French Hayti
was nearly equally divided between them. But the personal character of
Christophe was far more influential than that of Petion. The former soon
assumed the title of king, together with unlimited power; while the latter
found it expedient to give to the provinces over which he ruled the name
of a republic,- and to adopt the title of president. Petion was a mulatto,
and had been educated at the Military Academy at Paris. He had little
of the ferocity which distinguished his rival. His mind was better regu-
lated and better informed. He was more inclined to direct his attention
to commerce than to war ; but his power was of a precarious nature ; he
remembered the fate of his predecessor, and was incapable of instituting
and enforcing such laws as were essential to the real improvement and
prosperity of newly-liberated negroes. To a certain extent, however, his
government was absolute. It could command the fate of an individual,
although it could not venture to coerce or restrain the vicious as a body by
any act of vigour. Christophe, on the other hand, though destitute of
the acquirements possessed by Petion, had unbounded authority ; and, as
there is a peculiar interest attached to the fortunes of that extraordinary
negro, and his conduct, both in reality and appearance, imparted their cha-
racter to the proceedings in his dominions, a sketch of his history may be
desirable.
The place of his birth has never been satisfactorily ascertained ; but,
notwithstanding Mr. Harvey's opinion that it was Grenada, we believe it
to have been the island of St. Christophers, or St. Kitts. He is said to have
been born a slave, and to have served for some time on board of a French
man-of-war, in the capacity otcook's-mate. He was a stranger to Hayti,
until a short time previous to the first revolt ; when, according to the best
information gained by assiduous inquiry, he was marker of a billiard-table
in a coffee-house, which is still standing, and is close to the beach. It was
kept by a Frenchwoman, who, in the day of desolation, is said to have
been protected by her former servant. He was a perfect negro in appear-
ance. His skin was very dark and coarse ; his hair was short and woolly ;
his nose was broad and flat ; his lips were large ; his forehead was over-
hanging and scarred ; and his eyes appeared strained and inflamed. His
countenance was an index to the obstinacy and ferocity of his disposition ;
but still it possessed an expression of superiority which indicated that he
was no common man. In person he was stout and powerful, and his deport-
ment was free from that slothful motion which is often occasioned by the
relaxing influence of a tropical climate. Education he had none. It was
only when he became a general that he learned to sign his surname, and
he had assumed the chief station before he had acquired the power of
giving his entire signature. During the latter part of his life he conversed
but little, especially before Europeans ; and his reason is said to have been
his own consciousness of the wretched patois in which he spoke. It was
an almost unintelligible mixture of the French arid English negro dialects,
in their rudest forms. Throughout the revolution, Christophe was cele-
brated among the negroes, and dreaded by the French, from his incessant
activity and daring courage. It was for himself, however, that he fought ;
and having acquired immense riches at the plunder of Cape Francois, and
Dessalinos being despatched, be found the consummation of his ambitious
1 827.] ;Sketchei of HaytL \ \ 9
hopes at hand. Although his authority was acknowledged only in a part
of the island, he was crowned King of Hayti in June 1811. He at once
created a nobility, consisting of no less than twelve dukes, fourteen counts,
sixty-four barons, and forty chevaliers, " and surrounded himself with- all
the appendages of royalty."
" Vast sums of money were expended in support of an establishment such as
Hayti had, in no period'of its history, ever exhibited. The rich and splendid gar-
ments in which the sable monarch occasionally appeared on levee-days, and always
on great and important occasions, could hardly be surpassed by those of the most
wealthy and powerful rulers of civilized states. His palaces were prepared for his
reception with all possible magnificence, and whatever the most unbounded pas-
sion for splendour could suggest was procured to decorate the habitations of — an
uneducated negro. The number of his household corresponded with the magnifi-
cence of his palaces.1'
The " Maison Militaire du Roi" was on a no less pompous scale ; and
anyone, merely judging from the " Almanack Roy ale d' Hayti?' would
have imagined that the arts and sciences, together with military splendour,
commerce, and civilization, had attained the acme of perfection. Christophe
was now at the height of his popularity ; but his severity increased daily,
and his despotism soon became scarcely supportable. His aversion to the
French continued so strong, that the schools he founded were all on the
English system, and the use of the French language was discouraged as
much as possible. He improved the discipline of his army, and formed
several beneficial institutions ; but it would be monstrous to suppose that
the Haytians enjoyed liberty during the reign of Christophe. Every office
and every individual in his dominions were entirely subject to his will.
As a merchant, he claimed and possessed such peculiar advantages as raised
him above the fear of competition ; as a soldier, he was the colonel of all
the principal regiments ; as a judge he was supreme, for he modified or
abrogated the decisions of the courts as he thought proper, while from
his own decrees there was no appeal ; and in the distribution of rewards
and punishment, his injunctions were alone regarded. Those who pos-
sessed property, possessed it only by his sufferance or at his presentation ;
and even after he had made a gift, such was the extravagant extent of his
power, that he could cancel his own act, however formally it had been
declared. His power was, indeed, despotic, and he too often exercised it
like a despot. Take, for example, the following facts; they occurred
during the latter part of his reign, and at a time, therefore, when it might
fairly have been expected, that the rights of individuals were at least
beginning to be understood, if not fully appreciated : —
" The Duke of Marmalade, one of the most active and intelligent negroes in the
Haytian court, was on one occasion charged with an important commission, and
instructed in the manner of accomplishing it. He had no sooner entered on the
business than he found that it might be more effectually and satisfactorily executed
by varying in a few points from his master's instructions ; and, either from inability
or neglect, he ventured to do so, without previously obtaining his consent. Though
he faithfully discharged the duty assigned to him, his omitting to follow the pre-
scribed directions in every particular excited his majesty's highest displeasure ; and
he was instantly ordered to quit the palace, to leave the Cape the following morn-
ing, and to take up his abode in the citadel. Notwithstanding his being a duke,
a member of the privy council, a knight of the order of St. Henry, and a general
in the army, he was here compelled to associate with the workmen, and even to
assist in their labour."
120 $&etcAe& of Hayti. [Aua.
Again : the Juges-dc-Patx of Gonaives having been guilty of injustice,
by no means a rare occurrence in Hayti, the same punishment was inflict-
ed on them ; and Mr. Harvey further tells us : —
" Another circumstance, connected with the punishment of these men, was said to
have taken place ; but whether correctly or not, I am unable to determine. It was
stated that Christophe caused them to sit round a room in his palace, and directed
water to be poured on their heads till they were thoroughly drenched — frequently
asking them, during this singular process, in the most sarcastic manner, if their
heads were yet coot?"
But the restless and discontented disposition of his subjects, the nobles
in particular, and the tyranny of Christophe, soon made a change desirable.
His presence alone checked many from indulging in open disaffection ; and,
in 1820, on his being seized with apoplexy, and confined to his palace at
Sans Souci — so named from its impenetrable situation — frequent consulta-
tions were held respecting his removal. While this was in agitation, the
troops at St. Marc's murdered two of their officers, and Christophe ordered
the ringleaders to be executed.
" On the arrival of these orders at the Cape, one of the more powerful barons,
-addressing his associates, said, ' What commands are these ? Who has given him
the right of condemning men to death, without ascertaining the nature and extent
of their crime ? And why shall we go, at his command, and cut the throats of
our brethren? Let us rather go straight to Sans Souci, and cut off the fellow's head.
We shall then be delivered from tyranny, and shall have no more mutinies among
the soldiers.' — * If you are disposed that way,' answered the Duke of Marmalade,
* I am ready to join you; and we had better lose no time in carrying the design
into effect. What say you ?' added he, addressing the other officers ; ' shall we
collect the troops, and proceed to his palace ? He has nothing but his own guard
to defend him."
The proposal was unanimously assented to, and measures were taken for
carrying it into execution. Christophe's race was run. After receiving
largesses, and swearing " to defend his 'person and authority 'jusqu'a la
mort,' " his own guards deserted him ; and Christophe, rinding himself
thus abandoned, " seized one of the pistols with which he was always
provided, and instantly shot himself through the head." His son was
murdered, and, after some further violence and bloodshed, Cape Francois
and its districts were united to the republic of Port-au-Prince.
Such is the outline of the history of Hayti, from the commencement of
the commotions in 1791 up to the death of Christophe; and a view of the
state of the two most important towns immediately previous to that event,
will best shew what progress the Haytians had then made in freedom
and civilization. To the picture given by Mr. Harvey of Cape Fran9ois,
we have no great objection, except its length; but to Port-au-Prince he
appears almost a total stranger. We must, therefore, have recourse to
some other source ; and as the following notices, hitherto unpublished,
were written on the spot, at the time Admiral Sir Home Popham visited
the island, and arc accurate as far as they go, they may suffice : —
" On landing at Cape Fra^ois, I was struck with the dilapidated state of the
town. It must once have been very handsome ; but now the greater part is com-
paratively in ruins. The best range of buildings faces the sea, and in the upper
part of the town there are some good houses. The great majority of the inhabitants
are negroes ; and I frequently met with that immeasurable vanity, threatening
obstinacy, low cunning, and apparent destitution of superior intellect which are
commonly attributed to that people. From what I could see, I should say that
1 82 7.] 'Sketches of Hayli. ] 2 *
slavery is abolished only in name. Instead of many masters possessing this part of
the island, it is in the hands of one. I endeavoured to enter into conversation
with several respecting their condition, privileges, &c. j but they all seemed restricted
by apprehension ; and I was reminded more than once of the old adage, that
' walls have ears.' The discontent was evidently great. They either want the
means, or have not the inclination to be generous. Christophe certainly provided
a good house and a well-stored table for the admiral ; carriages and horses were in
attendance early in the morning, and in the evening, for the convenience of Sir
Home and of his friends ; and, under the direction of Baron de Dupuy, who had
served with a pastrycook in America, the arrangements were decently made j but I
saw no other attempt at hospitality. The soldiers act as the police, and execute the
office with more than sufficient severity. The curfew law seems to have been heard
of: for, unless upon express permission, all must be silent after 9 p. M. ; and the
guards, if I may judge by their insolence, consider the streets as their own property.
Drunkenness is more frequent among the higher than the lower classes ; but it can
hardly be said to be a prevailing vice. The blacks of both sexes are extremely fond
of dress and dancing. Their extravagance in the former is highly absurd, and the
appearance of one of their balls is singular enough. It resembles a Christmas negro
ball at Jamaica — with this exception — the dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, are
real. There is a Lancastrian school, which is admirably conducted by an English
master. Several of the children, on passing me with their satchels, exclaimed in
broken English. « God save Georgee tray ! Lung him liv /' I saw Christophe enter
the town, and the exhibition was striking. His dress appeared to be exactly the
Windsor uniform, and he had a small star on his left breast. He had a numerous
escort, rode rapidly, and, till he stopped and alighted, no one knew whither he
was going. He acknowledged the salute of our officers with marked civility ; but
the natives were hardly permitted to see him. Commerce is most irregularly con-
ducted, and every thing is very dear. Money is scarce ; and the European and
American merchants, of whom there are about thirty, have much difficulty in trans--
acting business. They are frequently compelled to threaten or actually to have
recourse to Christophe, to overcome the knavery of their customers.
*' Port-au-Prince presents a different scene. Here the inhabitants have a wider
ecope. There is much greater activity in commerce, and the whites and mulattoes
especially are far more numerous. The President Boyer possesses more power than
Petion did during the latter part of his life, and his chief endeavour seems to be to
enrich his treasury. Nor is he scrupulous about the means he employs. For
instance, he has fixed a nominal value to his coin, which is full four times its intrin-
sic value. If you change a doubloon, or any other piece of money, you have to take
this coin ; and it being worthless any where else, you are glad to get rid of it.
Morals here are extremely loose. Petty thieving is so common, that were it not for
the soldiers, who here also act as police, it would be almost impossible for a stranger
to escape without being pillaged. Provisions and goods in general are not so dear
as at Cape Fra^ois — the town is less dilapidated — and the neighbouring country is
beautiful in the extreme. In both towns, religion is very little thought of. On the
whole, these places are worth visiting from the peculiarity of their condition j but
once seen, the traveller will be satisfied."
These descriptions are brief — but they are just. The dilapidated stato
of the towns may be accounted for, in a great measure, by the apprehen-
sions which the Haytians entertained of invasion ; but there are other
appearances which cannot be so satisfactorily explained. Had a salutary
system of policy been pursued, and had the negroes been rendered really
sensible of the nature and value of liberty, the continual dread of foreign
foes would rather have purified than have relaxed their morals. It is also
remarkable that, notwithstanding all the advice, instruction, and assistance
furnished from England and the United States of America, no code of
intelligible and consistent laws had been adopted either in the republic or
in Christophe's dominions. From the close of the revolution up to the
M.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 20. R
1 22 Sketches of Hayti. [A UG,
period of which wo arc speaking, the power of- the chiefs was absolute.
Every individual who aspired to do more than exist soon became sensible
of the impediments which oppposed him. To the stranger, and even to
the native, the interior was almost as a " sealed book." The European
and American merchants felt the difficulties of their situation most keenly ;
but they consoled themselves, as they generally do in places where the
principles of trade and civilization are not properly understood, with the
expectation of realizing a profit proportionate to their annoyances ; and
their anticipations were sometimes fulfilled. Since this period, however,
the condition and prospects of Hayti have altered. Her independence
has been formally recognized by the mother country ; and she is not the
pnly land watered by the Atlantic which has recently assumed the title of
a free state. Her natives have their right to liberty confirmed to them ;
but it still remains to be seen whether they set so just a value on the boon
as to institute a permanent and well-regulated form of government.
Hitherto they have only talked of freedom, and been subservient to
those
" That palter with us in a double sense —
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope."
The following Sketch, by Mr. Harvey, gives an idea of the manners
of the black and coloured population : —
"I had just finished my breakfast, when a mulatto entered the room, introducing
himself sans cerimonie, by announcing, ' Monsieur, je viens vous rendre visite j'
—and before I could ask his name, or the object of his visit, he had seized a chair,
seated himself by my side, and begun his discourse. It would afford a very imper-
fect idea of his speech, to describe it in general terms : it should have been heard,
delivered as it was, with an unceasing rapidity, accompanied by the most violent
gestures, and a continual change of position.
" Drawing near me, and looking full in my face, he commenced, — ' Sir, I am
exceedingly happy to see you at Cape Henry ; for I like all Englishmen. I hope
you purpose making a considerable stay in the island : you will, I assure you, find
it extremely pleasant.' Then, endeavouring to look very shrewd, though unfor-
tunately his countenance hardly admitted of that expression, he proceeded, — 'Sir,
I have seen a great part of the West Indies, but have found no place comparable to
this. All the other islands are disgraced by slavery. Here, Sir,' with an air of
triumph approaching to the ludicrous, — c here we are all free and equal. Our
king, Sir,' — rising suddenly from his chair, and striking the table violently with an
old cocked hat, — * he is one of the best, as well as one of the greatest of men. The
whites in the other islands laugh at him ; but,' — he continued, throwing his hat,
apparently in great anger, to the farther corner of the room, — * if they knew him,
they would find him a superior man to the very best of them. As a proof of this,
Sir,' — resuming his seat, and placing his fore-finger in a parallel line with his nose,
— -* see what he has done : I have never been in Europe ; but from all I can learn,
you are not better governed there, than we are. Cape Henry, for example, — where
will you find a place in which order so strikingly prevails ? I have no doubt, Sir,
you will be highly gratified with your visit. — In short,* — again rising, elevating his
voice as he rose on his feet, and stretching forth his hand, as though about to deli-
ver some weighty saying, — * in short, Sir, this is the country of liberty, and inde-
pendence : — Our motto is, La Libertd, ou la mart : and destruction to those who
shall ever lift the sword against us. And now, Sir,' — once more resuming his seat,
speaking in a half- whispering tone, with a look of great self-satisfaction,—* let me
congratulate you on your arrival."'
Mr. Harvey gives some account of the interior of the island, and seems
to think that the condition of the negroes has been materially improved
1 827.-] Sketches of Hayti. \ 23
since the revolution '; but his statements hardly bear him out. The reigns
of Dessalines and Christophe were dreadful scourges; and up to the death
of the latter, Hayti had derived no advantages which compensated for the
years of horror and destruction she had groaned under. Circumstances
favoured the revolution ; the treachery and subsequent imbecility of France
prevented her from resuming her authority ; and, as ignorance predominated,
the most ferocious became the most powerful. It is to be hoped that the
scene will now change, although it must be confessed that, under the govern-
ment of Boyer, the Haytians are more free in name than in reality. And
when the wealth which many of them possess, and the commerce carried on,
are spoken of, it should be remembered that the first was, in a great measure,-
drawn from the coffers of their former masters; while the latter is the pro-
duce of little more than the wreck of French industry. In 1791, the value
of the exports was 5,371, 593Z. ; and, in 1822, it is said to have been about
2,000,000/. The Haytians have hitherto done but little for themselves,
and time only can shew what capabilities they really possess.
Of the style in which Mr. Harvey's volume is written, and of his reflec-
tions, we cannot speak in very high terms. In his reasoning he frequently
contradicts himself, and not rarely arrives at conclusions in direct oppo-
sition to his premises and arguments. Nevertheless, his pages are not
uninstructive nor uninteresting ; and although the office of historian appears
beyond his capability, his " Sketches" deserve perusal. He aims at impar-
tiality, but is not always successful in observing it. Where, however, his
statements are overcharged, the error is not difficult of detection ; and,
apparently from the author's desire to do justice, the bane almost invariably
brings with it, or is followed by, the antidote.
" PAUVRE GENEVLWVE:"
A CONTINENTAL ADVENTURE.
DURING a late visit to the Continent, I made it my object to pass by and
inspect one of the most imposing and interesting, though not one of tho
largest chateaux, to be met with in France, which stands near the banks
of the rapid Rhone, a few miles distant from the town of Pont-Saint-
Esprit. It is built-in the Gdthic style of the seventeenth century, but has
an air of greater antiquity. From the aspect of its towers, seen at a dis-
tance, as you enter a forest of primeval oaks connected with the domain,—
besides its insulated situation, and the images rudely carved on its exterior,
in imitation of
" The brawny prophets, who, in robes so rich,
At distance due possess the crisped niche," —
it might be supposed to be a structure of the middle ages. By an aged
domestic that I met with in keeping of the chateau, I was informed that
the estate had not been occupied or visited for many years. Its former
possessor having expatriated himself at the period of the Revolution, and
dying abroad,, the claim to the property fell into litigation, and had been
but recently decided. I wandered a whole day, I remember, through its
stately woods, traversed by glittering streamlets ; after observing atten-
tively its spacious halls and vaulted corridors, with an intricate maze of
apartments hung with superb Flemish tapestry, whose depth and grandeur
R 2
124 " Pauvrc Genevieve" [AUG.
reminded me so forcibly of those lordly times, for ever passed away from
the world, which fancy delights to invest with such romantic reverence.
The pleasure of the associations, however, which the appearances of the
chateau were calculated to excite, was materially qualified in its tone hy
those moral conclusions, which the awful solitude that reigned throughout
the edifice pressed upon my mind, in the triumph that time had obtained
over the glory and grandeur of the past.
My object in visiting this chateau was for the satisfaction of a trifling
curiosity, which I will account for in detailing an adventure connected
with it, that befel a friend of mine some years since, and which 1 was
informed of by himself.
In the year 1 790, Eugene B— d, an officer in the French service, and
a man of a lively as well as a generous and intrepid disposition, when on
his way to visit a sick parent at Avignon, being fatigued with the diligence,
which he had chosen as his conveyance, hired a horse within thirty miles
of Pont-Saint-Esprit, with the intention of proceeding so far on horseback,
and there resuming his seat in the lumbering vehicle. After pursuing the
proper route, at a very leisurely pace, for the greatest part of the day, he
unwittingly suffered his Rozinante to select his own path, and found him-
self at length, as the sun was descending, on the borders of a thick grove,
and in a broken region, which exhibited no traces of a high road. He
here paused for some minute*, shook off his reverie, examined his situation
with an anxious eye, and then galloped forward at random, until, discover-
ing neither house nor individual in the open country, he plunged into the
wood. It was now twilight, and he began to entertain fears of being
obliged to remain until morning under a canopy more suitable to the views
and tastes of an astrologer, than to those of a hungry traveller, whose expe-
rience, as a soldier, of " lying out," had not endeared the practice to his
fancy, although duty had rendered it familiar to him. He had not pro-
ceeded far in the entangled copse, when he descried, through the waving
boughs of the forest-trees, the towers of the chateau in question ; and in
that direction he pushed vigorously on, so as speedily to reach the great
lawn which stretches before the western front of the edifice, and to have as
full a view of this side as the thickening shadows of the night would allow.
No light appearing at any of the windows, he dismounted, fastened his
horse to the shrubbery, and proceeding to the massy portal, which was just
perceptible in the gloom of the scene, began to summon with his utmost
strength, at its ponderous knocker, the inhabitants of the chateau (if any
it contained) to speak with him. His first summons, which was long and
loud, remaining unattended to, his hopes sank within him, as the hollow
echo of the knocker died away in the halls of the chateau, that he should
here meet with assistance ; but, on attempting a second, it was not long
before he distinguished the sound of voices and footsteps, and enjoyed the
satisfaction of hearing from an elderly man, in the dress of a labourer, who
carried a taper in his hand, and cautiously opened the smaller door in the
middle of the archway, the inquiry, " What was wanted by the person
without?" When our traveller explained his case, he was admitted at
once, and saw himself in the midst of a group, consisting of several females
and two or three men, of different ages, none of whom appeared to be above
the condition of the upper peasantry. The oldest of the women, and
apparently the superior, invited him, with a countenance of good-humoured
civility, to enter the first apartment on the right, where she trusted he would
1827.] A Continental Adventure. J25
do them the hon'our to partake of a family supper, while one of the men
present would lead his horse round to the stables in a distant part of the
building. The whole party then followed her with the stranger, who had
not long to wait before he was seated at a board covered with plain but
palatable fare, and rendered doubly grateful by that easy, unaffected, alert
hospitality which characterizes, in every part of France, the class to which
his hosts belonged. They were the rustic tenantr of a small part of the
chateau, who were suffered, as is usual, to inhabit it free of rent, as a com-
pensation for protecting it from depredation — the property being then in
litigation between two families, owing to the death of its former possessor
in England, as already stated.
Our traveller, though all his questions were answered readily and fully,
could not but perceive a general gravity unusual at such repasts, and at
intervals, indications of strong distress in the faces of some of the assem-
blage. As they conversed about the ravages committed on property in the
course of the revolution, the depopulation of some of the neighbouring
villages, and the butchery of numbers of the gentry, whom they had
been accustomed to regard with reverence and love, and remembered as
their guardians and benefactors, he ascribed to their melancholy recollec-
tions the appearances just mentioned. The weariness produced by the
exercise of the day, united to an oppression of spirits, arising from the scene
of horrors thus brought to his own memory, induced him to express a wish,
rather early, to retire to the chamber which they might be pleased to
allot him. His hostess immediately, and as if relieved by his suggestion,
put a candle into the hands of one of the young men present, and directed
that the gentleman should be shown to a room prepared for him in the
other wing of this extensive edifice. He followed the man, whose phy-
siognomy was too sluggish and unmeaning to invite any question, through
long drawn passages, and ample saloons of high-pitched roofs, lined with
fretted wood-work, until they reached a wide oaken stair- case leading to a
gallery, with several chambers of the same exterior. Into one of these
he was conducted, and found it provided with a crackling fire, and two
large bedsteads, with closed curtains, made of that thick and coarser damask
which was commonly so employed in the mansions of the seigneurs of the
old regime. As soon as the guide had set down the candle, muttered his
" bon soir," and left him, he closed the door, but without fastening it, and,
undressing himself, put out his candle, and drawing back the curtains of
the bed which was nearest the fire, only wide enough to admit his body,
he took at once a fixed posture on his side towards the door. In the
course of about twenty minutes, when his ideas began to cross each other,
and all the images before his mind to mingle in confusion — a delightful
state, as I have often experienced myself, after a long journey arid a good
supper — the deepening slumber was broken by a gentle noise like the
cautious opening of the door. He retained his position, and dividing -the
curtains, merely so far as to perceive what passed, without being seen him-
self, he observed two young women enter the room, in the neat quaint
attire of the female peasantry of the Rhone, one with a small basket, and
the other with needle-work ; and curiosity and surprise rendered him
both motionless and silent, while they drew out the table, placed upon it
what they carried, seated themselves near it, and stirred up the fire. This
being done, one of the fair intn.iders took a part of the needle-work, and
the other emptied softly a portion of the contents of the basket, which
consisted of a couple of platters, knives and forks, a cold fowl, and some
126 " Pauvre Genevttve :" - [Alia.
fruit, with a small flask of wine. Then followed a smart conversation
in an under-tone, of which the astonished traveller could catch enough to
learn that they were far from suspecting any attentive ear to be by, and
had made arrangements to perform a long, though a very comfortable vigil.
His own eye-lids were too importunate to admit of this interruption, for
more than a quarter of an hour after the regular dialogue had commenced;
at length, overcome by a disposition to slumber, he turned in his place, so
as to cause a rustling of the damask. One of the girls started, and stam-
mered to the other, with a face of alarm, what had happened. He
remained quiet as soon as he remarked this effect. They both gazed
earnestly and fearfully at both beds, fixing their eyes, however, most atten-
tively on the further one ; but observing all to be still, they seemed to
recover their confidence, and returned to their chat, though in a more sub-
dued tone. Resolved upon making a further experiment, to ascertain the
cause, if possible, of their untimely visit, he moved again ; and when their
eyes were again directed towards the curtains, with an expression of dis-
may, he opened them hastily, and protruded his head from the bed,
cased in the long white night-cap, with which his hostess below had pro-
vided him.
In an instant, the women precipitated themselves from the chamber, and
down the staircase, overturning the table and its contents in their flight,
tnd making the vaulted gallery re-echo with their screams. His own
astonishment was almost equal to what theirs might be supposed to be,
and did not suffer him to fall back on his pillow. He rose, lighted the
candle, which had been extinguished in the disaster of the table, collected
the scattered provisions, and went to the chamber door, in order to know
whether any thing more could be heard. But all was silent. Sensible of
the difficulty of finding his way to the inhabited part of the castle, should
he undertake to inquire further, and ascribing the affair to some mistake,
which the affrighted damsels would discover as soon as they reached the
other wing, he bolted the door, determined to prevent a recurrence of the
interruption, and was about to retrace his steps to the bed, when he heard
distinctly the noise of various persons tumultuously gaining the landing,
and approaching the chamber. He turned, advanced to the door, and
opened it, with the candle in his hand, and in the dishabille in which he
had lain down.
As he presented himself, he saw the whole family group, with an
addition to their number, struggling with each other, who should be, not
foremost, but hindmost in their march, the two alarmists far in the back
ground, and all in evident consternation. No sooner was the figure of
my friend full in their view, than an universal cry of horror -burst from
their lips, and the whole party made a headlong retreat down the stair-
case. One only of their number pressed forward. This was a female, of
strikingly handsome features, with an expression that spoke the operation
of the strongest mingled emotions of terror, subdued grief, and the most
wildly joyful expectation. She rushed on to catch him in her arms,
crying out, " Je veux le voir — Je veux Vembrasser — // est revenu pour
irfemmencr avec lui /" (I will see him — I will embrace him. — He has
come back to take me away with him.) At the moment she had ap-
proached near enough to distinguish clearly his person and visage, she
uttered a piercing shriek, with the exclamation — " Ah ! non, ce nest pas
lui," (ah, no, it is not him), tottered and fell, swooning, into the arms of
two of the fugitives, whose concern for her had given them courage to
1827.] A Continental Adventure. 127
return, and who were too much engaged in extricating her from her
position, to note themselves the common ohject of the panic. So inte-
resting and extraordinary was her whole appearance, her mien so wild and
ardent, the transition from sudden elated expectation to profound despair,
so rapid and marked in her eye and accent, and so piteous in their entire
expression, that the captain, as he assured me, was transfixed and ab-
sorbed by this incident, till the companions of the fair one had disappeared
with her; and in the action of a moment, he was again left alone in com-
plete silence and solitude. As soon as he was able to rally his thoughts,
under the bewildering oppression of his conjectures, he resolved to explore
the chamber, imagining that he might discover something which would,
serve as a clue to the singular part he was playing in the enigmatical drama
of the night. The taper being still in his grasp, he looked narrowly into
the corners and closets of the apartment, under the bedstead, and at length,
approaching the further bed in the room, which had hitherto escaped his
notice, he opened the curtains, and there witnessed what solved at once a
part of the mystery. It was a corpse ! — the dead body of a man, in
a cap and shirt resembling his own, and placed near the wall on tho
bed ; and the business of the fair intruders who had roused him from his
slumber, it now readily occurred to him, was, according to the custom
of the catholic church, that of watching by the dead body till morning.
My friend confessed to me that, familiar as his profession had rendered
him with this exhibition of mortality, the spectacle, under such circum-
stances, startled and even momentarily affrighted him. The cause of the
alarm of the household, on seeing him, was then apparent : his candles
bearer had conducted him to the wrong chamber, and he had been taken
either for a ghost, or the re-animated frame of the defunct. It occurred
to him, after he had meditated a little, and began also to comprehend the
conduct of the distressed female, that he would throw on his clothes, and
endeavour to find his way to the lodging of the family in the chateau, for
the purpose of a mutual explanation. He had, however, scarcely dressed
himself, before the old peasant and his wife, followed by two or three men,
ascended the stairs, and though still quaking with fear, had no difficulty in,
recognising him. They, at first, eagerly demanded his assistance in this
awful emergency ; but contriving to obtain silence, he immediately made
known to them the true state of the matter. In the reciprocal eclaircisse-
ment which ensued, he learned that the unfortunate girl who had so
strongly excited his sympathy, and so much increased his perplexity, was
the niece — Genevieve — of the old pair, and the corpse, the remains of a
young soldier to whom she was betrothed, who had died that morning in
the chateau, of a sudden illness. The blundering rustic, commissioned to
lead the stranger to the chamber designed for him, had selected the first
apartment in the same gallery in which he saw the glare of a fire, and
which happened to be the one where the dead body was deposited.
Our traveller retired as quickly as possible, from the earnest apologies^of
the worthy pair, to indulge his returning drowsiness in the right chamber.
He slept soundly, notwithstanding his adventure — rose early ; and, after
partaking of a homely but wholesome meal, mounted his horse, and under
their instruction gained the turnpike of Pont Saint- Esprit ; learning, how-
ever, before his departure, with unfeigned regret, that the bereaved niece
had passed the night in alternate stupor and phrenzy. A few months after-
wards, on his return from Avignon, he was told by the master of an inn, in
the neighbourhood of the chateau, where he stopped to refresh, that the
128 " Pauvre Genevieve:" a Continental Adoatiure. [Aua.
poor girl, Genevieve (whom he could not fail to remember, as well as the
whole night scene) had survived her lover but a very short time, and was
interred in the same grave withkhim, in the cemetery of a village, which lay
at a little distance from the chateau. He was informed that she had be-
come so disordered in her fancy, as to be unable to comprehend the expla-
nation given, and to imbibe the strange and horrible impression, that the
spirit of her lover had indeed moved from the bed, but being offended
with her, had, on her approach, taken an unknown form, in order to
escape her embrace and her intimacy. Her dying exclamation was to this
effect: — "Dear Isidore, since in life you would not know me, perhaps in
another world our spirits may be reconciled, and our loves re-united 1"
Such was the account that my friend gave me of his singular adventure
at the chateau in question ; describing it to me, at the same time, as a
structure worthy of inspecting, if ever chance led me in that direction.
Three years since, on returning through the south of France, from the con-
fluence of the Rhone, I found myself in the neighbourhood of Pont Saint-
Esprit, and that name recalling the above circumstance to my mind, I re-
solved to pay the chateau du Vergney a visit. Twenty-five years had
then passed away since the period of my friend's demanding its hospitable
shelter for the night; but I had still sufficient curiosity to inquire of the
old domestic, who conducted me over the domain, some particulars rela-
tive to the above occurrence. He, however, being the servant of another
family, and having been but recently placed in care of the chateau, could
give me no information ; but my inquiries having been luckily made in the
hearing of a dark -eyed lively girl, who had come to him on a message from
a neighbouring farm-house, who, it appears, had heard her mother relate the
circumstance a thousand times, with the most fascinating alacrity of man-
ner she offered to gratify the object of my wishes, by conducting me over
the fields to the church-yard, where the lovers had been interred, in the
way to her own home. I need not here digress into any panegyric upon
women, particularly young ones ; and more particularly those who have
dark eyes, delightful spirits, and obliging manners — suffice it that I felt tho
necessary gratefulness for the kind attentions of the fair little French girl,
and she seemed amply repaid for her trouble in the pleasure she had occa-
sioned me.
Our path lay through a few fields, and down a slight hill into the vil-
lage of , whose name I forget. The church-yard in question lay at
the side of it, adjoining a venerable dilapidated building, which had the
appearance of an abbey. The lovers' grave was a little to the right of the
foot-path which ran through it. I followed my fair conductor a tew steps,
and paused to decipher the inscription on a stone which she pointed to ; —
having been but rudely and slightly engraved, a great deal of it, from the
effects of the weather, was effaced, or indistinct ; but at the bottom the
two words were singularly legible of " Pauvre Genvmeve /" B.
1827.] |_ 129 ]
ON DISAGREEABLE PEOPLE.
THOSE people who are uncomfortable in themselves are disagreeable to
others. I do not here mean to speak of persons who offend intentionally,
or are ohnoxious to dislike from some palpable defect of mind or body,
ugliness, pride, ill-humour, &c., — but of those who are disagreeable in
spite of themselves, and, as it might appear, with almost every qualifi-
cation to recommend them to others. This want of success is owing
chiefly to something in what is called their manner ; and this again has
its foundation in a certain cross-grained and unsociable state of feeling on
their part, which influences us, perhaps, without our distinctly adverting to
it. The mind is a finer instrument than we sometimes suppose it, and is
not only swayed by overt acts and tangible proofs, but has an instinctive
feeling of the air of truth. We find many individuals in whose company
we pass our time, and have no particular fault to find with their under-
standings or character, and yet we are never thoroughly satisfied with them:
the reason will turn out to be, upon examination, that they are never tho-
roughly satisfied with themselves, but uneasy and out of sorts all the time;
and this makes us uneasy with them, without our reflecting on, or being
able to discover the cause.
Thus, for instance, we meet with persons who do us a number of kind-
nesses, who shew us every mark of respect and good-will, who are friendly
and serviceable, — and yet we do not feel grateful to them after all. We
reproach ourselves with this as caprice or insensibility, and try to get the
better of it; but there is something in their way of doing things that pre-
vents us from feeling cordial or sincerely obliged to them. We think them
very worthy people, and would be glad of an opportunity to do them a
good turn if it were in our power ; but we cannot get beyond this : the
utmost we can do is to save appearances, and not come to an open rupture
with 'them. The truth is, in all such cases, we do not sympathize (as we
ought) with them, because they do not sympathize (as they ought) with
us. They have done what they did from a sense of duty in a cold dry
manner, or from a meddlesome busy-body humour ; or to shew their supe-
riority over us, or to patronize our infirmity ; or they have dropped some
hint by the way, or blundered upon some topic they should not, and have
shewn, by one means or other, that they were occupied with any thing but
the pleasure they were affording us, or a 'delicate attention to our feelings.
Such persons may be styled friendly grievances. They are commonly
people of low spirits and disappointed views, who see the discouraging side
of human life, and, with the best intentions in the world, contrive to make
every thing they have to do with uncomfortable. They are alive to* your-
distress, and take pains to remove it ; but they have no satisfaction in the
gaiety and ease they have communicated, and are on the look-out for some
new occasion of signalizing their zeal ; nor are they backward to insinuate
that you will soon have need of their assistance, to guard you against run-
ning into fresh difficulties, or to extricate you from them. From large
benevolence of soul and " discourse of reason, looking before and after,"
they are continually reminding you of something that has gone wrong in
time past, or that may do so in that which is to come, and are surprised
that their awkward hints, sly inuendos, blunt questions, and solemn fea-
tures do not excite all the complacency and mutual good understanding in
you which it is intended that they should. When they make themselves
miserable on your account, it is hard that you will not lend them you*
M M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 20. ' S
130 ' On Disagreeable People.
countenance and support. This deplorable humour of theirs does not hit
any one else. They are useful, but not agreeable people ; they may
assist you in your affairs, but they depress and tyrannize over your feel-
ings. When they have made you happy, they will not let you be so —
have no enjoyment of the good they have done — will on no account part
with their melancholy and desponding tone — and, by their mawkish insen-
sibility and doleful grimaces, throw a damp over the triumph they are called
upon to celebrate. They would keep in hot water, that they may help
you out of it. They will nurse you in a fit of sickness (congenial suffer-
ers !) — arbitrate a lawsuit for you, and embroil you deeper — procure you a
loan of money ; — but all the while they are only delighted with rubbing
the sore place, and casting the colour of your mental or other disorders.
" The whole need not a physician ;" and, being once placed at ease and
comfort, they have no farther use for you as subjects for their singular
beneficence, and you are not sorry to be quit of their tiresome interference*
The old proverb, A friend in need is a friend indeed, is not verified in
them. The class of persons here spoken of are the very reverse of summer-
friends, who court you in prosperity, flatter your vanity, are the humble
servants of your follies, never see or allude to any thing wrong, minister to
your gaiety, smooth over every difficulty, and, with the slightest approach
of misfortune or of any thing unpleasant, take French leave : —
" As when in prime of June a burnished fly,
Sprung from the meads, o'er which he sweeps along,
Cheered by the breathing bicom and vital sky,
Tunes up amid these airy halls his song,
Soothing at first the gay reposing throng ;
And oft he sips their bowl, or nearly drowned,
He thence recovering drives their beds among,
And scares their tender sleep with tramp profound ;
Then out again he flies to wing his mazy round."
THOMSON'S CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.
However we may despise such triflers, yet we regret them more than those
well-meaning friends on whom a dull melancholy vapour hangs, that drags
them and every one about them to the ground.
Again, there are those who might be very agreeable people, if they had
but spirit to be so ; but there is a narrow, unaspiring, under-bred tone in all
they say or do. They have great sense and information — abound in a
knowledge of character — have a fund of anecdote — are unexceptionable
in manners and appearance — and yet we cannot make up our minds to like*
them : we are not glad to see them, nor sorry when they go away. Our
familiarity with them, however great, wants the principle of cement,
which is a certain appearance of frank cordiality and social enjoyment.
They have no pleasure in the subjects of their own thoughts, and therefore
can communicate none to others. There is a dry, husky, grating manner
— a pettiness of detail — a tenaciousness of particulars, however trifling or
unpleasant — a disposition to cavil — an aversion to enlarged and liberal
views of things — in short, a hard, painful; unbending matter-of-factness,
from which the spirit and effect are banished, and the letter only is attended
to, which makes it impossible to sympathize with their discourse. To make
conversation interesting or agreeable, there is required either the habitual
tone of good company, which gives a favourable colouring to every thing —
or the warmth and enthusiasm of genius, which, though it may occa-
sionally offend or be thrown off its guard, makes amends by its rapturous
flights; and flings a glancing light upon all things. The literal and dogged.
1827.] On Disagreeable People. 131
style of conversation resembles that of a French picture, or its mechanical
fidelity is like evidence given in a court of justice, or a police report.
From the literal to the plain-spoken, the transition is easy. The most
efficient weapon of offence is truth. Those who deal in dry and repul-
sive matfers-of-fact, tire out their friends ; those who blurt out hard and
home truths, make themselves mortal enemies wherever they come. There
are your blunt, honest creatures, who omit no opportunity of letting you
know their minds, and are sure to tell you all the ill, and conceal all the
good they hear of you. They would not flatter you for the world, and
to caution you against the malice of others, they think the province of a
friend. This is not candour, but impudence ; and yet they think it odd
you are not charmed with their unreserved communicativeness of disposi-
tion. Gossips and tale-bearers, on the contrary, who supply the tittle-
tattle of the neighbourhood, flatter you to your face, and laugh at you
behind your back, are welcome and agreeable guests in all companies.
Though you know it will be your turn next, yet for the sake of the imme-
diate gratification, you are contented to pay your share of the public tax
upon character, and are better pleased with the falsehoods that never reach
your ears, than with the truths that others (less complaisant and more sin-
cere) utter to your face — so short-sighted and willing to be imposed upon
is our self-love ! There is a man, who has the air of not being convinced
without an argument : you avoid him as if he were a lion in your path.
There is another, who asks you fifty questions as to the commonest things
you advance : you would sooner pardon a fellow who held a pistol to your
breast and demanded your money. No one regards a turnpike-keeper, or
a custom-house officer, with a friendly eye : he who stops you in an excur-
sion of fancy, or ransacks the articles of your belief obstinately and chur-
lishly, to distinguish the spurious from the genuine, is still more your foe.
These inquisitors and cross-examiners upon system make ten enemies for
every controversy in which they engage. The world dread nothing so
much as being convinced of their errors. In doing them this piece of ser-
vice, you make war equally on their prejudices, their interests, their pride,,
and indolence. You not only set up for a superiority of understanding
over them, which they hate, but you deprive them of their ordinary grounds
of action, their topics of discourse, of their confidence in themselves, and
those to whom they have, been accustomed to look up for instruction and
advice. It is making children of them. You unhinge all their established
opinions and trains of thought ; and after leaving them in this listless,
vacant, unsettled state — dissatisfied with their own notions and shocked at
yours — you expect them to court and be delighted with your company,
because, forsooth, you have only expressed your sincere and conscientious
convictions. Mankind are not deceived by professsions, unless they
choose. They think that this pill of true doctrine, however it may
be gilded over, is full of gall and bitterness to them ; and, again, it is a
maxim of which the vulgar are firmly persuaded, that plain-speaking (as
it is called) is, nine parts in ten, spleen and self-opinion ; and the other
part, perhaps, honesty. Those who will not abate an inch in argument,
and are always seeking to recover the wind of you, are, in the eye of the
world, disagreeable, unconscionable people, who ought to be sent to
Coventry, or left to wrangle by themselves. No persons, however, are
more averse to contradiction than these same dogmatists. What shews our
susceptibility on this point is, that there is no flattery so adroit or effectual
as that of implicit assent. Anyone, however mean his capacity or ill-
\S 2
132 On Disagreeable People. [Au&.
qualified to judge, who gives way to all our sentiments, and never seems to
think but as we do, is indeed an alter idem — another self; and we admit
without scruple into our entire confidence, " yea, into our heart of
heart."
It is the same in hooks. Those which, under the disguise of plain-
speaking, vent paradoxes, and set their faces against the common-sense of
mankind, are neither " the volumes
*' that enrich the shops,
That pass with approbation through the land j"
nor, I fear, can it be added, —
" That bring their authors an immortal fame."
They excite a clamour and opposition at first, and are in general soon con-
signed to oblivion. Even if the opinions are in the end adopted, the authors
gain little by it, and their names remain in their original obloquy ; for the
public will own no obligations to such ungracious benefactors. In like
manner, there are many books written in a very delightful vein, though
with little in them, and that are accordingly popular. Their principle is
to pleaso, and not to offend ; and they succeed in both objects. We are
contented with the deference shewn to our feelings for the time, and grant
a truce both to wit and wisdom. The " courteous reader" and the good-
natured author are well matched in this instance, and find their account in
mutual tenderness and forbearance to each other's infirmities. I am not
sure that Walton's Angler is not a book of this last description —
" That dallies with the innocence of thought,
Like the old age.1'
Hobbes and Mandeville are in the opposite extreme, and have met with a
correspondent fate. The Tatler and Spectator are in the golden mean,
carry instruction as far as it can go without shocking, and give the most
exquisite pleasure without one particle of pain. " Desire to please, and
you will infallibly please" is a maxim equally' applicable to the study or
the drawing-room. Thus also we see actors of very small pretensions, and
who have scarce any other merit than that of being on good terras with
themselves, and in high good humour with their parts (though they hardly
understand a word of them), who are universal favourites with the audience.
Others, who are masters of their art, and in whom no slip or flaw can be
detected, you have no pleasure in seeing, from something dry, repulsive,
and unconciliating in their manner ; and you almost hate the very mention
of their names, as an unavailing appeal to your candid decision in their
favour, and as taxing you with injustice for refusing it.
We may observe persons who seem to take a peculiar delight in the
disagreeable. They catch all sorts of uncouth tones and gestures, the
manners and dialect of clowns and hoydens, and aim at vulgarity as despe-
rately as others ape gentility. [This is what is often understood by a
love of low life."] They say the most unwarrantable things, without
meaning or feeling what they say. What startles or shocks other people,
is to them a sport — an amusing excitement — a fillip to their constitutions ;
and from the bluntness of their perceptions, and a certain wilfulness of
spirit, not being able to enter into the refined and agreeable, they make a
merit of despising every thing of the kind. Masculine women, for exam-
ple, are those who, not being distinguished by the charms and delicacy of
the sex, affect a superiority over it by throwing aside all decorum. We
1S27.J On Disagreeable People. 133
also find another class, who continually do and say what they ought not,
and what they do not intend, and who are governed almost entirely by an
instinct of absurdity. Owing to a perversity of imagination or irritability
of nerve, the idea that a thing is improper acts as a provocation to it : the
fear of committing a blunder is so strong, that in their agitation they bolt
out whatever is uppermost in their minds, before they are aware of the con-
sequence. The dread of something wrong haunts and rivets their attention
to it ; and an uneasy, morbid apprehensiveness of temper takes away their
self-possession, and hurries them into the very mistakes they are most
anxious to avoid.
If we look about us, and ask who are the agreeable and disagreeable
people in the world, wre shall see that it does not depend on their virtues or
vices — their understanding or stupidity — but as much on the degree of
pleasure or pain they seem to feel in ordinary social intercourse. What
signify all the good qualities any one possesses, if he is none the better for
them himself? If the cause is so delightful, the effect ought to be so too.
We enjoy a friend's society only in proportion as he is satisfied with ours.
Even wit, however it may startle, is only agreeable as it is sheathed in
good-humour. There are a kind of intellectual stammerers, who are
delivered of their good things with pain and effort; and consequently what
costs them such evident uneasiness does not impart unmixed delight to the
bystanders. There are those, on the contrary, whose sallies cost them
nothing — who abound in a flow of pleasantry and good humour ; and we
float down the stream with them carelessly and triumphantly,—
" Wit at the helm, and Pleasure at the prow."
Perhaps it may be said of English wit in general, that it too much resem-
bles pointed lead : after all, there is something heavy and dull in it ! The
race of small wits are not the least agreeable people in the world. They
have their little joke to themselves, enjoy it, and do not set up any pre-
posterous pretensions to thwart the current of our self-love. Toad-eating
is accounted a thriving profession ; and a butt, according to the Spectator,
is a highly useful member of society — as one who takes whatever is said
of him in good part, and as necessary to conduct off the spleen and super-
fluous petulance of the company. Opposed to these are the swaggering
bullies — the licensed wits— the free-thinkers — the loud talkers, who, in the
jockey phrase, have lost their mouths, and cannot be reined in by any
regard to decency, or common-sense. The more obnoxious the subject, the
more are they charmed with, it, converting their want of feeling into a
proof of superiority to vulgar prejudice and squeamish affectation. But
there is an unseemly exposure of the mind, as well as of the body. There
are some objects that shock ihe sense, and cannot with propriety be men-
tioned : there are naked truths that offend the mind, and ought to be kept
out of sight as much as possible. For human nature cannot bear to be
too hardly pressed upon. One of these cynical truisms, when brought
forward to the world, may be forgiven as a slip of the pen : a succession of
them, denoting a deliberate purpose and malice prepense, must ruin any
writer. Lord Byron had got into an irregular course of these a little before
his death — seemed desirous, in imitation of Mr. Shelley, to. run the gaunt-
let of public obloquy — and, at the same time, wishing to screen himself
from the censure he defied, dedicated his Cain to Sir Walter Scott — a
pretty godfather to such a bantling !
Some persons are of so teazing and fidgeity a turn of mind, that they do
134 O/i Disagreeable People. £Auc;.
not give you a moment's rest. Every thing goes wrong with them. They
complain of a head-ache or the weather. They take up a book, and lay
it down again — venture an opinion, and retract it before they have half
done — offer to serve you, and prevent some one else from doing it. If you
dine with them at a tavern, in order to be more at your ease, the fish is too
little done — the sauce is not the right one ; they ask for a sort of wine
which they think is not to be had, or if it is, after some trouble, procured,
do not touch it ; they give the waiter fifty contradictory orders, and are
restless and sit on thorns the whole of dinner-time. All this is owing to a
want of robust health, and of a strong spirit of enjoyment ; it is a fasti-
dious habit of mind, produced by a valetudinary habit of body : they are
out of sorts with every thing, and of course their ill -humour and captious-
ness communicates itself to you, who are as little delighted with them as
they are with other things. Another sort of people, equally objectionable
with this helpless class, who are disconcerted by a shower of rain or stop-
ped by an insect's wing, are those who, in the opposite spirit, will have
every thing their own way, and carry all before them — who cannot brook
the slightest shadow of opposition — who are always in the heat of an argu-
ment— who knit their brows and clench their teeth in some speculative
discussion, as if they were engaged in a personal quarrel — and who, though
successful over almost every competitor, seem still to resent the very offer
of resistance to their supposed authority, and are as angry as if they had
sustained some premeditated injury. There is an impatience of temper
and an intolerance of opinion in this that conciliates neither our affection
nor esteem. To such persons nothing appears of any moment but the
indulgence of a domineering intellectual superiority to the disregard and
discomfiture of their own and every body else's comfort. Mounted on an
abstract proposition, they trample on every courtesey and decency of beha-
viour; and though, perhaps, they do not intend the gross personalities
they are guilty of, yet they cannot be acquitted of a wrant of due consider-
ation for others, and of an intolerable egotism in the support of truth and
justice. You may hear one of these Quixotic declaimers pleading the
cause of humanity in a voice of thunder, or expatiating on the beauty of
a Guido with features distorted with rage and scorn. This is not a very
amiable or edifying spectacle.
There are persons who cannot make friends. Who are they ? Those
who cannot be friends. It is not the want of understanding or good-nature,
of entertaining or useful qualities, that you complain of : on the contrary,
they have probably many points of attraction ; but they have one that
neutralizes all these — they care nothing about you, and are neither the
better nor worse for what you think of them. They manifest no joy at
your approach ; and when you leave them, it is with a feeling that they
can do just as well without you. This is not sullenness, nor indifference,
nor absence of mind ; but they are intent solely on their own thoughts, and
you are merely one of the subjects they exercise them upon. They live
in society as in a solitude ; and, however their brain \vorks, their pulso
beats neither faster nor slower for the common accidents of life. There is,
therefore, something cold and repulsive in the air that is about them — like
that of marble. In a word, they are modern philosophers; and the
modern philosopher is what the pedant was of old — a being who lives in a
world of his own, and has no correspondence with this. It is not that such
persons have not done you services — you acknowledge it ; it is not that
they have said severe things of you — you submit to it as a necessary evil :
1827.] On Disagreeable People. 135
but it is the cool manner in which the whole is done that annoys you— *
the speculating upon you, as if you were nobody — the regarding you, with
a view to an experiment in corpore vili — the principle of dissection — the
determination to spare no blemishes — to cut you down to your real
standard ; — in short, the utter absence of the partiality of friendship, the
blind enthusiasm of affection, or the delicacy of common decency, that
whether they " hew you as a carcase fit for hounds, or carve you as a dish
fit for the gods," the operation on your feelings and your sense of obliga-
tion is just the same ; and. whether they are demons or angels in them-
selves, you wish them equally at the devil !
Other persons of worth and sense give way to mere violence of tempera-
ment (with which the understanding has nothing to do) — are burnt up with
- a perpetual fury — repel and throw you to a distance by their restless, whirl-
ing motion — so that you dare not go near them, or feel as uneasy in their
company as if you stood on the edge of a volcano. They have their
tempora molliafandi ; but then what a stir may you not expect the next
moment! Nothing is less inviting or less comfortable than this state of
uncertainty and apprehension. Then there are those who never approach
you without the most alarming advice or information, telling you that you
are in a dying way, or that your affairs are on the point of ruin, by way
of disburthening their consciences ; and others, who give you to understand
much the same thing as a good joke, out of sheer impertinence, constitu-
tional vivacity, and want of something to gay. All these, it must be con-
fessed, are disagreeable people; and you repay their over-anxiety or total
forgetfulness of you, by a determination to cut them as speedily as possible.
We meet with instances of persons who overpower you by a sort of bois-
terous mirth and rude animal spirits, with whose ordinary state of excite-
ment it is as impossible to keep up as with that of any one really intoxi-
cated ; and with others who seem scarce alive — who take no pleasure or
interest in any thing — who are born to exemplify the maxim,
" Not to admire is all the art I know,
To make men happy, or to keep them so,"—
and whose mawkish insensibility or sullen scorn are equally annoying. In
general, all people brought up in remote country-places, where life is crude,
and harsh — all sectaries — all partisans of a losing cause, are discontented
and disagreeable. Commend me above all to the Westminster School of
Reform, whose blood runs as cold in their veins as the torpedo's, and whose
touch jars like it. Catholics are, upon the whole, more amiable than Pro-
testants— foreigners than English people. Among ourselves, the Scotch, as-
a nation, are particularly disagreeable. They hate every appearance of
comfort themselves, and refuse it to others. Their climate, their religion,
and their habits are equally averse to pleasure. Their manners are either
distinguished by a fawning sycophancy (to gain their own ends, and conceal
their natural defects), that makes one sick ; or by a morose unbending cal-
lousness, that makes one shudder, I had forgot to mention two other descrip-
tions of persons who fall under the scope of this essay : — those who take up a
subject, and run on with it interminably, without knowing whether their
hearers care one word about it, or in the least minding what reception their
oratory meets with — -these are pretty generally voted bores (mostly Ger-
man ones); — and others, who may be designated as practical paradox-
mongers — who discard the " milk of human kindness," and an attention
to common observances, from all their actions, as effeminate and puling —
136 On Disagreeable People. '[At/fl,
who wear a white hat as a mark of superior understanding, and carry home
a handkerchief-full of mushrooms in the top of it as an original discovery —
— who give you craw-fish for supper instead of lobsters; seek their com-
pany in a garret, and over a gin-bottle, to avoid the imputation of affecting
genteel society ; and 'discard them after a term of years, and warn others
against them, as being honest fellows, which is thought a vulgar prejudice.
This is carrying the harsh and repulsive even beyond the disagreeable — to
the hateful. Such persons are generally people of common-place under-
standings, obtuse feelings, and inordinate vanity. They are formidable if
they get you in their power — otherwise, they are only to be laughed at.
There are a vast number who are disagreeable from meanness of spirit,
from downright insolence, from slovenliness of dress or disgusting tricks,
from folly or ignorance: but these causes are positive moral or physical
defects, and I only meant to speak of that repulsiveriess of manners which
arises from want of tact and sympathy with others. So far of friendship :
a word, if I durst, of love. Gallantry to women (the sure road to their
favour) is nothing but the appearance of extreme devotion to all their wants
and wishes — a delight in their satisfaction, and a confidence in yourself, as
being able to contribute towards it.- The slightest indifference with regard
to them, or distrust of yourself, are equally fatal. The amiable is the volup-
tuous in looks, manner, or words. No face that exhibits this kind of ex-
pression— whether lively or serious, obvious or suppressed, will be thought
ugly — no address, awkward— no lover who approaches every woman he
meets as his mistress, will be unsuccessful. Diffidence and awkwardness
are the two antidotes to love.
To please universally, we must be pleased with ourselves and others.
There should be a tinge of the coxcomb, an oil of self-complacency, an
anticipation of success — there should be no gloom, no moroseness, no shy-
ness— in short, there should be very little of an Englishman, and a good
deal of a Frenchman. But though, I believe, this is the receipt, we are
none the nearer making use of it. It is impossible for those who are
naturally disagreeable ever to become otherwise. This is some consolation,
as it may save a world of useless pains and anxiety. " Desire to please,
and you will infallibly please," is a true maxim ; but it does not follow
that it is in the power of all to practise it. A vain man, who thinks he is
endeavouring to please, is only endeavouring to shine, and is still farther
from the mark. An irritable man, who puts a check upon himself, only
grows dull, and loses spirit to be any thing. Good temper and a happy
spirit (which are the indispensable requisites) can no more be commanded
than good health or good looks ; and though the plain and sickly need not
distort their features, and may abstain from success, this is all they can do.
The utmost a disagreeable person can do is to hope to be less disagreeable
than with care and study he might become, and to pass unnoticed in society.
With this negative character he should be contented, and may build Ins
fame and happiness on other things.
I will conclude with a character of men who neither please nor aspire to
please anybody, an'd who can come in nowThcre so properly as at the fag-
end of an essay : — [ mean that class of discontented but amusing persons,
who are infatuated with their own ill success, and reduced to despair by a
lucky turn in their favour. While all goes well, they are like fish out of
water. They have no reliance on or sympathy with their good fortune,
and look upon it as a momentary delusion. Let a doubt be thrown on the
question/ and they begin to be full of lively apprehensions again: let all
1827.] OH Disagreeable People. J37
their hopes vanish, and they feel themselves on firm ground once more.
From want of spirit or of habit, their imaginations cannot rise above the
low ground of humility— -cannot reflect the gay, ffaunting tints of the fancy
— flag and droop into despondency — and can neither indulge the expecta*
tion, nor employ the means of success. Even when it is within their reach,
they dare not lay hands upon it ; and shrink from unlooked-for bursts of
prosperity, as something of which they are both ashamed and unworthy.
The class of croakers here spoken of are less delighted at other
people's misfortunes than their own. Their neighbours 'may have some
pretensions — they have none. Querulous complaints and anticipations of
pleasure are the food on which they live ; and they at last acquire a passion
for that which is the favourite theme of their thoughts, and oap no more
do without it than without the pinch of snuff with which they se~ason their
conversation, and enliven the pauses of their daily prognostics. W. H.
THE FIRST OF SPRING.
To me how welcome are these vernal airs
Which bid long drooping nature bloom again,
For now in thought I tread my native plain,
And transient hope breaks through the cloud of cares,
Which years have wrapped around me, and repairs
In one bright moment half the wreck which time
Hath made of my enjoyments — ere my prime
I have been left without one breast that snares
With me a kindred feeling— but to-day
Nature seems full of social sympathies,
Twining around the heart a thousand ties,
And chacing all its loneliness away. —
I of creation seem a part once more,
While the glad spirit diffuses itself o'er,
And mingles with its kindred purities.
Mountain and valley, sun, and flower, and breeze,
Seem with fresh health impregnated, as if
The angel of life, with healing in his wings,
Had flown to day o'er all created things,
Making the reign of death and sorrow brief,
And pouring pleasure thro' a thousand springs.
For every wounded heart there flows a balm —
E'en sickly hues forsake the pallid cheek,
And half affection's anxious cares grow calm
At the bright promises these symptoms speak.
And shall 1 droop while all things round me flourish?
While even the very weed (which now is seen
Lifting itself, so stately and so green,
Above the earth) Heaven sends its breath to nourish —
Shall I not own to the bland influence,
And drink the health its healing powers dispense ?
I have — and find my energies restored,
The brightness of my spirit which was blenched,
The ray which many clouds so long had quenched,
Revive again— and all that I deplored
As gone for ever, marshal thick around —
Poetic dreams and visions of delight,
Even forms which the dark grave long hid from sight,
Visit me spiritually pure and bright,
And I can smile to feel my long-lost peace is found. R. B.
M. M. New Series.— \OL, IV. No. 20. T
t 138 ] [AUG.
THE ADVENTURES OF NAUFRAjUUS.*
THERK arc men enough in the world, and more than enough, whoso
written lives would make admirable romances, if it were not that few
persons arc able, and still fewer perhaps entirely willing, truly to relate
all the adventure or misadventure which occurs to them ; but, in despite
of this difficulty, the sort of work (half historical, half fabulous) best
described, perhaps, as " Personal narrative," which was begun by the
military writers among our neighbours, the French, has lately been grow-
ing very popular in England. Among ourselves, however, as in France, it
will have been observed, that most of the " adventures," and " expe-
riences," and " eventful lives." have been those of soldiers ; there has
appeared hardly any thing in the same way from men connected with
the. sea. We have had the '* journals" of Serjeants and of private sol-
diers— very curious and valuable, as affording the best insight into the
condition, and the only means of insight into the feelings and opinions of
men in that situation of life ; but we have never had the u log-book" (at
least we do not recollect any such publication) of a fore-mast sailor, or
of a boatswain. This open ground in our light literature, the book before
us is extremely well calculated to fill up. The want of such a work for
some years past, indeed, has something surprised us, since the blank is not
at all to be attributed to any lack of interest in the subject. A sailor's
life is not perhaps a pleasant one ; but even landsmen will believe that it
can scarcely be a life wanting in incident or excitation ; and, for ourselves,
we must decidedly deny the truth — whatever may bo the wit — of John-
son's observation — that a ship " is a prison," in which you have the
chance of being drowned. The distinguishing feature of a prison is, that
the inhabitant of it is fixed in one place : its secondary attributes are, that
he is scantily furnished, in all probability, with light and air, and that he
is shut out from that which alone renders life endurable — the possibility
of event : it is his misery to be so secure, that even the accidents and
vexations which enliven existence, cannot reach him. Now the pas-
senger who stands upon the deck of a noble vessel, which is dashing
through a free and open element, faster than a horse can gallop, from
one country to another, and who enjoys the free exercise of his limbs
through the whole course of his travel, with the advantage of pretty nearly
every convenience that man's necessities require at hand, and provided
for his use — this man is scarcely so much " the inhabitant of a
prison, with the chance of being drowned," as the tenant of the doc-
tor's favourite vehicle, a post-chaise, is the occupant of a prison, with
the chance of being overturned. Leaving this " unsavoury simile,"
however — which Johnson had probably been sea-sick for four days, or
becalmed somewhere, when he hit upon — and which, indeed, as a
simile, would be good for nothing if it were like— -it is impossible
that the life of a constant traveller, who has but a plank, at the best
of times, between himself and destruction, and who averages an hourly
liability to some situation of extreme peril, from which his own skill and
activity alone can preserve him as part of his account in trade — it is impos-
sible that the Hie of a man so professionally engaged, can be one of mere
dulness or fatuity. On the contrary, the converse of this proposition will
be found to be the fact : to be competent to the conduct of a vessel, a
* The Life and Adventures of Naufragus. Smith and Elder, London. I vol. 8vo.
J82T.] Adventures of Naufragiis. loD
sailor must bo a man of some! scientific acquirement ; his hourly security
depends only upon habits of the most acute observation — although con-
lined, perhaps, within a somewhat limited sphere; and the records of somo
of the earlier voyages of the private traders to the coasts of India and
Africa, not to speak of those who carried their commercial speculations to
Mexico and Peru, display a spirit of enterprise, and a variety of incident,
which, however, disfigured by traits of injustice, and even of barbarity,
render them among the most interesting narratives that our literature
affords. The author of the present work, as will appear in the course of
our notice, writes from the experience of a sea life, passed chiefly on the
coasts of India — a ground with which he is familiar in a very extraordinary
degree ; but his book contains the incidents and changes of a life, which,
his profession apart, would, by no means, have been devoid of interest;
and develops some facts and principles, which (to others than young men
thrown upon the world in search of a livelihood) may not be without their
utility. The preface states, that the narrative— names of parties, of
course excepted — may be considered as founded strictly on fact ; and,
from the internal evidence, even in this book-making age, our decided
belief is that it is so.
Naufragus [this title, of course, is assumed] is the son of a London mer-
chant, who, after possessing considerable wealth, ends by becoming unfor-
tunate in trade ; and at an early age finds the somewhat stinted charity of
an " uncle" — a gentleman of large fortune, who has married his father's
sister — pretty nearly his only dependence. After passing two or threei
years miserably at a Yorkshire school, he is sent to sea, at fourteen, as
midshipman, on board an Indiaman — a situation of very abundant general
discomfort ; and, being recommended by his relative — according to the usage
made and provided in the cases of children who are the objects of bounty
— as " a lad wh'o had nothing to look for," — and who, therefore, was
"not to be spared," but to be " made a sailor of," &c. — he is so harshly
treated on board, that his patience fails ; and, on his second voyage at
Pulo Penang, he gives his last dollar to a boatman to convey him secretly
on shore, and quits his ship. (It might be a nice point for the admiralty
judges, perhaps, whether it ought to be written down " desertion.")
" On the morrow the ship was to leave Pulo-Penang : the morrow then
was to form an epoch in my life ; my prospects were to change, possibly not
for the better, since I was about to enter on a wide world, unknowing and un-
known : driven to an act of such desperate resource, by the brutality of an
enemy on the one hand, and on the other, by the inadvertence of my natural
protector. During the night I slept, but little, racked as I was with scorpion
anxiety, and dreaming of appalling dangers ; but the morning rays relieved me,
and I then began my preparations by packing up my clothes, dressing myself, and
pocketing all the treasure I had to begin the world with, and that was — one
dollar."
" At six in the evening I was ready : 1 went down on the gun-deck, ana
exchanged a farewell with Smith, who, actuated by friendship most sincere,
invoked many a blessing on my head. The hoarse voice of my persecutor, baw-
ling ' Naufragus !' summoned me before him. I surveyed him steadily, and with
a calm look, though conscious that I stood before him whom I should never cease
to execrate as the man who drove me friendless on the world — ' What !' said he ;
'dressed so smart! — going on shore, I suppose? [ironically]. Here — give this
receipt to the boatman who brought the cask of lime-juice, and tell him he
may go.' "
" The shade of evening had but just spread round the vessel, when I went on
deck : a fall of rain, with a distant roll of thun&r, and a heavy gust of wind
T 2
140 Adventures of Natffragus. [AUG.
from the shore, indicated an approaching storm. I hurried into the boat, and
giving the receipt to the boatman, who was a Mahommedan, I desired him to
shove me on shore, putting into his hand my all — the dollar, which worked a
talismanic effect ; for in five minutes I was, for the first time in my life, on the
shore of Prince-of- Wales Island."
" The feeling of sailors on leaving their floating home, to which habit has
reconciled them, has been often the subject of remark : thus, 1 once heard the
sailors of a ship called the Mary, when she was in flames in the river Hooghly,
exclaim* with the greatest tenderness, as they abandoned her to her fate—* Fare-
well, Mary ! — poor old ship! — good by, old girl !" and some of them were seen
to shed tears : and even I could not help, when the boat was conveying me on
shore, taking a silent farewell of my ship — but especially of my friend Smith
and the captain, both of whom I much esteemed—* Here 1 am/ said I to myself,
when I touched the shore, * left, with all the world before me; and be thou, kind
Providence, my guide !' "
The writer is, evidently (we should say), not an author by profession,
He decidedly, indeed, wants the capabilities to sustain such a character.
)3ut, on this very account, the effect of some points in his narrative, is
immensely increased.
The details of his school experience, and of his sufferings afterwards, on
hoard the India ship, are given with the earnestness — here and there with
ihe somewhat unreasonableness — which distinguishes a man who pleads
Iris own cause* His description of his being sent for from school by his
uncle, who looks at him for some time without saying a word, and then,
at the same moment, dispatches a note off to a slopseller's, to get him
fitted out with " necessaries," and sends him away ten miles into the coun-
try to wish his father and mother good-bye, will, at once, stamp the veracity
of the tale with most of the " orphan nephews" that may happen to read
it. After quitting his ship, he wanders in the woods of Pulo Periang for
near three days, watching occasionally from a high hill, until he sees the
vessel leave the port, and being amused, in the meantime — all which is
described with grcai naivete — at the tricks of the monkeys and the snakes,
while almost starving for want of some better food than cocoa-nuts, and
wild pine-apples. At length, to his great relief, the ship actually gets
imder weigh, and " stands out by degrees/' until she becomes " a mere
speck iri the horizon ;'' and now, being wholly destitute and friendless,-
he takes a course which none but a boy would have heart to take, but
which nevertheless was not unlikely — as turned out to be the fact in the
event— to prove successful :—
" Seeing a man in the dress of a native following me very closely* I ventured
to ask him if he spoke English ? — * Yes, my lord.'- — ' Well,' said I, '"tell me who
is the greatest English merchant in Penang — I mean the richest ' — * Ogilvie, sa-
hib.'— * Good again,' I replied. * Now then, my friend, pray take me to Mr. Ogil-
vie's house.' In a short time I was ushered into a princely mansion, and soon in
the presence of Ogilvie, sahib, (or Mr. Ogilvie). I addressed him, saying that I
presumed to call on him as a British merchant, to acquaint him with the step which
I had taken, and the causes which had led me to adopt a scheme so desperate ; and
ended my tale, by requesting that he would either give me, or procure for me,
employment on shore, in any industrious occupation ; at the same time assuring
him, that his aid would be found not to have been misplaced. He seemed per-
ftctly astonished ; and it was some time before he replied — * Young gentleman, I
feel much for the unprotected state in which you are placed in this settlement;
and, if I may judge from your appearance, you would not abuse any aid which
I could alford you : but, indeed, you cannot remain in this island — the gover-
nor himself could not permit you to remain here : but if you will call — but no —
here he conaes — here he comes.' "
1827.] Adventures of Naufragus* \\\
** The entrance of a stout shoit man, with a good-natured face, arrested the
harangue of Mr, Ogilvie, who rose up and shook his friend by the hand most
heartily. — « Captain Lambert,' resumed Mr. Ogilvie, ' here is a young midship-
man, who has left his ship from ill treatment, it appears, and who wants employ-
ment: can't you take him with you as second mate? You want one, I under-
stand.'— * The very thing, Ogilvie ; and,' said Lambert, turning to me, « you
shall find good usage with me, however you may have been treated on board the
Indiamen : I know well enough what they are, young gentleman.' "
" I assured him my endeavours should not be wanting to prove myself deserving
of any encouragement I should receive. To Mr. Ogilvie I expressed my grateful
thanks, and, pointing to blackee, who had introduced me to his presence, I ex-
pressed my regret at not having it in my power to reward him. The captain told
me to go on board the brig Jane, and, with his compliments to the mate, to
request him to receive me. — « You'll find,' he said, « the Jane's boat at the jetty
stairs ;' and added — 4 1 will take care of blackee.' "
" Upon this I retired, thanking God in my heart for this interposition in my
behalf, and in a few minutes was on board the Jane, but almost famished, having
fasted nearly four days, and without any clothes except those I had on ; for, on
inquiry at the British hotel for my box, I found that it had not been forwarded,
doubtless in consequence of my friend Smith's want of opportunity."
*' The first object that struck me on my arrival on board, was the odd appear-
ance of the chief mate, whose name was Tassit : he wore a red cap, a full pair of
silk sleeping trowsers, and a white jacket : his countenance was equally remark-
able— a visage of dark complexion, with thick bushy whiskers, and long musta-
chios, high cheek bones, and large black eyes : he was a half-cast, or Creole, of
Bengal, but educated in England. Scarcely had I made my bow to this original,
when a loud, confused jabber, proceeding from the main hold, of ' Marrega !
marrega /' attracted our notice ; and, on looking down the hatchway, I beheld
three or four lascars, with billets of wood, crushing a huge centipede, which twirled
its long, elastic body round and round, in agony and rage, until killed. The jabber
of the black sailors, and their naval costume, together with the heat of the hold,
and the smell of the pepper and betel-nut, of which the cargo consisted, produced
on my mind an impression unlike any I had ever before felt." i
*« All hands were busy receiving cargo, which we were to leave at Malacca for
some China ship expected there ; and all possible haste was made to sail imme-
diately. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when I went on board, and at five
Tassit very civilly asked me down to tea. I readily obeyed the summons, and
followed him to the cabin. There I found the leg and wing of a cold fowl, toast,
biscuits, butter, a piece of cold ham, and a smoking tea-kettle in the hands of a
lascar. Down I sat, opposite to my new friend Tassit, and began upon the fowl
and ham, which soon disappeared ; the toast and tea also vanished, and with equal
celerity, Tassit all the while ministering to my wants with much patience and
good-nature ; and when I afterwards told him that that meal was the only one 1
had had for four days, he laughed immoderately; but suddenly checking himself,
said, in a serious tone — « By all that's wonderful, I thought you would have killed
yourself !' "
•* After tea, we chatted until eight, and I understood that my pay was to ba
eighty sicca rupees (£ 10) per month. This was, indeed, agreeable news, and, at
Tassit's suggestion, I went to bed at ten ; but scarcely had I got into a comfortable
dose, when I was roused up to assist in getting the brig under weigh. This was
done in about an hour ; and with a full moon to light us, we sailed down the
Southern Channel. The captain had not yet come on board, so it was agreed that
I should take the morning watch, from four to eight, and to bed I went again."
In this now situation, Naufragus prospers. European officers are
scarce ; and the knowledge which he has acquired at school, and on
board the East-Indiaman — and to which the rough usage which he
received had perhaps (though we hold it a perilous mode of instruction)
something contributed — now stands him in good stead. With Captain
T ambert he sails, on a coasting voyage, through the Straits of Malacca,
112 Adventures of Naufragus. [Ai;o.
and towards the port called Pulo Lingin, to exchange dollars and broad-
cloth for slabs of block tin ; and the circumstances that arise out of this
barter afford a curious view of the mode of dealing used, as well as of
the personal dangers incurred, by the East- India " country traders."
" In about three weeks we reached Pulo Lingin. The lofty peak so called, as
seen from the deck of our little bark, on a clear day, had a grand and imposing
effect. We had not been long at anchor, before a canoe came alongside, with four
Arabian chiefs, magnificently apparelled. The captain, suspecting them to be
pirates in disguise, gave orders that the door of a cabin, in which was a large chest
of treasure should be locked. They said that they came merely to see the captain
and the ship. Being received on board, they scrutinized, with rather suspicious
minuteness, every thing within their view. On coming to the cabin where the
treasure was concealed, and finding the door locked, they expressed great anxiety
to have it opened. The captain, whose presence of mind never forsook him, called
to the Cas-a-ab for the key, telling them in Arabic * there was only a poor Christian
lying there, who had died the day before,' upon which they turned aside with
symptoms of disgust, at the idea of seeing a Christian corpse, and precipitately re-
turned on deck. One of the Arabs eyed me with expressive earnestness ; which,
indeed, was not to be wondered at, for a European lad had seldom, if ever, been
seen in that part of the globe before. I was not more than fourteen years, of age,
with the glow of health on my cheek, and with long curly hair, as white as flax.
The Arab then entered into conversation with the captain, expressing (as I after-
wards learnt, to my no small astonishment) a wish to purchase me — nay, ventured
so far, as to offer three hundred dollars for me. On being told that I was not for
sale, he appeared much surprised, expressing, indeed, his wonder that the captain
could refuse so large a sum for so young a boy ; but endeavouring to account for
the refusal, by observing — * He is perhaps some young prince, or a high cast
Englishman, I suppose ;' and after shewing off some consequential native airs, left
us. No sooner were our visitois clear off, than the captain ordered all the small
arms, and the four six-pounders, to be loaded, in readiness for an attack that night.
Ko attack, however, was made, and the captain and myself went on shore the next
morning.
" We first paid our visit to the king, or rajah of Lingin, who was seated, cross-
legged, on a cane mat, in a large hut. We were not suffered to approach his
august presence without taking off our shoes and stockings, and were ordered not
to advance nearer to his majesty's person than fifteen feet. The captain and I now
sat down cross-legged, on a mat facing the king. He was an overgrown savage-
looking Malay, with fat cheeks, a shdrt flat chin, and a large mouth, down the
corners of which ran the juice of the betel-nut, of a deep red colour, which gave
him an appearance, at least in my eye, both terrifying and disgusting. We were
surrounded on all sides by Malays, armed each with a crease, or dagger, probably
poisoned, and whose countenances were marked with a ferocity quite in keeping
with the rest of the scene. The captain broke silence by a flattering encomium on
the king's improved looks, since last he saw him, and requested his acceptance of
some costly and choice presents, which were produced. His majesty having accepted
them, made some inquiries respecting me ; he first admired the colour of my hair,
then asked how many brothers I had — how old I was — and if I would like to stop
in his dominions ? and seemed quite pleased with my complimentary answers.
Upon my expressing some surprise at seeing an organ in a corner of the room, he
beckoned to one of his attendants to play it. A more villainous compound of
harsh sounds I never before heard, but they seemed to please the Malay monarch
mightily. He then ordered a flute to be brought me, which, as well as the organ,
had doubtless been given him by some European, who well knew their use. I imme-
diately received it, and, still, in a sitting posture, played a few notes, to the surprise
of the king and all the motley assembly."
The course of trading, indeed, in Malacca — like that of " true love"
in Europe — " never,' we believe, '•' does run smooth." At Pulo Minto,
the next port which the navigators make, a more fierce dispute arises as
to the delivery of some property upon which " advances" have been
1 827.] Adceniures of Naufragus. • \ 43
made, and one which threatens loss of dollars, as well as of blood, to the
European interest : —
" We were on the point of departure, and, as we thought, had but to deliver over
to the Malays a bale of piece goods, and five hundred dollars, due to them, when,
to our dismay, we missed twenty-eight slabs of tin, represented to have been actu-
ally shipped on the preceding day, but which, as we afterwards found, had been
very adroitly concealed by the Malays in the sand on the beach. No sooner had
our captain made this discovery, than he ordered Tassit to go on shore immedi-
ately, and tell the Malay, that if the property was not given up, he would not only
keep possession of the bale of piece goods, and the five hundred dollars, but report
the case to the supreme government ; and I was appointed to accompany Tassit.
On rowing ashore, poor Tassit became more and more thoughtful, until a deep sigh
would escape him, with — ' Well, God knows how it will all end !' In the mean
time, the brig got under weigh, and stood in shore as near as she could, her guns
'grinning horribly,' and the captain pacing the deck, with evident anxiety. We
found the beach lined with Malays, and as our little boat crossed the surf, the coun-
tenance of Tassit assumed a most discouraging aspect. This, however, did not much
intimidate me, for, armed as we- were, each with two loaded pistols and a cutlass,
I thought our boat's crew a match for them.
"It was about four o'clock in the evening, when the gentle surf bore our boat on
the sand, and Tassit, with an unwilling step, landed ; that instant, a number of
Malays seized and hurried him to a hut on the beach, and there surrounded him,
making use of all the outrageous epithets in broken English and Malay, and using
the most violent gesticulations of defiance and derision imaginable ; one drawing a
crease across Tassit's cheek, others forming a ring, and seating him on a mat in the
midst of them. At that instant, I, who with the boat's crew had followed him,
came into the ring to speak to one of the chiefs, and to endeavour to release my
mate: 'Look! my dear Naufragus, behold !' ejaculated Tassit, 4 what a dangerous
situation has the rashness of our captain placed me in !' He said this in a voice,
and with a manner so deplorable, and at the same time so irresistibly droll, that
I could not refrain from laughing, although there were, at that moment, twenty
drawn daggers at our breasts. I comforted Tassit as well as I could, and told the
Malays I would go on board, and make known to the captain their demands.—
' Iss, teii im,* said one of the chiefs, * he not pay my dollar, not give my bale of
piece goods, I cut away this man's throat.' At this poor Tassit turned up the whites
of his eyes, bellowing after me — * My dear Naufragus, make haste, or I shall be lost
to you for ever. 1 made my boat's crew row with all their might, till, in a few
minutes, I got on board. Never shall I forget the violent rage of the captain, when
I told him what the Malays had done ; he was as mad as the roaring sea — * Ah !'
said he, 'if you could but have unfurled the union jack, I would have settled the
business in an instant, but that was impossible. Go on shore, Naufragus ; tell the
Malays that I hoist my nation's ensign ; shew it to them ; tell them, if they insult
that flag, by keeping a British subject prisoner, my countrymen will come and
blow the town to atoms: tell them, too, I will have my twenty-eight slabs of tin.'"
Fortunately, a couple of balls fired from the ship, in aid of this second
mission, produced the necessary effect : the twenty-eight slabs of tin are
restored, and Tassit returns on board — the captain assuring Signer Tassit,
that, " if his throat had been cut, he would have taken a signal revenge
for the same." Tassit, however, appeared inclined to say with Othello,
" 'Tis better as it is !"
The first view of Calcutta — to which he next sails — seems to have
overpowered the senses of Naufragus (in the way of admiration) alto-
gether. Even London sinks in the comparison. We venture a few dis-
jointed paragraphs, that may give some idea of the enthusiastic approba-
tion of the traveller ; reminding our readers, that Calcutta was the first
great city he had ever beheld out of England, and that he was not yet
twenty years of age : —
144 Adventures of Naufragus. [Auo.
"As evening drew to a close, we saw the • Company's Gardens' to our left ; and
on our right ' Garden-Reach.' All at once, a scene of magic splendour, which took
possession of my senses, burst upon my view, and astonished me : the gorgeous
palaces, which were no more than the garden-houses of civil and military officers,
and merchants, were on a scale of magnificence totally unexpected by me; never
had I beheld, nor have I ever since beheld, the habitations of men so intensely
grand and imposing: the banks of the river, for a distance of three or four miles,
were studded with palaces, disposed in an irregular line, some of them having each
a peristyle of twenty-four columns, producing an inconceivably striking effect ; and
the landscape seemed to vie in richness with the buildings."
* Tassit now proposed half an hour's recreation on shore, to which I joyfully
acceded, being anxious to tread the land of Bengal. Scarcely had I time to look
about me, on our landing, before my attention was arrested by a female form, of
the middle stature, who walked by us with an air of elegance and dignity which
surprised me. She was withal exceedingly lovely, and possessed, I thought, the
finest form I had ever seen, set off to great advantage by her native dress, a fold of
fine calico thrown loosely round her, yet gently compressing her waist, so as to
display her shape to the utmost possible advantage ; one end of the calico was
fastened with a pin to her jet-black hair; her ears were ornamented with large ear-
rings, and a profusion of trinkets ; her fingers covered with rings, and her wrists
with bangles ; while her feet, and finely proportioned ancles, were left bare. The
intensity of my gaze so far attracted her notice, that, to my delight, she smiled, but
disappeared almost at the same instant. With ecstacy 1 turned to Tassit. — 'Ah,
my dear friend, did you behold that angelic figure ? — tell me, what was she ?— a
native princess — perhaps the heiress of this princely mansion ? I am sure she must
be a being of some superior order.' — ' Naufragus,' interrupted Tassit, ' you are
young — have not yet entered the third age, that age which a poet of your country
pronounces to be as baneful to youth as sunken rocks to mariners: no, Naufragus,
she is no princess — nor is she the heiress of yonder palace — no, nor a being of a
superior order, as you vainly imagine ; but start not, she is neither more nor less
than a metrannee"*
" If I was pleased at the external appearance of the city, as seen from the river,
how much was my expectation surpassed on beholding its interior ! The superb
buildings, the bustle of industry, the creaking of hackeries, or carts drawn by bul-
locks, the jostling of innumerable palanquins, the jabbering of the Bengallees and
palanquin-bearers, the novelty of their dress (nothing but a fold of white calico
thrown loosely over the body, and on the head a turban} — altogether composed
a scene which so enchanted my imagination, that I could hardly divest myself of
the idea that I was in fairy land ; but my reverie was not long undisturbed, its
charm being dissolved by a constant attendance at the side of my palanquin of
importunate venders of books, sandal-wood boxes, bows and arrows, fans made
of peacocks' feathers, and oriental curiosities.
44 We alighted at the house of Tassit's friend, a Mr. Wetzler, who received him
with open arms, and welcomed me most cordially, as his friend. — « But where,
where is my Sarsnee ?' said Tassit. A pair of folding-doors then flew open, and
a very lovely brunette appeared, and threw her arms very affectionately round
Tassit's neck. She was a sister of Mr. Wetzler' s, and I heartily congratulated my
friend on the prospect he had of possessing such a treasure. I wish I could gratify
my readers by setting off Tassit's person and features to advantage ; but in this
respect he was inferior to the charming woman whom he had chosen for his wife.
His good sense, however, and the excellence of his heart, made him entirely
worthy of her, and she loved him with an ardour seldom equalled.
*« As soon as the two lovers had exchanged caresses, and mutual congratulations
began to give way to sober conversation, we sat down to a table richly spread with
eastern and European delicacies, currees, hams, turkeys, and mellow East-India
Madeira. These are things well calculated to promote cheerfulness and good
humour; but we did not require any stimulus.
• "A female domestic employed to sweep the house. They are usually of the lowest
cast, denominated ' pariahs.'"
J827.J Adventures of Ntitifragus. . 145
" My attention was almost wholly engrossed with the contemplation of the
princely room we were dining in ; it was open on every side, and had a large
verandah, and extensive casements, shaded by Venetians ; the floor was of marble,
the walls were decorated with glass wall-shades, chandeliers, and pictures; a pun-
kah,* suspended from the ceiling, fanned us overhead, while a native at each
corner of the table moved to and fro a large hand punkah, made of the leaves of
the toddy tree, the end of which was fixed in a wooden socket, and the hookah
emitted odoriferous spicy gales ; crowds of Bengallee servants were in attendance.
So enchanted were my senses, that I could not help observing to Tassit, that,
much as I had heard of eastern luxury, the reality surpassed ev^n the imagina-
tion.— « Yes, Naufragus,' resumed Tassit, ' the luxury is certainly great, but it soon
cloys ; and then, my friend, the mind has not, as in England, any means of reno-
vating its exhausted powers ; the very climate tends but to smother energy, and
lull the soul into a state of indolence and languor; and all the luxury which cap-
tivates your young imagination, affords not that substantial happiness, which, in
your free and happy country, is enjoyed by a rustic at his homely board.' ''
At this period of the narrative, the author's feelings as a man — quite as
much as his adventures as a sailor — come into play. But he does justice
to the characters of his relatives, even when he fancies himself ill-used by
them. He goes to England ; but, finding an ill reception from his family,
and no prospect of aid, contrives to obtain letters as a "free mariner," and
returns to India : sailing, on this (his third) voyage, in the first instance
for Ceylon ; where he again engages himself as mate of a coast trader,
and soon acquires money to attempt a little " trading" of his own.
The purchase of a small vessel, through the agency of a dubash, or
broker, and the business of fitting it up and obtaining freight, introduce
some humorous notices of the habits and character of the native dealers
of Calcutta. Naufragus, after some consideration, agrees that his pur-
chase shall be a brig ; and desires " Moodoosooden Chetarjee" to look out
for one, the pi-ice of which should not exceed 500/.
" Moodoosooden Chetarjee was, as I before said, a sedate-looking youth; his
gait and manner had even an air of sanctity, much heightened by his dress, a gar-
ment of fine linen folded loosely over him, and hanging down to his sandaled feet,
his turban being of rich muslin. . On his entrance he would make his salam by
raising his hands, in a graceful curve, to his forehead, touching it three times. —
4 Well, Moodoosooden,' I would exclaim, ' what news this morning ?' — [With
emphasis.] — 'All the best news, my lord!' — * What is it, Moodoosooden?' —
4 Nothing, my lord !' This odd reply at first gave disappointment to inspired
hopes ; and it was not until I got used to Moodoosooden's manner, that I could
suppress the curiosity which his mode of answering was calculated to excite. In
general, indeed, as may well be imagined, the natives puzzle Europeans, fresh from
their native soil.
" One evening, Moodoosooden entered with a bearer t behind him, carrying a
superb brass-mounted mahogany writing-desk, and requested my acceptance of it.
Having presented it, he said he had succeeded in selecting a brig just then for sale,
which he thought would suit me. — ' She was,' he added, * registered at one hun-
dred and twenty-five tons, Chittagong built ; her price four thousand rupees (five
hundred pounds), and was then lying in the river Hooghly. I have besides, my
lord,' resumed Moodoosooden, * engaged a rich freight tor you for Madras, Pondi-
cherry, and Ceylon, the produce of which,' he added, 4 will more than defray the
cost and outfit of the vessel and crew.' — « Well, Moodoosooden, this is good news ;
to-niorrow morning I will go with you to see the vessel.' — * But that,' Moodoo-
sooden rejoined,' * is not all; I have secured you a good syrangj and tyndal'H-*—
* " A board, about twelve feet in length, three in width, and one inch in thickness,
richly gilded and papered. It is fastened by ropes to the roof or ceiling, and kept in
motion by means oj' a line attached to its centre, and pulled by a person who sits in a
corner of the room."
t " A palanquin-bearer, or menial. J Boatswain. || His mate.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 20. U
1 4 6 Adoentures of Naufragus\ [A UG .
' Stay, Moodoosooden,* I replied ; ' first, let us purcliase the vessel, then secure
the crew.' To the propriety of this Mocdoosooden assented, observing — ' He was
sure I should be a very rich man, for my fingers were unusually long.'
• " Having engaged an experienced surveyor to accompany me, we repaired to-
gether on board the brig, and Moodoosooden joined us at gun-fire* the following
morning. The vessel, on examination, being found well calculated, in every
respecO'or an eastern trader, an attorney was engaged to inspect the title-deeds,
and draw the deed of sale. Having paid the purchase-money, I engaged my
freight, and commenced receiving cargo the same week, with all the energy and
spirit which the novelty of the undertaking could inspire me with. Night and
day all on board was a scene of bustle and activity ; we were taking in ballast,
laying mats round the sides, and at the bottom of the hold ; receiving rice, wheat,
and bale goods, and stowing them away. Continually were we surrounded by
paunchways,t until the brig was laden up to the very beams, and could receive no
more. The freight paid at Calcutta cleared the cost and outfit of the vessel, as
well as four months' advance to the crew, which consisted of two Portuguese
secunnies, J one syrang, who was a mussulman, two tyndals (Mahommedans), and
sixteen lascars,§ of different castes. An European officer would, I considered,
entail on me an expense beyond what my means were likely to afford, and on
that account I declined receiving one : I was therefore the only European on
board. My next object was to get the vessel insured. I found that, as she had
only one deck, she could not be insured ' free of average,' but « against risk' only ;
consequently, if she should t-s totally lost, I should recover, but not in the case of
damage. I tried to reverse this usage, and to get her insured 4 free of average,' but
in vain : it was impossible under any premium. Nothing discouraged, I supplied
myself with a good chronometer, (a quadrant I had), a chart of the Indian Ocean,
Horsburgh's Directory, with a compass or two ; and thus equipped, I obtained my
port-clearance, and received on board my pilot. All being now ready for sea,
Moodoosooden Chelarjee, whose exertions on this occasion merited my warmest
praise, received, with apparent satisfaction, a present of one hundred rupees, and
accompanied me to the ghaut (or landing-place), invoking the blessings of the
Prophet on my head, and prayicg that he would make me very rich."
Notwithstanding the " weight of responsibility" attached to the com-
ftiand of a ship at sea, which he describes with some truth to be " so
oppressive to the mind as scarcely to be conceived by those who have
not felt it," our author arrives safely in the harbour of Madras. The pro-
cess of landing, however, at that part, is not always to be quite so safely
effected.
*' The difficulty and, not unfrequently, the danger of landing at Madras are
great, from the tremendous surf, which, gathering strength as it approaches the
beach, breaks, at the distance of a mile, and in boisterous weather, even a mile and
a half, from the shore. Boats of a particular construction, called masoolah boats,
are made expressly for this service; the parts connecting the sides and bottom of
which are sewed together -with coir [| yarn, not a nail being used. They are thus
well adapted to their purpose, yielding to the violent shocks which they receive,
both at sea and on touching ground. They are each about fifteen feet long, and
seven wide, and manned by six Indians and a steersman. No sooner were we in
the midst of the surf, than on looking behind, I saw a tremendous sea advancing,
rising to a height which astonished me, and gaining strength every moment : before
us appearances were equally threatening. We were soon overtaken by the wave
behind, which lifted us up on its bosom to an immense height, roaring and send-
ing us onward with the swiftness of lightning ; the Indians jabbering all the
while, as if they were alarmed — * Yeal-/iee, yeal-lice ! yeal-hee, ycal-hee /'^[ This
* " i. e. At day-light." t Boats for the conveyance of cargo.
I " Quarter-masters. § Sailors.''
|| " Coir, so called, is the busk of the cocoa-nut, which being cleaned, leaves nothing
but fibres, that are made into rope, which is used as that of hemp, and in the dry season
is littlo inferior.
Tf Words of encouragement, similar to our '• hurrah /"
J827.J Adventures of Nattfretgus. 147
scene, terrific as it was, proved to the steersman but the scene of his ' vocation ;'
and he did not forget the reward in prospect, but asked for a box, or present. This
was perhaps his policy ; he thought, that at such a moment, I could not refuse him.
Another tremendous sea followed, lifting us up still higher, and impelling us for-
ward with great velocity, until the fore part of the boat took the ground ; she then
swiftly wheeled round on her beam-ends. Then it is that the danger is most im-
minent, for the next sea almost instantly striking the side of the boat, perhaps
upsets it, when it not unfrequently happens that one or two lives are lost. In our
case, the boat, when struck, turned very nearly over ; but being, though a young
man, an old sailor, I held on by the weather gun-whale, until successive seas threw
her « high and dry' on the beach. Palanquins without number were ready to
receive me, and stepping into one, I was in a few minutes at the Navy Hotel.' "
The residence at Madras introduces us to a lively -account (which is
resumed in another part of the volume) of the jugglers, snake-dancers, &c.
of India. We leave our readers to find this out in the book for them-
selves; premising that it will repay their trouble. From Madras the
author sails, with new freight, to Pondicherry, and from thence to
Columbo in Ceylon, and thence to the Isle of France — making money
rapidly — and marrying a young lady — and describing his ground, both
by sea and land, occasionally with great spirit, all the way. In this
prosperous state, he writes home to England, recommending that his
brother should come out to India ; a measure which, he says, he after-
wards had deep cause to regret, though he meant it well at the time. He
was now, however, in a train to perceive that every thing in the world
went well, and rather to doubt whether his own previous annoyances
had not arisen out of some mistake.
" My table (he says) being amply supplied with mutton and poultry, hams,
wines, and liqueurs, how often would I inwardly rejoice when I compared my own
successes and happy state with the condition of others! Nay I almost imagined
that the loud complaints of poverty and misfortune were the outcry of the idle and
dissolute alone ; and came to the conclusion, that no art could be more easily
acquired than that of becoming rich."
The whole of the wood scenery of India is described as of exquisite
beauty. The Cingalese believes that it was in Ceylon that the Garden
of Eden originally stood ; and go so far as to shew in one place — " the
print of Adam's foot !" The writer occasionally speaks too of the "curry"
cookery, like a man who could distinguish between eating and the mere
animal process of swallowing food. Some notices occur of the danger
to be looked for from serpents, however, and tigers ; and it is stated to
be remarkable, that in India a tiger will never carry off a European
when he can get a native ;" — a circumstance of etiquette, which the
" natives" probably would feel at least as much " honoured in the breach
as in the observance."
" Fortune, however — like a looking-glass — is constant to no man ;" and
the term of the prosperity of Naufragus was at this time approaching.
The beauty of the India seas affords no warrant to the voyager that it
may not be his fate to be swallowed up in them ; and a single hurricane
was fated to destroy all the fruits of the industry of Naufragus. Prom
Port Louis, in the Isle of France, where he had married, having taken in
fresh freight, and with his wife on board, our author sails to the coast of
Sumatra, where he invests his whole fortune in a cargo of sugar to carry
to Bengal, by which a large profit — a hundred or a hundred and fifty per
cent. — is to be made. One or two singular accidents occur immediately
on his quitting Tappanooly — the harbour where he had loaded — which
U 2
148 Adventures of Naufragus. [Auo.
might have alarmed a man who was superstitious enough to believe in
evil omens.
" On the morning previous to our departure, we were concerned to find that our
boat, the only one we had possessed, had disappeared during the night : having
been fastened by a rope to the stern, we concluded it must have been stolen. We
were the more chagrined at this, because there was no possibility of procuring
another at Tappanooly ; and to sail without one, was at least a hazardous under-
taking. After bidding farewell to Mr. Prince, who kindly loaded us with presents
of fruit, we set sail for Hindoostan, with a pleasant breeze in our favour. We had
not however proceeded far, scarcely indeed having cleared the land, before the
wind began to fall off ; and a strong current setting against us, we came, as we
supposed, to an anchor for the night, about two miles distant from the shore, which
was lined with a formidable nest of breakers ; and after paying out eight fathoms
of cable, squaring the yards, and setting the watch, we retired to rest. Scarcely
had the midnight hour passed, all on board being asleep, except Thomson, who
had just relieved one of the secunnies on the watch, when I was awoke by the
voice of the former bawling down the companion — ' Captain Naufragus ! Captain
Naufragus ! we're out at sea, sir !' — * Indeed ! how can that be ?' True, however,
it proved. Not a vestige of land did the moon gratify our gazing eyes withal, and
we concluded that our cable must have been cut by the rocky bottom. I deeply
lamented losing my anchor, so soon after my boat, and directed the lascars to haul
in the slack of "the cable ; they did so ; but instead of the cable's end making its
appearance, a check was felt, which prevented their getting any more in. The
serang then w ent over the bows to ascertain the cause, and discovered the anchor
suspended by the buoy-rope ; it had got entangled in the fore-chains, without hav-
ing reached the bottom at all ; consequently, while supposing ourselves to be safe
at anchor, we were, in fact, at the mercy of the winds ; but fortunate it was for us
the wind was not from the sea, as in that case we must of course been blown on
the rocks : as it was, 1 was delighted at recovering my anchor, and finding the
whole property safe, as also our lives. By the next morning, we regained our situa-
tion on the coast, but the wind still failed us, and continued to fail for a whole
week, so that we made but little way. At length a breeze sprang up, which wafted
us onwards, sixty or seventy miles, and died away again, leaving us once more
becalmed ; and I began to suspect that, so far as the elements were concerned, my
good fortune had deserted me. On the morning of the tenth day from our depar-
ture, I was again awakened by Thomson — * Captain Naufragus !' — 'Hulloa!'— •
' Here is our boat; she is come back, and is just beneath our bows.' — « The deuce
she is!' and true enough, there she lay, within ten yards ahead, as if expecting and
waiting for us ; but of her six oars, four were missing: glad enough, however, were
we to see our old acquaintance, and she was soon hoisted up to her birth at the
stern."
A third accident happens beyond this : a sailor fallsjoverboard, and is
drowned ; and certainly, if a belief in ill omens had existed in any naval
man on board, that which followed would have stamped it as prophetic.
On a sudden, while the sun is " setting with even more than its usual
brilliancy, and leaving its path marked with streaks of gold,
" A bird hovered over our heads, and suddenly alighted on our taffrail : it was
one of « Mother Gary's chickens,' which by mariners are considered as harbingers
of ill, and generally of a furious storm. At a warning of this kind I did not then
feel disposed to take alarm ; but there were other warnings not to be slighted— the
horizon to the east presented the extraordinary appearance of a black cloud in the
shape of a bow, with its convex towards the sea, and which kept its singular shape
and position unchanged, until nightfall. For the period too of twenty minutes
after the setting of the sun, the clouds to the north-west continued of the colour of
blood : but that which most attracted our observation was, to us, a remarkable
phenomenon — the sea immediately around us, and as far as the eye could discern
by the light of the moon, appeared, for about forty minutes, of a perfectly milk
white. We were visited by two more chickens of Mother Cary, both of wh;ch
1827.J Adventures of Naufragus. 149
sought refuge, with our first visitor, on the mainmast. We sounded, but found no
bottom at a hundred fathoms : a bucket of the water was then drawn up, the sur-
face of which was apparently covered with innumerable sparks of fire — an effect
said to be caused by the animalcules which abound in sea- water : it is at all times
common, but the sparks are not in general so numerous, nor of such magnitude as
were those which then presented themselves. The hand too, being dipped in the
water, and immediately withdrawn, thousands of them would seem to adhere to it.
A dismal hollow breeze, which, as the night drew on, howled through our rigging,
and infused into us all a sombre, melancholy feeling, increased by gathering
clouds, and the altogether portentous state of the atmosphere and elements, ushered
in the first watch, which was to be kept by Thomson.
" About eight o'clock, loud claps of thunder, «ach in kind resembling a screech,
or the blast of a trumpet, rather than the rumbling sound of thunder in Europe,
burst over our heads, and were succeeded by vivid flashes of forked lightning. We
now made every necessary preparation for a storm, by striking the top-gallant-
masts, with their yards, close reefing the topsails and foresail, bending the storm-
staysail, and battening down the main hatch, over which two tarpaulins were
nailed, for the better preservation of the cargo. We observed innumerable shoals
of fishes, the motions of which appeared to be more than usually vivid and redun-
dant.
" At twelve o'clock, on my taking charge of the deck, the scene bore a character
widely different from that which it presented but three hours before. We now
sailed under close-reefed maintopsail, and foresail. The sea ran high ; our bark
laboured hard, and pitched desperately, and the waves lashed her sides with fury,
and were evidently increasing in force and size. Over head nothing was to be
seen but huge travelling clouds, called by sailors the 'scud,' which hurried onwards
with the fleetness of the eagle in her flight. Now and then the moon, then in her
second quarter, would shew her disc for an instant, but be quickly obscured ; or a
star of ' paly' light, peep out, and also disappear. The well was sounded, but the
vessel did not yet make more water than what might be expected in such a sea ;
we however kept the pumps going at intervals, in order to prevent the cargo from
sustaining damage, The wind now increased, and the waves rose higher : about
two o'clock a. m. the weather maintopsail-sheet gave way ; the sail then split to
ribbons, and before we could clue it up, was completely blown away from the bolt-
rope. The foresail was then furled, not without great difficulty, and imminent
hazard to the seamen, the storm staysail alone withstanding the mighty wind, which
seemed to gain strength every half-hour, while the sea, in frightful sublimity ;
towered to an incredible height, frequently making a complete breach over our
deck.
" At four a. m. I was relieved by Thomson, who at daylight apprized me that the
maintopmast was sprung, and that the gale was increasing. Scarcely had I gone
on deck, when a tremendous sea struck us a little ' abaft the beam,' carrying every
thing before it, and washing overboard hencoops, cables, water-casks, and indeed
every moveable article on the deck, Thomson, almost by miracle, escaped being
lost ; but having, in common with the lascars, taken the precaution to lash a rope
round his waist, we were able, by its means, to extricate him from danger ; at the
same time the vessel made an appalling lurch, lying down on her beam-ends, in
which position she remained fer the space of two minutes, when the maintopmast,
followed by the foretopmast, went by the board, with a dreadful crash ; she then
righted; and we were all immediately engaged in going aloft, and with hatchets
cutting away the wreck, each of us being lashed with a rope round the waist ; ropes
were also fastened across the deck, in parallel lines, to hold on by ; for such was
the violence of the vessel's motion, that without such assistance it would have been
impossible to stand. As for my Virginia, she was in her cot, hearing all that was
going forward on deck, — sensible of her danger, and a prey to the apprehension of
meeting a death similar to that of her prototype, and equally dreadful.
" A drizzling shower now came on. and having continued for some time, was at
length succeeded by heavy rain, which having been converted into sleet, was car-
ried in flakes swiftly along the tops of the towering mountains of sea ; while the
cold sensibly affected the already exhausted hscars, at once disinclining them from
exertion, and incapacitating them from making any ; some of them even sat down
150 Adventures of Nttttfragus. £Auo.
like inanimate statues, with a fixed stare, and a deathlike hue upon their counte-
nances : the most afflicting circumstance was, their being destitute of warm cloth-
ing, which they had neglected to provide themselves with, as they ought to have
done, out of the four months' advance they received in Calcutta. All that I could
spare was given to Thomson ; but unable to endure the sight of their misery,
1 distributed among them many articles which I could ill spare, — sheets, shirts, and
blankets ; except one of the latter, which I had reserved as a provision against any
further extreme of suffering which might yet await us. There was one poor lascar,
a simple inoffensive youlh, about nineteen, who was an object of the liveliest com-
miseration : he was nearly naked, and in that state had been continually drenched
by the sea and rain, during the whole of the day and night; he was holding his
hands up to heaven in a supplicating attitude, and shaking in an aguish fit ; the
tears fell in torrents down his cheeks, while he uttered his plaints in loud and
piercing lamentations: unable, at last, to witness his misery any longer, I rushed
down to my cabin — ' Can you, Virginia, spare me this blanket, without feeling the
cold too much yourself? — it is to save the life of a fellow-creature.' — * Yes, take it;
but stay with me, or, under the horrors I feel, I shall die in this cabin, and alone.
I know we must perish, and why not die together ?' I entreated her to support
herself with all the fortitude she 'could collect, urged the impossibility of my keep-
ing her company, as every moment called for my assistance; and assuring her
there was no real danger, I" hurried on deck with the blanket, and wrapped the
poor wretch in its folds. I thought he would have worshipped me.
This miserable condition needs but one circumstance to increase its dis-
tress : at one in the morning, on the fifth morning of the hurricane, it is
found that there are five feet water in the hold.
" It was about four o'clock, on the fifth morning that I ventured into my cabin,
to repose myself on my cot until daylight, more with the persuasion that my
presence would inspire Virginia with fresh hopes, and, in consequence, better
spirits, than that the storm had in the least abated, or that the peril had become
less imminent. At six, Thomson, whom I had left in charge of the deck, aroused
me by bawling, in a voice necessarily raised to the highest pitch, to make itself
heard amidst the howling, or rather screaming of the elements — * Naufragus !' I
instantly jumped up, without waiting any specific communication, and, on reach-
ing the deck, found the pumps at work, and was informed that we had five feet
water in the hold, and that the water was gaining upon us fast, notwithstanding the
pumps had been kept constantly going.—' Well,' said Thomson, in alow tone, not
to be heard by the crew, * we'll do our best, as long as she floats, but that cannot
now be much longer — it's all over with us, depend upon it !' There was no time
for argument : the pumps were now the chief object of our attention ; and Thom-
son and myself, with the secunnies, plied them incessantly, until we were ready to
drop down with fatigue.
" In a short time we found that the water brought up by the pumps bore a
brownish colour, and, on tasting it, that it was sweet ; so that it was evident we
were pumping up the sugar, which being contained in baskets, was but ill pro-
tected against water. Such is the fondness for life, that on the appearance of any
sudden or immediate cause of dissolution, any consideration unconnected with the
paramount one of preservation, is set at nought; thus, although I was sensible
that my valuable cargo was momentarily diminishing, and my property wasting
away, 1 then felt no disposition to regret my loss, the powers of my mind, and the
affections of my heart, being all engaged on higher objects.
" Those lascars who could at all be brought to the pumps, were in so wretched
and debilitated a state, as to require constant reliefs. For one day and two
nights, except a few short intervals, Thomson and myself, with the secunnies, were
at the pumps : at the end of that time, our hands were blistered to such a degree,
that the skin having peeled off, the raw flesh appeared ; our arms, thighs, and Tegs,
were so dreadfully swelled, and our loins in such tormenting pain, as to make it
impossible for us to continue the exertion, without suffering extreme agony ; and
nothing but the melancholy conviction that we must continue our labour, or
perish, could possibly have sustained us under such hardships — hardships, however,
1827. J Adventures of Naufragus. J51
which we had the heartfelt satisfaction to find, were so far from being useless, that
on perusing the sounding-rod, when pulled up from the well (which we did under
feelings of extreme anxiety and eagerness), we were convinced that the water did
not gain upon us. Our spirits, however, received no encouragement from the
appearance of the elements ; the clouds were black and frowning, and all around
still bore a threatening appearance, the hurricane indeed having rather increased
than in the slightest degree abated.
" The circumstance of our having on board so perishable and light a cargo as
soft sugar, it is remarkable, was the very means of our preservation. Had it con-
sisted of almost any other article, either of pepper or of dead wood, we must ine-
vitably have perished. To have thrown overboard any heavy cargo, would, from
the constant and heavy breaches which the sea made over us, have been impos-
sible. Neither could the masts have been cut away, for the purpose of lightening
the vessel, in consequence of the imbecile condition of the crew ; a recourse to so
hazardous a measure would, under our circumstances, most likely have proved the
cause of our destruction. As it was, from constant pumping for three days,
we found our vessel as light and buoyant as a cork, and, with the exception of
the baskets in which the sugar had been stowed, as empty as when I first pur-
chased her.
" Night approached, bringing with it additional horrors. The secunnies, who
had hitherto borne their hardships with admirable fortitude, now began to droop,
and to express a violent inclination for more rum, although as much had been given
them as they could possibly bear ; indeed, rum, with dough, half-baked, had formed
their only sustenance during the whole period of our sufferings. As for the
pumps, we were now so lightened, they did not require to be worked at all; but
the greatest dread we laboured under was from the dangerous condition of the main
and fore masts, that tottered to and fro, threatening to go by the board every minute.
Before the hour of sunset, a large bird, called the albatross, with wings the length
of four to five feet each, skimmed along the surface of the waves, close to and
around us : this inspired the crew with hopes, as they supposed it to be a good
omen. It remained hovering near our unfortunate wreck for some minutes, until
it alighted on the waves, where it was seen riding perfectly at ease, and with the
majesty of a fine large swan, now on the summit of a tremendous mountain of
waters, and now in the ravines of a wide and deep abyss. At length darkness
once more encompassed us around, and seemed to shut us out from even a ray of
hope; the desponding few, whose senses were still left them, 'apparently felt with
more acuteness than before, the desperation and horrors of their condition. At
the hour of eight p. m. however, the wind suddenly changed from south-east to
south-west, and soon appeared to be dying away. At this happy circumstance,
whereby a prospect of deliverance from the very depths of despair was opened to
us, the feelings manifested by the crew were as singular as they were various ; some
shouted for joy — some cried — others muttered prayers — while a few were still
despondent, presenting wild and savage- look ing features, and seeming to regret
that the billows had not swallowed them up."
Life, however, is pretty nearly the only property with which the travellers
do escape ; and from this moment the tide of success appears to have
deserted the bark of Naufragus. The toils and sufferings of his voyage
bring on an attack of " deafness," from which he never recovers, and
which unfits him for the sea; and the whole wreck of his vessel and cargo sells
for a sum under 400/. In the mean time, " the trade to the East- Indies
had been thrown open," and the high profits were not to be made, nor the
high wages to be obtained, any longer. Freights had gone down from 24/.,
26/.. and 301. per ton, to 19?., 16/., ]2/., and 11. ; and European sailors,
being in plenty, were of course no longer in request. His fortunes after
this are various, but never highly prosperous. For some time he resides in
the interior of the country, at Chandernagore ; and the account which ho
gives of the various scenes and wonders which he beheld here— the legends,
creed, and ceremonies of the natives— is vivid and interesting ; but our
J52 Adventures of Naufragus. [Auo,
limits compel us to pass it over. The story of his connexion with his false
friend Dennison, too, though a painful one, is very simply and unaffectedly
told ; as well as the incident of his seeing the " apparition " — a delusion
not at all wonderful (even supposing the appearance not to have been
really the living man that it seemed to be, and no " apparition ") — in the
then inflamed and harassed condition of his mind ; and as to which he may
plead, at least, that he is not the first man of creditable intellect by many,
who believes that he has seen a ghost; although some other men of cre-
ditable intellect may believe that the first believers may have been mis-
taken.
From Chandernagore, we proceed to Batavia — the " princely and luxu-
riant city," as the traveller calls it — but "the most unhealthy in the uni-
verse." The country seats about it are "superb" — the gardens "taste-
fully laid out" — the 4< roads are on a scale to astonish an European fresh
from his native soil ;" but — " a fever carries off a whole family in a morn-
ing, and they are buried in the evening." This is unlucky ; and, moreover,
those whom the fevers do not carry off are carried off by the tigers. In
this new situation, as before, the author goes on to relate all that he heard,-
and describe all that he saw, easily and colloquially. Quitting the ship
in which he sails, at the mouth of a river about two miles from the town
of palaces and fevers,—
" On entering the river, a Javanese on horseback, who was waiting for us on
its bank, threw us a rope, which being fastened to the bow of our boat, he trotted
off, towing us along at a rapid rate, until we reached the city. I then landed,
followed by a lascar, carrying my trunk, my thirty dollars being wrapped carefully
in paper, and placed with extraordinary precaution in my pocket. The first
human beings I beheld were European soldiers, and their appearance instantly
warned me of the unhealthiness of the spot I had landed in. They looked more
like skeletons than men : — each the ' grim tyrant' personified ; and on the visage
they bore a pale yellow tinge, which, together with the « lack-lustre eye' sunk deep
in the socket, gave them an appearance, absolutely appalling : I involuntarily
shuddered at the sight of them, reflecting on the probability of my soon being
in the same state. To these crawling emblems of death, however, 1 advanced,
and requested to know the direction to a tavern. The vacant stare — the shrug
of the shoulders — brought to mind the singular predicament which Goldsmith,
must have found himself on his arrival in Holland to teach the natives English,
on discovering that he must first learn to speak Dutch.
" Onward, however, I advanced, until at length 1 beheld before me, to my infi-
nite delight, a sign, ' The Dutchman's Head,' suspended in front of a splendid
hotel ; thither I bent my steps, and, found the landlord seated in front of the
house, and he invited me, (to my agreeable surprise in broken English), to * volk
in.' My primary object was to agree for my board ; this was soon settled, at the
rate of three dollars per day ; a sum, however, which placed my little stock of cash
in jeopardy of soon disappearing altogether. Having placed my trunk in a bed-
room allotted to me, and discharged the lascar who carried it, I strolled into the
billiard-room, the dining-room, and coffee-room, all of them on a scale of splen-
did magnificence, and full of Dutchmen, one Englishman only, besides myself,
being in the hotel, and he, I understood, labouring under a derangement of intel-
lect. Observing a number of Dutchmen standing in an ante-room, waiting for
the welcome announcement of ' dinner.' I bent my steps thither, in the hope of
meeting with one who could speak English ; nor was I disappointed ; a middle-
aged military officer accosted me, and in broken English, inquired as to the then
state of Europe ; then spoke of Buonaparte, and informed me that he himself had
fought and bled on the field of > Vateiloo ;' speaking of which, he observed —
' De Duke of Vellin^ton's army was all in confusion : de Duke vas all in de
wrong ! and he vould lose de battle, if von vary clever Hollander had not come in
de vay, and told him vat to do ; if it vas not fur dis man— dis very clever man,
1827.] Adcentures of Naufmgits. 153
Vaitderbenholdcrstein, de Duke of Vellington would have lost every ting in de
vorld •' At that instant dinner was announced, and I bent my steps towards the
dining-room, marvelling greatly at the profound wisdom of the said Vanderbenhol-
derstein, but still more that I had never before heard mention even of his name."
A tavern riot occurs here, which is laughably related ; but we like the
quarrels of the little French landlord at Serampore, Monsieur Darlow,
better : —
" This singular character was so very irascible, as to be continually fighting,
chiefly with Englishmen. In one of his contests, which were usually pugilistic,
he had the ill luck to lose his right eye, and in another, the whole of his front
teeth ; but sfill he remained as untameable as the hyaena j and seldom did he leave
his billiard-room when any English officers were there, without having to endure
the inconvenience of a temporary loss of his other eye. On these occasions he
was not idle in his execrations of the * diable Anglais /' in which he indulged
until his recovery was complete, when he would content himself by seizing the first
opportunity of having another set-to, and, in all probability, a fresh beating. His
disputes usually arose from espousing the cause of Napoleon, of whom he was an
ardent admirer. To me, however, he was remarkably assiduous, from the circum-
stance of my having a French lady for my wife; but not unfrequently would I find
him beginning on his weak point — politics, and then Napoleon ; and when he did
so, as 1 knew his real temperament so well from report, I did not feel at all dis-
posed to argue the matter. When he found I did not dispute, or contradict his
rhapsodies, he was in an ecstacy of joy ; and hugging me in his arms with all the
fervour of a polar bear, declared — * I was, be Gar, de best Anglais dat he ever
before see — a very proper Anglais ! and dat he would give me is leetel finger/
holding it up at the same time, * vit all de pleasure in de vorld P Telling him I
did not require such abundant proofs of his regard as that which he proposed, but
would prefer a bottle of his claret, he immediately ran down stairs, soon returning
with one under each arm. and one in each hand ; the contents of which always
proved so delicious, that I have sat enjoying myself very contentedly, while he
began upon the achievements of Napoleon, the whole of which he used to rehearse
from the beginning of his career, to the end. speaking very loud, in broken English,
and with a volubility that produced an effect extremely ludicrous. To all his dis-
course I listened attentively, nodding occasionally a sort of affirmation, and with
as much patience as if I had been in the hands of my hairdresser. At last, how-
ever, his wife supposing, from the noise he made, and guessing also from the
subject of his dialogue, that he waa going to fight, gently tapped at the door, and
in a shrill tone of voice called out, Monsieur D. / These mellifluous tones no
sooner saluted the sensitive ear of Monsieur, than he started, paused, and turning
suddenly pale, rose up ; and after apologizing for his abrupt departure, at the same
time reminding me of the precise situation in which he left Napoleon, he glided
quickly down stairs. I afterwards understood that he actually lived in constant
terror of this lady (his wife), a little delicate Hindoo girl, and the only person
in Serampore who could manage him. I was not sorry for having got rid of my
troublesome companion ; but reserving what remained of the wine for another
occasion, I retired to rest."
The cup, however, of the afflictions of Naufragus is not yet full. Fail-
ing in his expectations of employment at Batavia, he sails for Padang,
where he arrives — as he had arrived at Pulo Penang, seven years before —
with one dollar in his possession ! — but, Jess fortunate now than on tho
former occasion, he brings one possession beyond his single coin along
with him — the very fever which has struck him with so much horror in
Batavia, and which in six weeks reduces him to the verge of the grave.
To tell the story in his own words — he had found a friend, who was
ready to assist him ; his situation had been considered and canvassed ; and
the words of his patron were, " Cheer up, Naufragus ! Nil desperat-idum,
and all may yet be well."
M.M. New Series.— VoL.IV, No.20. X
154 Adutnlures of Naufragtts. [AUG.
" I was about to reply, when a cold aguish fit set my teeth chattering. I found,
too soon, it was the Batavia fever, the latent cause of which I had unconsciously
brought with me from that pestilential place, and which had now broken out upon
me. Endtfield instantly hired a bungalow, and procured me every requisite-
assistance ; but, for the space of six weeks, I was totally unconscious of surrounding
objects. The only sensation I was susceptible of, was that of burning with thirst,
and being stretched on a mossy bank beneath a waterfall, gaping wide to catch a
drop to cool my parched tongue, — but the tormenting liquid rolling down, turned
asides and still deceived me. My constitution got the better of the disease, and the
first day I was able to walk, I attempted to reach the habitation of my friend
Endtfield ; but, on my way, a Malay horseman, at full speed, knocked me down,
and galloping over me, continued his course. The natives flocked round, and
assisted me with the feelings of true Samaritans; but so great was the injury I had
sustained, that it was not until the expiration of another month, that I could again
venture abroad, when my appearance exactly resembled that of the Europeans I had
first seen on landing at Batavia."
At this point, the groat length to which our review has gone compels us
to quit Naufragus; who, after a series of disappointments and miseries,
suddenly and unexpectedly acquires a competence — (not, ho informs us,
from any kindness on the part of his relations) — upon which ho is content
to live in England, and tempt fortune and the sea no more.
Whoever he is, and who he is, we don't at all know : he has written a
very curious and interesting work — which, moreover, ho very unpretend-
ingly prints in one volume — while works of not a tithe of its value walk
about the world in three. There are some errors in the descriptions which
he gives of places and objects, and some statements he has taken too
hastily upon trust ; but the wonder rather is, in such a multiplicity of trans-
actions as he records, that he should have kept his account so evenly as he
has done. Our decided belief is, that the relation is a genuine one : there
are facts contained in it which an author, making a book, would not have
introduced; and some even which a man who was varnishing a real tale
would perhaps have been inclined to suppress. Over a great deal of enter-
taining matter we have been obliged entirely to pass ; but the accounts of
the chase of the elephant and the tiger — of the impostures of the Indian
magicians — of the marriage-ceremonies of the Hindoos — of the victims left
to perish in the Hooghlv — the tales of Kishen Doss — " The Story of the
Skull"— " The Deaf Indians "—and "The Sailor of all Work "—with
many other notices, to which want of space prevents our even referring,
will be found acceptable to readers of all tastes and classes. On the whole,
we consider the book to be one which, as it becomes known, will certainly
be popular. It contains a great deal of information relative to India — -
mixed, as we have before observed, with some error, but never with offence
• — and always given in a style that pleases, because, it is easy and unpre-
tending. It is a book particularly suited to be put into the hands of young
persons ; they will derive a great deal of instruction from it, and will be
very nearly as much amused as in reading Robinson Crusoe,
1827.] • [ Io5 ']
• • - •
VILLAGE SKETCHES :
No. VIII.
Our Maying.
As party produces party, and festival brings forth festival in higher life,
so one scene of rural festivity is pretty sure to be followed by another.
The boy's cricket-match at Whitsuntide, which was won most triumph-
antly by our parish, and luckily passed off without giving cause for a
coroner's inquest, or indeed without injury of any sort, except the demo-
lition of Amos Stokes's new straw-hat, the crown of which (Amos's head
being fortunately at a distance), was fairly struck out by the cricket-ball;
this match produced one between our eleven and the players of the neigh-
bouring hamlet of Whitley ; and being patronized by the young lord of
the manor and several of the gentry round, and followed by jumping in
sacks, riding donkey-races, grinning through horse-collars, and other diver-
sions more renowned for their antiquity than their elegance, gave such
general satisfaction, that it was resolved to hold a Maying in full form in
Whitley- wood.
Now this wood of our's happens to be a common of twenty acres, with
three trees on it, and the Maying was fixed to be held between hay-time
and harvest; but "what's in a name?" Whitley-wood is a beautiful
piece of green sward, surrounded on three sides by fields and farm-houses,
and cottages, and woody uplands, and on the other by a fine park ; and
the May house was erected, and the May-games held in the beginning of
July; the very season of leaves and roses, when the days are at the
longest, and the weather at the finest, and the whole world is longing to
get out of doors. Moreover, the whole festival was aided, not impeded,
by the gentlemen amateurs, headed by that very genial person, our young
lord of the manor ; whilst the business part of the affair was confided to
the well-known diligence, zeal, activity, and intelligence of that most
popular of village landlords, mine host of the Rose. How could a May-
ing fail under such auspices ? Every body expected more sunshine and
more fun, more flowers and more laughing, than ever was known at a
rustic merry-making — and really, considering the manner in which expec-
tation had been raised, the quantity of disappointment has been astonish-
ingly small.
Landlord Brown, the master of the revels, and our very good neighbour,
is a portly, bustling man, of five-and-forty, or thereabout, with a hale,
jovial visage, a merry eye, and pleasant smile, and a general air of good-
fellowship. This last qualification, whilst it serves greatly to recommend
his ale. is apt to mislead superficial observers, who generally account him
a sort of slenderer Boniface, and imagine that, like that renowned hero of
the spiggot, Master Brown eats, drinks, and sleeps on his own anno
domini. They were never more mistaken in their lives; no soberer man
than Master Brown within twenty miles!' Except for the good of the
house, he no more thinks of drinking beer, than a grocer of eating figs.
To be sure when the jug lags he will take a hearty pull, first by way of
example, and to set the good ale a going. But, in general, he trusts to
subtler and more delicate modes of quickening its circulation. A good
song, a good story, a merry jest, a hearty laugh, and a most winning habit
of assentation; these are his implements. There is -not a better com-
panion, or a more judicious listener in the county. His pliability is asto-
X 2
J 56 Our Maying. [Aec.
Dishing. Ho shall soy yes to twenty different opinions on the same
subject, within the hour ;. and so honest and cordial does his agreement
seem, that no one of his customers, whether drunk or sober, ever dreams
of doubting his sincerity. The hottest conflict of politics never puzzled
him : Whig or Tory, he was both, or either — " the happy Mercutio, that
curses both homes.'* Add to this gift of conformity, a cheerful, easy
temper, an alacrity of attention, a zealous desire to please, which gives to
IMS duties, as a landlord, all the grace of hospitality, and a perpetual civi-
lity and kindness, even when lie has nothing to gain by them ; and no
one can wronder at Master Brown's popularity.
After his good wife's death, this popularity began to extend itself in a
remarkable manner amongst the females of the neighbourhood ; smitten
with his portly person, his smooth, oily manner, and a certain, soft, earnest
whispering voice, which he generally assumes when addressing one of the
fairer sex, and which seems to make his very "how d'ye do" confidential
and complimentary. Moreover, it was thought that the good landlord was
well to do in the world, and though Betsey and Letty were good little
girls, quick, civil, and active, yet, poor things, what could such young
girls know of a house like the Rose ? All would go to rack and ruin
without the eye of a mistress? Master Brown must look out for a wife.
So thought the whole female world, and, apparently, Master Brown began
to think so himself.
The first fair one to whom his attention was directed, was a rosy,
pretty widow, a pastry-cook of the next town, who arrived in our village
on a visit to her cousin, the baker, for the purpose of giving confectionary
lessons to his wife. Nothing was ever so hot as that courtship. During
the week that the lady of pie-crust staid, her lover almost lived in the
oven. One would have thought that he was learning to make the cream-
tarts without pepper, by which Bedreddin Hassan regained his state and
his princess. It would be a most suitable match, as all the parish agreed ;
the widow, for as pretty as she was, and one shan't often see a pleasanter,
open countenance, or a sweeter smile, being within ten years as old as her
suitor, and having had two husbands already. A most proper and suit-
able match, said every body ; and when our landlord carried her back to
B. in his new-painted green cart, all the village agreed that they were
gone to be married, and the ringers were just setting up a peal, when
Master Brown returned alone, single, crest fallen, dejected ; the bells
stopped of themselves, and we heard no more of the pretty pastry-cook.
For three months after that rebuff, mine host, albeit not addicted to
aversions, testified an equal dislike to women and bracelets, widows and
plum-cake. Even poor Alice Taylor, whose travelling basket of lolly-
pops and gingerbread he had whilome patronized, was forbidden the
house ; and not a bun or a biscuit could be had at the Rose, for love or
money.
The fit, however, wore off in time ; and he began again to follow the
advice of his neighbours, and to look out for a wife, up street and down ;
whilst at each extremity a fair object presented herself, from neither of
whom had he the slightest reason to dread a repetition of the repulse which
he had experienced from the blooming widow. The down-street lady
was a widow also, the portly, comely relict of our drunken village black-
smith, who, in spite of her joy at her first husband's death, and an old
spite at mine host of the Rose, to whose good ale and good company she
was wont to aserihe most of the observations of the deceased, began to
1827.] .Our Maying. 157
find her shop, her journeymen, and her eight children (six unruly obstre-
perous pickles of boys, and two tomboys of girls), rather more than a lone
woman could manage, and to sigh for a help-mate to ease her of her cares,
collect the boys at night, see the girls to school of a morning, break the
large imps of running away to revels and fairs, and the smaller fry of
birds'-nesting arid orchard-robbing, and bear a part in the lectures and chas-
tisements, which she deemed necessary to preserve the young rebels from
the bad end which she predicted to them twenty times a day. Master
Brown was the coadjutor on whom she had inwardly pitched ; and;
accordingly, she threw out broad hints to that effect, every lime she en-
countered him, which, in the course of her search for boys and girls, who
were sure to be missing at school-time and bed-time, happened pretty
often ; and Mr. Brown was far too gallant and too much in the habit of
assenting to listen unmoved ; for really the widow was a fine tall, pomely
woman ; and the whispers, and smiles, and hand-pressings, when they hap-
pened to meet, were becoming very tender; and his admonitions and head-
shakings, addressed to the young crew (who, nevertheless, all liked him)
quite fatherly. This was his down-street flame.
The rival lady was Miss Lydia Day, the carpenter's sister, a slim,
upright maiden, not remarkable for beauty, and not quite so young as she
had been, who, on inheriting a small annuity from the mistress with whom
she had spent the best of her days, retired to her native village to live on
her means. A genteel, demure, quiet personage, was Miss Lydia Day;
much addicted to snuif and green tea, and not averse from a little gentle
scandal — for the rest, a good sort of woman, and un tres-bon parti for
Master Brown, who seemed to consider it a profitable speculation, and
made love to her whenever she happened to come into his head, which, it
must be confessed, was hardly so often as her merits and her annuity
deserved. Loveless as he was, he had no lack of encouragement to com-
plain of — for she *' to hear would seriously incline," and put on her best
silk, and her best simper, and lighted up her faded complexion into some-
thing approaching to a blush, whenever he came to visit her. And this
was Master Brown's up -street love.
So stood affairs at the Rose when the day of the Maying arrived ; and
the double flirtation, which, however dexterously managed, must havo
been, sometimes, one would think, rather inconvenient to the enamorato,
proved on this occasion extremely useful. Both the fair ladies contributed
her aid to the festival ; Miss Lydia by tying up sentimental garlands for
the May-house, and scolding the carpenters into diligence in the erection
of the booths ; the widow by giving her whole bevy of boys and girls a
holiday, and turning them loose on the neighbourhood to collect flowers as
they could. Very useful auxiliaries were these light foragers; they
scoured the country far and near — irresistible mendicants ! pardonable
thieves ! coming to no harm, poor children, except that little George got a
black eye in tumbling from the top of an acacia tree at the park, and that
Sam (he's a sad pickle is Sam !) narrowly escaped a horse-whipping from
the head gardener at the hall, who detected a bonnet of his new rhodo-
dendron, the only plant in the county, forming the very crown and centre
of the May-pole. Little harm did they do, poor children, with all their
pilfery ; and when they returned, covered with their flowery loads, like the
May-day figure called " Jack of the Green," they, worked at the gar-
lands and the May-houses, as none but children ever do work, putting all
their young life and their untiring spirit of noise and motion into their
158 ~ . , Our Maying. .[Au<r.
pleasant labour. Ob, the din of that building ! Talk of the Tower of
JRabel ! that was a quiet piece of masonry compared to the May-house
of VVhitley Wood, with its walls of leaves and flo Wei's — and its canvass
booths at either end for refreshments and musicians. Never was known
more joyous note of preparation.
The morning rose more quietly — I had almost said more dully — and
promised ill for the ftte. The sky was gloomy, the wind cold, and the
green filled as slowly as a balloon seems to do when one is watching it.
The entertainments of the day were to begin with a cricket-match (two
elevens to be chosen on the ground), and the wickets pitched at twelve
o'clock precisely. .Twelve o'clock came, but no cricketers — except,
indeed, some two or three punctual and impatient gentlemen ; one o'clock
came, and brought no other reinforcement than two or three more of our
young Etonians and Wyckhaniites — less punctual than their precursors,
but not a whit less impatient. Very provoking, certainly — but not very
uncommon. Your country cricketer, the peasant, the mere rustic, does
love, on these occasions, to keep his betters waiting, to shew his power;
and when we consider that it is the one solitary opportunity in which
importance can be felt and vanity gratified, we must acknowledge
it to be perfectly in human nature that a few airs should be shewn. Ac-
cordingly, our best players held aloof. Tom Copes would not come to
the ground ; Joel Brown came, indeed, but would not play ; Samuel Long
coquetted — he would and he would not. Very provoking, certainly ! Then
two young farmers, a tall brother and a short, Hampshire men, cricketers
born, whose good-humour and love of the game rendered them sure cards,
bad been compelled to go on business — the one, ten miles south — the
other, fifteen north — that very morning. No playing without the God-
dards ! No sign of either of them on the B road or the F .
Most intolerably provoking, beyond a doubt ! Master Brown tried his
best coaxing and his best double on the recusant players ; but all in
vain. In short, there was great danger of the match going off altogether;
when, about two o'clock. Amos Stokes, who was there with the crown of
his straw hat sewed in wrong side outward — new thatched, as it were —
and who had been set to watch the B highway, gave notice that
something was coming as tall as the Maypole — which something turning
out to be the long Goddard and his brother approaching at the same
moment in the opposite direction, hope, gaiety, and good-humour revived
again ; and two elevens, including Amos and another urchin of his calibre,
were formed on the spot.
I never saw a prettier match. The gentlemen, the Goddards, and the
boys being equally divided, the strength and luck of the parties were so
well balanced, that it produced quite a neck-and-neck race, won only by
two notches. Amos was completely the hero of the day, standing out half
of his side, and getting five notches at one hit. His side lost — but so many
of his opponents gave him their ribbons (have not I said that Master
Brown bestowed a set of ribbons?), that the straw hat was quite covered
with purple trophies; and Amos, stalking about the ground, with a sly and
awkward vanity, looked with his decorations like the sole conqueror — the
Alexander or Napoleon of the day. The boy did not speak a word ; but
every now and then he displayed a set of huge white teeth in a grin of
inexpressible delight. By far the happiest and proudest personage of that
Maying was Amos Stokes.
By the time the cricket-match was over, the world began to be gay at
1827.] Our Maying. 150
Whitley-wood. Carts and gigs, and horses and carnages, and people of
all sorts, arrived from all quarters ; and, lastly, the " blessed sun himself"
made his appearance, adding a triple lustre to the scene. Fiddlers, ballad-
singers, cake-baskets — Punch — Master Frost, crying cherries — a French-
man with dancing dogs — a Bavarian woman selling brooms — half-a-dozen
stalls with fruit and frippery — and twenty noisy games of quoits, and
bowls, and ninepins — boys throwing at boxes — girls playing at ball—-
gave to the assemblage the bustle, clatter, and gaiety of a Dutch fair, as.
one sees it in Teniers' pictures. Plenty of drinking and smoking on the
green — plenty of eating in the booths : the gentlemen cricketers, at one.
end, dining off a round of beef, which made the table totter — the players,
at the other, supping off a gammon of bacon — Amos Stokes crammed at
both — and Landlord Brown passing and bustling every where with an
activity that seemed to confer upon him the gift of ubiquity, assisted by the
little light-footed maidens, his daughters, all smiles and curtsies, and by a
pretty black-eyed young woman — name unknown — with whom, even in
the midst of his hurry, he found time, as it seemed to me, for a little phi-
landering. What would the widow and Miss Lydia have said ? But they
remained in happy ignorance — the one drinking tea in most decorous prim-
ness in a distant marquee, disliking to mingle with so mixed an assembly,
• — the other in full chase after the most unlucky of all her urchins, the boy
called Sam, who had gotten into a dem&le with a showman, inconsequence
of mimicking the wooden gentleman Punch, and his wife Judy — thus, as
the showman observed, bringing his exhibition into disrepute.
Meanwhile, the band struck up in the May-house, and the dance, after
a little demur, was fairly set afloat — an honest English country dance — '•
(there had been some danger of waltzing and quadrilling) — with ladies and
gentlemen at the top, and country lads and lasses at the bottom; a pleasant
mixture of cordial kindness on the one hand, and pleased respect on the
other. It was droll though to see the beplumed and beflowered French
hats, the silks and the furbelows sailing and rustling amidst the straw bon-
nets and cotton gowns of the humbler dancers; and not less so to catch a
glimpse of the little lame clerk, shabbier than ever, peeping through the
canvass opening of the booth, with a grin of ineffable delight over the
shoulder of our vicar's pretty wife. Really, considering that Susan Green
and Jem Tanner were standing together at that moment at the top of the
set, so deeply engaged in making love that they forgot where they ought to
begin, and that the little clerk must have seen them, I cannot help taking
his grin for a favourable omen to those faithful lovers.
Well, the dance finished, the sun went down, and we departed. The
Maying is over, the booths carried away, and the May-house demolished.
Every thing has fallen into its old position, except the love affairs of Land-
lord Brown. The pretty lass with the black eyes, who first made her
appearance at Whitley-wood, is actually staying at the Rose Inn, on a visit
to his daughters ; and the village talk goes that she is to be the mistress of
that thriving hostelry, and the wife of its master ; and both her rivals are
jealous, after their several fashions — the widow in the tantrums, the maiden
in the dump?. Nobody knows exactly who the black-eyed damsel may
bo, — but she's young, and pretty, and civil, and modest ; and, without
intending to depreciate the merits of either of her competitors, 1 cannot
thinking that our good neighbour has shewn his taste. M.
[160 ] [Au<s.
THE CABINET XOVEL.
I.
TORY LAND.
TORY LAND used to bo situate between fifty-one and fifty-two degrees
of north latitude, and quoted its meridian from its own capital. It was
a cheerful little island, with plenty of ships and seamen, which its best
rulers took particular pains to encourage. I was born in it, and as I
advanced in years, found (as may be supposed) that it was very thickly
peopled by Tories, whence, indeed, the name originated. Yet, as far as
relates to me, I am the last person who would desire a prominent place in
the narratives which follow ; and as the Duke of Wellington observed in
the House of Lords, would never adventure myself at the head of affairs.
But I am dragged in here to give a sort of identity to the place, and a
colouring to the representations designed. This having done, exeo, like
Wall, in the Midsummer Night's Dream—
'• Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so,
And being done, thus Wall away doth go."
A few years ago, after the general riot which took place in Europe, for
fear of a Corsican, who proposed to engross an infinitely larger share of
the world than he was entitled to, there lived and flourished a most
smooth and subtle minister. He was the very carnation of courts and
drawing-rooms, and was wont to attend all the great meetings of those
kings and emperors who were kind enough to point out the particular
states which belonged to each of their contemporaries, and to suggest the
most acceptable method of enjoying them — whether he was repaid merely
by bijouteries for the pains he took in making his countrymen known to the
most elevated and sanctified of the earth, or reaped a glorious harvest of ap-
plause from his fellow-citizens, cannot now be remembered ; for, to hasten
on, he had one day the misfortune to hurt his throat, by which he was laid
aside, and soon forgotten. The Lord Wilderness was another great minister
of the day. He was an exceedingly learned lawyer, but so irresolute, that
he seldom came to a decision upon any subject. Sometimes, however,
all the suitor's money would be in danger of evaporating, and this being
duly manifested, might produce an occasional determination. An ever-
lasting calculator, with a long Dutch name, formed another grand pillar of
Tory Land : he had the care of the exchequer — a sort of sinecure by the
way — but his mode of catering by ways and means, shewed him in tho
light of a very industrious leech.* The nominal chief of these great
personages was a man who need not have lived so far back as the days of
Chaucer, to have been in mortal peril, as a very wight and wizard. He
and his disciples were for ever dwelling upon rents, values, population, and
labour ; and very zealous they were to afford the world a new science
before they died. Well — things went on passing strangely, sometimes
there was a cry for bread in the land, sometimes provisions were abun-
dant; and then other people cried out, till accident brought a new actor
on the stage, who was destined, on a sudden, to perform the principal cha-
racter: yet he was no Tory-lander, though he was born in the Tory
* He wi.s by far loo wittj a man, who denominated the process of raising government
— xnns and mean*.
1827.] T/te Cabinet Novel. 1 6 1
country ; but he had such a cunning way with him, that his commonest
household words would draw down thunders of approbation. One would
think that his tongue had been tipped with silver, so brilliant was his
fluency, and that it was anointed with honey, so sweet were his accents.
This person, who had managed to make fourteen thousand pounds in
Portugal in a year, mere truly than will ever be made there again by one
man, found himself adulated, homaged, and fawned upon by all ranks,
insomuch that there went forth a serious apprehension lest the land should
lose its name.
There was, moreover, a remarkably ticklish subject, which hindered the
counsellors from being so unanimous as those could have wished who
desired to hold their places in perpetuity ; and according to the well-known
language of the press, upon that matter, there was a division in the
cabinet.. .. .Before tailors made leather-breeches quite so strong as they
do at present — some three or four hundred years ago it was — a few unfor-
tunates, who declined agreeing with the religion of the times, were very
improperly destroyed in Smithfield by fire ; and it is not less remarkable
than true, that the wisest ministers of Tory Land have ever had this
lamentable conflagration before their eyes. The particular religionists who
occasioned these burnings, were never since permitted to sit in the great
councils of the kingdom ; and whenever it was proposed to allow them
that privilege, these ignes fatui were always remembered against them
as keenly as though a new faggot pile was in the act of being kindled.
The Right Honourable George Thundergust, the last minister spoken
of, considered this a very unpleasant and unbecoming prejudice, so
much so, that he felt an anxiety to undertake the chief toils of the
government himself, in order to promote so laudable an. undertaking. But
as it had always been understood, that the minds of all the great officers
were quite free upon this question, nothing decisive took place till a very
serious illness overcame the chief counsellor, and then it was that the
brittleness of the Tory, cabinet became painfully manifest ; indeed, it
threatened to shiver in pieces, and then — " My native land — good
night."
II.
'' The Dog's a Whig," — JOHNSON.
GEORGE THUNDERGUST — solus.
Most fortunate! — let me congratulate myself: — but a very few years
since and, ray carriages and wine being sold, I was about to try a distant
burning clime, where death, in the shape of cholera morbus, might erelong
have blasted my condition. Now, to bask in the sunshine of royal favour,
the joy of the people, the hope of my country — the thought is overpowering.
That was a lucky whim which seized poor Derriton, when he pierced his
artery ; after that, they could'nt do any thing without me, nor can they now.
And whatever the ignorant public or calumniating press may say, I have
the merit of consistency. What? at ttye French Revolution did I not
write that celebrated sapphic, the Knife Grinder. " Greedy Knife
Grinder, whither dost thou wander?" And have I not always set my
lace against unsightly inroads on the constitution ? Do I not denounce
Parliamentary Reform ? Do J not repel the ridiculous phantaises of
ballot arid universal suffrage ? I went to Portugal, and in the moment of
her distress, I have moved the mighty legions of my country to her aid ;
M.M. New Sei-ies—VoL. IV. No. 20. Y
16:2 The Cabinet Novel. [AUG.
and I am right in my bold uncompromising policy. Have I coveted office ?
When that unfortunate excjuisite woman was brought before a whole na-
tion to bear her terrible ordeal, I acted as my heart dictated, and left my
place upon it, But 1 was courted back again; that genius which gave
me rank and estimation in my boyish days, among my beloved Etonian-
co-mates, was the talisman which demanded and ensured my triumph. By
that power I tame the fury of multitudes, repel the autocrat scorner, and
delight the careless listener. Thus it is, that, well crammed, I discuss the
more subtle questions of the state, whether they be on currencies, on trade,
or on population. And now — but softly — true it is that I have promoted
her ladyship's child, but these men of Tory Land — they dwell like fierc&
animals sternly and angrily in their dens — who shall root them out ? It
were far better to shew a mind to act in concert with them, and catch
them tripping afterwards. Yet will I meet the business like a man, and
yield the point, if they will content themselves to serve under me. Will
they consent to that? — to obey me, who, by my single talent, have sur-
mounted wealth, prejudice, and power ? It will be seen.
\_Allons GEORGE THUNDERGUST.
III.
[From the Court Circular of No-Man's-Land, lately called Tory-Land.]
The Lord Wilderness visited Mr. Antipope yesterday.
The Right Hon. George Thundergust had an audience of a Great
Personage yesterday, which lasted nearly an hour.
Sir Francis Burr, Mr. Sergeant Shufflebottom, and Mr. Ecarlat visited
Mr. Thundergust on Tuesday.
Mr. Thundergust was seen riding in Jacobus Park yesterday morning as
early as six o'clock.
Sir Thomas Leathers arrived in town yesterday.
LIES OF THE DAY.
" A lying press." — COBBETT.
It is rumoured that an order for an immense quantity of leather breeches
has been given by many persons who are apprehensive of fire.
The Duke of Generales is certainly to be at the head of the Adminis-
tration.
It is said that a certain Attorney General is to be Master of the Rolls.
Many persons are said to have declined great posts which have been
offered to them.
IV.
" Dux fcemfna facti."— VIRGIL.
" Ehera!" — DR. P.ANGLOSS.
Scene — A Street.
Enter Two Gentlemen, meeting.
1st Gent.—Jusi from the west-end ; and let me tell you that Thunder-
gust is prime minister.
2nd Gent. — The talk in the city has been that the Marquis of Whig
chief was to be premier. For mine own part, I expected no less.
1827.J The Cabinet Novel. J63
1st Gent. — You mean then what has happened ; what can we do with-
out the women ?
2nd Gent. — And our country-women have shewn themselves very able
of late, in their choice of governors.
Is* Gent. — The other ministers go out now ?
2nd Gent. — Surely they will serve under their new lord ?
\st Gent, — You may take my word, they will do no such violence to
themselves ; their's is no policy for this day ; and if they can distress Thun-
dergust, they will do it. They differ toto coelo from the principles which
actuate that great man.
2nd G<?/2/.-— Lord Wilderness will never resign, rely on it.
1st Gent. — 1 should not be surprised if he did.
2nd Gent. — Impossible ! But see who runs this way !
Enter a Third Gentleman.
3rd G&nt. — Well, my friends, they have all turned out.
2nd Gent. — What, all the cabinet ?
3rd Gent. — All, except two or three, and contrary to the wishes of the
highest individual of the realm.
1st Gent. — Whatever difference of feeling they may have on certain
subjects, I think it is rather too bad to desert their colleague at this very
perilous time. But come, let us adjourn to the restaurateur, and talk the
matter over.
V.
CORRESPONDENCE IN HIGH LIFE.
No. 1.
My Dearest Duke of Generales : April — ,18 — ..
It has been the pleasure of the greatest Personage whom we know to
entrust me with the care of forming an administration upon the ancient
understanding, unworthy as I am of such unbounded confidence. For your
pre-eminent talents and singular judgment I entertain a respect, which
induces me without delay to supplicate very earnestly that you will con-
tinue to assist the crown with your great abilities.
I remain, my dear Duke,
Your very faithful servant,
GEORGE THUNDERGUST.
No. 2.
My Dear Mr. Thundergust :
The wonder and admiration which your predominant attainments have
excited cannot be justly depictured ; you are, in fact, the eighth marvel of
the world, if your eloquence, your address, your classic learning be
•weighed for an instant. I am not surprised at the high distinction which
has been assigned you of forming an administration upon the ancient
understanding; but before I give rny final decision, may I be permitted to
inquire the name of the chief cabinet minister ?
I remain, my dear Thundergust,
Your's, very , faithfully,
GENERALES.
No. 3.
My dear Duke of Generales :
I most ardently hope, from the attachment which all your colleagugs
bear, towards you., that your determination will be, favourable to the request
Y 2
16 1 The Cabinet Novel. [Aua.
which has been made. It is not, however, the intention of the great indi-
vidual I alluded to in my last note to depart from the usual course pur-
sued upon these occasions.
I am the person upon whom the choice has fallen — quite undeserving as
I necessarily must be of so high a promotion — and
I remain, my dear Duke,
Your's, very faithfully,
GEORGE THUNDERGUST.
No. 4.
My dear Mr. Thundergust,
Although all who know your surprising powers must almost worship
their fortunate possessor, yet, as I am quite assured that the political
objects you intend patronising are quite incompatible with the career I
have proposed myself, I must decline to act with you upon any occasion ;
and I sincerely regret my inability to benefit my country, or oblige my
Sovereign in this respect.
I remain, dear Mr. Thundergust,
Very faithfully your's,
GENERALES.
VI.
THE SOIREE.
"A— a — a — Sir Michael/' said Richard L' Elegant, of Mount's Cottage,
at my Lady Cunningtongue's party — " a — who is our new premier, that is
to say, a — what is he? any body we know ?" — "Why," returned the
person to whom this was addressed, " every body knows George Thunder-
gust." " The son of a wine merchant" — " Oh !" — " They made out Wolsey
to be the son of a butcher, and Thomas Cromwell a descendant of the
same trade, with much the like veracity," said an elderly man, who hap-
pened to overhear, and thought it becoming to take up the conversation. —
He then passed on — "Who is that?" inquired L' Elegant, of his t£te-&-tete
acquaintance. — " I don't know," was the answer. — "A — he looks like a
man who never opened a general post letter in his life — ha !" — ><; But,
L'Elegant — the premier — he is a connection of the Duke of Oporto;
I was a schoolfellow of his eldest son, the poor man who died ; and ho
told me that his uncle, Thundergust, would, most assuredly, be at the head
of every thing, and this was five and twenty years ago."
"A charming person that Thundergust, upon my soul ; my dear," said
the Countess St. Elio to Lady Laura, " the soul and saviour of the country,
beyond a doubt." — " Poor Lord Wilderness !" returned the Lady Laura ;
" Poor jackanapes, my dear; hear what my Lady Cunningtongue will say
of him.'* At these words a most reverend person near uttered a very deep
sigh. — " Aye, there now — there is a fellow preaching about learning
and integrity." — " If — a — what is that ?" said L'Elegant, who had lounged
to the spot — " Nothing that we have any concern with, Marplot," returned
the lady, and she flirted off.
" He must be kept up to the mark," said a dignified woman, in a half
whisper, to a gentleman, with just sufficient jocosity to denote a grandee;
" highly irritated you see, and circumbendibus no part of his family doctrine
-—very wrong of these big wigs to desert Rex — mind that, mind that." —
" But I don't know whether we are right in going such lengths — the liberal
policy of tho country — the temper of the times" — and she touched the
1827.] The Cabinet Novel. 105
nobleman's buttonhole.—" George is an inimitable person — a most shrewd
clever being — [the Lord High Navigator was announced] — only these
people who are so hot about the poverty.'* — " A few more gudgeons and
." — " Hish ! hish ! — stupid — we're overheard.'"-— " No, we're no
said the peer, with the most horrible consciousness, at the time, that
the room was a whispering gallery. — " A — a — what is that," said LT Ele-
gant, strolling up. — " Then I'm sure all is safe," said rny lady, " or that
busy fellow would have found it out." He was soon rumped, and the
evening stole away with much eclat.
VII.
GLEE.
"Well all get drunk together."— Old Glee.
Lord WILDERNESS, Mr. ANTIPOPE, fyc. fyc.
1.
Antipope. — The days have got too mellow
For us, my good Chancellor ;
To wit, the lost umbrella !*
Sing heigh, sing ho, sing heigh.
CHORUS f pointing to each other).
You're a Tory fellow —
And you're a Tory fellow—-
And you're a Tory fellow —
Sing, fyc.
So we'll all go out together —
We'll all go out together —
We'll all go out together :
Sing, 8fc.
2
Generates. — I wish some Colonello
Would mildly please to tell her
She'll kill the good Chancellor :
Sing, 4-c.
And you're a Tory fellow, fyc.
So we'll all, 4-c.
3.
Antipole. — Blue's better now than yellow :
Generates. — I wish he was in — 11 O !
Lord W. — I'll go roar and bellow ;
Sing heigh, fyc.
But you're a Tory fellow, fyc.
And we'll all go out together, <Sfc.
* The recovering one's umbrella from the officer of a certain great place is in a fair
way of being /leemed a breach of privilege.
16ti The Cabinet Novel. [Aua,
VIII.
EXTRACTS FROM A SERMON,
Preached at St. Peter's Parish, by the Rev. DOMITIAN DRIBBLE, LL.D. F.R.S.A.S. S.A. L.S.
H.S., Rector of Pillar-cum-Steeple ; Vicar of Twaddle Town ; Perpetual Curate of St. All Good ;
Evening Lecturer at St. Everlasting's, Old Road ; Alternate Morning Preacher at LazyLazar House ;
Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Earl Capital ; Member of all the Philosophical Societies at St.
Petersburg, Berlin, Vienna, Paris, &c. &c. &c. &c.
Brethren, I earnestly exhort you to give heed to my sayings. The
pulpit is not a place for mere religious instruction : it is meet that we
occasionally address you on the subjects of a good government and wise
politics. We live in most dangerous and unknown times, amidst shoals
and quicksands. We can scarce trust our nearest neighbour, or our dearest
friend. But we have a constitution handed down to us by our ancestors,
whose purity and excellence we ought ever to hold inviolate. Against
innovation of any kind, my friends, let us hold up our hands. When the
axe is once put to the tree, how know we but that it will fall — aye, and
very suddenly ? You have visionaries in your houses, in your parishes, in
your country at large ; they are of all men the most desperate, and most
to be eschewed. Nay, but for the liberality of our church, I would
scarcely say that they were within the protection of our sacred rites. My
friends, beware of them. Let me not astonish you ; but I tell you that the
people whom it is proposed to introduce into our legislative assemblies are
men to be suspected. I would almost look down to their feet, lest I kept
company with a cloven emissary.
Think, my hearers, of that misfortune which has deprived us of our best
and most established counsellors — how will not the sons of anarchy rejoice !
Our land will become a Babel — each doing that which he thinks right in
the wickedness of his heart. Already I see the encroaching papacy stamp
upon our sacred shrines ! Already I behold the Smithfield fires kindled —
our most honoured pastors martyred — and our ecclesiastical liberty extin-
guished ! Wretched, wretched day ! You will have a petition left to-mor-
row in the vestry of your parish, against these rude removals of our ancient
land-marks. Go, my brethen — go to a man — and sign your testimony,
that the constitution of church and state, as by law established, may
remain unimpaired.
IX.
DIALOGUE.
Mr. HODGE HOCK, and his Companion^ JOHN OLD BULL.
Old B. — What are we going to sign, I lodge ?
Hodge. — Dom if I know. Parson said as how we ought to sign ; I'm
no great scolard, neither.
Old J5. — I won't sign what I don't know, if you won't.
Hodge. — Parson be angry, J ohn. Howsomever, it is an odd fancy. I
think our parson loves the loaves as well as any one ; for he has got
several plural — latities.
Old B.— Plural— latities! Urn!
Hodge. — Ah, and he loves change too, when it comes to do him good ;
for d'ye mind how he bothered the vestry till they built him a new church
in the parish, and then he got his son made parson on it.
QldB.— Ah, but what d'ye think of the ministry, Hodge?
1 827.] The Cabinet Novel. 1 67
Hodge. — What do I think of the ministry ? Why, I think they be all
pretty much alike. But what d'ye think of them rum letters in the O&-
server, between George Thundergust and the great Duke ?
Old 5.— What of them ?
Hodge. — What of them ! Why, if I didn't like my master, d'ye think
I should go about with all that flummery, and make him believe as I'd like
to serve him all the days of my life ?
Old B. — Ah, ah ! But that is the way, man, with them quality-folk.
It is what they call genteel, d'ye see.
Hodge. — And what language they give each other at that great meet-
ing there ! I could talk as well as that — I can abuse as well as any
o'em.
Old B. — Aye, that you can, Hodge — but that there's a way of doing
that too, d'ye see.
Hodge. — Well, I shall never have such an opinion of them big gentry
again.
Old B. — You forget Jemmy Jumps's song, Hodge —
" Sure an honour much greater no mortal can know,
Than receive from a prince both a word and a blow."
Hodge. — That mought do well enow for the last century ; but we know
more now a vast deal. \They come to the Vestry.
Churchwarden. — Come, gentlemen — come in and sign.
Hodge. — We've been a- thinking, your honour, as we won't sign any-
thing as we doesn't know nothing about.
Churchwarden. — You rogue, I'll tell your rector what a pretty Pro-
testant you are.
Hodge. — O Lord ! — Sir — don't tell the rector. Give me the pen.
Churchwarden. — What's this ? Oh ! " Hodge Horlay — his mark." —
Very well — you may go about your business.
X.
DIALOGUE.
Chaplain POUNCE, and the Marquis of DERRITON.
Chaplain. — Your Lordship seems warm.
Marquis. — No man shall put me down— no living soul should dare to
control my speech.
Chaplain. — I'm fearful that your Lordship's agitation may affect your
health.
Marquis.* — Tell me, doctor — now honestly — do you think I went too
far?
Chaplain. — I confess, my Lord, your Lordship was rather warmer than
usual ; but it is a longtime since Sacrament Sunday; and there are excuses
for your Lordship's zeal and energies on behalf of your country.
Marquis. — Then you really believe, Pounce, that I said too much ?
Chaplain. — Moderation, my Lord, is the lot of few. Perhaps, in your
Lordship's case, it might have been even blameable ; but not having been
present, I cannot form any very accurate judgment.
Marquis. — Pounce, I hate your creamy, slipslop, flattering ways ; I care
for no man on earth ; I shall give that living I talked to you about to
Zachariah All-Lengths, 1 think.
168 The Cabinet Novel, [Aua.
Chaplain. — Pray, my Lord, don't be angry. I think the good of the
country must justify any expression. Besides, your Lordship was not
intemperate.
Marquis. — Yes, Mr. Pounce, I was intemperate ; and I asked your
opinion whether I was right or not.
Chaplain. — Why, my Lord, as far as Christian feeling is concerned
Marquis. — Pshaw ! Mr. Pounce ! [Exit with some violence.
XL
SAPPHICS.
"Stoi'y — God bless you, I have none to tell, Sir." — Knife-grinder.
1.
Story — why bless you, I have one to tell, Sir,
Of ruined chiefs and cabinets deserted,
And of one George — qui micat inter otnnes* —
Actor of all work.
2.
Pown, Tory down, thou minister dejected —
Sensitive, trifling baby of the last age !
People for change are clamorous, and eager
For a reformer.
3.
And beware you too, Protestant, my friend, who
Lord'st it in wealth, and pomp, and pride, and High Church;
May be you'll bend, and homage sadly pay th' Arch-
Bishop of All Souls.
4.
Johnny, d'ye think, you'll get a jolly change in
Parliament ? Pray now, do ye really think so ?
Principle — and virtue — are they all to thrive now ?
John, you've a gullet!
5.
Fishes, and loaves, and novelties so tasty,
Kindle great zeal in such as are without them ;
But let 'em eat, and see how easy all's for-
-got in a giffey.
Counsellors take as many fees as ever ;
Clergy men their tithes very smoothly finger.
Gentlemen, much joy of the New, I wish you, .
Administration.
• Micat inter omnes—or My Cat— means eclipsing every body.
[ 209 ]
NOTES JTOR THE MONTH.
THERE has been very little beyond " Domestic intelligence" for public-
curiosity to lay itself put upon, during the last month ; and even that-
information has not been of a very decidedly original or interesting char
racter. The lovers of the horrible have had a "' Murder," at Huntingdon ;•
but the scene lay over-far off; our London sympathy, as to " police'*
cases, seldom extends farther than the twelve miles limit of the two-penny
post. And the action of Mrs. Scott against the Morning Chronicle
newspaper, revived the affair of Mrs. Bligh and Mr. Wellesley; but of
that the people believed they knew all i\is facts before, and they never care
to be troubled with the argument. Foreign news, and state affairs in
general, have been hardly more lively. The letters from Portugal contain
nothing but long explanations as to which of the royal asses in that
country is entitled to the supreme rule — a matter about which the people
of this country care entirely nothing. The treaty of the European
powers with reference to Greece, has been published ; but the people of
Greece — like those of Ireland — have been so long in the habit of
being ill used, that a sort of feeling rather obtains as if — it was " all
right" that they should be so — or at least that thoy must be used to it.
Some changes have taken place in our home ad m inistration ; but they are
not important, as they constitute no change from the principles of the
newly adjusted system. And public questions generally are as completely
lost sight of, until the next session of parliament, as if, until that period
arrived, the country had no interest in them.
" Marc/i" of Impertinence. — Every soul that ono meets with in so-
ciety now-a-days, seems to be only intent upon perpetrating some co-x-
combry that has not yet been committed by other people ! There is
nothing on earth that Mr. and Mrs. Fig will not do — even to the parting
with their precious money — to get the start in absurdity of Mr. and Mrs.
Wick. Thus the last impertinence of making a mystery of " leap frog,0
and fetching "professors" from Switzerland and Germany to teach it — it is
not enough to tack this folly, as a "science," to the education of boys, or
" hobadehoys" — where, nevertheless, one would think it was sufficiently
ridiculous ? but the same precious mountebankery is trying to work its way
into female schools, under the high sounding denomination of " Female
Gymnastics," or "Calisthenics;" and we have an overflowing of at
least half a dozen " treatises" in octavo, with torn-boy figures in mad atti-
tudes, stuck in pictures in the front, assuring the world — ex unodisce omnes
— we take that before us (the publication of " Signor Voarino") which is
perhaps among the least absurd — that " nine tenths of the diseases under
which females suffer are brought about by want of exercise"1' — that " this
is proved by the superior health, &c. of females of the labouring classes,
to whom illness is comparatively unknown' — that nothing is so common
as to see. in the same family, " the boys ruddy, healthy, and vigorous, the
girls pale, sickly, and languid," &c. &c. — together with an endless out-
pouring of more of the same sort of Bedlamite trash, extracted piece meal
out of medical books, written for the circumstances that existed half a
century ago, at a time when some mischief perhaps was done in the
bringing up of young girls, by a superfluous demotion to the study of
sewing samplers, and embroidering hearth rugs ; but which devotion, with
M. M. AW &ri>*.— VOL. IV. No. 20. 7
210 Notes f of the Month. [Ai:e.
many other of the whims and fancies of our grandfathers and grand-
mothers, has long since been *>ut of date, and disused, and forgotten."
As regards the application of this foolery to boys' schools, perhaps it i*
not worth talking about. Those who think it necessary to pay for having;
their sons taught to turn head over heels, probably, if they did not employ'
the:r money in that way, would apply it to some other purpose equally
useless — perhaps have " professors" to teach the " young gentlemen,"
after their small clothes had been put down in order that they should
be whipped, the fittest and readiest manner of buttoning them up again.
But the quackery of attempting to extend the same description of humbug
to female schools, is mischievous as well as impertinent; and people who
do happen to possess a single particle of brains, ought to resist it — in
plainer terms, to kick it out of doors.
By what process, for example, it would be pleasant to know, did
Sigiior Voarino discover — " That the labouring classes of society are
superior in general health and bodily conformation to those of a more
fortunate position in life? ' Or how, supposing him to be even as guiltless
of science as those who would listen to him must be of common sense —
how is it that he has contrived to keep himself ignorant that the fact is
directly the reverse ? and that any thing like " labour," or violent exertion
— more especially when resorted to at an early age — tends directly to the
deformity and distortion of the human frame, rather than to its improve-
ment? One would think there was nobody that walked about the streets
of town with his eyes open could fail to have perceived, that almost every
species of labour, and every species in which children are employed—
produces, instead of improvement, its peculiar and distinctive deformity.
That bakers are knock-kneed; butchers round-shouldered; post boyi
diminutive; chimneysweepers (who begin their exertions the youngest)
crooked and dislocated in every limb, almost without an exception ; and
the tumblers and jugglers, who perform feats of activity at shews and
fairs, the most ricketty and unhealthy people in the community. The
labour which females perform, being of a more varied character, does less
mischief; while the garb which they wear, prevents any deformity of
shape from being so readily perceived ; but where is it that we find hand-
some limbs or well formed figures among the females who live by hard
labour ? — or who in his senses, in this country, or, as a result of bodily
labour, in any country, would think of looking for such a thing ?
But the best answer, as far as science is concerned, to this description
of rubbish, appears in Mr. Shaw's paper [the surgeon of Middlesex
Hospital] on " Gymnastics," published in the last number of the Quar-
terly Journal of Science and Literature ; and as the essay (which is of
considerable length) has abundant entertainment as well as instruction to
secure, from whoever once takes it up, an entire reading for itself, we
shall venture to fortify ourselves with a few paragraphs from its pages.
Mr. Shaw begin his argument by a reference to the known effect of
early exertion upon labouring animals.
" The bad effects of working a young horse too early, and so as to call for occa-
sional violent exertion, are so generally known, that a valuable animal is seldom
put to a trial of its powers before it has attained its full growth. But children,
and especially those of the poor, are often put upon tasks beyond their natural
powers ; and the bad consequences are soon apparent ; for children who are thu*
treated, seldom grow up vigorously, but are stinted in their growth, and often
.1827.] Note* for the Month. 21 1
have some bodily defect, or the elasticity and tone of their muscles are lost, long
before the period at which they would have attained their full strength."
In Portugal and Spain, where the lower classes of people are com-
pelled to work their ponies and raules very early, and the load is not
drawn, but carried upon- the back, the animal is constantly seen walking
with the back of the fetlock joint almost resting upon the ground.
" When muscles are gradually increased in strength, the ligaments become
strong in proportion ; but the ligaments are as likely to be hurt from the muscles
being suddenly called into violent action, and at an early age, as by any accidental
twist or strain. They are in this way liable to become spongy and relaxed, so as
to produce weakness, or a condition similar to the joints of a young horse which
has been galloped hard, or obliged to take great leaps, before he has acquired hi*
full strength. Indeed there is much resemblance in the condition of a joint with
the ligaments strained, to that of a horse which is broken down or hard galloped.
Small bunyons or ganglions, which are similar to what the farrier calls wind-galls,
are sometimes found about the ankle joints of delicate girls, who have over exerted
themselves in dancing."
We have seen the same affection upon the wrists of girls, who were the
pupils of professional musicians, and passed a great portion of their time
in practising the piano -forte.
4< If any exercise, however good, be continued for a long time, and regularly
repeated while a young person is growing, certain ligaments may become unnatu-
rally lengthened and elastic. As for example, we may observe, that in the bolero
dance upon the stage, some of the performers can nearly touch the floor with the
inner ankle, which no person with a fine and strongly formed ankle can do. •
" The ligaments of the foot, and especially the lateral ligaments of the ankle,
become so unnaturally long, that the foot may be turned in every direction as
easily as the hand. The bad consequences resulting from this looseness of the
joints, do not appear when the performer is dancing, or strutting along the stage ;
but the effect is quite obvious when the dancers are walking in the street, for then^
while attempting to walk naturally, they have a shuffling gait. This is particularly
the case with old dancers who have retired from the stage; for the muscles
having by disuse lost their tone, the bad effects of lengthening and straining the
ligaments are then distinctly marked. Indeed these evils are not confined to a
peculiarity of gait, for the feet of almost every opera dancer are deformed ; and
even some of the dancers, while in full vigour and most admired, are actually lame.
This seems a bold assertion ; but, if a high instep be important to a well-formed
foot, thess dancers' feet are deformed ; for, with few exceptions, they are quite flat ;
and that they are lame cannot be denied, as they have, almost all, a halt in their
gait."
We rather doubt whether the disposition which the ancles of girls have
(too generally) to bend inwards, does not often proceed from a less violent
operation of the same cause. But the fact is, that all the lament about a
"want of exertion," and " superior advantage of labour — as females are
educated now — is miserable nonsense : the milliner's girls of London, who
sew muslin for fourteen hours a day, in shops and back rooms, are pretty
nearly the finest women in Europe ; and the girls who work at farming
labour in the country — both here and in France — notwithstanding the
superiority of the atmosphere in which they live — are uniformly among
the homeliest and the most clumsy. And, even assuming a greater quan-
tity of exercise to be desirable than girls at school actually take,— wKere
i$ 'the necessity for- making the taking exorcise a if sMJiehese?" Where is
Z 2
212 Notes for the Month. [Aua.
the value of such senseless gibberish as what here follows — even after we
admit that it is beneficial that a girl should run upon a grass plat ?
*« FIRST EXERCISE.— Moveme?its of the Arms. — At the word ATTENTION,
the pupil must lay the left hand on the chest, the thumb and fore finger spread,
and the three others shut ; the right arm is to be turned behind the back ; she
right
right and left alternately, and lastly with both together! /"
What human creature can discover any meaning or utility in this, or
in the trash that follows ?
" TENTH EXERCISE. — High Step complicated.— -The pupil placed with the heels
on a line, the body erect, and the arms a-kimbo, must execute this by hopping
twice on the toes of the left foot, raising the right leg sideways as hiyh as pos-
sible ; then hopping twice on the riyht foot, raising the left leg in the same
manner, she must bring the heels on a line; the same is to be done by raising
the right leg forward and the left behind ; and by a double hap change legs,
bringing the left before and \hz right behind ; then return to the walking pace.
This exercise is to be performed without stopping /.'"
With a hundred and fifty pages more of mountebankery about—
" Simple pace jumping" — " Forward and Backward" — " Skipping, and
touching behind" — " Crossing legs in place"—-" Zig-zag step" — " High
step" — " Double step" — " Galloping pace" — and «' Flying round I"
There can be no doubt that children, left to themselves, and with
opportunity for exercise allowed to them, will always be inclined to take
as much exercise as is necessary or advantageous for their health ; but
the fact is, that the whole system of our " Female Boarding School",
education — excepting that followed in the very highest class of establish-
ments, which are about as one to twenty in the whole number — is of the
very worst possible description. A wretched and insufficient stipend only
is "charged for the (cense) maintenance of the children, and for all the
useful or necessary instruction which is to be afforded to them ; the
consequence being that they are ill fed, ill lodged, and their health, or
moral guidance — except so £ar as consists, for the first, in their being
dragged along the dusty streets or roads, in ranks, for what is called a
"" walk," three times a week ; and for the second, carried twice
to church — they go and return, and that of course is all that can be
desired — on a Sunday ; and the subsistence of the mistress — for " sub-
sistence" it is barely — she gets no profit — is made out of her per centage
upon the teaching of a long list of useless and affected " accomplishments,"
of which the nominal learners, notoriously, never acquire even the first
rudiments, but which serve to extract some species' of payment from the
parents' pockets which otherwise could not be obtained — by setting -up
their vanity and insolence in opposition to their avarice and rapacity.
Here is, for example — " At Birch Grove" — crammed among the soap
manufactories at Clerkenwell — or among the new buildings, where not a
breath of air is to be obtained since the " improvements," were made, in
the Ptegent's Park — " a limited number of young ladies are received" —
who are " boarded, and instructed in English, writing, arithmetic, and
needle-work, for twenty-two guineas per annum !" Here is all that the
creatures need learn, and a great deal more than, properly and completely,
they do learn, offered, with maintenance and lodging — to tc young ladies,"
1 827.] Notes for the Month. 213
for a little more than half the charge per head that would give enter-
tainment to an equal number of scullery-maids ! And, directly afterwards,
comes upon us a list of charges of double the same amount, for fopperies, of
which the students never acquire half so much as a parrot gets of languages
by living three months in Paris. — " Music, six guineas per annum !" —
" Dancing, six guineas per annum !"—u French, six guineas per annum !" —
" Drawing, six guineas per annum !" Here is more than the price of all
the meat and drink, including the honest reading and writing, summed up
already ! And we have not got a word in yet about — " Italian, six
guineas !" — " Use of the Globes" (Lord defend us !) six guineas !" or
" Fancy works," or " Elocution," or " Singing," or a hundred more
enormities, which we absolutely have not paper to enumerate — not in-
cluding the newest novelty of " Calisthenics !" with a note at the
end of the advertisement, that " any young lady, the daughter of a
butcher or tallow-chandler, will find an advantage in coming to learn all
these fine things, as the parents will be dealt with to supply the esta-
blishment!"
" Good Christian women !" as Duretete,in the play, says, — Do forbear
these absurdities !
The escape of the atrocious culprit, Sheen, upon <4 a point of form,"
from the indictment for the murder of his infant child, has excited a good
deal of discussion in the country, and some dissatisfaction. We think
the dissatisfaction is unfounded.* Sheen is acquitted, not on account of
any verbal or technical error apparent" in the pleadings in his case, but
simply because there has been an omission on the part of his prosecutors
to bring forward that evidence which was necessary to convict him.
The culprit stands charged before the court with having killed a particular
individual — A. B. This is the charge that he is brought into court to
meet. If the evidence then does not shew that he has killed this indi-
vidual A. B., that charge fails ; we cannot convict the prisoner of having
killed A. B., because we have evidence that he has killed Y. Z. This is
the history of Sheen's first indictment. The second falls to the ground ;
because, if it is to be supported, it must be supported by evidence which
might have been tendered under the first ; and because if it were compe-
tent to go on re-indicting a man, and adding fresh evidence, from time to
time, for one and the same offence, that practice would speedily become
an engine of the most atrocious oppression and tyranny.
Still it is a strange, arid a horrible consideration, that a man known to
be a murderer, and one of the most savage character, should he walking
about at large — perfectly secure from molestation or punishment !
A curious instance, too, of the difference of feeling which prevails, as
to the necessity for this extreme nicety of proof, where the question is
not one of life and death, but of property only, appears in a case in
the Court of Common Pleas a few days subsequent to the first trial of
Sheen. A tobacconist in the Borough, being prosecuted under a par-
ticular act of parliament, for sending out a pound of segars without the
payment of a stamp, pleaded that the statute spoke of " a pound of
tobacco" — and therefore he was not guilty ; for that the segars were
not a pound of tobacco ; every segar had a straw in it ; so that the
Weight of tobacco was not equal to a pound. The judge in this cause,
summed up against the dealer, and told the jury that a pound of segars
must be taken to be a pound of tobacco ; a dictum which seems a little
2 J 4 Xotef for the Month. [ A 0<i .
surprising ; for certainly, to be taken to be so, they must have been taken
to be what it was shewn that they were not. The jury, however, who
probably had the nice dictinction taken in Sheen's case immediately
before their minds, refused this interpretation of his lordship, and acquitted
the defendant.
The first volume of the French General Foy's posthumous work, the
"History of the War in the Peninsula," from which we gave several
extracts in our Magazine two Numbers back, has been published in the
course of the last month, and will lead to some sharp recrimination ber.
tween the " liberals" of the two countries. The General, who courted
English society, and paid great attention, and seeming respect, to English
institutions during his life, appears, in this book, published after his death,
to have abused them most unsparingly. The whole work, however, it is but
fair to admit, bears marks of having been written with extraordinary care-
lessness, as well as haste ; and the author, over and over again, involves
himself in wild assertions, and even self-contradictious, which the most
moderate share of caution would have enabled him to avoid. For instance,
in the latter part of his work, treating of the condition of Spain, and of
the character of the Prince of Peace, the same page (page 396) contains
the two following very irreconcilable paragraphs.
Speaking of the country, the general says : —
" Of all .the great European nations, Spain is that in which there still exists the
largest portion of those morals and habits of private life, which are the basis of
public virtue.'"'
This is the assertion. Now we will give the general's instance of
the fact. He is describing the conduct of the " Prince of the Peace,"
— -who, in this most " moral" country, was already — to begin — the avowed
paramour of the queen, and the husband, at the same time, of the king's
niece, Maria Theresa de Bourbon. But, besides this, the author goes on
telling us :-—
"He lived publicly with Donna Peppa Tudo, by whom he had two children, and
whom he made Countess of Castellapel. He married another of his mistresses to
his uncle, a major in the army. Public report too, accused him of having before
been privately wedded, and consequently of having committed the crime of
bigamy, when he received the hand of a grand-daughter of Louis the XlVth. !!!"
And yet it is in the " most moral country of Europe," that, for a long
term of years, this pleasant person was first minister! It is not that
M. Foy could ever think, or mean to say, that in a country where any
thing like free or moral feeling existed, such a man's power could have
be tolerated for a week ; but that he is habitually very careless of the effect,
both of the terms and of the assertions which he uses.
A riotous sort of Masquerading festival, which was got up some days
since in the King's Bench prison, and checked (upon symptoms of contu-
macy displayed by certain of the merry-makers) by the summary process
of calling in "the aid of the military" on the part of the marshal, has set
all the people that are confined in prisons throughout London, in arms
about " the liberty of the subject!" Whether there was a necessity for
having recourse to the aid of the military on this occasion — that is to say,
whether the application of the civil power might not have been sufficient to
accomplish the object desired — may, perhaps, be a subject for question:
but, as regards the merits of the parties in the case who complain, w&
Notes for (fie Monti. 2 1 5
take It to b« <juitc clear that the keeper of a prison— subject, of course,
to responsibility if he errs — so long as he continues in office, is enti-
tled to implicit obedience from the parties in his custody ; and it is equally
clear that the power of the marshal, in the present case, was resisted and
defied. There is no necessity for going at all into the merits or demerits of
the merry-making in question, it might be — as it is said to have been-—
perfectly decent, and sober, and harmless ; arid if it was so, it was very
unlike the revels which take place in prisons ingeneral, and those of the
K. ing's Bench in particular. But, at least, it appears to be agreed, that the
marshal did not exercise his authority to put a stop to it very pettishly o¥
hastily, for he did not interfere until the third clay; and it is scarcely two
months ago since the keeper of another debtors' gaol- — Whitecross-street
prison — was most severely and justly censured, for having failed to check
a filthy and disgraceful riot — perfectly sober and regular, no doubt, in the
view of all the parties concerned in it — but in which one prisoner, if our
memory does not deceive us — an old and infirm man — probably not given
to revel ling— was so unfortunate as to lose his life.
This affair -of the King's Bench, however, is over, and would scarcely
be worth noticing, if it were not that it has elicited a great number of very
pathetic protests and declaration from the inhabitants of various debtors'
prisons in the metropolis, who are pleased to treat themselves as an ex-
tremely ill-used set of persons, in being subjected to confinement, and to
supppse that the occasional condemnation which some writers and politi-
cians have given to the system of imprisonment for debt, proceeds out of
compassion for their sufferings, or at least, from a sympathy upon their
account. Now this is a great mistake, and the sooner it were set right the
better. Who the particular indebted gentlemen concerned, or damnified, in
this late proceeding of Mr. Marshal Jones's are, we don't at all know; and,
perhaps, it will leave us more at liberty, if we dismiss their personal claims
entirely, and forbear to inquire. But the fact is that there is, in the situation
of the great mass of persons who are imprisoned for debt — as in that of the
majority of the parties to whom they are indebted — very little ground for
sympathy on one side or the other; and the only object of those persons
who have advocated the getting rid of the system of confinement for debt,
has been to get rid of a system which produces evil, rather than advantage,
to the common welfare.
The stock inhabitants of prisons, in general, however dignified by red
slippers and laced coats, or adorned by mustachios and expertness in play-
ing rackets, are — with exceptions of course, but with exceptions which are
very few in number — the locusts or caterpillars of the commonwealth-
people of idle and pilfering habits, and of depraved moral character. Miti-
gated as the law of imprisonment for debt now is in principle, and
still more in practice, the cases must be very few in which an honest
man can be compelled to remain in gaol. The Insolvent Court, and
the bankrupt laws, afford tho means of speedy and certain freedom to
every debtor who is disposed to satisfy his creditors by giving up his pro-
perty— or shewing that he has no property to give up — and whose course
has been anything short of that of a professional swindler. No honest man,
who has encountered misfortunes in trade, or whose carelessness out of
trade (although reprehensibly) has led him merely to out-run his income, can
be detained in prison. On the contrary, knaves who have incurred debts
iipon debt6;, which they knew they had no moral prospect — not the most
2 1 6 Notes for the Month. [ AUG.
distant — of paying; an dspendth rifts who become "traders," or assume the
title for a week, merely to be enabled to liberate themselves from their
obligations by an act of bankruptcy; are set free, by course of law, every,
day. Tt is therefore, only those who either possess property, which they,
prefer enjoying in prison, to paying the obligations which they have con^,
tracted ; or fellows whose constant course of life it is, to obtain the property,
of others by every means short of those which would place their lives in.
danger, and who are afraid to meet the inquiry of an Insolvent court, or the
punishment that it would apportion — these arc the only persons who can
be placed under the necessity of spending any considerable length of time
in the King's Bench. That this should be the state of things, as regards
the quality of the people who live in prisons, there can be no ques-
tion ; and the slightest examination will shew that it is the state. Let
any one look at the locality called the " Rules of the Bench," in St.
George's-fields, and say if there is a vicinity in London, in which vice,
disorder, dirt, and idleness, and every quality that is contrary to usefulness
and respectability in society, are so distinctly apparent. The people whom
you meet in the " Rules" look like no other people in town. The quar-
ter displays a strange mixture of the fopperies of Bond-street, with the filth
and larcenous aspect of St. Giles's; and, in point-of-fact, whether with
reference to riot and brawl, or to common robbery and plunder, it is
notorious that there is not a suburb about London after nightfall, so danger-
ous, to pass through.
It is not, therefore, that the punishment of imprisonment is very harshly or
cruelly inflicted upon persons like these. Or perhaps that their confine-
ment, or non-confinement — for the sake of the immediate parties concerned
— is much worth caring about : for the fact is, that between the con.finere
and the confined — debtor and creditor — there is seldom a great deal of
substantial justice (of justice in which the interests of society are con-
cerned) to do. Three fourths of the debt — let the fact bo inquired into
— for which persons are now lying in the gaols of the King's Bench, the
Fleet, and Whitecross-street — will be found to be debt contracted, not for
the necessaries of life, even although indulged in at a rate beyond that which
the circumstances of the debtor would authorise, but for sheer impudent,
vagabond luxuries and impertinences. — For articles of needless and often
senseless cost — for the accounts of horse-dealers — tailors — coach-makers —
hotel- keepers — wine-merchants — jewellers — and gun-makers — for commo-
dities which the venders utter at a profit, with which the course of fair trade
has no feeling in common, and the prices of which the law, in the ordinary
course of its arrangements, will permit them to recover, but will not travel
out of its way to assist them in doing so. A gun-maker, who sells a gun
(to a fool) for sixty guineas, which should be sold for twenty — a tailor, or a
toyman, who parts with his wares to noodles, whom he knows cannot pay
for them, in the hope that some one else, who takes interest in the fate of
the ninny, will ; these dealers, generally, whose cupidity makes them
sometimes run into traps, when they think they are only going to bait
them, are a sort of persons whom justice will not arm with any extra
violent authority for the recovery of their claims — although it may have
very little sympathy for the fate of those who stand within the scope of
their danger. But the view which politicians have taken — in some instances.
— has been this — The great mass of the people who want to confine debtors
in our prisons, are worth considering very little ; the debtors themselve*
1827.] Holes for the Month. 217
who are confined arc not worth considering at all ; but still it is inexpe-
dient to uphold and continue a system which sets even two rogues con-
stantly together by the ears ; and ends always in leaving one of them
rather more a useless, unproducing, burthensome, vicious, consuming
canker upon the community than it found him.
If there were ten thousand prisoners confined in the various debtors'
prisons of England, the whole list would produce nothing, and must be
maintained by the labour and capital of somebody. A number of idle,
and probably depraved persons are brought together, in a state of living,
and. society, which perfectly well suits their inclinations ; to form an eye-
sore to good taste and judgment, and an ill example to all about them ;
and to be supported in idleness and merriment by the labour of some
of the more industrious members of the community more industrious than
themselves! Now this is wrong; and it is to get rid of this state of
arrangement, which is wrong— and not atall to assist, or sympathise, with
the generality of rogues who happen to be shut up in prisons — that
some legislators have been desirous to abolish the practice entirely of
imprisonment for debt.
Except so far as it may go to induce persons to pay their obligations,
who would not otherwise be compelled to discharge them, although they
possess the means, the practice is one which cannot operate beneficially
for society. As a punishment for having contracted debts which the
party cannot discharge, it is objectionable — not merely because it will
operate unequally, but because, if it does operate, it must operate unfairly.
It will press heavily upon the poor debtor, who has not money to pur-
chase the " Rules of the Bench," and the rest of the exemptions ; and
is a feather to the more fortunate rogue, who can levy contributions upon
his friends, or who has plundered sufficiently to be able to carry into
prison with him the means of alleviating its inconvenience.
How far it may be possible to devise any method which shall secure
to the creditor — meritorious or otherwise — the same control over hia
debtor's property, under a new system, which he has now (slight as it is),
by being enabled to lock up his person, it would occupy us at present too
long to determine. But we have not a doubt that any act which at once
took away the power of imprisonment for debt altogether, would be viewed
with the most alarm by the least respectable part of society ; and least of
all, with satisfaction by the description of persons — careless or dishonest
— who now make three in four of the inhabitants of our gaols ; because
it would cut off, or abate most materially, their chance of obtaining credit.
In this view, therefore, we should be pleased to see an end to the system of
imprisonment ; but for any sympathy with the great mass of debtors, we
cannot justly lay claim to it. We have heard persons talk of " the hard-
ship of making a man suffer the same punishment for the misfortune of
being in debt, that we inflict upon a felon !"-— but certainly never without
suspecting that the moral criminality of the debtor, is, at least ten times
in twenty, the greater of the two. A poor wretch who, pressed by want,
steals a piece of cloth from a mercer's counter — this man is treated as a
felon, and (necessarily) transported for a term of years, or perhaps for life.
A rogue who is not suffering under privation, but has sufficient means to
command the outward semblance of wealth and respectability, lives in
luxury, for which he knows he has not the means of paying; and, having
used every description of fraud and misrepresentation, without the pale
M.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 20. 2 A
21$ -Koto* for the Month. [Aus,
which would bring him within the jurisdiction of the Old Bailey, speaks
of himself as a hardly-used person by confinement, and talks of the
" casualties from which no man is exempt !" The truth is, both parties
have committed a robbery ; but the last, by his position in society, has
been able to do it CL mcitleur marche.
Prisoners, although faulty, should recieve all such means of air and
exercise as their confinement will admit ; and in all those advantages
our King's Bench prison — to say the least of it — is liberal. But gaols
are not places for revels or masquerades ; or at least not places in which
any claim can be set up as a matter of right to the enjoyment of
them ; and the immunities afforded by the King's Bench prison, in par-
ticular, are stretched very far already ; it will not be for the advantage
of those who occupy it to provoke their discussion. For the necessity,
in the late dispute, of calling in the military — that is a point, perhaps,
as far as it goes, which may admit of doubt. But for the instant visita-
tion of force, which the marshal applied to the persons of those who resisted
his commands — it is necessary, that, in places to which men certainly are
not sent for their merits, some ready and decisive means should be at
hand of controlling the refractory.
Of all the qualities with which a traveller in foreign countries requires
to be gifted, a temperament of extreme caution is unquestionably the most
valuable. It saves a man's leading his readers into error very often, and
sometimes it keeps him out of error himself. For example — of the import-
ance of the endowment, by the want of it — all our late readers of books
about South America, will be familiar with the Mscacho ; an animal about
as large as a badger, which burrows in the vast plains of the Pampas, for
the particular purpose, it should seem, of rendering the riding on horses
back there, very especially difficult and unsafe. One recent voyager, how-
ever, Captain Andrews, seeing these creatures in such abundance, and never
conceiving that they could exist for no end but to make holes for horses
to get their feet into, was amazed at the stupidity of the natives, that they
did not catch them to roast and eat. Being desirous, therefore, of some
little variety at his table, in a country which afforded scarcely an^§ flesh
meat beyond lean beef, the captain determined to secure a bon louche out
of the neglected biscachos, and, with a good deal of trouble, obtained his
wish.—
"With some difficulty (he says) after many trials in vain, by stealing behind
trees and banks, I succeeded in killing one of these animals, which in size and
•weight was at least equivalent to a couple of our largest rabbits. The flesh was
delicious eatiny ! and would be highly esteemed in England, though here they
turned up their noses disdainfully at it"
Now the captain's surprise at the disgust of South American noses to
any dish that he found so delicate, may not, perhaps, be astonishing ; but
still the'natives had a reason (of their own) it would appear, for the dis-
like; — -or may have had — judging from a notice touching and concerning
the murder of a courier, contained in the pages of Captain Andrews's
cotemporary voyager among the Pampas, Captain Head. This last travel-
ler came, in a remote locality, upon the bodies of two men who had been
murdered by the " salteadores" or robbers — a courier and a postilion — and
left, with their horses, which were also killed, and a dog that was with
them, on the spot where they were destroyed. And he says, in the course
f)f a rather impresssve description of the ecene —
I S27. J Notes for the Month. 2 1 9
" Close to us there was a well, into which the salteadores had thrown all the
bodies — first the courier and postilion, then the dog, and then the horses. The
carcasses" (they had been drawn again out of the well by some passing travellers)
•" lay before us' They were nearly eaten up by the eagles and discachos. The
dog had not been touched ; he was a very large one," &c, &c.
South America is certainly a dangerous country for a stranger to indulge
his gastronomic propensities in. This discovery of Captain Andrews's of
the excellent fitness for a dinner service of the biscacho, was even moro
unlucky than the breakfast made in the same region by Mr. Miers — a par-
ticularly " delicious" one Mr. M. describes it— upon a quantity of delicate
" veal sausages," which turned out to have been made out of part of an old
mule.
Another " Gymnastic" disquisition — in the shape of a description of a
that some of the " gymnasts" leaped most admirably with poles; clearing —
(now God pardon this reporter) — twice their own height!" and that they
were ** crowned" by some " young ladies," " whose names the writer is
not fortunate enough to be acquainted with," &c. &c.
Now, the only consolation we feel in this narrative, is that the evil, if it
must happen, happens in good time and place. There has been a par-
liamentary commission on the state of the Lunatic asylums lately sitting,
and the scene of action — Sadler's Wells — is not far from Hoxton and St.
Luke's. But what a wonder it is that while we have people brought from
foreign parts to teach us here in England, how to put one leg before the
other — that so many other material branches of domestic education — such
as combing our heads and blowing our noses, for instance — should go on
being neglected ! Surely the science of Shaving ought not to be left,
as it is, to be acquired, absolutely and entirely, au nature I! What an
opportunity is lost to some (that might be) instructor! and what advan-
tage to the public which should learn ! What lectures might not bo
delivered at a mechanic's institute, on the subject — say of weekly, or of
third day shaving! And what heads of chapters might be made of it in
a treatise — " Of opening the razor!" "of shutting 'it again !" " of strop-
ping !" " of soap and water generally !" u of shaving by the straight
stroke!" " of the diagonal stroke!" " of passing a pimple!" t{ of catting,
with the use of sticking-plaister !" Decidedly there ought to be a pro-
fessorship of 4t shaving" in the Gower-street University.
The first effect of competition, in most trades, is to raise the quality of
the articles produced, and to diminish the price. Very soon after, how-
ever, we begin to lower the quality — and the price — both- together. The
object of every man who wants to sell, is to keep down the nominal
cost of what he offers. The degree to which this kind of delusion — no
matter how coarse — operates with the multitude, might be deemed incre-
dible, if we did not see people every day complaining that they have
bought articles of gold, at a price under that which they know to be the
worth of silver. In fact, there is a very general, though tacit agreement,
as it were, running through society, to keep calling our guinea, a
" guinea," even while both giver and receiver know perfectly well that
it is clipped, and sweated down below twelve shillings. Our wine bottle
is called a " quart :" and if it holds a pint and a half, it is a reasonably
2 A 2
120 Notes for the Month. [Auo.
good one. The size of the measures of ginger beer, soda water, &c. —
trifling as the original cost of these compositions must be— has also been
silently lowered by the dealers within the last year. And a correspondent
of the Times takes notice — with great truth — of another little piece of
jugglery — even the baskets called " pottles," which the gardeners sell
their fruit in, have been considerably reduced in capacity during the
present summer. There is a semblance (more indeed than a reality) of
petty fraud about this system, which is not pleasant. The style of France
has more shew of fairness and liberality. Whatever the traveller pays for,
he may pay highly for it, but he receives it in proportion. The waiter
who pours out your fosse de cajfe fills the saucer half full, as well as the
cup: and the glass of liqueur is not merely brimmed to overflowing, but
a certain quantity is always, and almost ostentatiously, spilled upon the
plate to waste. But the guilt of " short measure," we regret to say, has
extended itself in England, even beyond the traders. We have seen
Champagne glasses of late — and that in the houses of respectable persons
—that were a shame to be drank out of! — That's base! and shews a most
pitiful economy in the host that uses it.
An unlucky Begtnnmg.~j—A. steam carriage upon a " new construction,"
which has been long in preparation by two engineers, Messrs. Burstall and
•Hill, was considered a few days since entirely completed, and brought
out (to destroy the " occupation" of hackney coach horses for ever), by
way of experiment, opposite New Bedlam, in the Westminster Road.
Unluckily, almost at the very moment that it was brought into the street,
it blew up ; tossed a boy who was riding it (the only passenger) into the
air ; wounded the engineer in the thigh ; and slightly scalded an immense
crowd of persons who, probably, having nothing better to do, were
assembled to look at it. The name of Burstall seems almost ominous
for a manufacturer of steam boilers : but the newspaper that notices this
accident, adds that the projectors are " still sanguine of success."
A party of liberal and wealthy individuals have set on foot a subscrip-
tion for the relief of Mr. Haydon, the painter, who among other attributes
of genius, unfortunately possesses that of being very much too careless and
inattentive to his personal and pecuniary affairs. We have never agreed
with Mr. Haydon that he has been an ill-used man, because the public
did not buy his pictures ; because we thought that the same remedy was
open to him which belongs to other people — if the public did not like the
ware which he produced, it was his business — if he wanted the money
of the public— to produce some article which it should like. There has
been a custom, however, and an honourable and a humane one, among
those who can afford to themselves the luxury of benevolence, to look
with an eye of excuse upon the eccentricities of talent; and Mr. Haydon
is confined in a prison, with a numerous and helpless family dependent
upon him for support.
" Doing'' the Mosquitoes. — Mr. Cunningham, in his " letters from
New South Wales," says —
" The South-Sea islanders clear their cabins of mosquitoes at night in a very
simple way. They dim the light of their lamp by holding a calabash over it, and
walk two or three times slowly round the room with it in their hand. The mos-
quitoes collect quickly about the light, when the bearer thereof slips gently out of
doors, puffs out the lamp, and jumps back into the apartment, shutting quickly
the door after him, and leaving thus all the troublesome guests on the outside."'
1827.] Notes/or the Month. 221
Mutati* Mutandis, — Would it not be possible ,for persons troubled
with fleas in hot weather in Europe, to get rid of their annoyance
by some sort of process analogous to this ? People who live in Eng-
land— even those who live in Edinburgh, and in London — have no idea
of the real horror of being bitten by fleas. We have been attacked
in a Spanish posada in such force as to have been absolutely compelled —
and in foul weather too—to evacuate the dwelling. We had a servant once,
indeed, that took it upon his " corporal oath3' that he felt himself bitten
through the upper leather of a strong jack boot. The black ants, which
swarm occasionally in the Spanish cottages and farm-houses, are despe-
rate enemies to deal with ; but these may be kept off by the precaution of
placing the feet of the table or bench on which you sleep in pans or
saucers of water ; by which, as by a wet moat, the besieging army is kept
off, or drowned. Kut this won't do with the fleas, who leap — higher
than the " gymnasts" of the Examiner — and without " poles" — coming
literally, per saltum, to the attainment of their ravenous intent. In the
long rooms, that have five or six beds in a row, they jump thirty feet at a
time, from one victim to another. So that, if it were possible in any way
to do any thing — suppose by getting a spaniel dog to the foot of one's
mattress for twenty minutes, and then suddenly turning him out ? — We
think the South Sea suggestion may be turned to some account, with con-
sideration.
An ill name, or any thing that approaches to an ill name — when once
we have it — sticks to a nation almost as inveterately as it does to an indi-
vidual. We can't go back to the time (it is so long since) past, nor see
a prospect of its re-appearance in the future, when England was, or shall
be, any thing but the country of bears, and France that of macaronies.
General Foy, in the year 1826, after coolly narrating, as matters of
course, ten thousand enormities daily committed by the French, charac-
terizes the English as " cruel in their diversions;" — " devoted to the rude
exercises which distinguished their barbarous ancestors;" — and "incapable
of making any distinction between the huzza ! with which they greet a
commander in the field, and that which they utter when a boxer strikes a
successful blow in the prize-ring. En revanche — taking the vengeance,
however, a century beforehand — in the year 174.5, a challenge, dated
from Broughton's Amphitheatre, and sent by that hero to a boxer of the
name of Smallwood, adds the following sneer at the bottom of the bill of
fare for the day. — u N. B. As this contest is likely to be rendered terrible
with blood and bruises, all Frenchmen are desired to come fortified ivith
a proper quantity of hartshorn"
Returning a Civility. — The dispute which the titles in partibus raised
between some of the French marshals and the German nobility, a short
while back, seems to have been forgotten. But some writer, we recollect, at
the time (we are not quite sure that it was not ourselves) advised the set-
tling the difficulty by a series of counter creations, and that the continental
powers — Austria, Prussia, and others — should create some of their chief
generals " Duke of Paris" — " Prince of Versailles" — " Marquis of the
Loire," &c. &c. This course, indeed, it appears, or one analogous in
principle to it, was actually taken once by a Spanish prince (of more humour
than Spaniards are usually supposed to possess) by way of returning, (or quiz-
zing) an honour conferred upon him by the Pope, who was the first great dis-
penser of titles in the clouds. " The Infant Don Sancho, son of Alfonzo
222 Notes for the Month. £Auo.
of Castille," says an old historian, " being in the year 1.630, at Rome,
Pope Boniface, by way of marking his estimation of -the Prince's visit,
and of his great qualities, created him " King of Egypt." The Infant
was not aware of the compliment intended to be paid to him ; and
only learned it by hearing the sound of the trumpets, and of the
populace shouting, when the heralds made the proclamation. Upon
which, inquiring what was the reason of so much noise abroad, and being
told that it was the order of the Pope, who had caused his Highness to
be proclaimed " King of Egypt." — " Well, we must not be outdone in
courtesy." he replied, turning to his own herald. — " Do you go forth, in
return, and proclaim his Holiness, Caliph of Bagdad !"
A horrible mischance befell an actor at one of the sraalle* theatres of
Paris, in the representation of a new melo-drama, in the course of the last
week, The performer in question, though not destitute of intellect, is
particularly unfortunate in his physiognomy ; and he had to play the cha-
racter of a Sultan, who in the course of the piece reads a letter, in which
he finds the news of some great calamity. Unluckily, the author at this
juncture had put into the mouth of the chief Sultana, who is present,
and has to exhibit great sympathy for the trouble of her consort j tho
words — '* Sire ! vous changes de visage T The words, addressed to
any other man, would have been perfectly harmless; but to M. P. — , tho
personal application was irresistible; and — " Eh laisser le fairel" ex-
claimed, at the same moment, two wags from the pit. There was an end
of all hopes for the author — as well as for the actor — of serious attention
that night.
Convict Wit. — In the towns of Botany-bay, it may be supposed, from
the nature of the population, that robberies are not unfrequent. There
is one street, however, " Goulburn-street" — in the map of the town of
Sidney, which is pointed out to strangers as " remarkable, from the fact,
that no burglary ever was committed in it ! Upon examination, the tra-
veller is informed of the cause of this mystery — which is, that the street
in question does not contain any houses : it being, like many streets in the
towns of the colony, and of America — a street only in anticipation.
New books have been more lively than public events during the last
month* Voyages and travels have poured in upon us in profusion, and
some have been entertaining nnd instructive. General Foy's wofk —
though not very flattering to English feelings — is, in many points, a spirited
and an interesting production. Captain Andrews's South America —
somewhat similar to that of Captain Head — is a book not without
information. And Mr. Cunningham's " Two Year's in New South Wales,"
though the author states his facts (as it seems to us) sometimes upon
rather slender authority, is the best book of general information that has
been written upon that interesting country, and one which will be' popular.
Equivocal Evidence. — Speaking of the extremely salubrious climate of
New South Wales, and the advantages attending a settlement in different
parts of it, Mr. Cunningham says — "' No better proof can be given of the
health fulness of Bathurst, than that there was but one natural death in it
up to the year 1826, in twelve years." Considering the peculiar circum-
stances of the locality, one feels it just possible that something more
than the kecdthfulness of Bathurst may be wrapped up in the fact here
stated. Indeed, it is a singular apparent disposition of events — if one
were disposed to be superstitious — to fulfil a well-known, thoughnot uni-
1827.] Notes for the Month. 223
formly trusted, proverb — that Mr. Cunningham, in two other places bears
witness to the extraordinary freedom of the t( government settlers" from
ordinary hazards of bodily harm. — " No ship," he says, " was ever yet
lost that went out with convicts to New South Wales !" And again—
" In four voyages," he observes, " that he made, personally, he has car-
ried out six hundred convicts, male and female, without ever losing (by
sickness] a single individual I"
A curious admission, and one which, though it was unavoidable, will
grate, we suspect, a good deal upon the ears of our scientific countrymen,
was made a few days since at a meeting of the United Mexican Mining
Company, held at the London Tavern. The Chairman of the Company
declared, upon the authority of the last reports received from South Ame-
rica? — that the superiority which we expected our " English knowledge"
to give us iu mining affairs over the ignorance of the Mexicans, conld no
longer rationally be expected. That, in truth, there was scarcely any
part of the business of mining in which we could materially improve
upon the old South American system. That the mines of the Company
were placed, now, in every case — as the best means of making them pro-
ductive— under the guidance and administration of native Mexicans.
And that the chief real advantage which the Company might look to pos-
sess over the people of the country, would lie — not in the superiority of
English skill, but in the employment of English capital. It is something
to have any point of advantage at all ; but this is a terrible blow — to be
convicted of not knowing more about what was fit and suitable in Mex-
ico, than the Mexicans themselves !
A German newspaper contains a strange account — avouched with as
much apparent accuracy almost as those which concerned the mermaids
lately seen off our own coast, or the sea-serpent that visits the shores of
America — of a conversion lately worked upon the morals of a famous robber,
by a supernatural visitation in the forest of Wildeshausen. The hero of
the tale, whose name is Conrad Braunsvelt, but who was better known by
the cognomen of " The Woodsman," was drinking one evening at a small
inn on the borders of the forest of Wildeshausen, when a traveller, well
mounted, and carrying a portmanteau on his horse behind him, came up
by the road which runs from the direction of Hanover. The stranger,
after inquiring if he could be accommodated with a bed, led his horse
away to the stable, and in doing this, left his portmanteau upon a bench
within the house — which Conrad immediately, as a preliminary measure,
tried the weight of. He had just discovered that the valise was unusually
heavy, when the return of the traveller compelled him to desist; but
his curiosity, without any farther effort, was not long ungratified ; for the
stranger soon opened it before him, as it seemed, to take out some articles
which were necessary for his use at night; and displayed in the process
several largo bags — larger almost than the machine would have seemed able
to contain — which were evidently full of gold or silver money. The cupi-
dity of Conrad was excited by this view, and he would gladly have at
once secured the prize even at the hazard of a personal struggle with the
stranger; but the people of the inn (according to his account afterwards)
were such as would have expected a portion of the spoil. For this
reason, although unwillingly, and trusting himself to sleep little, lest by
any chance the prey should escape him, he abandoned his design of rob-
bery, for that night ; and on the next morning, having learned which way
X24 Hole* for the Month. [Auo.
the stranger travelled — for the latter exhibited no suspicions or apprehen-
sion of those about him, but spoke freely of his intended road, though he
never mentioned any thing of the charge he carried — having ascertained this
fact, he allowed the rider to depart, and after a short time, followed by a
shorter track through the forest, which was practicable only to persons on
foot, and which would enable him, had he even started later, easily to
overtake the mounted traveller. Now, knowing that his nearer road saved,
as has been noticed, full a league of ground, the " Woodsman" moved
on slowly ; and accounted that, when he reached the point at which they
were to meet, he should still have some time to wait for the stranger ; on
emerging, however, into the high road, he found him to his surprise
already approaching; and, what was still more extraordinary, mounted
upon a black horse, when that on which he had left the inn, had certainly
seemed to be a brown. The portmanteau, however, which was all that
Conrad looked to, was still behind the traveller, and on he came riding as if
nothing at all was the matter : the " Woodsman" never hung back, or staid
to reflect, but levelled his riflle, and called upon him to " Stand and deliver,"
or his next moment was his last. The traveller upon this pulled up his horse
with an air of great coolness ; and, looking upon Conrad, said something,
which, as the robber since says, he verily believes was — " That he hoped
he had not kept him waiting1" — or words to that purpose; but he was
too busy at the time to pay much attention to discourse. " Do you know
who it is you are going to rob though ?" asked the stranger, addressing
the " Woodsman," directly. " Not I," replied the latter, boldly : " but,
if you were der Dyvel himself, descend from that horse, and deliver the-
bags of money that you have on you, or you shall die !" Upon this,
the black rider said no more ; but dismounted quietly, although he had
pistols in his holsters ; and Conrad, immediately taking the 'portmanteau
from the horse's back, was so eager to be sure of the contents, that he
drew his knife, .and cut the fastenings on the spot. In the meantime, the
traveller might have fallen upon him unawares, and to advantage, but
the " Woodsman" endeavoured to keep an eye upon him, while he went
on forcing the valixe open as well he could. At length the straps were
all cut, and the robber thrust his hands in eagerly, making suro to find
the bags which he had seen the preceding evening, for he had dis-
tinctly felt them from the outside. But, when he drew out his hands,
there was in one only & halter, and in the other apiece of brass in the shape
of a gibbet ! And, at the same moment, a gripe was laid upon his arm ;
and a deep low voice, which seemed to be close beside him, pronounced the
words — " This shall be thy fate /" When he turned round in horror and
consternation, the horse, and the rider, and the portmanteau, all were gone;
and he found himself within a few paces of the inn door which he had
quitted in the morning, with the halter and the brass gibbet still remaining
in his hand. The narrative states farther, that this horrible rencontre so
affected Conrad Braunsvelt that he forthwith delivered himself up to
the rangers of the forest, and was sent to Cassel to await the pleasure of
the Grand Duke. He is now confined in an asylum for repentant cri-
minals, desirous of being restored to society; and his miraculous warning
is noted in the records of the institution.
1.&27.J . | ISo J
MONTHLY REVIEW OP LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.
A History of the Right Hon. William
Pitt, Earl of Chatham; containing his
Speeches in Parliament, Official Corres-
pondence, fyc.; by the Rev. Francis
Thackeray, A.M. 2 vols. 4to. — Looking
back upon the commanding talents of the
Earl of Chatham as we do with deep respect,
we scarcely think any farther details of
his life were called for, even if farther de-
tails were really within our reach. But
when, in fact, nothing farther seems ob-
tainable, this new attempt, though his
former biographers were but anonymous
ones, or mere collectors of anecdotes, must
appear to most persons quite superfluous.
Though a successful minister, his reign
was of short duration ; and if his poli-
tical life was a long one, his efforts
were, by much the greater part, spent in
opposing the measures of the crown ; and
such efforts, though never perhaps with*
out their influence, leave behind them few
permanent or tangible traces. Lord Chat-
ham's best fame — at least his fame most
generally recognized in our days — rests
on his eloquent and perhaps unrivalled
speeches ; and they have been long col-
lected and justly appreciated. All that
the present writer has been able to add of
novelty is his official correspondence with
the French and Spanish ambassadors, and
the governors and commanders in Ame-
rica. The narrative is, however, a very
respectable one. The ability of the writer
is pretty much of the same calibre with
that of Mr. Archdeacon Coxe ; and his
books w,ill very conveniently and properly
range on the same shelf with Marl borough
and Walpole.
The volumes before us contain all the
printed speeches interwoven in the narra-
tive. The reader will recollect that, in
1738, about three years after Mr. Pitt
came into Parliament, the Commons for-
bade the publication of their debates.
They continued, however, to be given in
the periodicals of the day — the Gentle-
man's Magazine and the London — under
anagrams and Roman names. Of these,
many were written by Dr. Johnson, and
might or might not have been heard by
him. Anything* like accuracy nobody will
expect, who recollects the doctor's own
declaration, that he was resolved the
Whig-dogs should not have the best of it.
The Whigs were then in power ; and Mr.
Pitt, though himself a Whig, yet acting at
the time with Tories and Jacobites, had of
course the benefit of the doctor's Tory
resolution. From these trustworthy sources
are again re-printed Mr. Pitt's speeches
up to 1751, excepting the outlines of some
from 1743 to 1745, preserved by the Hon.
31. M. New Serifs.— VOL. IV. No. 20.
P. Yorke, The speeches from 1751 to
1760 are taken from Horace Walpole's
Memoirs ; and very animated and cha-
racteristic sketches they are. The re-
mainder— the most eloquent and most
memorable — are extracted from the Par-
liamentary History, of- which many ap-
peared originally in Almon's Anecdotes of
Lord Chatham's Life, and some were re-
ported by the late Sir Philip Francis. Sir
Philip's are by far the best ; and by that
standard has Mr. Thackeray corrected
the phraseology of the rest, where it ap-
peared to him too vulgar or too extrava-
gant. Mr. Thackeray defends himself on
the ground that he has done no more than
" modern reporters do, who clothe the
thoughts of the most inaccurate speaker
in grammatical language."
To glance over Lord Chatham's career
may bring upon ourselves the complaint
we have just made of superfluousness ;
but glances, brief as ours, are not with-
out their use. They freshen the memory
at a small expense : and by bringing to-
gether all into the narrowest compass^ and
condensing the several objects, facilitate
comprehension and assist comparison ;
and thus pave the way for more correct
judgments, and occasionally lead to new
and useful deductions. — Aliens! then.
He was born, in 1708, of a good but not
an opulent family — educated at Eton — and
resided at Oxford a short time without
taking a degree. What became of him
for some years after quitting Oxford, is not
known. In 1735 he came into Parliament,
representative of Old Sarum, by his bro-
ther's appointment, and immediately join-
ed the ranks of Opposition. About the
same time, he obtained a eornetcy in the
Blues. His family connexions, which were
very numerous, were all Whigs. Though
Walpole was a Whig, and headed a Whig
ministry, there were of course many dis-'
appointed persons of that party, and these
were headed by the heir apparent. Mr.
Pitt was groom of the chamber to the
prince. His opposition to Walpole was
not merely unceasing, but vehement and
galling ; and Walpole took the unmanly re-
venge of depriving him of his commission,
which naturally infused a little venom in
the after-struggle. On Walpole's unwilling
retirement, Pitt was one of the most stre-
nuous in urging an inquiry. He was one
of the committee of secresy, and even
voted for the bill of indemnity to protect
the witnesses against the fallen minister;
because, says Mr. Thackeray, by way of
palliation, " he believed the truth of the
charges against the minister."
Against Walpole's successor, Lord Car-
2 B
186
Monthly Review of Liteiaiuie,
teret, Pitt was equally violent ; but when
the Pelharas came in, we find him the si-
lent approver, or the talking advocate, of
the very measures which, under their pre-
decessors, he had so loudly condemned.
To what are we to attribute this change ?
To connexion, to be sure — not patriotism.
The Pelhams were his friends j and soon
after, in 1746, they made him paymaster
of the forces. Mr.Thackeray labours hard,
if not to disprove the iuconsistence,at least
to justify it. What are the charges? —
First, his acquiescing in the continental
measures — the Hanover politics — under
the Pelhams, which he denounced under
their predecessors. And what the defence?
Why, Mr. Pelham, it seems, himself disap-
proved of the system, but was unable to
prevent it. What better, then, could Mr.
Pitt do than follow so experienced a
guide? — The second charge was his
anxiety — though none of its objects had
been gained — to put an end to the war,
into which he had been among the most
eager to precipitate the nation. The jus-
tification is, that we wrere unable to enforce
our claims, just as they were ; and, there-
fore, it became a wise statesman to " ad-
vise peace." — The third was his defence
of an extended standing army ; to which it
might perhapsjustly be said, that the peril
into which the nation had been recently
thrown by the invasion and rapid advance
of the Pretender's son, proved such an ex-
tension to be imperative. But the fact is, that
Mr. Pitt was of an ardent and impetuous
temperament, and of course often overshot
his mark. In arguing a point, he did not
always — or rather never — stop at the limit
of cool propriety ; and, therefore, all his
life long he was exposing himself to the
charge of verbal, and frequently of essen-
tial contradictions.
As paymaster of the forces, he was pure
in his trust, and refused to soil his fingers
with the dirty tricks of office. It had
been usual — often to the injury of the
public service — to keep £100,000 on hand,
•which sum was vested in government se-
curities, and put into the paymaster's
pocket £3,000 or £4,000 a year ; and, be-
sides this, he received one-half per cent,
upon subsidies. Of neither of these per-
quisites did Mr. Pitt avail himself; and
subsidies were pretty frequent and con-
$iderable in his time.
On Pelham's death great confusion fol-
lowed. Pitt was personally offensive to
the king, and gained nothing immediately
by the changes. The Duke of Newcastle,
Pelham's brother, became chief; and Pitt,
•whose temper could not long brook the
slight, quickly quarrelled with him, and
lost the paymastership. Now followed a
deadly struggle for superiority. Fox was
in office, but with little influence ; New-
castle's government was unfortunate — the
loss of Minorca filled the nation with com-
plaints. To escape the growing odium,
Fox suddenly threw up, and endeavoured
to effect a coalition with Pitt j but his
overtures were treated with contempt.
There was personal pique in this. Fox
had once meanly disavowed to the king
any communion with Pitt, and Pitt was
not a man who could forget it. Besides,
he knew Fox's close connexion with the
Duke of Cumberland, whose influence was
overpowering; and he must thus be sub-
ordinate ; and, at all events, he did not
choose to owe anything to Fox. Thus de-
serted by Fox and his friends, Newcastle
made an effort to unite again with Pitt ;
but with him also Pitt had his revenge to
take, and he haughtily and peremptorily
refused even to confer. The duke's re-
signation followed ; and, in November
1756, Mr. Pitt, with some of his friends,
came in, in spite of the king, secretary of
But short was this his first triumph. He
was surrounded by difficulties. He had
neither the confidence of the crown, nor
the friendship of many of its servants ; nor
had he always temper to conciliate, though
his observance of the king was even ser-
vile ; when unable to stand, he refused
to be seated in the presence, and actually
kneeled on a stool while receiving the
king's communications. Nothing, how*
ever, daunted him — neither the cruel tor-
ments of the gout, with which he was af-
flicted through the whole winter — nor the
calumnies of Fox and Newcastle— nor the
intrigues of his associates — nor the aliena-
tion of the king — nor the disastrous con-
dition of publio affairs. His first object
was to provide for the security of America ;
aud the measures he took were of the most
active and decisive kind. But Germany
was the main point ; and he was often twit-
ted with his German measures. Maria-
Theresa considered her interests betrayed
by England at the peace of Westphalia,
and was now in alliance with France, and
Prussia with England. The Duke of Cum-
berland's influence was silently paramount.
He was appointed commandcr-iti-chief of
the forces in Germany, and stipulated, on
his departure, for the dismissal of Pitt.
In April accordingly Pitt was dismissed,
but only within three little months to re-
turn in undisputed triumph.
Never was minister more popular or per-
haps more deservedly so. The new ministry
was a coalition of Pitt, Newcastle, and
Fox; but Pitt had at last got the upper-
hand of his rivals and foes, and he kept
it for a time, though not without ihe full
exertion of his might. His was the master-
mind, and managed all : he even deprived
the Admiralty (Lord Anson) of the cor-
respondence.
But we must draw in our sketch. For
1827.]
the next four years— the years of his
glory — or at least till tbe accession of
George III. and the ill-boding influence of
Lord Bute, Pitt was the idol of the nation;
but, by the end of 1761, he was no longer
able to resist the overpowering weight of
the favourite. He retired on a pension of
3,000/., and a peerage for his wife. For a
month or two, he was assailed with every
species of virulence and malignity, and
upbraided with the cry of pensioner and
apostate; but the tide of public favour
quickly began to flow again ; and joining,
soon after, iq the mayor's procession, he
was hailed by the people with the warmest
tokens of affection and admiration, as the
man who alone deserved the confidence of
the nation, and could alone restore its re-
nown on the Continent.
Lord Bute, in his turn, was soon com-
pelled to quit the helm, but reiained all
his private influence. He invited Fitt to
uegociate ; and interviews and discussions
with the king followed, which were, how.
ever, suddenly broken off; and the Bed-
ford and Grenville ministry, under the
secret auspices of Bute, was made up —
quickly again to give way to the Rocking.
ham. The Rockingham ministry proved
unyielding and unaccommodating, and the
favourite had no better resource at last
than to suffer Mr. Pitt to come in on his
own terms. This advantage — either resent-
ing the treatment he had met with, or
conscious of superior power and popula-
rity— he did not use with much temper ;
he carried himself not only haughtily, but
at times insolently; and consulting his
caprices, or at least his predilections, more
than his own power, or their merits, he
filled his offices with a set of persons so
utterly unconnected and uncongenial with
each other, that even he, in his best
strength, would never have been able to
bind them together. He himself took the
privy seal, with the title of Earl of Chat-
ham. But his health utterly failed him,
and his spirits sank within him — till, at
last, he was compelled to send the king a
verbal reply to a letter, that his majesty
must seek advice elsewhere, for he was no
longer able to give it.
The Grafton and North administrations
followed in succession. Lord Chatham no
more returned to office ; but, on the reco-
very of better health, he resumed his par-
liamentary attendance, though with fre-
quent interruptions from relapses till his
death, and never was more eloquent, ener-
getic, respected, and truly respectable.
He took an active part against the Com-
mons in the caseof Wilkes, and condemned
the ministry with all the severity of his
invective for taxing America — making a
very nice distinction, which could not hold,
between legislating and taxing. He in-
sisted upon the right of England to make
Domc$t-k- and Forc.ign.
187
laws for her colonies, but not to impose
taxes ; and when the government charged
the Americans with aiming at indepen-
dence, he strenuously declared that, if it
were BO, he would strip the shirt from his
back to oppose them. Yet when that in.
dependence in 1776 was actually pro-
claimed, he was their apologist, and an
advocate for peace. But again, in 1778,
when America was supported by France,
we find him as resolute for prosecuting-
the war. This, indeed, was his last noble
effort : he fainted in the house from exer-
tion, and died a few weeks after.
The author's attempts to apologize for
what he manifestly feels to be an alarming
inconsistency in Lord Chatham's conduct,
with regard to America, might very well
have been spared. To the ministry who im-
posed the tax he was in opposition. That
ministry taxed the unrepresented, and of
course offered an obvious point of attack.
The distinction he made between legislat-
ing and taxing was merely rhetorical— it
served the purposes of debate ; or, if we
sappose him to have been convinced by
his own distinction, we may conclude his
sound sense soon detected the fallacy; and
as to his language on the subject of inde-
pendence, doubtless long before that inde-
pendence was proclaimed, he felt it to be
one thing to speak in anticipation of an
event, and another when that event actu-
ally occurs. But when the colonies linked
themselves with foreigners, they became
national enemies ; the honour and safety
of the country were at stake, and they
were at all events to be resisted.
Of the general execution of the bio-
graphy, we have before spoken ; and we
may add, that, though there is little vigour
of thought in the work, the tone is gene-
rally fair and moderate, and the language
felicitous enough. Superfluous expressions
of loyalty occur, and here and there, with
excessive admiration of the Duke of Wel-
lington, and, in the dedication, of Mr.
Peel, who seems, in his estimate, at least
equal to Lord Chatham ; and now and then
appear devout phrases, just to mark the
writer's profession. Lord Chatham is said
to have died with the resignation which
is the peculiar characteristic of a Chris-
tian— the mere language surely of habit,
or of want of observation. A disposition
frequently peeps out to give facts and
opinions the full weight and advantage of
his own authority. For instance, speaking
of Chatham's quick eye, and speculating
on his career had he pursued the profes-
sion of a soldier, he adds, in a note, — " It
is my opinion, that no man who does not
possess eminent quickness of sight is ca-
pable of becoming a perfect general. —
History shews many errors of the most
fatal description, which hare resulted from
a defect in this organ. Tallard from thi«
2 B 2
188
Monthly Review of Literature,
[AUG.
cause committed a tremendous oversight
in the battle of Blenheim ; and all men
know that the eagle-eye of the Duke of
Wellington has given great effect to his
olher astonishing military powers."
Personal Narrative of Travels in the
United States and Canada in 1826, by
Lieut, the Hon. Frederic Fitzgerald de
Roos, R.N. 1827. — Mr. de Roos is a young
man, a lieutenant in the navy. He was on
the Halifax station in May 1826 ; and his
" kind friend," Admiral Lake, gave him a
month's leave of absence. What should he
do with it? He hesitates between the
Falls of Niagara, and a visit to the cities
and dock-yards of the United States ; and
determines on the latter. He sails in a
packet for New York, where he stays only
one night, and pushes on, the next morn-
ing, for Washington, by Philadelphia, Bal-
timore, &c., making his way by stages and
steam-boats. At Washington, his first
point are the dock- yards — an area of about
forty acres, and much of it unoccupied —
and finds only two frigates on the slips,
and a smaller vessel afloat ; looks over the
•works, but the whole falls far below his
expectations, after hearing so much of
American superiority in naval matters ;
perambulates the town, and is amazed at
American want of foresight — to build a
metropolis in a spot possessing neither
facilities for commerce, nor fertility for
agriculture; canvasses the subjects which
occupied Congress the previous session ;
and speculates on the probable duration
of the republic. In the evening he goes to
the French ambassador's tea-party — meets
with a number of pretty women — does not
like their drawl, but thinks they matched
their European entertainers in dress,
beauty, and conversation. The women
of the southern states, he says, are gene-
rally pale j but this paleness is regarded
by the possessors as a mark of high breed-
ing. The manners of the highest classes
he considers to be those of the middling
classes of England ; but, as he proceeds,
particularly at Boston, the women improve
upon him, not only in manners, but in
beauty — heis quite a connoisseur in beauty
.—and ultimately he is more than half dis-
posed to be pleased with the very drawl
that at first so much offended him. Major
Denham, we remember, got to admire the
jetty skins of the Africans, and more than
once caught himself exclaiming, " What
a charming girl !"
After babbling a little about the glorious
capture of Washington, and our humbling
the pride of America— and quoting a
speech of some Indians then at Washing-
ton, soliciting from the President the re-
storation of some lands, and deprecating
the institution of schools among them, on
the ground that the Great Spirit never
meant red men should read and write,
or they would have been before-hand with
the whites — Mr. de Roos returns to Balti-
more. This he thinks the prettiest town
in the Union. The port is chiefly fre-
quented by the French j and the ladies
— he never forgets the ladies — conse-
quently dress in the Parisian taste— or
style, rather, we suppose. Here he dines
at the same table with Mr. Carrol, the
grandfather of the Marchioness of Welles-
ley, and now the sole survivor of those
who signed the original deed of indepen-
dence ; — visits the docks, of course, where
he sees a schooner building for the purpose
of smuggling on the China coast, in which
every thing was sacrificed to swiftness —
the loveliest vessel he ever beheld. In
the yards he meets with a builder, who
had a book cf drafts of all the fast-sailing
schooners built at Baltimore, which had
so much puzzled our cruizers, he says,
during the war. " It was the very thing,"
he adds, '< I wanted ; but, after an hour
spent in entreaty, I could not induce him
to part with one leaf of the precious vo-
lume. Though provoked at his refusal, I
could not help admiring the public spirit
which dictated his conduct ; for the offer
I made him must have been tempting to a
person in his station of life." Bless thee,
Master de Roos ! hast thou been told that
honour and honesty are nowhere to be
found but among the " honourable ?"
Quitting Baltimore, on his return to
New York, he stops at Philadelphia, where,
in the docks, he sees the Pennsylvania, a
three-decker, said by the Americans to be
the largest vessel in the world. But the
lieutenant believes her scantling to be
very nearly the same as that of our Nel-
son. She mounts 135 guns. Speaking of
the size of the American ships, he takes
the opportunity of correcting an erroneous
opinion very prevalent : —
The Americans (he says) call such ships as the
Pennsylvania seventy-fours, which, at first sight,
and to one unacquainted with the reason, bears the
appearance of intentional deception. But this is
explained by the peculiar wording of the Act of
Congress, by which a fund was voted for the gra-
dual increase of the American navy. In it the
largest vessels were described as seventy-fours ;
but great latitude being allowed to the commis-
sioners of the navy, they built them on a much
more extended scale. The only official mode of
registering these is as seventy-fours ; but, for all
purposes of comparison, they must be classed ac-
cording to the guns which they actually carry ;
and in this light they are considered by all liberal
Americans,
From the dock-yards he goes to the an-
nual picture exhibition, and had an oppor-
tunity, he says, of judging of the American
taste in that department of the fine arts.
But, alas! they have none— positively none!
There were two or three works of the old masters,
belonging to Joseph Bonaparte, and a picture of
Napoleon crossing the Alps, by David; the rest
1827.]
Domestic and Foreigit.
189
were wretched copies of the modern English his-
torical school, diversified by a display of various
portraits, one worse than the other, chiefly of
florid citizens in white neckcloths, and coats with
bright metal buttons. We were much surprised
that so trumpery an exhibition should be an object
of admiration in Philadelphia, which is one of the
most polished and enlightened cities in the United
States.
Arrived at New York, he was most hos-
pitably received — staying1 there several
days. If the men were rough and coarse,
he found them also cordial, frank, and
open ; no liars, as they are represented ;
a little inquisitive perhaps, and some-
times impertinent. But the women were
charming — so easy and natural — and their
conversation and demeanour marked by
the strictest propriety. His friends take
him to the episcopal church — the fashion-
able place of worship — to shew him, he
says, the principal inhabitants. Upon this
he takes occasion to remark, with an " I
am sorry to say," that, in America, reli-
gion seems, as far as he has observed, to
form but a secondary consideration. — The
reader recollects how much the lieutenant
has seen of America. When at New York,
he could have been but two Sundays on
shore. — " The laxity of their notions upon
this subject," he proceeds to say, " may
perhaps be attributable to the circum-
stance, peculiar to the United States — that
of their not having an established religion.
One of the highest offices," he adds, "is
filled by an Unitarian ; and so unlimited is
religious toleration in this country, that
all American citizens are eligible to that
exalted station, whether Christian, Jew, or
Mahometan :" — all which evidently does
not square with his prepossessions-, but
his extreme youth may very well excuse
this flippant and confident prattle.
Before leaving New York, he surveys
the dock-yards, admires the Ohio carrying
102 guns, &c., and then discusses the
state of the American navy generally.
The sum of his doctrines, backed by the
arguments of one Mr. Haliburtou, an
American, who had just written a pam-
phlet on the subject, is, that America can
never become a, great naval power — the
chief reasons of which are, that she already
finds a difficulty in manning her navy,
and that, while the population increases,
the line of coast cannot increase ; and,
besides, the new settlements are all re-
mote from the coast, and foreign from
naval habits.
From New York he embarks for Boston,
furnished — to beguile the way — with a
copy of " Woodstock," which had been
printed (he says), and sold, in forty-eight
hours after the arrival of the English edi-
tion : the price was 3s. 3d. At Albany
he got iuto a stage, which was to reach
Boston, 160 mites, in three days— -a
wretched vehicle, without springs; the-
roads rough — the passengers equally so —
and accommodation, particularly for sleep-
ing, abominable. Arrived at last, he was
amply compensated for his miserable jour-
ney by the hospitality of the place, and
the beauty of the ladies — the Lancashire
witches of America; — rosy cheeks now
come again — and dark eyes, we suppose.
From Boston he embarks in an English
steam-packet for St. John's, New Bruns-
wick, and is happy to find himself once
more under British colours ; takes a peep
at St. John's; misses the packet, which
crosses the Bay of Fundy to Windsor, in
Nova Scotia ; but gets a passage in a
schooner, and narrowly escapes being
wrecked. At Windsor he is delighted to
meet with British customs again ; and has
his eggs and bacon by himself, snug, in a
comfortable clean parlour — so different
from the tables d'hote of America. From
Windsor he has but forty-five miles to go
to Halifax, and here finishes his journey
and leave of absence.
But now to see the luck of some men 1
He had debated between the dock-yards
of America, and the Falls of Niagara. Had
he chosen the Falls, he had probably never
seen New York, Boston, or the ladies;
Very soon after his return, in the course
of service, he went up the St. Lawrence, in
his Majesty's ship Jupiter, as far as Que-
bec ; from" which place his " kind friend,"
the admiral, made a party to the Falls,
and in which he was included. Of these
now well-known Falls, he has given an
animated and distinct description. But we
have no space to accompany him farther,
and can only quote his account of what is
called an ice-boat, which he saw on the
shores of one of the Canada lakes : —
It is about twenty-three feet in length, resting on
three skates ; one attached to each end of a long
cross-bar, fixed under the fore part; and the re-
maining one to the bottom of the rudder, which
supports the stern of the vessel. Her mast and sail
are similar to those of a common boat. Being
placed on the ice when the lake is sufficiently
frozen over, she is brought into play. Her pro-
perties are wonderful, and her motion is fear-
fully rapid. She can not only sail before the wind,
but is actually capable of beating to windward. It
requires an experienced hand to manage her, par-
ticularly in backing, as her extreme velocity ren-
ders the least motion of the rudder of the utmost
consequence. A friend of mine, a lieutenant in the
navy, assured me that he himself last year had
gone a distance of twenty-three miles in an hour ;
and he knew an instance of an ice-boat having
crossed from York to Fort Niagara (a distance of
forty niiles) in little more than three-quarters of
an hour. This will be readily believed, when we
reflect on the velocity which such a vessel must
acquire when driven on skates before a gale of
wind. These boats are necessarily peculiar to the
lakes of Canada.
190
Monthly Review nf Literature,
Memoirs of Theobald Wolfe Tone, writ-
ten by himself; comprising a complete
Journal of his Negotiations to procure
the Aid of the French for the Libera-
tion of Ireland, with Selections from his
Diary ivhilst Agent to the Irish Catho-
lics, Edited by 'his son W . T. W. Tone.
2 volf. Svo.; 1827. — Rebel and traitor as
the failure or his attempts has gtampt on
the name of Tone, among' Irishmen he has
still all the merits and splendour of the
victim of patriotism-, and unquestionably
the facts were these — the land of his
birth was confessedly ill-governed, and
three-fourths of his countrymen deprived
of the rights of citizens ; he attempted to
rescue them from the galling thraldom ;
and perished in the enterprize. Before
he entered upon the bold undertaking, he
seized the opportunity of telling his own
story. He had a right to do so; his
family had the same right to publish it ;
and the story well deserves the attention
of every considerate Englishman. Ire-
laud is where she was — not worse go-
verned perhaps, but certainly not better
satisfied; similar causes produce similar
effects, and Ireland is full of inflammable
spirit.
Theobald Wolfe Tone was born in Dub-
lin in the year 1763, the son of a coach-
maker. Both father and mother were
pretty much like other people, but they
were the parents of four sons and a daugh-
ter, not one of whom, according to his
account, were like other people — all of
them possessed by a wild spirit of adven-
ture, which, though it now and then
governs an individual, rarely rules a
•whole family, women and all. Of the
boys, two fell in asserting the indepen-
dence of their country; another rose into
command among the native powers of In-
dia, and the youngest, before he was six-
teen, had voyaged twice to Portugal, and
several times crossed the Atlantic ; and
the girl was the zealous promoter of
Wolfe's most perilous resolves. Wolfe
proving a sharp lad, his parents left no
stone unturned to give him an education.
Trinity College and a fellowship were in
their eyes the summit of glory, aud a fel-
low accordingly Theobald was to be made.
He had a different bent ; he had been
dazzled by the reviews and parades of
the park, and panted for a red-coat. To
college, however, he was compelled to
go, and in spite of sundry outbreaks, and
frequent interruptions, he took his de-
gree with some distinction ; but unluckily
disqualified for his fellowship, by marry-
ing, just before his degree, a beautiful
girl, without casting one thought appa-
rently upon how they were to live. The
friends of the youog lady were quickly
reconciled to what could not be remedied ;.
and he was despatched to London — to the
Temple, to be Lord Chancellor in due
time. The law, however, was liis detes-
tation. Without knowing any thing of
the matter, he determined it to be an il-
liberal and intolerable pursuit. The crazy
state of his finances besides, instead of
rouzing him to extraordinary exertion,
disabled him. He could not control or
concentrate his thoughts to dogged study,
and nothing but dogged study he knew
would make a lawyer. But though law
books disgusted him, others seduced him ;
and were at once a source of amusement,
and sometimes of profit. In the course of
two years he actually made £50 by re-
viewing ; and in conjunction with two
friends wrote a burlesque novel, which
nobody read.
While waiting for his "call" to the
bar, a scheme suggested itself to his ac-
tive mind for founding military colonies
in the South Sea Islands, to put a bridle
on Spain in time of peace, and to annoy
her in time of war. He drew up a me-
morial of his plan for Mr. Pitt, and with
his own hands presented it to the porter
in Downing-street. Of this plan, how-
ever, nor of subsequent applications, did
Mr .Pitt take any notice; and the disappoint-
ment in this Wolfe's first essay in politics,
sunk deep in him ; he made a sort of vow,
that if ever he had the opportunity, he
would make Mr. Pitt repent of the con-
tumely ; and recording the fact in his
Memoirs, when he was contemplating the
actual iuvas.ion of Ireland with a foreign
force, he adds, — "fortune may yet enable
me to fulfil that resolution."
At the end of two years he returned to
Dublin, with about as much knowledge of
law as of necromancy ; assumed the fool-
ish gown and wig, as he foolishly calls
them, went the circuit, and almost cleared
his expences. But encouraging as the
prospect unexpectedly seemed, politics
had got close hold of him, and politics of a
pretty vehement character too. He longed
for distinction, and looked about him for
matter for a pamphlet. The year before
had been established the Whig Club; and
though the sentiments of its members fell
far short of his views, yet as far as they
went he approved of them, and a pamphlet
accordingly was put forth, " reviewing the
last session of parliament." This drew
some compliments from the club, and ad-
mission ; and moreover led to some inter-
course with the underlings of the party,
and an occasional recognition from the
leaders. Promises of employment were
made, and hints were given that the Pon-
sonbys were potent people — though then,
out of power, they might one day be in,
and wiih two and twenty seats at their
control, one of them might by chance
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign,
191
fall into his hands. A brief was forthwith
given him ; but month after month elaps-
ing1 without farther communication, he
grew weary of waiting ; and besides, hia
mind was more and more illuminating on
the subject of politics ; he began to look
upon the Whig-club with contempt — ped-
dling, as they were, about petty grievances,
instead of going to the root of the evil.
An opportunity soon occurred of venting
these illuminations of his. A war with
Spain seemed probable, and a pamphlet
was quickly produced, to prove that Ire-
land was not bound by a declaration of
war, but might and ought, as an indepen-
dent nation, to stipulate for neutrality.
The publisher was alarmed at his own
temerity, and hastened to suppress the
book, for which, says Tone, declaratively
or optatively, his own gods damn him.
But before the commotion excited by
the Nootka Sound business subsided, Tone
recollected his old scheme for a military
colony in the South Seas ; and now for-
warded it to the Duke of Richmond, who,
in a matter which did not concern his
own department, could only undertake to
deliver and recommend it to Lord Gren-
ville, from whom was received a very
civil letter commending the plan, but de-
clining the execution of it, as circum-
stances had rendered it unnecessary.
Again he vows, as in the case of Mr. Pitt,
Lord Grenville should repent of it, *: and
perhaps," as before he adds, " the minister
may one day wish he had sent me to the
South Seas."
Now came burning on the French Revo-
lution, and the minds of Irishmen were
heated red hot by it. The nation was di-
vided into Aristocrats and Democrats.
Tone was of course a democrat, and with
such sentiments openly avowed, all hopes
of business in the courts were renounced.
Politics occupied him solely. At this pe-
riod also the Catholic Question began to
attract public notice. The Belfast Volun-
teers wished, on some occasion or other,
to come forward with a declaration rela-
tive to the Catholics, and Tone was re-
quested to write one. This declaration it
was that fixed his attention more parti-
cularly on the condition of his country,
and on the practicability of amending it.
His principle was soon decided on. To
break the connection with England be-
came the ultimate object ; and to unite
the people, and to substitute the common
name of Irishman for protestant, catholic,
and dissenter, the immediate means. These
views were brought forward in a pamphlet
entitled an "Argument in Behalf of the
Catholics of Ireland," in which he laboured
to shew that catholics and dissenters had
a common interest, and a common enemy.
The members of the establishment were
of course impenetrable. The performance
was warmly applauded ; the Belfast Vo-
lunteers elected him an honorary member
of their corps; andhewas invited to Belfast
to assist in framing the first club of United
Irishmen. On his return, in conjunction
with his friend Russel, and Napper Tandy,
a club of the same kind was instituted at
Dublin. The Dublin club rose rapidly
into importance, and Tone was soon ousted
of his pretensions to influence by more
significant and stirring persons. They
quickly drew the attention of the govern-
ment, and Tandy, the secretary, was or-
dered into custody. The club was in a
critical position. Tone bestirred himself;
persuaded Hamilton Rowan to take the
chair, and offered himself to act as pro*
secretary. The members rallied, and
ground was gained rather than lost by
the check.
The Catholic Committee also were now
recovering from the shock they had sus-
tained by the desertion of the aristocracy
— the secession of the sixty-eight. A
general representation of the Catholics
was organized, consisting of two members
from every county and considerable town,
who assembled at Dublin ; and by this
assembly was Tone chosen to fill the place
left vacant by Burke's son. As agent and
assistant secretary, with a salary ef £200
a year, Tone gave himself up soul and
body to the duties of his new office, and
was undoubtedly mainly instrumental in
getting the Relief-bill of 1793 carried—
that bill, which, but for the Whigs, might
have been complete, securing not only to
the poor the right of electing members,
but to the rich the right of being elected.
The disappointed Catholics were enraged
at the treachery of their friends and the
trickery of their enemies. The United
Irishmen —whose object was separation,
from England — availed themselves of this
feeling; all but actual violence in the
field quickly followed ; and Rowan, Butler,
and Bond were tried and imprisoned.
Soon after these events (1794) one Jack-
son was arrested for high treason. This
fellow was commissioned by the French
government to sound the people of Ire-
land ; the popular leaders hesitated to
commit themselves with a stranger by
replying directly to his overtures; but
Tone, with his usual ardour, volunteered
to risk the peril of conveying their wishes
to the French government. He did not
however go. Jackson, whose purposes
had been known to the government at
home even before he landed, and who had
been suffered to go on, making rebels
rather than detecting: them, was arrested.
He had confided to Tone the objects of his
mission, and Tone was known to have had
intercourse with him. He was accord-
ingly called upon to give evidence; he
refused ; and to save his own neck com-
192
Monthly Review of Literature,
[AUG.
promised with the government to quit the
country.
In 1795, therefore, he gathered up his
all, and proceeded with his family to
America, but with a fixed resolution to
solicit foreign aid for his country. He
thought himself free to do so. His un-
willing exile he considered as an acquittal
for his offence, and himself at liberty to
do his best for what he regarded as the
welfare of Ireland. In America he lost
no time in gaining1 an interview with the
French Ambassador. At first he was
coldly received, but at the end of some
mouths, was even urged by the ambassa-
dor to go to France, and communicate
with the government. To France he ac-
cordingly went, and landed on the 1st
January 1796, where, without knowing one
human being, he set seriously about per-
suading the French government to under-
take the liberation of Ireland, and succeed-
ed in persuading them. The diary presents
the detail of his negociations — his progress
from the clerks of the Foreign Office to
De la Croix at the head of it — his inter-
view with Carnot, one of the Directory —
•with Clarke, with Hoche. The alternate
hopes and fears, the promises, and delays,
and disappointments, and changes of pur-
pose, were enough to drive any man but
Tone to final despair. Through the whole
period too he had no communication what-
ever with Ireland, and knew not with any
truth how matters were going there. At
last, in December, nearly a twelvemonth
after his arrival, a force of from 12,000
to 15,000 were embarked, commanded by
Hoche and Grouchy, under whom Tone
held the rank of adjutant-general. The
winds were unfavourable ; the ships were
separated; and Grouchy with about half
the original force appeared off Bantry Bay,
and was himself disposed to land, but was
deterred by his officers ; and thus were all
Tone's hopes and labours baffled. Attach-
ed to Hoche, he still accompanied him, on
his return, as adjutant-general, in his com-
mand on the Satnbre and Meuse, and was
with him till his death. Of this revolu-
tionary commander, he speak in terms of
affection and admiration. When the se-
cond attempt upon Ireland was preparing
at the Texel, Hoehe, though eager for dis-
tinction, yielded to Daendels, the Dutch
commander. To this second expedition,
Hoche' s death, which occurred while it
was preparing, put a stop; or perhaps
that object was designedly merged in the
grander one of invading England by the
arniee cTAnglcterre, to be commanded by
Bonaparte.
By this time numerous agents from Ire-
land were in Paris, and Tone was compa-
ratively forgotten. The rebellion in Ire-
land in the mean while had actually com-
menced, and a new stimulus was thus
given to the French government. A reso-
lution was suddenly taken to fit out a
third expedition ; and, about the begin-
ning of July 1798, Tone was summoned to
consult on the plans. Small detachments
were to be sent from different parts ; and
Humbert was already at Rochelle with
1,000, Hardy at Brest with 3,000, and
Kilmaine was to have 9,000 in reserve.
The attempt was at last made without
previous concert; Humbert, impatient of
delay, and urged by the Irish agents, set
sail, and landed his small force in an ob-
scure corner of the island, where, instead
of calling the people to arms, he amused
himself with drilling the peasantry, and
enjoying the insidious hospitality of the
Bishop of Killala, till he was surrounded
and defeated. Before the news of his
failure reached France, Hardy (about the
end of September) had sailed, and with
him was Tone, ag'ain holding the rank of
adjutant-general. After contending with
contrary winds, on the 10th of October
they arrived off' Loch Swilley. They were
instantly signalized, and the next morning
were attacked by Sir J. B. Warren's squa-
dron. After a sharp engagement, Tone
fell into the hands of the victors. Though
never in the English service, he was tried
by a court-martial, and sentenced to be
hanged — pleading in vain his claim to be
treated as a French officer. On the eve
of the day appointed for his execution, he
cut his own throat, but so unskilfully that
he lingered for a week.
The diary is written very carelessly, but
occasionally with great vigour. It is full
of interest, and, to many readers, will be
full of novelty. It bears marks of the
truest sincerity and unquenchable ardour.
Mixed up with the whole is a good deal of
coarseness, which might as well have
been omitted. The man's invincible ener-
gy— his resolution and perseverance — his
fond affection for his family — his devotion
to his country, claim no little share of our
respect, however desperate, or rash, or
unjustifiable we may deem his purpose.
Travels in Norway, Sweden, Finland,
Russia, and Turkey, also in the Sea of
Azof, and of the Black Sea; by Geo.Matt.
Jones, Capi. R. N. 2 vols. 8ro. 1827 —
The author of these volumes, Capt. Geo.
M. Jones, as we learn from the preface,
very early in life entered the naval ser-
vice; and after having been constantly — •
it does not appear how long— employed
till 1818. was at last advanced to the rank
of post-captain — the object, it seems, of
his most ardent ambition and exertions —
and then laid upon the shelf. This leisure,
thus desirably or undesirably befalling
him, he was of too roaming a disposition
to idle aw ay at home; and therefore re-
solved— not to idle it away abroad — but
J827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
.193
to take a cruise by land, as he could no
longer at sea. The navy and its interests
were however still uppermost in his heart,
and a visit to the sea-ports was deter-
mined on — to gain, he says, professional
knowledge, to view the interior of places,
the outside of which he had often con-
templated in blockading- service, and to
enjoy, on shore, and in peace, the society
of officers, whom he had known only in
war and at sea.
In the details of his tour, he professes
to state nothing but the results of actual
experience. For scientific researches he
had neither time nor means — which, being
interpreted, signifies, it may bs supposed,
no acquaintance with them. To scientific
readers therefore he does not address him-
self; and those who are in search of gene-
ral knowledge and information — these are
the Captain's words — may say that they
have them much better and more co-
piously from the travellers who have pre-
ceded him — particularizing the " learned
and elegant" Dr. Clarke, the "accurate"
De Boisgetin, Dr. James, Mr. Hobhouse,
Mrs. Guthrie, and the "justly celebrated "
Pallas. To this he can only plead — what
is no plea at all, but a sound reason for
sparing his own labour — " little was left
for him to glean." But seizing upon this
chance metaphor of his, he tells us that
no field is so well cleared bat by diligence
and attention a sheaf may be collected.
A sheaf accordingly— not a few straggling
ears — he presents to his readers in these
two portly octavos. This brilliant figure
clings to his fancy, and bothers him a
little ; he refuses to let go his hold of it,
though manifestly he knows not what to
do with it — the struggle is perfectly lu-
dicrous—but at last he babbles something
about gratitude to his learned predeces-
sors for dropping blades for the benefit of
after-comers, affirming, at the same time,
modestly but firmly, that whatever they
have thus benignantly dropped, he has not
failed to gather; and then, oddly enough,
he adds more thanks for what he has
taken, which, as it was done without con-
sent of the parties, must plainly be a
felonious taking. By degrees he comes
to a sounder— so far as it is a truer — rea-
son ; — " many years (says he) have elapsed
since most of the above tourists published,
and we'know how greatly the features of
a country, and the character of a people,
may alter in the course of a quarter of a
century."
To write a preface requires more tact
and wariness than the greater part of
scribblers possess. A preface usually
concerns self; and to run into absurdity
upon that subject is one of the easiest
things in the world ; it is a rock on which
thousands wreck their little barks, and
Captain Jones — whatever may be his
MM. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 20.
skill on his own seas — was not seaman
enough to clear it. He has a profound ve-
neration for monarchs — domestic and
foreign. The late Emperor Alexander,
and his amiable consort, were personages,
he firmly believes — on very slight evi-
dence plainly — for greatness and good-
ness never surpassed, and to their con-
descensions himself and a brother of his
were greatly indebted. To the Emperor
Nicholas also he feels " immense obliga-
tion ;" and for what does the reader sup-
pose ? Why, had it not been for his per-
sonal kindness, he and the aforesaid bro-
ther— never having been presented — would
have been absolutely cut off from all the
court fetes, and even from public notice,
till the Emperor's return from Verona,
which was only a few days before their
departure from St. Petersburg. This
personal kindness of the reigning em-
peror fills him with a fervour of admira-
tion and devotion, and he trusts he may
be allowed to say, without being charged
with flattery, that he appears to him to
possess every requisite quality to form a
great prince ; and moreover to express a
" sincere hope," that the said Nicholas
may reign, for ever and ever, we believe,
over his delighted slaves. As to the re-
quisite qualities of a great prince, Captain
Jones has probably thought little about
them ; and he will doubtless be surprised
to be told, that a " sincere hope" requires
explanation.
But to turn to the tour, the reader will
find a plain and not altogether unattrac-
tive description of the countries he travels
through — superior certainly to the au-
guries of the preface. He lands at Calais,
and .scampers through Ostend, Ghent,
Antwerp, Liege, Cologne, Hanover, &c.
&c. to Hamburg, where he stops to breathe
a little. He has a word or two for all the
intermediate places. At Ypres, he tells
us, diaper was first manufactured, and the
name is itself a corruption of Ypres. At
Tournay is made the Brussels carpeting.
At Ostend, the lower class of females are
very ugly ; but at Diuant he met with a
pretty girl — the first he had seen since
he left England. At Ghent — a place built
upon twenty-six islands, and connected
by 300 bridges — Charles the Fifth, he
tells us, was born, who used to say of
Paris, he could put it in his Gand, allud-
ing to the French name for Ghent, and to
its standing on more ground than Paris.
At Aix-la-Chapelle, he visited La Salle de
Banque, or licensed gaming-house : —
The great room (he says) is one of the most ele-
gant in structure I have seen. Every description
of gambling is carried on, under the protection of
government ; and I could not help admiring an
ordinance to the following purport: —
" The city having, from time immemorial, de-
rived great benefit from a gambling-house, we, in
2 C
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Monthly Revietv of Literature,
[Aue.
our parental goodness, permit it to be opened from
May till August— the months that foreigners gene-
rally resort to the city for the benefit of the waters.
But this indulgence is not to have any bad effect
upon the morals of the citizens ; and the police are
to turn out anybody whom they suspect not to be
able to afford to lose money. — FREDERICK."
At Aix-la-Chapellealso he stops, not in
his tour, but in his narrative, to take a
retrospect of the Netherlands, the king-
dom of which, he states, according to the
treaty of Vienna, comprises Holland, and
its dependencies, Belgium and Flanders,
with a population of 5,500,000. Every
subject of the king, without any distinc-
tion of religious opinions, enjoys equal
rights, both civil and political, and is
equally eligible to all employments and
honours whatever. The Hollanders are
nearly to a man Protestants, and the Bel-
gian Catholics. The crown is heredi-
tary. The States-general consists of two
chambers — representative of the nation.
The upper chamber is composed of not
less than forty or more than sixty, named
by the king for life; and each receives
3,000 florins annually to defray his travel-
ling expenses. The other chamber con-
sists of 110 members, elected by the states
of the provinces. They are elected for
three years, and one-third retire annually,
but are re eligible immediately. The mem-
bers receive 2,500 florins. The session is
held alternately at Hague and at Brus-
sels : —
The Belgians pretend to bold the Dutch in great
contempt, and a rooted antipathy has long sub-
sisted between the two countries ; to which is now
added a jealousy, which views with a jaundiced
eye every mark of distinction bestowed by the king,
and calls for, on the part of his majesty, an exer-
•eise of his discretion and firmness.
The government no doubt has enough
to do to balance matters between them.
The writer professes himself an advocate
for toleration, and admires this principle
in the Belgium constitution ; but he has
some doubts of its conciliating properties
proving of any use. He has some obscure
notion, that by and by expences will be
demanded for the support of the fortresses
on the French frontier, and that then the
Belgians will kick, and being Catholics,
will unite with the French, who are Catho-
lics too.
The book improves as it goes on. In
his way to Copenhagen, he passes through
Eutin, the paternal property of the Duke
of Oldenburg, contained in a circumfe-
rence of twenty miles.
There is a very neat, small palace, beautifully
situated upon the side of a lake. It appears that
the inhabitants of this district are contented and
happy ; they have few imposts — everybody is well
dressed — and there are no beggars.
Of Copenhagen he says, —
The city within the last thirty years has suffered
dreadfully: first, in 1795, by a fire, which con-
sumed nearly one-third of it — fortunately the worst
part — since which it has been greatly embellished ;
so that, as with our own capital, perhaps good has
arisen from evil. But I fear no such consolatory
reflection can proceed from the second suffering -
occasioned by our bombardment in 1807- From all I
can observe, a deep-rooted enmity against England
has taken possession of the minds of the inha-
bitants, which nothing but her downfal can ever
eradicate ; nor is the attack of 1801 at all forgot-
ten. Every care is taken to keep alive the sense
of the severe injury inflicted upon their national
pride in both instances. In the former case, I
almost admire the national spirit which continues
to feel it, because circumstances!, which more
powerful nations were unable to control, obliged
her to throw herself into the arms of either France
or England ; and the latter could not have per-
manently protected her from the grasp of the former.
She may therefore be said to have been forced
into that unnatural alliance — an alliance which ul-
timately cost her the two brightest jewels of her
crown — Norway, and her navy — and, indeed,
almost her existence as an independent state.
Near Konigsberg he visited Labrafoss,
a celebrated fall : —
At the lower part of which the spray is so great,
that between noon and four o'clock, when the sun
is out, an uninterrupted rainbow is formed — a
phenomenon, said by the Norwegians to be met
with only there and at Naples. We were fortunate
in the day, and did not fail to enter the rainbow.
Speaking of Norway, as to the late an-
nexation of it to Sweden, he says, —
When dispassionately viewed, it must be allowed
to be the most advantageous union that could have
happened for the Norwegians. But the manner in
which it was conducted has hurt their national
pride ; and they vent all their spleen on England,
because, they say, the most heroic courage, which
they were about to display in defence of their in-
dependence, was rendered useless by starvation,
brought on by our blockading squadron — but for
which they would have defied the whole force of
Sweden and Denmark.
We do manage admirably, in gaining
the hatred of our neighbours : —
Norway may still he said, with the exception of
being governed by a Swedish viceroy, to be per-
fectly independent of Sweden, except for offices of
mutual benefit ; as the Norwegians possess the
constitution which they had framed for themselves ;
and as they have steadily resisted some alterations
proposed by the king. This constitution is very
democratic, and is framed with such a jealousy of
aristocracy, that, although there are only about
three noble families inline country (we believe only
two), yet, after the death of the present possessors
of the titles, and of any son born before the date
of it, the titles are to become obsolete.
The following remarks are worth at-
tending to : —
Until our late (I fear impolitic acts) for the pro-
tection of the Canadian timber trade, it was to
England that the Norwegians looked for the neces-
saries or the superfluities of life : and the truth of
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign*
19o
this observation is strongly marked by the fact,
that in every house you enter the furniture and
appurtenances, which are not new, are invariably
English ; while all which bear the stamp of recent
acquisition are as invariably Gorman or French.
The duties on Norwegian timber aie now made so
high, in order to protect the Canada trade, that it
is quite impossible for the Norwegians to find a
sale in our markets ; and these imposts are conse-
quently impolitic, because they drive the Norwe-
gian to seek, from other countries, where he can
sell his timber, those articles for which he before
looked exclusively to England; added to which,
this system weakens the attachment which they
have invariably felt towards us. The population
of Norway is stated at from /50,000 to 900,000.
On quitting Norway for Sweden, he
inspects the canal which completes the
chain of communication with the Baltic,
through West Gothland, and the lakes
Wenern and Wettern to the Trollhatten
Canal. The plans were drawn by an
English engineer, Mr. Tel ford. When he
had completed his undertaking-, Mr. T.
was asked by the Swedish government
whether he would not prefer an honorary
to a pecuniary reward, as if he did, the
king would invest him with the Order of
Vasa. Mr. T. replied, that he was a civi-
lian (this could not have been his word)
and money was what he worked for. They
gave him a thousand pounds — and even-
tually he got the order into the bargain.
At Stockholm he was introduced to the
king, and received without any parade
whatever. The king talked of naval mat-
ters, and of Lord Londonderry, whom he
thought not quite equal to Mr. Pitt, but
very nearly so ; — he was going out of
town, but hoped to see Captain Jones to
dinner on his return — which seems to have
been forgotten : —
From what I can discover of the public opinion
(says the author), the present king seems firmly
seated on his throne, and to reign in the affections
of his subjects— which I do not find to be so un-
equivocally extended t» his son. Indeed, when a
comparison is drawn between him and the son of
the ex-king, I think the decision is generally in
favour of the latter, and the preference is express-
ed, not without hints of his being supported by
Russia. The succession was guaranteed by Rus-
sia, before Bernadotte turned his arms against
France. But nous verrons.
The rank of nobility is conferred by the
king; but the titles, since 1813, descend
only to the eldest son. The nobility
amount to l,20i). But to shew, says the
author, how opposite interests will act,
while he is endeavouring to reduce them
in Sweden, he wishes, to increase them in
Norway, and in both cases he finds him-
self strongly opposed. There are four
orders of knighthood— upon which the
author sagaciously remarks — he cannot
help thinking such distinctions to be a
very happy mode of rewarding their sub-
jects, at the trifling cost of a few stars
and ribbands; besides, he adds, orders and
honourable employments inspire greater
emulation than pecuniary recompences,
as the man who looks only to the lucre of
gain as the reward of his heroism, will
very seldom perform any exalted action.
Yet I should be sorry, adds the author,
to see this system introduced into Eng-
land, because at all events, it would throw
into the hands of the government too great
a facility of making dependents. He need
be under no apprehensions — ibit, ibit eo
quo vis, qui zonam perdidit. Besides,
can he forget the extensions of the Order
of.the Bath ?
At Petersburgh the deposed royal family
of Georgia were present at a ball.
It consists of the queen, the widow of the Tzar
George Herachevitch, her two daughters, and two
sons. The princes were in a sort of Russo-Georgian
costume, and wearing daggers richly mounted. The
whole of the family appeared melancholy and un-
happy. They have precedence next to the imperial
family. But, deprived of liberty, where can hap-
piness be found ? Bondage is still bondage, how-
ever highly the chains be gilt —
with more of the same calibre. They have
been at Petersburgh ever since 1801.
And in the Crimea too, the writer met
with the grand-son of Krim Ghery, the
last khan of the Tartars. . We can but give
a glance at his singular story. The khan
himself accepted a pension and asylum at
Petersburg. The son disdaining submis-
sion fled to the Caucasus, where the grand-
son was born. At about the age of thir-
teen, this grand-son fell into the hands of
the Scotch Missionaries, who have long
been settled in that quarter — became a
Christian, and was renounced by his fa-
mily. At the emperor's expense he went
to Edinburgh, made considerable progress
at the University, and formed an attach,
ment to a Miss Nelson, the daughter of a
gentleman of that town. After a succes-
sion of difficulties of the most romantic
character they were married, and are now
settled in the Crimea at Akmetchet —
busied in forming schools, under the au-
spices of the emperor, and our Society for
the Propagation of Christian Knowledge.
The traveller reports, he does not get re-
paid for his outlays. The lady is still
very young; she has two children, the
eldest a boy. The husband addresses her
as the Sultana.
At Petersburg, and again at Moscow,
he encountered poor blind Mr. Holman.
Really that gentleman's friends should
keep him at Windsor. Notwithstanding
all his activity, his must ever be in a help-
less condition ; and as, wherever he goes,
he must be dependent upon others, he
should not be permitted thus to tax the
humanity of every quarter of Europe.
He is every where too — we ourselves the
other dav met him in Bond-street, and
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196
Monthly Review of Literature,
[AUG.
were nearly overturned by the violence of
the impetus with which he scoured along
the street,
We have no space left, or we should
quote the author's account of Old Platoff.
He has been dead some time. Of the two
ladies who left England with him nothing
could be learnt. His family seem to be
neither opulent nor powerful. The old
man himself lost much of his popularity
before his death — owing chiefly to his
subserviency to the emperor's wishes, and
to his attempt to abandon the old capital
on the Don, and form a new one. *The
author's accounts of the Crimea are by
far the best of the book; and those of
Oviodopol and Odessa are not without
interest.
The volumes conclude with a review
of the systems adopted by the different
powers of Europe for manning the navy,
compared with that of England. The
necessity of impressment at home is stre-
nuously insisted on — truly as if the case
were not perfectly plain — better pay, and
more liberal treatment would bring sailors
enough.
The Aylmers. 3 vols. I2mo; 1827 —
The production of a well-cultivated and
well-disposed mind, of a serious and mo-
ral cast — of one who has certain pru-
dential warnings to enforce, among others,
the guilt of taking young people out of
their station, and not providing for them ;
but more especially the woes and perils
attending the contempt of appearances,
and on the other hand the folly of sacri-
ficing comfort to appearances. Notwith-
standing the apparent opposition of these
latter objects, they do not in the least
jostle with each other; the appearances,
which the writer would have us despise,
are such as are incompatible with our for-
tunes and position in society ; and those
which are to be observed are moral ones,
the avoidance in short not only of evil,
but of the " appearance of evil." Instead
of conveying these very useful, though
not very novel lessons, in sermons, or
lectures, the writer embodies them in a
story, and where he cannot incorporate,
he appends, for the construction of a story
is manifestly not his forte. He will mend
however ; and in the meanwhile, the one
before us is far from being an unreadable
one.
A college friendship between two Ox-
onians—one the son of a wealthy 'squire,
the other of a country clergyman — brings
about something like a family intercourse.
The clergyman's wife and eldest daughter
are of the vulgarest description, but a
younger daughter is of a different and
softer mould — brought up by a lady of
rank, well educated and well introduced,
but finally forgotten in the will, and re-
turned on her parents1 hands — comfort-
less, uncongenial — like a fish out of water.
The whole family, rough and smooth ,
come up to the Commemoration, which
gives an opportunity for exhibiting a col-
lege scene or two, of no great novelty or
efficiency. Young Aylmer, the son of
wealth, is introduced, and a mutual liking
takes place between him and the parson's
beautiful and accomplished daughter. A
visit to the parsonage follows 5 the youth
offers marriage ; the young lady refuses
to enter a family which will probably
treat her with insolence; and he under-
takes to overcome the probable hostility
of his parents.
But in the meanwhile reports reach his
ears of his mother's improper conduct;
She had been for some time indeed flirt-
ing in a very extraordinary manner with
a young officer of the guards. Her son
feels it necessary to expostulate with her ;
she resents the expostulation — charges
him with his plebeian attachments — mis-
represents him to his father; and he is
suddenly driven from his paternal roof.
Luckily he has one poor £500 a year, in-
dependent of his family. With this pro-
vision, he persuades the vicar's charming
daughter — and she is charming — we are
ourselves more than half in love with her
— to accept him ; and they pass over to
the continent to live cheap. The £500
does not spin out well; they have soon a
considerable family; he grows dissatis-
fied ; the restraints imposed by his pitiful
income become intolerable ; but the lovely
girl is patient, soothing, and conciliating.
They come to England and reside at
Bath, where Aylmer shuns company, be-
cause he cannot entertain on equal terms,
and gets fretful again ; but by degrees
the admirable management of his wife
reconciles him to his condition ; they cut
dinners, and content themselves with
evening parties ; till at last he learns to
despise the luxuries that are beyond his
reach, and no longer to sacrifice comfort
to appearances.
By the time he is thus regenerated, and
fitted to live upon £500 a year, circum-
stances are paving the way for reconcilia-
tion with his father. That father had
been long deserted. His mother's cava-
lier— the young guardsman — as soon as
Aylmer was driven from home, changed
his tactics. He turned from the mother
to the daughter — with the view of marry-
ing her, and securing the old man's pro-
perty. The matron lady is of course en-
raged ; but not thinking the case a despe-
rate one, she resolves to draw him back,
and endeavours to pique his jealousy by
giving her smiles and attentions to -ano-
ther, and is unluckily caught in her own
trap. This new flirtation terminates fa-
tally; she commits herself — elopes — is
deserted, and finally sinks into deeper
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
197
degradation and ultimate beggary. The
guardsman marries the daughter, and gets
a will in his favour ; and then neglects the
lather.
By and by the old gentleman falls sick,
and is sent to Bath, where his son was
then residing. By sundry little contri-
vances on the part of their friends, the
son's wife — our favourite — is introduced
as his nurse; and reconciliation follows,
and the property, of course, in due time.
Through the whole tale, an entire fa-
miliarity with the ways of fashionable life
is either carefully implied, or ostenta-
tiously exhibited. This is become quite
an indispensable qualification — and of
course the great must soon write their
own tales. The silver forks are not for-
gotten—eating with a knife, &c. &c.
High-ways and By-ways; third Series,
3 vols. 12wo. 1827. — There is a large class
of writers of imagination, as they are
called, who are the most complete matter-
of-fact people in the world, and who ma-
nage to deceive themselves and others,
respecting the bent of their intellect so
grossly as they do, by the mere substitu-
tion of novel titles to their books, instead
of calling them openly and honestly by
the only name to which they can fairly
assert a right — namely, journals.
Among this class, however, are to be
found some few individuals, who, notwith-
standing that the predominant qualities of
their genius are essentially of the news-
paper kind, possess not only those quali-
ties in a very transcendent degree, but
many of the noblest properties of the hu-
man mind more abundantly than the gene-
rality of men. The writer of High-ways
and By-ways is a brilliant sample of his
tribe, whose general aim it is to throw a
dash of the romantic, as an auxiliary and
embellishment, into the narrative, but to
whom the task of constructing a story
wholly rooted in fiction, and relying upon
the creative soul alone, would be like that
of the poor Israelites — to make bricks
without straw. He possesses, neverthe-
less, very powerful claims upon our admi-
ration on many accounts. His descriptions
of scenery are occasionally magnificent,
and imbued with the fervid delight which
travellers may well feel in gazing on the
splendid operations of nature. His lan-
guage is at once correct, striking, felici-
tous— possessing an uncommon union of
vigour and fulness, and sometimes a few
sentences, and now and then a whole page,
bespeak a deeper philosophy than we at
first gave him credit for, till it burst sud-
denly upon us from the midst of his more
superficial excellencies ; — while the cha-
racters are by no means exceptionable on
the score of probability, but precisely
men and women of ordinary life — the very
heroes and heroines not wanting in the
shrewdness necessary to prevent their
walking into wells.
The Cagot's Hut — the best of the three
contained in this series — is a Spanish re-
miniscence. We will just glance over the
story, in order to introduce at its conclu-
sion an interesting scene, in the writer's
own vivid words. In 1822, our author
visits Spain, and wanders late in the au-
tumn over the Pyrenees, to behold on a
grand scale the decline of nature. Bril-
liant days, however, intervene, amid the
general decay. The army of observation
stretched along the mountains from sea to
sea, and filled the villages with French
soldiers. The expelled bands of the faith
were hovering about the borders, singly, or
in small detachments. The constitutional-
ists were collecting their forces in the same
vicinity, and enlivened the scene by fre-
quent skirmishes with the supporters of
the faith.
Our Englishman, not liking exactly the
promiseuous company of his hostelry at
Gedro ; and his appetite for the romantic
being awakened, by hearing that the
neighbourhood of the adjoining valley of
Heas, or rather the eminences that rise
around it, thronged with the huts of the
Cagot race, from whom the rest of the
world shrank away as from contagion,—
it comes into his English and heterodox
head that he would even take up his abode
for a while, among these loathed and de-
graded beings, for the sake of studying
their character — expecting, of course, to
find them angels in disguise.
These Cagots of the Pyrenees, we must
remind our readers, are precisely the cre-
tins of the Valais, and the cahets of Gui-
eune, and Gascony, and Bearne, and gene-
rally of the marshy lands of the west of
France. The Cagots, of whom we are
now speaking', exist in some of the gorges
of the Pyrenees in frightful numbers.
They are goitred, diseased, and stunted j
imbecile, mentally and bodily, and lying
under inexorable and iron disabilities,
arising from the prejudices of their fellow-
creatures. Even war, whose necessities
break through so many prejudices, had
not rendered the dwellings of these chil-
dren of misery less objects of aversion
and disgust, or mitigated the caution, with
which they were universally shunned.
Our hero is, therefore, very happily fur-
nished with an opportunity, delightful to
John Bull, of ascertaining and proving,
by personal inspection, that an inter-
course with the Cagot worthies would not
only be very tolerable, but absolutely a
thing to be desired by all parties ; and,
although the rest of the world for ages
had instinctively agreed upon the pro-
priety of leaving them to themselves, he
would not have it so ; but they must come,
198
Monthly Review of Literature,
[AUG.
along with the negroes, into a common
fraternity with ourselves. So he takes an
unwilling boy from the inn at Gedro, and
descends into the vale of Heas j and hav-
ing learnt from his guide the direction to
a Cagot hut on the hills, he dismisses him.
This hut belonged to a woman of the mise-
rable race, whom he had himself that
morning relieved at the inn — where she
had presented herself at the door, not dar-
ing to go further, to purchase provisions,
or obtain alms.
He is surprised that his unexpected pre-
sence excites confusion in the old woman's
hut ; and that, between herself and a
daughter — one of the same miserable
pieces of deformity — symptoms of alarm
are reciprocated, which indicate to his
penetration, proceedings of a clandestine
nature, rather than the stupid imbecility
he had been led to expect. He is ill, how-
ever, with a growing fever, and must be
taken in. His wants are kindly supplied ;
he is put to bed in an astonishingly com-
fortable room, and attended with steady,
but reserved assiduity by the old woman
and her daughter. His fever increases ;
he doses and watches by turns j and in
the middle of the night is startled, by
hearing two voices in the adjoining room ;
he gets curious — peeps through a crevice,
or the door is a jar — we forget which —
beholds a gay Spanish gentleman and a
beautiful lady in deep discourse together,
and is thrown into a sea of conjectures —
political intriguers ?— lovers ? — or both ? —
JST0 more sleep for him that night ; but
the lady and gentleman, alarmed by the
symptoms of vigilance in the sick man,
very soon withdraw, and the lady retreats
into an inner room of the hut. When the
morning comes he worries the poor cagot
girl, till he learns from her something of
the secret, though his disgust augments
every moment as he thinks of her defor-
mity, and goitred neck — constantly avert-
ing his eyes — and contrasts it with the
lovely form he had stealthily beheld the
night before. His curiosity — only to be
gratified by the object of his aversion —
becomes uncontrollable ; by degrees he
extracts from her some particulars, and at
last, after receiving the benefit of his
protection against an intruding visitor,
who insists on searching the lady's cham-
ber, her gratitude leads her to be more
explicit, and finally she promises the gen-
tleman himself shall visit him, and confirm
her account.
The gentleman is Don Melchior, the
patriot. The ludy is a young French
woman, of ancient family, whohasfled from
her inflexible parents to marry him j and
in this cagot hut is keeping her conceal-
ment, and receiving his visits till the cere-
mony can be solemnized, which alone can
place her beyond the reach of parental
power. They are still in peril, Don Mel-
chior's life at the momentary mercy of
the straggling parties of the faith, one of
whom — a pretended patriot — was watch-
ing his opportunity to assassinate him.
The description of the various military
parties that moved or sojourned along the
hills and vallies, commanded by the Ca-
got's Hut, are very striking ; and a skir-
mish between the constitutionalists and
theiropponentsisspirhedly sketched. Mel-
chior, the patriot hero, the conqueror, is
moving along towards the hut, watched by
onr Englishman, and also by the Cagot
girl, deputed, as it seemed, by the lady
within. His own victorious bands at a
little distance are gazing on him too ; but
no one of all who watch the hero at that
moment, is near enough to prevent — what
all too plainly see — an assassin lurking in
the way side, and taking steady aim at his
bosom.
Don Melchior came quickly on with light and
unsuspicious step, .and the firm, yet cautious tread
of the murderer fell unheard behind him, on the
mossy slope he traversed. The moment I per-
ceived his perilous situation I shouted with all my
might, at once to warn him, and scare the as-
sassin ; but he looked up towards me, and re-
turned the shout with a joyous expression, for the
welcome he supposed it to convey ; and the un-
ruffled assassin, only raised his arm the higher that
the blade it wielded might more steadily fall upon
his destined prey.
Joined to my shout, a piercing scream burst
from the path close to my side, and the hood of
the Cagot girl hung floating from behind that
beauteous head, whose thick curled ringlets I
could not fail to recognise, as a light form bound-
ed past me. Don Melchior stood for a moment
transfixed by surprise, at the sounds of alarm, and
at the same instant Passepartout and his men,
catching the figures of the hero and his assassin,
which the rock had till then concealed, joined
in the loud and terrified signal which I and the
frantic girl had raised. Don Melchior, startled
and perplexed, just turned his head half round
when Sanchez, with one fierce exclamation, " We
have met!" plunged his murderous knife with a
downward slope, into the hero's side. Don Mel-
chior tottered from him, and was falling — when I,
with an instinctive effort, raised my gun to my
shoulder, and having covered the villain, was in
the act of putting my finger to the trigger, when
a flash from Sarjeant Passepartout's carbine, ar-
rested the movement, and before the report reach-
ed my ear, the coward lay writhing on the earth
in the agonies of an immediate and far too easy
death.
How often, in the course of this recital, have I
wished that my pen could fly across the page, and
trace, in words of flaming speed, thoughts and
events as rapid and as hot as the lightning. But
now I seem to wish a long and lingering pause :
for how describe the accumulated burst of feelings
which followed the assassin's stroke I " To fall
thus!" was, I believe, the bitter thought that
struck all those who saw and who could think.
The gallaut comrades of his glory, the astonished
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
199
and delighted witnesses of his courage, his own
troops, Passepartout and his soldier?, and myself,
all saw and felt no doubt alike. But there was
one among us yet who felt herself at that moment
as alone in life, and whose heart appeared to be
pierced by the stroke so steadily aimed at her
lover's. She had force to fly to the spot, suc,h
force as makes the body writhe when severed from
existence. She reached her lover, wild, scream,
ing, and exhausted. He had fallen to the ground,
and with out-stretched arms he received the beau-
teous form which sunk upon his, to staunch with
senseless weight his wide and gushing wound. I
was in a moment one of the group that surrounded
this pair, of whom we could scarcely imagine which
was the nearer to death.
The mixed feelings of grief, astonishment, and
horror, agitated every by-stander around me, but
in addition to these I had to suffer that wild and
still incredulous conviction that made me certain of
the fact discovered to me, but doubtful of my own
intellect.
The female before me was, i saw it, the Cagot
girl. Her dress, her height, her whole appear-
ance left no possibility of doubt, but her form of
symmetry, her face of beauty, how could these be
there? and when, with a convulsive spasm, she
tore open the firm-clasped capulet, and exposed
her neck and heaving, bosom, what was my amaze-
ment to see, instead of the gross deformity I had
in fancy loathed, perfection that might invite a
sculptor's hand, and make his heart thrill as he
gazed.
I hastily threw her cloak and hood over this rich
field of beauty, which I felt to be already violated
by the rude yet admiring stare of the astonished
observers.
Reuben Apsley, ly the author of Bram-
lletye House, fyc. 3vols. 12mo. 1827.— Sir
Walter Scott must learn to bear a rival near
the throne. His cotemporaries are already
beginning to pay a divided allegiance. They
think, and apparently with justice, Horace
Smith is second, and only second, to the once
sole monarch. What another generation may
think of either, we have scarcely any crite-
rion for determining ; since, even as cotem-
poraries, we see the most admired produc-
tions through a glass darkly.
Reuben Apsley exists, through the first
half of the book as a person at a distance,
operating remotely upon the movements of
others, without being himself conspicuous on
the scene. He is represented successively as
a boy at school, as a youth at the university,
and as an inmate at the house of his uncle
Goldingham, a retired London citizen, and
preserves through all these changes the same
unobtrusive aspect.
Mr. Goldingham was a tallow and hemp
merchant, in the grumbling times of James
II. All his enterprises had been successful,
and had gradually swelled his fortune to a
bulk, which, from the variety of his invest-
ments, and the alarming condition of public
affairs, occasioned its owner incessant and
peace-destroying fears. He resolves there-
fore to exchange his exchequer bonds, and
India stock, into a solid estate in land ; and,
washing himself quite clean of London smoke,
becomes a constituent portion of a neigh-
bourhood—Mr. Goldingham of Goldingham
Place — the fortunate correspondence of name
being the influencing motive for the purchase.
So many ' dirty acres' were attached to
this « place,' besides illimitable wealth re-
ported to be still lodged in paper securities,
that his welcome reception in the neighbour-
hood was general, although one or two fine
ladies took fright at the name of tallow-
merchant, and betook themselves to tbeir
salts at his approach. Traps were at first
laid for detecting his city-breeding ; but he
triumphantly and dexterously evaded them
all. He is, indeed, the very beau-ideal of
a London merchant of the old school, and a
gentleman — recognising those self-same prin-
ciples which, in the best acceptation of the
term, constitute the gentleman of every pe-
riod, integrity, self-possession, boldness,
politeness, gentleness, generosity.
This person is Reuben's uncle and guardian.
Reuben's parents were supposed to have pe-
rished on their voyage to India. Years had
elapsed without any tidings of their destiny }
and Reuben was regularly installed at Gold-
ingham Place, as his uncle's heir, when sud-
denly Monmouth's invasion threw all the
west into disorder.
A detachment from the rebel army, headed
by a college acquaintance of Reuben's, was
one morning observed by the young gentle-
man, riding up to his uncle's house. He
walks forward to meet them, and recognizes
his friend, who, alighting from his horse,
takes his arm, and informs him, that the sole
purpose of their visitation was to relieve his
uncle of some cannon, which were mounted
on two towers in the grounds. Reuben
sagely surmises that it will be better to re-
move the cannon, without troubling Mr.
Goldingham for an acquiescence, which he
might deern it bis duty to withhold. The
men set to work at dismantling the towers of
the peteraroes, and their commander employs
the interval in bringing over Reuben to the
same desperate cause, and succeeds ; but
Reuben, nevertheless, considerate for his un-
cle's neck, while putting his own into jeo-
pardy, takes care the whole transaction shall
be witnessed by one of the domestics, who is
charged to testify to his uncle's entire inno-
cence.
After the battle of Sedgemoor, he becomes
a proscribed fugitive, roosting in trees, bur-
rowing in holes, and starving on whortle-ber-
ries, beleaguered by dogs and soldiers, and
nearly done out of life by these and similar
harassings. After long brooding over his
desperate condition, he comes to the resolu-
tion of seeking his uncle's house again ; and
accordingly turning thitherward his midnight
and stealthy steps, he learns, indirectly, from
a wayfaring man, that Goldingham Place is
actively beset by soldiers, on suspicion of its
affording an asylum to the traitor nephew,
and of course is no safe retreat for him.
Daylight is at hand, and shelter must be
200
i
,ound. The only one within his reach is u
deserted wood- house, in Lord Trevanion's
grounds. Unluckily this Lord is an ultra-
royalist, whom nothing would better please
than unearthing- Reuben, and bringing his
head to the block. But what can he do?
Poking about, however, for a convenient nook
to sleep the day away, he discovers a flight
of rubbish by steps, leading up to a lady's
summer bower. This bower is the frequent
resort of the Misses Trevanion, and was now
speedily visited by Adeline, the eldest ; a
thoughtless, conceited, romantic, but good-
natured young lady, who, buried in the coun-
try, and unsought, was sighing for nothing so
much as a concealed knight;. Her solilo-
quies tempt him to discover himself. She, as
may be imagined, is perfectly intoxicated
with vanity, in being the depository of a life
and death secret, and construes all his warm
thanks, for the good dinners she daily brings
him, into professions of burning love. Her
father, Lord Trevanion, was not only, as we
said, a violent royalist, but a close attendant
also upon court, and greedy for influence ;
cold, morose, and severe to boot ; and never
visiting his wife and daughters, except when
political or other business calls him to Dor-
setshire for a few days— he might be coming
too any day. Adeline, therefore, was fully
aware of the hazard of any conduct that
might lead to discovery ; but, finding herself
unequal to the keeping of so dangerous a
secret — not daring to confide it to her mother,
and not content with telling it to the rushes
(which do not babbie in these days), she
makes her sister Helen the recipient of her
love affair — for such she chooses to consider
Reuben's forced residence in the wood-house.
Helen, quite the antipodes of Adeline —
all prudence, refenue, and fidelity — hears
the story with unspeakable dismay ; seeing,
at a glance, how fatally the loyalty of the
whole family of the Trevanions might be
compromised by her sister's folly, she ex-
acts a promise from her not to go again alone
to the wood-house, and engages herself to
go with her the next visit — resolving to pre-
cipitate Reuben's departure. But she is pre-
vented.
Lord Trevanion announces bis intention
of coming down shortly to give judge Jeffe-
ries a splendid dinne^ in honour of his butch-
ering judicial campaign, it behoving all can-
didates for court favour, be thought, to ack-
nowledge the nation's obligation to so deter-
mined a servant of the crown. Captain Tre-
vanion arrives moreover with a troop of
horse, and Adeline is suddenly compelled in
her sister's absence, to bring Reuben for
safety into the very house. Other emergen-
ces totally cut off escape ; and the sisters are
driven to the desperate expedient of getting
him taken into the family as a butler. The
most interesting part of the book now comes
on ; and agitating scenes, arising out of the
tremendous peril incurred by the protection of
the fugitive.
The dinner draws nigh. Jefferies arrives,
Monthly Review of Literature^
[AUG.
with Colonel Kirke and the royalist gentle-
men of the county, and most unexpectedly
Goldingham himself. Poor Reuben is ha-
rassed to death. He is, of course, awkward
in bis new vocation ; the assembled butlers
and waiters — pretty numerous on so splendid
an occasion — unanimously grumble and
abuse ; while he, poor fellow, is compelled
not only t <> bear these trials of cruel mock-
ings, but to keep his attention alive, and pur-
sue his official duties collectedly, through the
frequent mention of his own name, and many
a brutal threat from Jefferies, insultingly and
emphatically addressed to Goldingham across
the table, that his nephew's head should
grace the ball-door of Goldingham Place, as
soon as he could be caught.
Soon, however, Reuben was obliged to
quit his fair protectresses, but not before he
surrenders his heart wholly to Helen's
charms. Adeline, however, persists in re-
garding him as her own dear knight ; and
for many months afterwards, during his ab-
sence, his subsequent capture, his escape from
prison, long after his return from Holland ou
the publication of the amnesty, and finally,
through his many visits to her father's house,
when his attentions to Helen were of too
marked a nature not to undeceive anything
but a fool. London, however, cures her ; and
shortly, from natural caprice, she thinks of
him as one that had never been : so that
Helen, whose generosity had prompted her to
refuse Reuben's offers, on the ground of her
sister's affection, had to repent at leisure, for
making sacrifices for one who had neither
head nor heart.
The suit at last begins again ; but Lord
Trevanion must be gained. All heroines
demand papa's consent at first. Papa says
decidedly, no. So, like Cecilia and Delville,
they are obliged to do with only mamma's.
Still the fates are awkward — spinning —
spinning on, for the sake of a third volume,
that is yet hardly begun. A cousin, whose
life he has repeatedly saved, falls desperately
in love with Helen, and becomes, of course,
an ingrate, and a villain, and plots impedi-
ments. A neighbouring squire, too, sanc-
tioned by her father, demands her hand, and
being refused, prepares to kidnap her. Nay,
Reuben himself is kidnapped by a party of
Whigs in a cave, where he had unluckily
heard them hatching more conspiracies ;
and not being able to convince them that he
had himself been in the mess, and was and
is as great a traitor as themselves, is just
sent over to Holland for a sail, while the
truth of the statement is inquired into. All
these things delay the marriage — but at last,
of course, it does take place, and the vo-
lumes end.
To turn for a moment from the tale to its
execution. The style is leisurely and nervous,
resulting from an union of very strong com-
mon-sense and moral feeling — a faculty of
accurate delineation, and a stern determina-
tion to make a book of it — that determi-
nation being the rallying point, to which
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
201
he summons Ms many powerful talent*. He
does uot write a novel, because a novel will
come into his head, but because he Las
said, ' I will write novels — weigh me, I
am as heavy ; conjure me, Brutus can start
n spirit as soon as Caesar, tfec.,' or, as per-
chance, some blacksmith looking on at a
game of quoits, begins slowly to sympathize
with 'the movements of the players, and
awakening from a dream of admiration at
the dexterity of the chief performer, looks
down upon his own muscular arms, and
carrying his ponderous strength quietly and
modestly towards the spot, plays too — and
matches the' winner.
The plot is somewhat deficient in com-
pactness and proportion. A long, long epi-
sode about Reuben's dead parents, whom
we know only by report, and care not a
straw about, and who are clearly only intro-
duced at all, in order to keep up a running
threat that he will go to India in pursuit of
them, is too impertinent to be read. We
sought the conclusion of it in vain ; and
found, to our vexation, (hat one short chap-
ter was all that remained of the text, alter
that history came to a close. But, if the
construction of the plot be exceptionable,
the characters bear witness to the master's
hand. Never do they come short of our
expectation, or deviate from it. Goldine;-
ham is excellent ; so is Timothy, the coach-
man ; so is Squire Hartfield ; so is Sir Har-
court Slingsby ; and so, to admiration, is
Jefferies. Yet we do not surrender all our
souls to the book, nor does the story hang
about our memories, like a song that has
enchanted us. How is this ? Because the
writer is not head and ears in love with his
own story.
MONTHLY THEATRICAL REPORT.
THE summer theatres are now making
their best and pleasantest efforts. The
Haymarket has brought into the field
probably as strong a company as the pre-
sent state of the stage can fairly muster ;
and the activity of the manager and the
fecundity of the habitual authors of the
house are put in full requisition. These
are the true secrets of popularity after all ;
and there is no instance where that de-
fi-rence for public opinion, which makes a
manager exert himself to his utmost, is not
fairly recompensed by the audience Lis-
ton's temporary secession from the com-
pany is a formidable loss. There may
h«ve been more genuinely dramatic come-
dians, or happier limners of the slight and
delicate pleasantries of the high comedy, or
more vigorous and susceptible deliverers
of manly dialogue ; but our time has not
Seen Listen's superior in that interme-
diate style between the breadth of farce
and the interest and strength of comedy,
of which Mr. Poolers writings are the mo-
del. Listou has his obvious faults : he runs
too rapidly into caricature j he indulges
tuo freely the gallery propensity to laugh
at his grimace and contortions of counte-
nance j he too frequently forgets the
stage, and carries" on an interchange of
burlesque with the audience ; — but in his
range of character he is, for the liirie, with-
out an equal. Reeve, his successor, has
pa'pable humour, great adroitness of
VO.C3 and gesture, and — so far as imitation
goes — is perhaps the best mimic on the
stage. Bui he by no moans fills up a bar-
ren part with the richness and variety of
Listou. He suffers the laugh to die — he
svitFers the jest to go off- — nnsustained by
the living comment of countenance. The
plaasau;ry is uttered, and well uttered j
but the whole art of bye-play— that then-'
J1M. New Series.— VuL.IV. Ni>.20.
trical and visible echo of the author's wit
— is yet. to be learned by this performer.
His adoption of Listen's character is pro-
bably the result of higher orders ; but this
adoption must always be unlucky for an,
original actor, as Reeve is. It obviously
compels him either to imitate, for the i-ake
of similar popularity, — or, to take a dif-
ferent view of the character, for the sake
of establishing his own claims. But the
little Haymarket performances are not ca-
pable of this subdivision ; they have not
depth enough for true actors to float in,
without striking across each other. There
may be two Charles Surfaces, or two Lord
Oyltbys ; but there can be but one Paul
Pry — and that one is already Listou.
A very pretty performance, "The Ren
centre, or Love will find out the Way,'*
has been produced by Mr. Plauche, aa
ingenious writer, whose powers are evi-
dently improving, and who increases the
public interest in his productions by the
strict absence of all that can offend public
propriety. His '' Rencontre" is a little
bank tissue of pleasant improbabilities —
for which, however, the latitude of the
stage allows. Madame de MerreiUe, a
young Parisian widow — and a very hand-
some and graceful one, as personated by
Miss E. Tree— molested by the passion of
an absurd Major Moustache, leaves the
capital for her uncle's chateau. Stopping
to change horses, she finds at the inn her
brother, in full flight from the<r/e«.v-cf«r/Hes,
sent to seize him for having* shot his adver-
sary in a duel. His horse has broke downr
and he has no resource but to adopt the
expedient of Madame Soulrefte — name-,
ly, to take the horse of a gentleman who
happens to be in' the hotel. He writes a
line, promising to leave the horse at the.
Chateau, awl begging the geulleaian to
2 D
202
Mont /ily Theatrical Report.
[Aua.
take a scat in madame's carriage so far.
The gentleman, Colonel de Courcy, is, by
a fair stage coincidence, the very indi-
vidual whom somo match-making old
countess had been proposing as a husband
for Madame; until the parties, without
having seen each other, but sick of the
eternal subject, had expressed themselves
in terms of mutual dislike. Madame, of
course, cannot bring herself to tell her
hated name ; but the thought strikes her,
that, as the Colonel is by no means the
formidable object she thought him, it
might not be unamusing to try how far he
could learn to overcome his horror of Ma-
dame dc Merrci/le in the person of his
conductress. At this moment, her uncle
passing in his chariot, sees her, and stops
at the inn. How is she now to account for
the Colonel'saccompanyingher, withoutat
the same time betraying her brother's im-
prudence ? — the old Baron having the
strongest antipathy to the name of a duel-
list. The Soubretfe (Vestris) strikes on
the curious expedient of announcing the
Colonel as Madame's husband, under the
name of Major Moustache, with whose
addresses the Baron had been made ac-
quainted. The Colonel, astonished but
amused, is invited to the chateau. His
scorn of the sex has rapidly given way to
a liking for this pretty woman. She is
charmed with him, yet afraid of startling
him by the disclosure of her name. At the
chateau he sees her conversing with her
brother, and grows furiously jealous of
the stranger. The uncle, surprised at the
obvious reserve on both sides, concludes
that there has been some idle quarrel, and
insists on their behaving in a more lover-
like manner. The embarrassment of both
increases. At this moment comes the real
Major, whom the Baron treats as an im-
postor; a treatment which the Major fu-
riously resents, threatening to retort with
such personal indignity, that this anti-
duellist gets into a rage, seizes a pistol,
and is about to fight ; when, in the critical
moment, all the party corne in — the Baron
fs pleasantly laughed at — the Major is
reconciled — the Colonel and Madame are
made happy — the Soubrette and the Va-
let propose to marry — and the whole ends
with a song.
This plot, slight and rapid as it is, is yet
of the exact texture for a summer theatre.
The dialogue is neat and pointed ; the mu-
sic (by Bishop) is, on the whole, of a supe-
rior quality to that of petite opera ; and
the characters are as well sustained as even
fastidious criticism would desire. Miss
E. TreeTs performance of Madame Mer-
reille is one of the most graceful and
finished that we have seen. She looks the
gentlewoman ; her foreign air is excel-
lently preserved, yet without running into
that caricature which so strongly tempts
the general performer. Her style of dress,
her manner, and her acting are equally
appropriate ; and without giving any ex-
travagant praise to either her talents or
her beauty, we must say that she has fully
established her claim to be one of the
hopes of the drama. Vestris is, of course,
the Soubrctte, and clever and popular as
usual. She carries on the intrigue of the
piece with true French dexterity — is never
at a loss — never loses her vivacity — and
continues to the last a favourite with the
audience. Cooper, as the Colonel, plays
the sentimentalist like the intelligent ac-
tor that he is; but we much doubt his taste
in costume. We, in the first place, doubt
whether any colonel in France, or other-
wise, travelling for his amusement, would!
so far trespass on the king's uniform, as to
wear his regimental pantaloons at inns, by
road-sides, love-making, &c. His military
belt is a glittering affair 'tis true — but he
may rely upon the fact, that no officer
ever wore such off parade. The round
hat on the top of all is a fearful anomaly.
We have even some conscientious hesita-
tion as to scarlet being any part of the
uniform of a chasseur; it certainly is not
of an infantry chasseur, he being green
from top to toe ; — nor, we believe, of any
horse chasseur in the service of the Grand
Monarque. Besides, we could have be-
lieved him to be a colonel on his word,
and with a total independence of the plun-
der of his garrison wardrobe. Laporte,
as the Valet, plays more effectively than,
hitherto. The part allows of broken Eng-
lish in abundance ; and that is the only
English which this lively Frenchman will
ever speak as long as he exhibits in this
world. Farren, in the old J5aron, is in his
element. The stage has no such old man.
Yet he would do well to correct some of
the youthful propensities which the Baron
ought to have laid aside at his time of life.
The scene with the Soubrctte is more
amusing to the galleries than to any other
part of the house, and more suitable to
the meridian of Paris and the habits of old
Parisian barons, than to London, and the
public decorum of the London actor. The
" Rencontre" has been repeated, with-
out intermission, since its first night, and
deserves to be repeated.
The Lyceum, under the conduct of its
very active and gentlemanlike manager,
Mr. Arnold, is going on with great acti-
vity. " Arthur and Emmeline," a revival j
" the Cornish Miners," a characteristic
pleasantry, by Peake, who is attaining re-
putation as a farce-writer ; " The Oracle,"
and some other performances of a lighter
cast, have been brought forward in quick
succession.
The winter theatres are preparing.
Drury Lane, already possessed of a good
comic company, has made a capital en-
"Montfdy Theatrical Report.
203
gagement in Jones — an actor perhaps
among the liveliest and the most judicious
that the modern stage has seen. Personal
respectability, in this instance, gives its
aid to public talent ; and every man who
feels for the character of the theatres will
be gratified by the continuance of this
estimable man and most animated per-
former on the London stage. Mr. Price is
also, we understand, labouring to secure
the superiority in opera. With Paton and
Braham, he has two first-rate public fa-
vourites. But we should be glad to hear
of his engaging Sinclair also, who has
been too long absent, and whose powers
are still in their full vigour. With these
three, all competition must give way to
Drury Lane.
Covent Garden is said to have engaged
Kean, and at the enormous rate of fifty
pounds a night. We feel too strong an
interest in the prosperity of the drama,
not to hope that the report is exaggerated.
Enormous salaries have been the acknow-
ledged evil of these establishments ; and
what can be expected from the popularity
of any actor in plays which the public
have seen, without intermission, for the
last dozen years. A new tragedy, written
with the ability that would enable it to
keep possession of the stage ; or, still more,
a new comedy — not plundered from the
Continent, but written in the genuine style
of English good-breeding and English
good-humour — would be of more value to
even the pecuniary interests of the theatre
than any individual, be his merits what
they may. Kean will, it is true, always be
popular and powerful, while he takes the
common trouble to be so. Young is a fine
performer — and Charles Kemble still with-
out a rival in his peculiar line of parts.
But novelty and originality are the secrets
of stage-success ; and without these, the
most established favouritism must end in
repulsion.
PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.
DOMESTIC.
ROYAL SOCIETY.
May 3. — A paper was read, entitled,
"' Rules and Principles for determining the
dispersive ratio of Glass, and for computing
the radii of curvature for Achromatic Object
Glasses," submitted to the test of experiment,
by Peter Barlow, Esq.— May 10. Some ob-
servations were communicated, on the effects
of dividing the nerves of the lungs, and sub-
jecting the latter to the influence of voltaic
electricity, by Dr. Wilson Philip. — A paper
was also read, " on the change in the plu-
mage of some hen pheasants,'' by W. Yar-
rell, Esq. From which it appears to be a
general law that, where the sexes of animals
are indicated by external characters, these
undergo a change, and assume a neutral ap-
pearance, whenever original malformation,
subsequent disease, or artificial obliteration,
has deprived the sexual organs of their true
influence.
ASTRONOMICAL SOCIETY.
May 11. — A paper was read, on tbe ap-
proximate places and descriptions of 29,5
new double and triple stars, discovered in the
course of a series of observations, with a
twenty- feet reflecting telescope ; together
with some observations of double stars, pre-
viously known, by the president, J. F. W.
Herschel, Esq. Some imperfect observations
made at the observatory of Bombay, on
moon-culminating stars, \vere communicated
from Mr. Curwin. Then followed a paper,
on the determination of azimuths, by obser-
vations of the pole star, by professor Littrow,
director of the imperial observatory at
Vienna. A communication was then read
from G. Dollond, Esq., in which he gave an
account of a singular appearance observed
during the solar eclipse, on the 29th of No-
vember last. The morning was cloudy, but
soon after the commencement of the eclipse
there was a partial opening in the clouds,
through which Mr. D. saw a considerable
part of the limb of the moon, which had not
yet .entered on the disc of the sun. Con-
tinuing his observations, after a short time
as the clouds passed on, he again saw both
the sun and a portion of tbe moon's border,
which was off the nun's disc. The sky then
became cloudless, and he could no longer
discern any part of the moon's limb, except
that which eclipsed the sun. This unexpected
occurrence, Mr. D. thinks, may be turned to
advantage, as it seems to show that the re-
duction of the sun's light, by the intervention
of an opaque substance, may enable an oTj-
server to see the moon when she is very near
the sun. A letter was then read from Mr.
Reeves of Canton, describing a comet which
had been seen at sea, in October J&25, be-
tween y Eridani, and n Caeti, and another
from M. Gambart to the president, contain-
ing new elements of the comet which tra-
versed the sun's disc, in November 1826.
FOREIGN.
INSTITUTE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.
Paris. — April 23 .—A letter was read from
M. Darnaud, who mentioned that, from timo
immemorial, in part of Greece, deep incisi-
ons under the tongue had been employed,
and generally regarded as efficacious against
hydrophobia—- referred to M. M. Portal and
Majendie. A communication was made by
M. Arago, from professor Delpech, regarding
ammoniacal and cyanogen gases, and sul-
2D2
201
Proceed' nigs oj Lettnied Societies.
phuric and LyJrosulphuric acids, which depart
from Mariotte's law the more, the nearer they
are to their point of liquefaction, and hydro-
gen gas, which, compressed by thy weight of
twenty atmospheres, was in sensible agree-
ment with the air. A favourable report was
delivered by M. M. Latreille an.l Dumeril,
oh a memoir of M. Leon Dufour, entitled
Anatomical Researches on the Labidoiui
(tails with pincers), preceded by some con-
siderations on the establishment of a parti-
cular order for these insects. M. Bouvurd
presented a memoir, on the meteorological
observations made at the observatory of Paris :
and a paper was read by M.B. Schlickh, on
the Thames Tunnel. — 30. M. Arago com-
municated a note of M. Savary, on the sounds
produced by a plate, placed at an orifice,
from which a current of aeriform gas is escap-
ing. Ou a report of M. M. Vauquelin and
Chevreul, the thanks of the academy were
pro He red to M. Moiin, an apothecary, at
Rouen, for the communication he had made
to them on the subject of a concretion, found
in the brain of a human subject. M. M.
Poinsot, Ampere, and Cauchy, delivered a re-
port on a memoir of M. Roche, relative to
the rotation of a solid body round "a fixed
point, as its centre of gravity — the results had
been previously known. M. Poisson read a
paper on the rotation of the earth —May 7.
M. de Freycinet read an extract from a letter
of M.M. Quoy and Gaimard, dated Port Jack-
son, December 4, 1826, stating that they
were about to forward a memoir and some
drawings. M. Arago communicated a me-
moir he had received from M. Broussingault,
on the composition of native argentiferous
gold. M. Moreau.de Jonnes read a memoir
OH venomous serpents, brought alive from
foreign countries — when M. Majendie re-
marked that the employment of cupping is
limited in its effects, and insufficient of itse
to counteract the effect of their bite. M. Cas"
sioi, president of the royal court of Paris*
was elected into the academy, in the place
of the Duke de la Rochefoucault. A very
highly complimentary report was made by
M. M. Arago and Dupin, on " A Course of
Mechanics applied to Machines," by Cap-
tain Poncelet, of the engineer.*. It would
have been inserted in the collections of the
academ3T, had not the minister of war pro-
vided for its more unlimited circulation. Con-
formably to the wish of the minister of the
interior, a commission had been appointed
to investigate the facts relating to the death
of Mr. Drake, who had died by the bite of a
rattle-snake at Rouen ; it was proposed that
no venomous animals of that class should be
allowed to enter France, and adopted with
certain limitations. — '14. M. Arago read a
letter addressed to him by M. Despretz, in
which the latter recounted some experiments,
designed to prove that the compression of
liquids constantly gives rise to a sensible de-
gree of heat — water under a pressure of
twenty atmospheres evolved 0.015 of a de-
gree. He also read an extract from a me-
moir of M. M. de la Rive and Marcet, of
Geneva, on the specific heat of gases, which,
according to them, is the same in all the
gases subjected to the same pressure. M.
Clever de Muldigny read a memoir on the
breaking of stones in the bladder. Having
undergone the operation of cutting seven
times, he resolved to have the stones broken,
which was done with perfect success, by M.
Civiale, who himself announced that, 01
forty-three patients upon whom he had ope-
ra ted, forty-two were radically cured, without
the treatment being accompanied by any dis-
tressing accident.
VARIETIES, SCIENTIFIC AND MISCELLANEOUS.
"Receipt for a Croonian Lecture. — RUMMAGE among old papers, especially If
bequeathed by a deceased relation, for some crude conjecture; upon said crude con-
jecture build a wild hypothesis; take from any subject, dead or living- — brute-beast
or Christian — whatever is so disgusting as to deter all otber examiners ; get a young-
surgeoivto prepare, and an old one to describe it; g'o to the seer who descries invisi-
bles, and, when told what you want to support your hypothesis, he will be sure to dis-
cover it ; cause his discoveries to be pourtrayed by one skilful artist, and engraved by
another ; destroy the old papers, instead of the hypothesis ; claim the latter as your
own, and it will form a proper lecture to be read to the Royal Society ; and then, with the
designs of one man — the engravings of a second, illustrating the ravagf-s of a third on
the departed genius of a fourth — by them to be communicated to Europe, as the ne
plus ultra of British physiology.
>Ve understand that, in practice, the obove receipt has been found perfectly unob-
jectionable. That it has not become obsolete, is best shewn by the Croonian Lecture
for 1S27, with which a correspondent has furnished us : —
Harper cries, >Tis time To work some crude conjecture;
And do it into rhyme For my next Croouian lecture.
Critics often prate (They sha'n't say so this season) — •
Your papers have of late Neither rhyme nor reason.
If I catch the train, Soon I'll mould and shape her :
Let UB thumb again Each musty spotted paper.
1827.]
205
Ha! I've hit the nail;
Tadpoles have a tail —
I'll run to Leicester-square,
Mv friends who sojourn there,
My worthy friend, explain us, is
Why have frogs bare anuses,
I've a friend at hand
Then make us understand
The tadpole had a tail —
While frogs as seldom fail
He had a tail 'tis plain,
It could not cross his brain,
You see my sad distress — •
I've half a mind to guess
I have a friend, whose sight
He'll see whate'er is right,
Then give my friend aud me,
Tell us what to see,
Ha! 1 understand —
Honest friend, your hand— r
A way, away to the seer — •
I've such a bright idea — •
My hints when I revise,
Then we'll per. them as they rise,
I hate the labor limce —
His tail, so bright and slimy,
You see each vessel's play,
Quick — you see it — say?
Again thsn—fugit hora —
Invisible fine aura?
You see beside, I'm sure,
A soft, smooth aperture ?f
And hear a crepitation,
'Scaped Parry's observation?
The tail attenuated,
Like nutmeg gently grated?
You see it fast diminish,
Quick— quick — it's time to finish ?
But hold, my more than brother,
It strikes me that another
Bid this anomalous,
Its whole eft'ect produce
Or should we rather say,
In quite another way —
These doubts would best be met
Oh! could we catch the jet,
I'll think again of this,
We'll have the analysis
Then sketch away, unheeding
I'll draw up the proceeding :
I'll read it to the learned,
Will think the job well earned
Or if it double twenty
Their funds suffice in plenty,
A health then to the donors !
Such microscopic honours
I'll score it in my pot hooks ;
Frogs have but bare buttocks ! ! !
I know who'il see iny drift j
I'll ask them fora lift.
It hard to raise the veil,
While tadpoles have a tail?
With a microscopic eye j
What we ought to spy.
Nobody can doubt it —
To do as well without if.
And constantly employed it ;
I think, my friend, to void it.
Then teach me how to meet it ;— •
The wretches take and eat it !
I can very well depend on ;
Be it vessel, nerve, or tendon.
Give us but a thought •,
And we'll see It as we ought.
One word's as good as twenty— •
Verbum sapienti.
Summon all jour senses ;
Out with all your lenses !
I very often fast stick j
A utoschediastic.*
Critics, let them joke us ;
Fix kin the focus.
Each pulse's rise and fall ?
«' Yes—I see it all !"
You see a thin and small
« Yes— I see it all !"
From whence these vapours roll,
" Oh ! yes — 1 see the whole !"
Like what from Northern light
« I do — distinctly — quite!"
Its substance seems to lose,
" Yes — I see it does !"
Like ice before the sun ?
a Oh ! yes — I see its gone."
In writing what we've seen,
Doubt may intervene.
Gas-like elimination.
From mechanical abrasion?
It performed its execution,
By chemical solution ?
By an anal}' tic trial •,
And stop it in a phial!
While you collect the vapour ;
In my next year's paper.*
Who your labour is to pay j
Then sketch— sketch away !
And never doubt the ninnies
At the price of twenty guineas. |]
For paper, plates, and printing,
For such experimenting.
Again shall never sly bore
Bear away as you and I bore.
, * An erudite word — for which see the prospectus to Valpy's Thesaurus,
f Totus teres atque rotund us. — Horace.
J Is there a mistake here ? For the Croonian Lectureship is annual — not perennial.
J " The Croonian Lecture, founded on the donation of Dame Mary Sadlier, the late relict of Dr.
Croone, of one-tifth of the clear rent of an estate on Lambeth-hill, in tLe possession of the College
of Physicians (producing to the society £3 per annum), for maintaining a lecture or discourse of
Jhe nature and property of local morion" [of a tadpole's tail, for instance]. — The Statutes of ths
Royal Society of London, made in the year 1823, p. 42.
2CK5
/ ~
Weiss's Stomach Pump. — In a late num-
ber of a respectable contemporary journal,
the Sporting Magazine, we savr an account
of a novel application of Weiss's Stomach
Pump, which cannot be too widely circu-
lated ; it was to a valuable mare, suffering
from inflammation of the bowels, on which
occasion a very large quantity of warm
soap suds were injected by this machine,
and a disease which frequently proves fatal,
completely removed. The construction of
this simple instrument, without valves, not
only prevents any liability to derangement,
but insures its efficacy in the hands of every
practitioner — two advantages which cannot
be claimed by any similar contrivance. The
same very ingenious artist has in prepara-
tion an apparatus for restoring suspended
animation, which, from its success upon the
brute creation, promises to be of infinite
value when applied to man. We shall here-
after give a detailed account of the process.
Columbus and his Discoveries. — Some
new documents relative to Columbus, have
recently been published by authority of the
Spanish government, by D. Martin Fernan-
dez de Navarrete, to whom access has been
allowed to all the archives of the govern-
ment, and of the most noble houses of Spain.
Among much that is curious and interesting,
we think the following remarks worthy of
insertion here, as setting at rest a question
which has given rise to much conjecture, viz.,
the island which Columbus first discovered
in America. He gave it the name of San Sal-
vador ; and it has generally been supposed
to be the island now called St. Salvador, or
Cat Island. The position of this island not
agreeing perfectly with the admiral's course
and description, Munoz conjectured that Wat-
ling's Island was the true Guanahani. But
Senor Navarrete adduces very strong reasons
for believing it to be the largest of the Turks
Islands. The course of Columbus, from Gua-
nahani, was continually west, from island to
island, till he arrived at Nipe in Cuba. Now
this fact is irreconcilable with the idea, that
Guanahani is Cat Island, which lies nearly
due north of Nipe. Beside, the great Ba-
hama bank, and a long chain of bays, called
Cayos de la Cadena, stretching between St.
Salvador and Cuba, interpose a most serious
obstacle to holding such a westerly course as
Columbus pursued. But by setting out from
Nipe, and proceeding in a retrograde direc-
tion along his course, as he very particularly de-
scribes it in his journal, we may easily trace
his path, and shall be convinced that Guana-
hani is no other than Turks Island. Add to
this, that his description of it accords exactly
with the latter, especially in the circumstance
of there being a large lake in the middle of
it. This point is perhaps of no great conse-
quence, but it is satisfactory to know pre-
cisely what spot in America was first revealed
to the eyes of Europeans.
Hindoo Dwarf. — An extraordinary dwarf
has recently been exhibited in India. His
came it Dhunna Ram ; he was born at Be-
[AUG.
goo Serai, district of Monghyr *, is of the
Baheliya caste, and forty-two years old. His
stature, from the sole of the foot to' the
crown of the head, is three feet one inch
and a-half high. He is well proportioned
throughout, and intelligent and pleasing in
his manner. Though so diminutive him-
self, his mother and father were of full
growth ; and he has four brothers and sisters
full grown. Indeed he was accompanied
by one of his brothers, who is a tall able-
bodied man. Dwarfs usually have some de-
formity about them ; but the little man in
question is perfectly well formed, with the
exception, perhaps, of the elbow-joint being
higher situated than we generally meet with.
The expression of his face is pleasing, lively,
and somewhat quaint. His voice is clear and
strong, but partakes somewhat of a boyish
shrillness, as if he had never attained the
vox rauca which is observable at puberty.
He has lost one of his eyes by the small-pox ;
his appetite and health are good, and he is
light and active. — India Gazette.
Second Inventions. — At the end of the
last century, the celebrated Lord Stanhope
proposed an improvement on reflecting tele-
scopes, by fixing both the great mirror and
the eye-piece, and employing a large plane
speculum, moveable in every direction, to
reflect the image on the object mirror — so
that the observer in his closet or elsewhere,
might contemplate and examine at his leisure
the objects placed before him, and no more
light be lost than in the ordinary Newtonian
telescope. With the able assistance of the
late Mr. Varley, this design is said to have been
carried into execution, and the latter has left
an account of its effect. With the death of
his patron, however, all further attention to
the subject was relinquished in England ;
but in 1812, Professor Amici, of Modena,
succeeded in executing a telescope on the
same principle, but on a much smaller scale
than the former one ; and an Italian society
rewarded his discovery with a medal. This
reminds us of a travelling railway, for which
an ingenious gentleman, George Hunter,
Esq., has recently taken out a patent in
England, when almost the very same inven-
tion was submitted to the Society of Arts for
Scotland, on the 27th December 1822, by
Mr. Heriot, carpenter, at Duddington, under
the title of " A model of a new construction
of wheels for carriages, called a moveable
Railway." Well may Dr. Brewster say,
that the British minister who shall first esta-
blish a system of effectual patronage for our
arts and sciences, and who shall deliver them
from the fatal incubus of our patent laws,
will be regarded as the Colbert of his age,
and will secure to himself a more glorious
renown than he could ever obtain from the
highest achievements in legislation or in
politics.
Botany. — An institution has been esta-
blished in Germany, of which the professed
aim is, to employ zealous and properly-edu-
cated botanists in Germany and other Euro-
1827.]
Varieties.
207
pean nations, to collect rare plants, both in
a living and dried state, and seeds. Two or
more collectors will be employed annually,
but their number must be regulated by the
means of the establishment. The members
of the society will constitute two classes :
1. Honorary members; that is, such as give
it their support by voluntary contributions,
arising from a desire of promoting its views.
To these will be granted the privilege of
selecting from the annual collections (of
which a public account will always be
given), rare seeds, or living plants, for their
gardens, or splendid specimens for their her-
baria; and they will be allowed to give di-
rections in regard to other objects of natural
history which they may desire, but they will
not share in the regular annual distributions.
tt. There will be ordinary members, who
will divide among themselves, according to
the amount of their subscriptions, the col-
lections, after the honorary members have
received their portions; and the subscribers
are particularly requested to specify whether
they prefer dried plants, living plants, or
seeds. The annual contribution is fifteen
florins, Rhenish (the louis d'or being reck-
oned as eleven florins), something short of
thirty shillings English, and the sum must
be forwarded at the beginning of each year.
Persons subscribing to twice or thrice that
amount, will receive plants in proportion,
and will have more of the rarest kinds, of
which only a few may have been gathered.
The directors bind themselves to the con-
tinuance of the establishment for five yearg.
to come. For the accommodation of Eng-
lish botanists, communications may be ad-
dressed to a gentleman well known to every
naturalist, " John Hunnemann, Esc[», No. 9,
Queen-street, Soho ;'' and through the same
channel, the annual returns can lie received.
It is to be hoped that this appeal to the
friends of Botanical Science in this country
will not be neglected ; and for their encou-
ragement we may add, that Doctor Hooker,
of Edinburgh, a subscriber to the institution,
being entitled to two shares in the produce
of the first excursion, is in possession of a
collection, which, for the number, variety,
and beauty of the specimens, has much ex-
ceeded his most sanguine expectations ; being
such as, but for this valuable institution, no
money could have purchased : all are cor-
rectly named, with printed labels. To judge
from the first 'collection, each member will
receive about 200 species for a single annual
subscription.
WORKS IN THE PRESS, AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.
WOBKS IN PREPABATION.
Dr. Brewster of Edinburgh has announced
a System of Popular and Practical Science.
The object of this publication is to furnish the
educated classes ; but particularly the young
of both sexes, with a Series of popular
work?, on the various branches of Science,
brought down to the humblest capacities,
an 1 yet capable of imparting Scientific know^
ledge to the best informed ranks of Society.
Mr. Charles Swain announces Sketches of
History and Imagination.
Mr. Henry Trevanion has in the press the
Influence of Apathy, and other Poems.
Lieut. Col.D.L. Evans announces a Paral-
lel between the Wars of Wellington and
Marlborough.
An Historical Narrative of Dr. Francia's
Reign in Paraguay.
Mr. Strutt is preparing a work, entitled
Deliciae Sylvarum ; or Select Views of Ro-
mantic Forest Scenery, drawn from Nature.
Dr. Wm. Lempriere announces Popular
Lectures on the Study of Natural History
and the Sciences, Vegetable, Physiological ;
Zoology, the Poisons, and on the Human
Faculties, Mental and Corporeal.
Messrs. Parbury, Allen, and Co., have
nearly ready for publication a Memoir, rela-
tive to the Operations of the Serampore
Missionaries ; including a succinct account of
their Oriental Translations, Native Schools,
Missionary Stations, and Serampore College.
An- Historical Essay* on the Laws and
the Government of Rome; designed as art
Introduction to the study of the Civil Law.
Twelve Instructive and Familiar Lectures
to Young Persons, on the Intellectual and
Moral Powers of Man ; the Existence, Cha-
racter, and Government of God ; the Eviden-
ces of Christianity, &c. : with a concluding
Address on Nonconformity. By the late Rev^
John Horsey.
The Stanley Tales, 18mo. Parti. Second
Series. Beautifully illustrated.
The Secret Treaty, concluded in 1670,
between Charles II. and Louis XIV., which
has never been seen, and the very existence
of which has been only surmised ; will be
exhibited by Dr. Lingurd in the forth-coming
volume of his History of England.
The author of the " Promenade Round
Dorking," has in the press, Cameleon
Sketches. A Series of Original Outlines and
Opinions of Scenery and Manners ; and a few
Shades of Character, in illustration of some
of the most popular Topics of the Study
of Mankind ; with Recollections, Autobio-
graphic, Literary, and Topographical.
In the press, and nearly ready, a new and
greatly improved edition of Mr. Gray's valu-
able Supplement to the Pharmacopoeia \ in-
cluding the new French Remedies, with nu-
merous and important Additions.
The Principles of Forensic Medicine, by
J. G. Smith, M.D., Lecturer on State Medi-
cine at the Royal Institution. Third edition;
with the author's latest corrections.
Preparing^ for publication, in 1 vol. Svoi
208
List of New Works.
[AUG.
The Journal or Itinerary of Thomas Beck-
iflgton, Secretan to Henry VI., and after-
words Bishop of Bath, Sir Robert Roos, Knt.,
and others, during (heir journey from Wind-
sor to Bordeaux on an Embassy to negociate
the Marriage between Henry Vrl. and one of
the daughters of the Count Arminack, in
June 14-12 ; from a contemporary MS. \Yiih
Illustrative Notes, Historical and Biographi-
cal, by Nicholas Harris Nicolas, Esq. F.S.A.
The Influence of Apathy, and other Poems,
by Henry Trevnnion, fscp. 8vo., is in the
press.
Mr. Southey has nearly ready for the press,
<l The History of Portugal, from the earliest
Times to the commencement of the Penin-
sular War."
The Rev. Thomas Sims has nearly ready
for publication, an Apology for the Walden-
ses; exhibiting an Historical View of their
Origin, Orthodoxy, Loyalty, and Constancy ;
in 8vo.
A Clergyman of the Church of England,
is preparing for the press, a History of Eng-
land, from the earliest Period to the present
Time ; in which it is intended to consider
Men and Events on Christian Principles. To
be published in Monthly Numbers, and to be
completed in 4 vols. 12 mo.
The Second Part of the Rev. S.T. Bloom-
field's Recensio Synoptica Annotationes
Sacrae : or Critical Digest of the most im-
portant Annotations on the New Testament.
In 4 vols. 8vo.
The Fourth Part of Mr. Thorns' Series of
Early Prose Romances will contain, the
Merry Exploits of Robin Hood ; and the
Curious MSS. Life of that Outlaw, preserved
in tbe Sloanean Library, at the British Mu-
seum, will be printed, for the first time, in
the Appendix.
LIST OF NEW WORKS.
HISTORV, BIOGRAPHY, &C.
An Historical View of tbe Revolutions of
Portugal, since tbe close of the Peninsular
War ; exhibiting a full Account of the Events
\\hich have led to the present state of that
Country. By an eye-witness. 8vo. 12s. 6d.
boards.
History of ths War in the Peninsula un-
der Napoleon. By General Foy. Vol. I.
] 4s. boards.
Hallam's Constitutional History of Eng-
gland. 2 vols. 4to. 41. boards
Elements of Universal History ; contain-
ing a Selection of Remarkable Events ; ar-
ranged in a course of Lessons for the use of
Schools and young people : translated from
the German of G. G. Bredou. 1 2mo. 4s. bds.
The History and Antiquities of Weston
Favell, in the County of Northampton. By
J. Cole. 8vo. 5s. 6d. boards.
Description of Bury St. Edmunds, and its
Environs, Part II. Svo. 1 2s. sewed ; com-
plete, 18s. boards.
Chronicles of London Bridge. By an An-
tiquary; with 56 engravings on wood.
Crown 8vo. 28s. boards.
History of tbe Battle of Agincourt, from
contemporary authorities, together with a
copy of the Roll returned into the Exchequer
in Nov. 141(j, by command of Henry the
Fifth, of tbe names of the Nobility, Knights,
and Men at Arms, who were present on that
occasion. By Nicholas Harris Nicolas, Esq.
Barrister at Law. F.S.A.
Tbe First Volume of tt new History of
London. By Thomas Allen ; with numerous
Engravings of Antiquities, <fec., oa copper
and wood. Price 8s. 6d boards.
Mr. Wallis's entertaining Lectures on
Astronomy, with numerous engravings. Price
2s.
The Life of Earl Theodore Korner, writ-
ten by his Father ; with Selections from his
Poems, Tragedies, and Dramas , translated
from the German. By G.F. Richardson.
2 vols. small 8vo. 15s. boards.
Rieland's Memoirs of a West-India Plan*
ter. 12mo. 5s. boards.
LAW.
Roscoe on the Law of Evidence. 8vo.
15s. boards.
A Compendium of tbe Laws relating to
the Removal and Settlement of the Poor. By
James Sculthorp. Second Edition, corrected
to the present Time. 12mo. 4s.'6d. bds.
Robinson's Lex Parochialis. 2 vols. 8vo.
11. Is. boards.
POETRY.
St. James's, a Satirical Poem ; in six Epis-
tles; addressed to Mr. Crockford. 8vo. 12s.
boards.
Torquato Tasso, a Dramatic Pcem, from
the German of Goethe ; with other German
Poetry. Translated by Charles Des Voeux,
Esq. 8vo. 12s. boards.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Lectures on the Tactics of Cavalry. By
Count Von Bismark, Colonel of the Third
Royal Wirtemberg Regiment of Cavalry ;
translated from the German, with Notes. By
Major 3V. Ludlow Beamish. 8vo. 21s. bds.
The Authenticated Report of the late im-
portant Discussion in Dublin, between the
Rev. R. T. P. Pope and the Rev. T. Ma-
guire, on the principal points of Controversy,
between the Protestant arid Roman Catholic
Churches. 8vo. Os. 6d. boards.
Solution of the more difficult Equations,
in the Fourth Edition of Biand's Algebrai-
cal Problems. By Francis Edward Thom-
son, B.A. 8vo. 4s.
Archseologia ^iiuna; or Miscellaneous
Tracts, relating to Antiquity, published by
the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-
upon-Tyne. 4to. Vol. 2. Part I. 15s.
Papers on Naval Architecture. Vol. J.
8vo. 11. 2s. boards.
London's Gardener's Magazine. Vol. 2.
14s. 6d. boards.
Le Brun's Lithographic Drawings. Impe-
rial folio. 51. 5s. boards.
Calcutta Medical Transactions. 2 vols.
8vo, 30s. boards.
1827.'
List of New Works.
209
An Inquiry into the History, Authenticity,
and Characteristics of the Shakspeare Por-
traits, <fcc. By A. Wivell, with plntes. §vo.
A Catalogue of the Library of Queen's
•College Cambridge. 2 vols. Imperial 8vo.
31. 3s. boards.
Burke's Works. Vol. VIII.4to.2l.2s.bds.
The Theory of Plane Angles. By John
Walsh. • Price Is.
By the same Author, the Geometric Base.
Price Is. 6d.
A Review of the Doctrine of Personal
Identity; in which are considered and com-
pared the Opinions of Locke, Butler, Reid,
Brown, and Stuart, upon that subject. 8vo.
3s.
Edinburgh Annual Register for J82<5. 8vo,
18s. boards.
Philosophy in Sport made Science in Ear-
nest ; being an Attempt to illustrate the first
Principles of Natural Philosophy, by the aid
of Popular Toys and Sports. With wood-
cuts, from designs, by George Cruikshank.
3 vols. 12mo. 11. Is. boards.
The Pulpit; Vol. VIII.; containing five
•Portraits, and upwards of two hundred Ser-
mons by the most Eminent and Popular
Divines of the day.
Fashionable Amusements. 1 vol. 8vo.
6s. boards.
Mechanic's Magazine ; Vol. VII , with a
Portrait of the KINO, and two hundred en-
gravings on wood.
NOVELS, TALES, &C.
Vittoria Colonna ; a Tale of Rome, in the
Nineteenth Century. 3 vols. 12mo. 18s.
boards.
Intrigue; or Woman's Wit, and Man's
Wisdom'. By Mrs. Mosse. 4 vols. I2mo.
24s. boards.
Mrs. Leslie and her Grandchildren ; a Tale.
•By Mrs. Hamerton. 12mo. 4s. 6d. boards.
- Guesses at Truth. By two Brother's.
2 vols. 12mo. 16s. boards.
Caroline and her Mother ; or, Familiar
Conversations for Children. Principally upon
Entomological Subjects. By a Lady. 12mo.
4s. 6d. boards.
Lady of the Manor. By Mrs. Sherwood.
Vol. V. 12mo. 7s.
Owain Goch ; a Tale of the Revolution.
In 3 vols. 12mo. 11. 4s. boards. By the
Author of the Cavalier.
True Charity ; a Tale of the Year 1800.
12mo. 5s. boards.
LITTLE FRANK, the Irish Boy. By Char-
lotte Elizabeth, Author of The System;
Allan McLeod ; Grandfather's Tales, &c,
1vol. I8mo. boards. Is. 6d.
RELIGION, MORALS, &C.
Biographical History of the Christian
Church ; from the commencement of the
Christian Era to the Times of Wickliffe the
Reformer. By J. W. Morris. 2 vols. 8vo. 16s.
Garbett on the Nullity of the Roman
Faitb. 8vo. 9s. 6d. boards.
Original Series and Religious Poetry. By
the Rev. Richard Corbald. 12mo. 7s. bds.
The Christian Year ; Thoughts in Verse,
M.M. New Series.— VOL. III. No. 20.
for Sundays and Holidays throughout the
Year. 2 vols. 12mo. 16s. 6d. boards.
Practical Sermons ; to which are added
Fsimily Prayers. 12mo. 5s. boards.
Hymn's written and adapted to the Weekly
Church Service of the Year. By the Right
Rev. Reginald Heber, D. D , late Lord
Bishop of Calcutta. 8vo. 7s. 6d. boards.
The Burial and Resurrection of Jesus
Christ, according to the Four Evangelists.
From the German of John David Micbaelis.
Formerly Professor of Philosophy at Gottin-
gen, Privy Counsellor of Justice, Knight of
the Polar Star, Member of the Royal Soci-
ety at London, arid of the Academy of In-
scriptions of Paris, <fec. <fec. 12mo. 6s. 6d.
boards.
Papistry Storm'd ; or, the Dingin' Down
o' the Cathedral. Ane Poem in SaxSangs.
M. W. T. Imprentit at Edinborogb, be Oliver
and Boyd. 12mo. 7s. 6d. boards.
The Connection of Sacred and Profane
History, from the Death of Joshua until the
Decline of the Kingdoms of Israel and Ju-
dah. By the Rev. M. Russell, LL.D. 2 vols.
8vo. 11. 8s.
The Epistolary Correspondence of the
Right Honourable Edmund Burke and Dr.
French Lawrence. Published from the Ori-
ginal Manuscripts. 8vo. 8s. 6d.
The Case between the Church and the
Dissenters ; impartially and practically con-
sidered. By the Rev. F. Merewether, M. A.
8vo. 6s.
Religio Militis ; or, Christianity for the
Camp. Royal 18mo. 5s. boards.
A Vindication of the Character of the
Pious and Learned Bishop Bull, from the
unqualified Accusations brought against it,
by the Archdeacon of Ely, in his Charge,
delivered in the Year 1823. By the Ven.
Charles Danberry, D. D., Archdeacon of
Sarum. 8vo. 6s.
VOYAGES, TRAVELS> <fec.
A Journal from Buenos Ayres, &c ^through
Cordova, Tucuman, and Salta, to Potosi,
&c. &c. By Captain Andrews. 2 vols.
Post 8vo.
Two Years in New South Wales ; a Series
of Letters, comprising Sketches of the actual
State of Society in that Colony, of its pecu-
liar Advantages to Emigrants, of its Topo-
graphy, Natural History, &c. By P. Cun-
ningham, Esq., R. N. 2 vols. Post 8vo.
18s. boards.
Colonel Symes's Embassy to Ava ; anew
and enlarged edition ; including a Narrative
of the late Military and Political Operations
in the Birman Empire. 2 vols. 18mo.
7s. boards. •
Journal of a Tour through France, Italy,
and Switzerland, in the Years 1823-4 By
John Willes Johnson, Commander R. N.
1 vol. 12mo. 6s. boards.
Rambles in Madeira and Portugal, during
the early Part of 1826. With an Appendix
of Details, Illustrative of the Climate, Pro-
duce and Civil History of the Island. Post
8vo. 9s. 6d. boards.
2 E
210
List of New Works.
[Aucj
Don Juan Van Halen's Narrative of his
Flight from the Dungeons of the Inquisition
of Madrid, and of his Travels and Adventures
in Russia, etc. 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. boards.
FINK ARTS.
Part IV. of Pompeii, which completes
this important Work, in Imperial Folio, con-
taining nearly one hundred Plates, engraved
by W. B. Cooke. The work is also embel-
lished with an Eruption of Vesuvius, from a
Drawing by J. Martin, Esq. Price 41. 4s.
Proofs 61. 6s.
No. VII. of River Scenery. By J.M. W.
Turner, R.A., and the late Thomas Girtin,
which completes the Work ; with letter- press
Deseriptionsof all the Plates, by Mrs. Borland.
The work complete, royal 4to. 31. 13s. 6d.
Proofs, imperial 4to. 51 half-bound.
PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.
New Patents sealed 1827.
Henry Raper, of Baker-street, Middle-
sex, Esq., a Rear-Ad miral in our Royal
Navy, for an improved system of signals,
first, for communicating by day by the means
of flags and pendants, between ships at sea
or other objects far distant from each other ;
in which system, the colours of the flags and
pendants which have heretofore served to
distinguish the signals one from another, and
which, by distance or other causes, are ex-
tremely subject to be mistaken, may be dis-
pensed with altogether; and secondly, for
communicating, by night, between ships at
sea and other objects far distant from each
other, by the means of lights. And which
system of signals is more conspicuous, expe-
ditious, and certain, than any which has
hitherto been employed for the like purpose.
Sealed 21st June ; 2 months.
To James Marshall, of Chatham, Kent,
lieutenant in the Royal Navy, for improve-
ments in mounting guns or cannon for sea, or
other service — 26th June ; 6 months.
To John Felton, of Hinckley, in the coun-
ty of Leicester, machine- maker, for a ma-
chine for an expeditious and correct mode of
giving a fine edge to knives, razors, scissors,
and other cutting instruments— 28th June ;
2 months.
To Thomas Fuller, of Bath, coach-maker,
for certain improvements on wheel carriages
—28th June ; 2 months.
To Walter Hancock, of Stratford, Essex,
engineer, for an improvement or improve-
ments upon steam-engines — 4th July ;
6 months.
To George Anthony Sharp, of Putney,
Surry, Esq., for an improved table-urn —
18th July ; 6 months.
To Robert More, of Underwood, Sterling-
shire, in Scotland, distiller, for certain im-
provements in the process of preparing and
cooling worts or wash from vegetable sub-
stances for the production of spirits — 18th
July ; 6 months.
To Robert More, of Underwood, Sterling-
shire, Scotland, distiller, for certain processes
for rendering distillery refuse productive of
spirits— 18th July ; 6 months.
To Edward Barnard Deeble, of Saint
James's-street, Westminster, civil engineer,
for a new construction or constructions and
or combination of metallic
blocks for the purposes of forming caissons,
jetties, piers, quays, embankments, light-
houses, foundation walls, or such other erec-
tions to which the said metallic blocks may
be applicable — 12th July ; 6 months.
To Robert Vazie, of York-square, Saint
Pancras, Middlesex, civil engiaeer, for im-
provements in certain processes, utensils, ap-
paratus, machinery, and operations applica-
ble to the preparing, extracting, and pre-
serving various articles of food, the compo-
nent parts of which utensils, apparatus, and
machinery, are of different dimensions pro-
portionate to the different uses in which they
are employed, and may be separately applied
in preparing, extracting, and preserving food,
and in other useful purposes— 12th July ;
6 months.
To William Church, of Birmingham, War-
wick, Esq., for certain improvements on ap-
paratus for spinning fibrous substances—
13th July; 6 months.
To William Wilson, of Martin's-larie,
Cannon-street, London, hat-manufacturer, for
his method or principle of extracting spirits
and other solvents used in dissolving malle-
able gums of various kinds, and other arti-
cles employed for stiffening bats, hat-bodies,
bonnets, caps, and divers articles of merchan-
dizes, and converting such spirit (after rec-
tification) into use — 4th July ; 2 months.
To Rene Florentin Jenar, of Bunhill-row,
in the parish of Saint Luke, gentleman, for
certain improvements in lamps — 4th July;
6 months.
A grant unto George Boulton, of Stafford-
street, Old Bond-street, Middlesex, tailor, for
an instrument, machine, or apparatus for
writing, which he denominates a self-supply-
ing pen — 4th July ; 6 months.
To Thomas Sowerby, of 'Change- alley,
Coruhill, for a certain improvement in the
construction of ships windlasses— 4th July ;
2 months.
To Rene Florentin Jenar, of Bunhill-row,
Middlesex, gentleman, for a method of fill-
ing-up with metal or other suitable material,
the holes or interstices in wire-gauze, or other
similar substances, which be denominates
metallic linen.
To John Snelson Shenton, of Husband,
Bosworth in Leicester, plumber and glazier,
for certain improvements in the mechanism
of water-closets— 12th July ; 2 months.
1827.J
List of Patents.
211
List of Patents, which, having been granted
in August 1813, expire in the present
month of August 1827.
0. John Easson, Liverpool, for a machine
called a panagram, for teaching the blind
to read, by the touch, music, languages,
arithmetic, fyc.
— George Scott, Alnwick, for a machine
for cutting out men and women's wearing
apparel, and various other things, fyc.
— Edward Heard, London, for certain
processes for the manufacture of glass.
— Robert Westfield, London, for improve'
merits in horizontal watches.
25. John Hancock, Reading, for improved
construction of carriages, and application
of a material hitherto unused for them.
— John Naisb, Bath, for making move-
able characters for composing na/nes and
professions.
- Thomas Gate Hunt, Brades, Stafford,
for an improved back for scythes, reaping*
hooks, straw-knives, and hay-knives.
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.
LORD MORTON.
George Douglas, Earl of Morton, and
Lord Aberdour of the County of Fife j
Baron Douglas of Lochleveu, in the peer-
age of England ; Lord Lieutenant of the
County of Fife j High Commissioner to
the Kirk of Scotland ; K.T.V.P.R.S., and
F.S.A., was born in the year 1759. His
lordship's ancestors descended from An-
drew de Douglas, second son of Archibald
de Douglas, whose eldest son, William, was
ancestor of the Dukes de Douglas. John
Douglas of Landeii and Loch Leven, great-
great-grandson of Andrew, lived in the
reign of King David II. of Scotland ; and
had, besides other issue, two sons ; James,
whose great-grandson was created Earl of
Morton ; and Henry of Loch Leven ances-
tor of the late and present Earl.
Sholto Charles, the fifteenth Earl, father
of the nobleman, to whom this notice re-
lates, married Katharine, daughter of John
Hamilton, Esq., by whom (who died in
April 1823) he had an only son. His Lord-
ship died on the 27th of September, 1774;
and was succeeded by that sou, George
Douglas.
After finishing his education, his Lord-
ship made the tour of Europe, and is said
to have acquired a proficiency in all the
languages in that quarter of the world. In
the early part of Mr. Pitt's administration,
he was appointed Lord Chamberlain to the
Queen; a post which he held until the
death of her majesty. On the llth of
August, 1791, he was created Baron Doug-
las, of Loch Leven, in the English Peer-
age. His lordship was a man attached to
science, and was a constant attendant at
the meetings of the Royal Society. Hav-
ing often officiated as vice-president of
that institution, during the absence of Sir
Joseph Banks, on the death of that gentle-
man, he was one of the noblemen who were
mentioned as likely to succeed him. The
election, however, took a different turn ;
his lordship not having been put in nomi-
nation as a candidate.
Lord Morton married, on the 13th of
August, 1814, Susan Elizabeth Buller,
daughter of Sir Francis Buller, of Lupton,
in the county of Devon, Bart. His lord-
ship died at Dalmahoy, in North Britain,
on the 19th of July ; arid having left no
issue by his lady, the English Barony of
Douglas, of Loch Leven, has, by his death,
become extinct. He is succeeded in his
other titles by his cousin, George Sholto
Douglas.
DR. JACKSON.
Robert Jackson, M.D., Inspector of Mili-
tary Hospitals, and many years chief of the
medical department in the army of the
West Indies, was born about the year 1751.
After his probationary terms in the profes-
sion, he went to Jamaica, in 1774. There,
he successfully adopted the practice of cold
affusion in fever, long before it was adopted
by Dr. Currie. In 1778, Mr. Jackson served
as regimental surgeon in the British army in
America. At the close of the American war,
he settled at Stockton-upon-Tees. In 1793,
when the French revolutionary war com-
menced, he was appointed to the Third Regi-
ment of Foot, with the view of attaining the
rank of physician in the army. For some
time he served upon the continent; in 1796,
he was employed at St. Domingo ; and, in
1799, with the Russian auxiliary army. After
some years of retirement, he took charge of
the medical department in the Windward and
Leeward Islands. In his improved mode of
treating the yellow fever in the West-Indies,
he encountered many difficulties ; but his late
Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief,
aware of the value of his services, enabled
him to overcome them ; and, in addition to
his half-pay, as Inspector of Hospitals, he
was, for many years, allowed a pension of
£200.
Dr. Jackson wrote much and well. His
publications were as follow : — On the Fevers
of Jamaica, with Observations on the Inter-
mittents of America, and an Appendix, con-
taining Hints on the Means of preserving the
Health of Soldiers in Hot Climates, 1795,
8vo. ; An Outline of the History and Cure
of Fever, Endemic and Contagious, more
212 Biographical .Memoirs of Eminent Persons. £Auc.
particularly the Contagious Fever of Gaols, to Mr. Keate, Surgeon-general to the Forces,
Ships, ami Hospitals; with an Explanation of 1808, 8vo.; A Letter to Sir David Dundas,
the Principles of Military Discipline and Commander-in-Chief of the Forces, 1809, 8vo.
Economy, and a Scheme of Medical Arrange- Dr. Jackson died at Thursby, near Gar-
ment for Armies, 1798, 8vo. ; Remarks on. lisle, on the 6th of April,
the Constitution of the Medical Department
of the British Army, 1803, 8vo. ; A Syste- LORD CASTLE COOTE.
matic View of the Discipline, Formation, Eyre Coote, Baron Castle Coote, of the
and Economy of Armies, 1804, 4to. ; A Let- county of Roscornmon, in Ireland, was the
ter to the Editor of the Edinburgh Review, third, but eldest surviving son of Charles
1804, 8vo. ; A System of Arrangement and Henry, second Lord Castle Coote, by his lady,
Discipline for the Medical Department of Elizabeth Anne, eldest daughter and co-heir
Armies, 1805, 8vo ; An Exposition of the of the Rev. Henry Tilson, D. D. He suc-
Practice of A (fusing Cold Water on the Body ceeded his father on the 22d of January
as a Cure for Fever, 1808, 8vo. ; A Letter 1823; having married, in the preceding year,
to the Commissioners of Military Enquiry, Barbara, the second daughter of Sir Joshua
Explaining the True Constitution of a Medi- Colles Meredith, of Madareen, in the county
cal Staff, 1808, 8vo. ; A Second Letter to of Kilkenny, Bart. Leaving no male issue,
the Commissioners of Military Enquiry, con- the title is extinct. His lordship, who died
tainiug a Refutation of some Statements lately at Paris, is succeeded in his estates by
made by Mr- Keate, 1808, 8vo. ; A Letter Eyre Coote, Esq.
MONTHLY MEDICAL REPORT.
THE concurring testimony of physicians in all ages has demonstrated the salubrity
of a mild winter and a cool summer. To the correctness of the first part of this asser-
tion, the tenor of many preceding Reports in this Magazine will abundantly testify.
The experience of the present season, so far as we have yet advanced in it, seems dis-
posed to bear out the old observers in the latter part of their dictum, even to its fullest
extent. There has not been one day of great or oppressive heat since the date of the
last Report. The temperature of the air has been mild and uniform during the day j
the nights have been cold, and occasionally rainy. To these circumstances undoubt-
edly it must be owing that the Reporter has so little to communicate regarding the
diseases of this period. It must be evident that, if the peculiarities of any season are
absent, its usual train of diseases will be absent also. The reader, however, will, it is
hnmbly hoped, derive much consolation from reflecting, that, if the " Monthly Medical
Report" be meagre and uninteresting, the public health has been, in the mean time,
such as to gratify the best feelings of his nature ; and that, in fact, interest can only
be given to this communication by the extent and severity of individual suffering.
The most generally prevalent disease at the present time is fever, of the kind called
synochus, or typhus mitior. The London Fever Hospital is in full activity. Nearly
all its beds are occupied ; but the character of the fever is mild and manageable ; and
never did this institution more thoroughly justify, than at present, its former designa-
tion—" The House of Recovery." Small-pox is gaining ground too. The admissions
into the Small-Pox Hospital during the last month have been unusually numerous,
especially from the St. Giles's district j but the disease is quite devoid of those malig-
nant features which it is wont to assume under the scorching influence of a July sun.
The greater number of admissions has been of children (and others) wholly unpro-
tected ; but there have been several cases also of small-pox after vaccination. It roust be
very gratifying, however, to the friends of vaccination (that is to say, to all the friends
of humanity) to learn that the proportion of admissions under this head has not advanced
during the last two years ; and further, that the mildness or severity of the disease
has been always proportioned to the degree of perfection which the vaccination origin-
ally attained. In other words, whenever the vaccination was clearly ascertained to
have been complete and satisfactory, there the subsequent disorder has been so slight
as to occasion little inconvenience to the patient, and no uneasiness whatever to the
physician.
The Reporter, however, cannot avoid adding to this statement his conviction
(founded now on a very extensive experience), that medical practitioners were formerly
— and still perhaps in some places continue to be — too easily satisfied with the appear-
ances of the arm} and that they pronounced on the future security of the individual
with a degree of confidence which is not always warranted by the facts even at the
time. The constitution of the child must be thoroughly imbued with the vaccine
influence, before such an opinion can be properly given ; and it requires a practised
eye and a nice habit of discrimination to decide when such an effect has been fully
obtained. There appears to exist, in some children, an indisposition to take the cqw-
1827.] Monthly Medical Report. 213
pox, both locally and constitutionally j and, unless the Reporter have greatly deceived
himself, it will generally be found that these two circumstances go together j — that is
to say, wherever a child is vaccinated two or three times without taking, or is
vaccinated in many places where one only succeeds, that the resulting vesicle will be
small, and the constitutional influence uncertain and imperfect. If this opinion be
well founded, it would follow that, under such circumstances, the vaccination should
not then be persevered in, but should be deferred for a few months until the child's
system has altered, and probably improved. The Reporter is not aware whether this
doctrine was held by Dr. Jenner, and whether it is or is not acted upon by his pro-
fessional brethren engaged in the practice of vaccination ; hut it has been forced upon
his attention very strongly during the last six months ; and he is desirous, on account
of its obvious practical importance, to throw out the suggestion, that those whose
opportunities enable them may estimate and decide upon its correctness.
Bronchial affections have prevailed to a considerable extent during the past month.
Hoarseness has accompanied them in many cases, and herpetic eruptions about the
lips in others. The Reporter has noticed that the blisters which he has applied in such
persons have occasioned great irritation, which, with other circumstances, may be
received as a conclusive evidence that the blood is heated, and that nitre and other
antiphlogistic remedies are preferable to squills and the more direct expectorants.
Allied to this state of low bronchial inflammation (the bastard peripneumony of old
authors), is the disease called pleurodyne— the bastard pleurisy of a former age. Many
cases of this kind have come under the Reporter's observation during the last month.
It is decidedly a rheumatic affection ; for it is always associated with pains of the
limbs and shoulders ; but it frequently is benefitted by one moderate bleeding ; and
the Reporter is not prepared to say that the pleura is not, in some degree, involved
in it.
Several cases of haemorrhage from the internal parts (the epigastric region) have
been lately noticed. Practitioners are often anxious to determine whether the blood,
in these cases, comes from the lungs or the stomach. In the h^morrhagy of cold
weather this is an important question, because it leads to the probability of future con-
sumption ; but it is a matter of comparative indifference in the haBtnorrhagy of this
season, which is mainly dependent on atmospheric heat operating upon a plethoric
habit. Bleeding from the arm, leeches to the pit of the stomach, saline aperients, and
a low diet are usually sufficient for the permanent cure of this apparently formidable
disorder.
GEORGE GREGORY, M.D.
S, Upper John Street, Golden Square, July 22, 182T.
MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
THE earth's products of the present year have been described, in our preceding
Reports, as probable to be generally abundant — perhaps considerably above the average
of seasons. There is now every probability that the nearly approaching harvest will
verify, to the letter, this nationally exhilarating expectation. It is nevertheless neces-
sary to reflect with how many grains of salt — that is, of allowance — this splendid
expectation is to be received, since some are certainly required by the actual state of
the case. Without complaining — for which there is no ground — we have certainly
witnessed more genial seasons. The solar "heat has been checked, and rendered, in
some respects, harmful, by chilling easterly winds, which, at intervals, were of long
continuance — again quickly alternating. This, in course, gave occasional checks to
vegetation, deteriorating its products, and, in some few instances, destroying them.
The wheats have been generally affected, but it may be hoped superficially — the blight
penetrating no deeper than the chaff and straw. But there certainly is a portion — small
however — which will be tainted with smut. As usual, some of our fortunate corres-
pondents attribute this misfortune to the neglect of the farmers ; — a notion, which the
stubborn facts periodically and constantly occurring, through the length of full a cen-
tury and a half, have not yet been sufficient to counteract. The instances, during
the present season, of wheat-seed steeped sec. art., and yet the crop being infected
•with red yum, and all the other indications of incipient rottenness or smut, we hope will
not be numerous ; — bnt such there are.
The breadth of wheat in the country is said, from all quarters, to be most extensive ;
and, during some years past, the culture of this staff of life and of potatoes has beei>
annually extending. Conjoined with this cheering fact, the annual forward state of
culture— the considerable quantity of wheat held, whether in stack or granary—- the
214 Monthly Agricultural Report. [Aua.
several years1 clip of wool, with certain other indications of a comfortable prosperity —
the whole by no means sanctions those frequent gloomy bewailings of agricultural
depression and approaching ruin.
On the best lands the labourers have, for some time, found full employment ; on
others, many are still rounding in search of employ— too many of them compelled, by
dire necessity, to take up the trade of poaching, or other means of a still higher rate
of delinquency. The truth is, our national labourers are unable to bear up against
Irish competition ; and as England has ruined Ireland, she is thus taking her revenge.
But, according to the usual course of things, the burden and the misery fall up"o»
the* lower classes of both countries. In order to the relief of both countries, a grand
stroke of policy is the desideratum with regard to Ireland. Half-measures and pal-
liatives can have only the usual effect of giving a somewhat longer life to an abomi-
nable system.
It is only on the most productive lands that wheat is very bulky ; on the inferior,
though the ear be of fair size, the straw is not great. Harvest will commence with the
next month, or even the conclusion of the present, in the forward districts ; and barley
has been already cut in Dorsetshire. The barley crop is supposed to be the heaviest,
both in ear and stem ; oats the least so ; and the complaints of foul tilth seem to attach,
in the greatest degree, to the oat crop. Too many good old farmers appear yet to set
much store by double crops.
The hops have certainly passed through the vicissitudes of the season with less
injury than was predicted; and there having been, for some seasons, a much larger
stock on hand than of which the speculators were aware, the article neither did, nor in
probability will, for a considerable period, reach the high prices of former days. The
hay is a general good crop, well got in, with the exception of that part of the lands on
which the roots of the grass perished during the drought of last year. Much grass
land is in a state to receive great benefit from being harrowed or scarified, and fresh
seeded, towards the end of summer. The first heavy showers, which laid the forward
barley, occasioned the young grasses to be smothered, and a considerable breadth of
them will fail. Thus, sometimes, the corn ruins the grasses; at others, the grasses,
being very forward and luxuriant, will nearly spoil a crop of corn. Furthermore, a
state of singleness is always best for both crops. But custom is ever better than best;
and few farmers, but the great farming patriot of Norfolk, COKE, have entire crops of
clover. The spring grasses, with tares, are a luxuriant and beautiful crop ; last year's
grasses, ia course, a failure. Beans and peas hold way with other crops in prospe-
rity, having resisted, with a similar degree of success, insectile attacks.
That most important crop, the turnip, both white and Swedish, after some early mis-
haps, is in fair progress, and, at this time, undergoing the process of a second hoeing.
The late showers have been infinitely beneficial. Mr. Poppy, of Suffolk, a farmer of
great respectability, has lately received a society's premium for apian, by him lately
revived, of protecting turnip-plants from the flv/ ; and a very eminent patron of agri-
culture congratulates the country, in glowing language, on the advantages to be
obtained therefrom. Now, although we have no more faith in this than in the one-
hundred-and-one other plans for the same purpose, which have been promulgated in
our days — since it is evident that, if we cannot prevent blight, we cannot arrest the
generation of insects, which are born to be fed-- we nevertheless do not envy Mr.
Poppy for his premium, nor attempt to treat the society with disrespect for conferring
it. In all such cases, it is wise in those who profess to encourage agriculture not
hastily to neglect any candidate who may exhibit proofs of a mind turned to research
and improvement.
Enough of turnip-seed having been saved, the price, in course, has fallen greatly A
considerable quantity of bad seed has been put off during the present season, to the
great loss and disappointment of many farmers; but our inquiries have not produced
a single instance of this kind in the seed purchased of Messrs. Gibbs ; who, as far as
our experience has extended during upwards of twenty years, have always proved
•worthy of dependence.
Fruits promise to be a general crop, particularly apples ; with the drawback, so
annoying to the taste of foreigners, of too much acid in a great part, most in the cur-
rants— and the absence of that grateful saccharo-subacid flavour in the juices, which
is never found in perfection in seasons when any considerable degree of blight pre-
vails. Nothing of novelty has occurred respecting the cattle markets. Fat things still
command a high price. Store pigs sell readily, at some advance. We may, however,
look for a considerable decline in the price of flesh meat in the ensuing autumn. Ordi-
nary horses, as usual, are plentiful, and not easy of disposal ; but saddle and coach
cattle, of good quality, have lately increased in demand and price.
The old stocks of corn on the Continent are said to be at a low ebb, with considerable
quantitiea in very bad condition. Their new crops arc reported very large; and,
1827.] Monthly Agricultural Report. 215,
according to the present aspect, that portion of them which may be imported into this
country is not likely to be productive of very satisfactory prices. It is expected — but
on what authority we know not— that the late Corn Bill will experience no material
opposition in the next session of Parliament.
Smithfield. — Beef, 4s. to 5s. — Mutton, 3s. lOd. to 4s. lOd. — Veal, 5s. to 6s.— Pork,
4s. 4d. to 5s. 6d. -Lamb, 5s. 4d. to 5s. 8d.— Raw fat, 2s. 4d.
Corn Exchange.— Wheat, 50s. to 05s. — Barley, 30s. to 34s.— Outs, 19s. to 37s. —
Bread, 9£d. the 4- Ib. loaf. — Hay, 84s. to 135s. — Clover ditto, 100s. to I50s.— Straw
40s. to 54s.
Coals in ttie Pool, 28s. 6d. to 36s. 9d. per chaldron.
Middlesex, July 23, 1827.
MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.
AT this season of the year commerce is always very dull, except in the large exports now
making of English manufactured goods, &c. to the East-Indies. A vast number of vessels
are loading for Madras, Bengal, &c. &c., and several for South America, &c. ; therefore
our shipping are in full employ, and freights are reasonable to these ports.
The inland trade is dull for our home manufactures ; and cotton goods of all descriptions
are so low as to afford the speculators very little appearance of favourable returns.
Sugars, and all West-Indian produce in the markets, bring a fair average price.
Rum, Brandy, and Hollands are rather low, and not in much demand. Few speculations
are going forward either at London, Bristol, or Liverpool ; and, until the winter approaches,
we apprehend things will remain in this languid state.
Since our last Report there is no variation in the prices of our imports.
The discounts of the Bank of England being lately lowered from five per cent, to four per
cent., we apprehend will make money more plentiful than ithas been for some months past,
and we now hope to find every thing will return into its former channel.
Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 7. — Rotterdam, 12. 7. — Antwerp,
12. 6.— Hamburgh, 37. 6.— Altona, 37. 6.— Frankfort on the Main, 114^.— Petersburg,
8£. — Vienna, 0. — Trieste, 0. — Berlin, 7. — Paris, 25. — Bordeaux, 25.. — Seville, 33. —
Barcelona, 0.— Cadiz, 34i.— Gibraltar, 33. — Naples, 39. — Palermo, 44|. — Lisbon, 58. —
Oporto, 58.— Dublin, 11.— Cork, 11.
Bullion per Oz. — Foreign Gold in bars, £3. 17s. 6d.— New Doubloons, £3. Os.—New
Dollars, 4s. 9d.— Silver in bars, standard 4s. 1 Id.
Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint-Stock Companies, at the Office of WOLFE,
BROTHERS, 23, Change Alley, Cornhill. — Birmingham CANAL, 300/. — Coventry. 1250/. —
Ellesmere and Chester, 1051.— Grand Junction, 305/. — Rennet and Avon, 26J.O,v.— Leeds
and Liverpool, 390^.— Oxford, 700?. — Regent's, 292. Os.— Trent and Mersey, 1,800/.
— Warwick and Birmingham, 2851. — London DOCKS, 84L 10*. — West-India, 200/. 05. — •
East London WATER WORKS, 123/. — Grand Junction, 63±l. — West Middlesex, 651.
Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE.— l\ dis. — Globe 151 J. — Guardian, 20/. —
Hope, 51.— Imperial Fire, 951.— GAS-LIGHT, Westmin. Chartered Company, 611.— City
Gas-Light Company, 165Z.— -British, 17 dis.— Leeds, 1951.
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 23d* of June
and the 21st of July 1827 ; extracted from the London Gazette.
BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED. Smith, T. Kennington-lane, Lambeth, ironmonger
Baker, G. F. Macclesfield, silk-manufacturer Williams, J. junior, Fenchurch - street, coffee -
Burgess, R. Rainham, Kent bricklayer
Devall, G Birmingham, gun-barrel rubber BANKRUPTCIES. [This Month 106.1
Manning, J Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey, cloth- a ,. ., , ,r
manufacturer Solicitors' Names are in Brackets.
Nightingale, E. Manchester, porter-dealer Abraham, J. Steward-street, Union-street, B5-
Rice, J. L. Taunton, Somersetshire, builder shopsgate, merchant. [Lewis, Bernard-street,
Rickerby, J. Burrell-green, Cumberland, lime- Russell-square
burner Albra, J. Chelmsford, innkeeper. [Perkins and
• ('°'' Gray's-inn-square
Bullivant, J. Eaton-square, Pimlico. hay-salesman.
* In our last, the Bankrupt List contained thos Smyth, Red-lion-square
of the London Gazette of June 22, although mis- Benzaquen, J. Catle-street, Houndsditch, broker,
printed June 21. [Abbot, Nicholae-lane, Lombard-street
216 Bankrupts.
Burbidge, W. St. Paul's Cliarch-yard, general
dealer. [Bousfield, Chatham -place
Beuzeville, S. Henley-upon-Thames, Oxfordshire,
silk-manufacturer. [Waller, Finshury-circus
Beadley, J. and J. Cole, Wotton-under-hdge, Glou-
cestershire, clothier. [Stone and Co. Tethury,
Gloucestershire ; Dax and Co., Holborn-court,
Gra)'s-1nn
Birley, J. Bawtry, Yorkshire, grocer. [Brough-
ton, Bawtry ; Knowles, New-inn
Bastable, J. Church-street, Hackney, chemist.
• [Evans, Gray's-inn-square
Bill, T. Upton-upon-Severn, Worcestershire, cur-
rier. [Lawrence, Droitwich ; Hodgate and Co.,
Essex-street
Bardsley, E. Crompton, Lancashire, fustian-manu-
facturer. [Whitehead, Oldham; Milne and Co.,
Temple
Buckley, J. Oldham, Lancashire, coach proprietor.
[Whitehead, Oldham ; Milne and Co., Temple
Burn, A. W. Love-lane, Eastcheap, wine-merchant.
[Pownall, Lothbury
Boughton, I. Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, scri-
vener. [Jenkins and Co., New-inn ; Sproule,
, Tewkesbury
Baird, J. Manchester, brass-founder. [Smith,
Manchester ; Milne and Co., Temple
Bedbury, J. Bradford, Wilts, plasterer. [King
and Co., Gray's-inn-square
Bloadworth, C. Vauxhall-walk, Lambeth, stone
bottle-manufacturer. [Wrogg, Bedford-place,
Southwark-bridge-road
Cohen, J. .Chelmsford, cabinet-maker. [Smith
Basinghall-street
Cook, J. Sun-street, drug-grinder. [Edis, Broad-
street-buildings
Coster, J. W. Princes-street, Spitalfields. drysalter.
[Armstrong, St. John's-square,Clerkenwell
Collinson, T. E, Bread-street, City, wholesale-
stationer. [Richardson, Ironmonger-lane
Corbyn, J. Tokenhouse -yard, master -mariner.
Fawcett, Jewin-street
Corbett; J. Austrey, Wr.rwickshire, cattle dealer.
' [Dax and Co., Gray's-inn
Carpenter, T. Eastham, Essex, schoolmaster.
[Kinder, Mark -lane
Caldwell.J. Blandford-street, Manchester-square,
tailor. [Wilkinson and Co., Bucklersbury
Chadwick, I. Smallbridge, Lancashire, dyer. ["Dy-
son, Halifax ; Strangeways and Co., Barnard's-
inn
Donald, W. Brighton, furrier. [Mallock, South-
ampton-street, Bloomsbury-square
Dunn, W. Great Dover-street, Newington, coffin- -
maker. [Shepherd and Co., Cloak-lane
Drew, G. Manchester, grocer. [Harris, Man-
chester; Ellis and Co. .Chancery-lane
Douglass, A. Bow-lane, silk-manufacturer. [Gale,
Basioghall-street
Edge, T. Burslem, Staffordshire, colour-maker.
[Astbury, Stoke- upon -Trent ; Roe, Temple-
chambers
Field, C. Cranboarne- street, Leicester-square, ho-
sier. [Smith, Walbvook
Field, J. J., and C. Skelmanthorpe, Yorkshire,
fancy cloth-manufacturer. [Fenton, Hudders-
ficld ; Wiltshire and Co., Austin-friars
Frost, J. W. late of Ilolborn-hill, straw-hat-manu-
facturer. [Birkett and Co., Cloak-lane
Griffiths, G. Wrexham, Denbighshire, printer.
[Thwaites, Little Carter lane
Gillies, J.' Liverpool, merchant. [Hinde, Liver-
pool; Chester, Staple-inn
Green, J. Drayton- in -Hales, Salop, druggist.
[Warren and Co , Drayton-in-Hales ; Rosser
and Co., Gray's-inn-place
Grain, G. Cambridge, hatter. [Sandys and Co.,
Austin-friars
Goddeu, M. late of Cleveland-street, Fitzroy-
.• square, victualler. [Hurd and Co., King's-
bench-walk, Temple
Gibb, T. A. B. P. Spencer-street, Northampton-
square, merchant. [Spyer, Austin-friars
Holding, T. Dover-street, Hanover-square, hotel-
keeper. [Vander Oucht, and Co., Craven-
street
Hender, F. Club-row, Bethnal-green, wool-manu-
facturer.. [Cooper, Co^thall-court, Throgmorton-
street
[AUG.
Hawes, W. Royal Harmonic Institution, Regent-
street. [Bolton, Austin-friars
Hiscock, J.S.rUandt'ord-forum, Dorsetshire, stone-
mason. [Galpine, Blandford ; Walker, Lin-
coln's-inn
Hilcs, O. Manchester, baker. F^Makinson, Man-
chester; Mak'mson and Co., Middle Temple
Hurt, G. Kins-street, Cheapsidc, furrier. [Mun-
day, Holborn-court
Hobbs, W. Bristol, druggist. [Carey and Co.,
Bristol j King and CoJ Gray's-inn-square
Hofigkinson, G. Derby, hatter. [Messrs. R. and
M. Brown, Furnival's-inn ; Caught. Portsea
Hooper, W. I. and C. Burrows, Adam-street, Adel-
phi, wine-merchants. [Monius and Co., Essex-
court, Temple
Hulse, J. Worcester-street, Southwark, victualler.
SRushbury, Carthusian-street
Her, W. C. Salisbury, grocer. [Stephen's,
Bedford-row
Horley, C. Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire, victu-
aller. [Smith, Manchester ; Capes, Gray's-inn
Hall, F. Brighthelmstore, Sussex, corn -dealer.
[Palmer and Co., Bedford-row
Harrington, H. and I. Helmet-row, St. Luke's,
dyers. [Overtoil and Co., New Broad-street,
Bishopsgate
Jatham.W. Bradford, Wiltshire, clothier. [King
and Co., Gray's-inn-square
Jones, T. Shrewsbury, British lace-dealer. [Fos-
ter, Liverpool; Jeyes, Chancery-lane
Jessop, W. Oxford street, livery stable-keeper.
[Browne and Co.,Ftiraival'9finn
Juland, J. Cattislock, Dorset-hire, farmer. [Meu-
ly, Crewkerne ; Holme and Co., New-inn
Jocelyne, W. Bishopsgate-strcet, grocer. [Al-
lingham, Hatton-garden
Jones, G. Bridgenorth, surgeon. [Seddon, Man-
chester ; Hurd and Co., Temple
Jones, L. Oswestry, Shropshire, scrivener. [Ed-
wards, Oswestry ; Eyde, Essex-street, Strand
Barton, J. Durham, hatter. [Hardwick, Law-
rence-lane
Knilt, H. and H. junior, Cheltenham, plumbers.
[Haberfield, Bristol ; Evans and Co., Gray's-inn-
square
Lonsdale, J. H. Wigan, Lancashire, tea-dealer.
[Milne and Co., Temple ; Sloprond, Wigan
Lawton, K. Darlaston, Staffordshire, cooper. [Ma-
son, Bilston ; Clarke and Co., Chancery-lane
Lowe, T. Middlewich, Cheshire, wharfinger.
[Wolston, Furnival's - inn ; Ward, Burslem,
Staffordshire
Ireach; S. H. junior, High - street, Kingsland,
jeweller. [Ashley and Co., Tokenhouse-yard
Mullinger, W. Garden-street, Whitechapel, flock-
manufacturer. [ Platts, Jewin-court, Aldersgate-
street
Marshall, J. and T. Beakhust, Bristol, coach-
builders. [Saunders, Bristol ; Jones, Crosby-
square
Mott, W. R. Brighton, binlder. [Palmer and Co.,
Bedford-row
Martin, W. Nottingham, grocer. [Pa-sons, Not-
tingham ; Yallop, Suffolk-street, Pall-Mali East
Mitchell, J Crescent, Minories, merchant. [Davis
and Co , Corbet-court, Gracechurch-street
Moneyment, M. Swoffham. Norfolk, cabinet -
maker. [Brightwell, Norwich ; Taylor and Co.,
King's-bench-walk
Marindin, S. P. Birmingham, merchant. [Barker,
Birmingham
North, J. Wibsey, Yorkshire, innkeeper. [Alexan-
der, Halifax ; Walker, Lincoln's-inn
Nicholjs, G. Warminster, Wilts, linen-draper.
[King and Co., Gray's inn-square
Nixey,. -W. New-street, Covent- garden, tailor.
[Harris, Bruton-street, Berkeley-square
Gates, I. Glossop, Derbyshire, victualler. [Hutch-
inson, Chesterfield, Derbyshire"; Wilson and Co.,
Sheffield
Pharaoh, T. Carshalton. Surrey, corn-dealer. [Tad-
hunter, Bermondsey-street
Prior, W. Kemerton, Gloucestershire, bleacher.
[Sproule, Tewkesbury ; Jenkins and Co., New-
inn
Potter, T. and J. Holt, Oldham, Lancashire, cot-
ton-spinners. [Whitehead, Oldham ; Milne and
Co., Temple
1827.]
Bankrupts.
'217
> Pegp. J. Woburn, Bucks, paper-maker. [Hall and
Co., Salter's-hall, C annon-street
Prosper, W. junior, Watling-street, wine-merchant.
[Green and Co., Sambrook-court, Basinghall-
street
Prohert, J. Crickhowol, Breconsliire, saddlor.
[A'Beck^tt, Golden square ; Ward, Gloucester
Ross, R. Yeovil, Somersetshire, victualler. [Har-
, vey, Sturminster-Newton ; Pearson, Temple
Rilpy, E. Huddersneld, common-brewer. [Wilt-
shire and Co., Austin-friars ; Fenton, Hudders-
• field
.Stroebling. P. E. Stratford-place, Oxford-street,
artist. [Miller, New-inn
.Spencer, R. Liverpool, flour-dealer. [Prest, Li-
verpool ; Taylor and Co., Temple
Smith, A. Mark -lane, corn -dealer. [Lewis,
Crutched-friars
Skyrme, W. Worcester, hatter. [Washrough,
Bristol; Battye and Co., Chancery-lane
Sergeaiit,J.Weston-super-mare,S<>mersetshire,gro-
ccr. [Violelt ami Co., Adam-street. Adelphi
Swithenbank, A. Bradford, York, straw-hat~ma=
nufacturer. [Morris, Bradford ; Battye and Co.,
Chancery-lane
Stead, J. junior, Royds, Yorkshire, cloth-miller.
' [Dunnings, Leeds ; Smithson and Co., Nevv-
- inn
Stone, P. Bristol, grocer. [Cornish, Bristol ; Pool
and Co., Gray's-inn-square
Smith, A. and T. .Kitchingman, Wood - street,
Cheapside, Blackwell-lmll, factor*. [Van San-
dan and Co., Dowgate hill , . . ;.
Stocker, T. junior, Devonport, pawn - broker.
[Church, East James - street, Bedford - row ;
'fink, Devonport
Thomas, F. S. Bristol, builder. [Smiths, Bristol;
Clarke arid Co., Chancery-lane ; I
Tarbutt, C. B. St. Mildred's-court, merchant,
[t.owless and Co., Hatton-courl, Tiueadneedle
street
Tarbutt; W. B. St. Mildred's-eourt, merchant.
[Lowless and Co., Hatton-court, Threadneedle-
stroet
Wick ham, E. Islington-green, apothecary. [Top-
ping, Maidstone : Hunt, Craven-street, Strand
Woolley, I. Nottingham, lace - manufacturer.
[Hurst, Nottingham ; Knowles, New-inn *
Whittle, J. Miln-row, Lancashire, flannel-manu-
facturer. [Seddon, Manchester ; Hurd and Co.,
Temple
Woodcock, W. Preston, timber-merchant. [Blake-
Jock, Serjeant's-inn, Fleet-street ; Pilkington,
Preston
Welsh, J. Manchester, publican. [Pickford;
Manchester; Milne and Co., Temple
Young, E. junior, Mundford, Norfolk, general
shop- keeper. [Ballacliey, Holt, ami Bridge*,
Angel- court, Throgtnorton-street
Yates, J. Bolton-le-Moors, Lancashire, booksel-
ler. [Knowles, Bolton-le-Moors; Milne- and
i Co. Temple
ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.
Rev. J. Rudd.to theHalloughton Prebend, Fouth-
well.— Rev. G. B. Moxon, to the Rectory of Sand-
ringharn with Babingley, Norfolk.— Rev. vV. C.
.Leach, to be Minor Canon of Ely Cathedral. —
Rev. J. D. Ward, to the Rectory of Kingston, Jste
of Wight.— Right Rev. R. J. Carr, to the Resi-
dentiary Canonship of St. Paul's. —Rev. T. Sy-
monds, to the Vicarage of Stanton Harcourt, Oxon.
— Rev.W. Evans, to the- Rectory of Pusey, Berks.
T--Rev.W.Goodenough,to the Archdeaconry of Car-'
lisle, to which is attached the Living of Great Sal-
keld, Cumberland.— Rev. W. King, to the Arch-
deaconry of Rochester. — Rev. Dr. Percy, to the
Bishoprick of Rochester. — Rev. Archdeacon Bon-
ney, to the Deanery of Stamford.— Rev. I. Blan-
chard, to be Chaplain to Lord Ferrers.— Rev. R.
Cockburn, to the Rectory of Harming, Kent. — Rev.
W. Mitchell, to the Rectories of Barwick, Somer-
set, and CotleSgh, Devon.— Rev. J. Bluck, to the
Recory of Bower's Gifford, Essex. — Rev. F.
Rouch, to be Minor Canon of Canterbury Cathe-
dral.— Rev. J. Greenwood, to the Rectory of Gains-
colne, Essex. — Rev. Dr_Millingchamp, to the Arch-
deaconry of Carmarthen. — Hon, and Rev. M. J.
Stapleton, to the Vicarage of Tudley-cum-Capel,
and the Rectory of Mereworth, Kent.— Rev. F.
W. Bayley, to a Prebendary in Rochester. — R-er.
J. Fellowes, to the Rectory of Bramerton and
Mantby, Norfolk.— Rev. S. N. Bull, to the Vicar-
age of Harwich, and Dovercourt -cum - Ramsay.
Essex.— Rev. M. Fuller, appointed to St. Peter's,
Pimlico.— Rev. T. S. Buckel, to the Reetory of
Brighton, Norfolk.— Rev. W. Marshall, to the
Vicarage of All Saints, with St. Lawrence, an-
nexed, Evesham, Worcester. — Rev. H. P. WiJ-
loughby, to the Rectory of Burthorpe. — Rev. T.
P. Slapp, to the Rectories of Rickinghall Inferior
and Superior, Somerset.— Rev. H. Anson, to the
Rectory of Lynge - cum - Whitwell, Norfolk. —
Rev. T. Lloyd, to the Chaplaincy of the Coun-
ty Gaol of Hertford.— Rev. J. Jenkins, to the
Vicarage of Norton, Radnor. — Rev. V. H. P.
Somerset, to the Rectory of Honiton, Devon.
— Rev. G. M. Coleridge, to the Vicarage of St.
Mary's Church, Devon.— Rev. J. Lafont, to the
Rectory of St. Ann's, Sutton Bonnington, Notts.
Rev. P. W. Worsley, to a Prebendal Stall in Ri,
pon Cathedral Church.— Rev. J. W. Beadon, to be
Canon Residentiary of Wells.— Rev. C. H. Puls-
fprd, to the Vicarage of Burnhanv Somerset.
The Hon. Rev. H, Watson, to the Rectory of
Kettering, Northampton.— Rev. J. Brocklebank,
to the Rectory of Delamere, Chester.— Rev. W. A
Norton, to the Rectory of Skenfrith, Monmoutl\
—Rev. C. H. Lethbridge, to the Hyperion.— E. F.
Roberts, Gloucester. — J. K. Goldney, Victory. T*
Ferris, Britannia.— T. Quarles, Briton.
POLITICAL APPOINTMENTS.
• Lord William Bentinck, to be Governor General
ctf India,— The Right Hon. F. R. Lushington, to be
a member of H.M.'s Ptivy Council. — The Duke of
Argyle to be Keeper of the Great Seal of Scotland,
tord Binning, to be created a Peer by the name of
Baron Melros, of Tvnninghame, Haddhigton. —
Lord Norbury, created a Peer of Ireland, by the
title of Viscount Glandine, and Earl of Norbury.—
M.M. Now Series.— VOL. IV. No. 20.
Sir W. J. Hope, Sir G. Cockburn, W. R. K. Doug-
las, and «T. E. Denison, Esqrs,, to be Members of
tl>e Council of H.R.H. the Lord High Admiral of
the United Kingdom.— Marquis of Lansdowne, to
be one of H.M.'s principal Secretaries of State. —
Earl of Carlisle, to be Keeper of the Privy Seal. —
The Ri^ht Hon. W. S. Bourne, to be Warden and
JCee-per of the -New Forest.— The Right Hon. G.*
2 F
218
Political
[Aufe.
ranninjr, Karl Mountcliarlw, Lord F. L. Gower, gerald, and also E. A. M'Nagbten, esq., to be
Lord E.G. Eliot, and tbe Right Hon. M. Fitz. Commissioners of the Treasury.
INCIDENTS, MARRIAGES, AND. DEATHS, TN AND NEAR LONDON, ETC.
CHRONOLOGY. sported for various periods, and several ordered te>
June 25.-Mr. Hunt chosen Auditor of the City be imprisoned. William Sheen was tried ^second
Accounts at Guildhall.
27.— Another accident happened at the Thames
Tunnel, by which one person lost his life.
30.— The Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, &c., went from
Guildhall to the King's Palace, St. James's, to
deliver the Address voted by the Common Council,
on the firmness His Majesty had displayed in sup-
porting his just prerogative on the late change of broke> egq<> to Elizabeth, daughter of the late Mar-
the ministry. To which His Majesty said,—' cus Beresford, esq., and the Lady Frances Bere*-
receive with satisfaction this loyal and dutiful ad- fo].d . £ fi p0rtman, esq., M.P., Dorset, to Lady
dress of the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Com- Emma Lascelles, third daughter of Earl and Coun-
mons of the City of London. Whatever diffi- tess Harewood ; E. M. Lloyd, esq., to Lady Har-
culties I may have experienced in the exercise of riot Scott> daughter of Lord cionmell ; Sir A.
time for the murder of his own child, and again
acquitted, owing to his child having been known
by the names of "Sheen and Beadle!!!"
20. — An Order in Council suspended the em-
bodying the militia for 1827.
MARRIAGES.
At St. George's, Hanover-square, Felix Lad-
my just prerogative on the occasion to which that
Address refers, the consciousness that I had no
other objecf in view than the public good, has
enabled me to meet and overcome them."
— The Recorder made his report to the King
Campbell, bart., to Miss Malcolm, daughter of
Maj.-Gen. Sir J. Malcolm, G.C.B,— Rev. G. A.
Montgomery, to Cecilia, third daughter of the late
Dr. Markham, Dean of York.— G. C. Antrobus,
esq., M.P., to Jane, daughter of Sir C. Trotter,
in [Council of 33 prisoners lying under sentence of bait.— H. Baring, esq., to Lady Augusta Brude
death in Newgate, when 3 w«re ordered for execu-
tion on July 6, and the rest respited.
July 2.— The Parliament was prorogued by com-
mission.
5. — The Bank of England issued notice, that
bills having no more than 95 days to run, would be
discounted at 4 per cent.
nell, fifth daughter to the Earl of Cadogan.— Major
H. Dundas, to Annie Maria, second daughter, and
Sir H. Willock, late Charges d'Affaives to the Court
of Persia, to Eliza, fourth daughter of the late S.
Davis, esq., Portland-place. — Captain A.C. Skyn-
ner, to Maria Adelaide Peachey Robbins, daugl-.
ter of the late Lieut.-Col. Price Robbins.— Captain
G. F.Ryves, son of Admiral Ryves, and nephew
6.-A Memorial presented by H.R.H. the Lord ^ Arn'ndel]> to Charit third d'aughter of T.
High Admiral to the Privy Council, approved of by
His Majesty, and directed, by an Order in Coun-
cil, to be carried into effect, was published for the
Theobald, e*q.,of the Grays.— At H.R.H. the Duke
of Clarence's, Bushey-park, the Hon. J. E. Ken-
nedy, son of Lord Cassilis, to Miss Augusta Fitz-
apprehension of smugglers, and the seizure of goods, clarence._At Wilite-hall-place, F. H. Cornwall,
and the improved manner in which they are to be g(m flf ^ Bish Qf WorcC8ter> to Fanny>
distributed. The same regulations are proposed d hu?r to Sir G Caulficl(1> bart._At St. Jameses
to be applied to the rewards granted for the cap- Church> Major Digneiiey) of tie Royal Horse Ar-
ture and destruction of piratical ships, and of ves- m^ tQ (hc HQ^ Mary Frcderica Law, sjster t
sels engaged in the Slave Trade.
Lord Ellenborough.— Vice Admiral Parker, to Miss
9.— H.R.H. the Duke of Clarence visited Ply- A Butt.— Rev. J. Galloway, to Margaret, third
mouth and Davenport, as Lord High Admiral, and daughter of G Shedden, esq., Bedford-square.—
inspected the Breakwater, and the various works At Mary-le-bone, J. E. Denison, esq.,M P., Hast-
at those places connected with the navy; His ingS} to" Lady Charlotte Bentinck, third daughter
Royal Highness went by sea in His Majesty's Of the Duke of Portland,
yacht, the Royal Sovereign. The Ducless of Cla-
fence also visited the above places; Her Royal
Highness went by land, accompanied by her
suite.
12.— The Sessions began at the Old Bailey.
DEATHS.
At Clapham, E. Parry, esq., one of the Directors
of the East-India Company, and brother-in-law to
the Right Hon. Lord Bexley.— In Queen-square,
13. — Two culprits only executed at the Old Bailey> 80, J. Dorington, esq., clerk of the fees of the
the third being respited.
— An action of libel was brought in the Court
of Common Pleas, against the proprietors of the
Morning Chronicle, for publishing affidavits im-
House of -Commons.— Tn Portland-place, G. Ley-
cester, esq.; and 88, R. Baker, esq.— 77, Signor
Sapio, pianist to the unfortunate Marie Antoinette,
Queen of France ; in feeling and expression, his
puting to the plaintiff's wife, a Mrs. Scott, ad ul- style of playing never was exceeded —At Lord
tery, perjury, and theft ; the defendant pleaded the Dundonald's, Hammersmith, Mrs. Dorothea Plow-
general issue as to the charge of perjury, and a den, relict of F. Plowden, [esq., the " Historian
justification of the charges of adultery and theft, of Ireland," and author of several literary works.
After a long trial, which continued two days, the
jury delivered their verdict — one farthing dama-
ges, and 40 shillings costs.
17.— Sessions ended at the Old Bailey, when 17
prisoners received sentence of death, fil were Iran-
—66, Lieut. Gen. Hutton, son to the late celebrat-
ed mathematician, Dr. Button.— In Great George-
street, 73, R. Ellison, esq., Recorder of Lincoln.
At Westbourne, 74, S. P. Cockerell, esq.— G. F.
Tyson, esq.— C. W. Bun-ell, esq., eldest son of Sir
1827.)
Incidents^ Marriages,
219
C. M. Barrell, bart., and of Christ Church, Ox-
ford.— At Sunbury, Lady Bayntun, widow of -Sir
A. Bayntun, bart.— At Queenhithe, 63, Mr. T.
Walker.— At Stratford-place, Frances, wife of the
Hon. J. W. Stratford.
MARRIAGES ABROAD.
At Berlin, Prince Albert of Schwarztr'rg Rude-
fctadt, to the Princess Augusta of Salms Brainfels,
daughter of H.R.H. the Duchess of Cumberland.
-At the Ambassador's Chapel, Paris, J. Wright,
junior, csq., to Cecilia Georgiana, daughter of the
late Hon. J. Byng. — At Brussels, William, son of
Sir G. Pigott, bart, to Harriet, lister to Viscount
Gormaneton.
DEATHS ABROAD.
At Dieppe, Jane, relict of the late Sir F. H.
Bathurst, bart.— At Messina, Rev. C. Thurgar.—
At Velletri, Right Hon. G. Knox, son of the late
Lord Northland.— At Corfu, Mrs. Forest, wife of
R. Forest, esq., Judge in the Ionian Islands.— At
Quebec, Mr. H. A. Laurinston.— At Brussels, Miss
Lydia Jubilee Gompertz, of Teigumouth. — At
Montpelier, the Hon. J. Cavendish Tallot, bro-
ther to the Earl of Shrewsburv.
MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES;
WITH THE MARRIAGES AND DEATHS.
KORTHUMBERLAND AND DURHAM.
A committee has been appointed by the Mayor
and Aldermen of Newcastle to examine into the
state of the Tyne, and to report thereon what can
be done towards its improvement.
A rail-road is about to be formed between the
city of Carlisle and Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
A branch bank of the Bank of England is about
to be established at Newcastle.
One of the kilns at Morton Tinmouth lime-kilns,
wear Gaiofovd, having, on the 5th instant, been
what is termed burnt hollow, and fresh stones
and coal being put upon it, two men went upon the
stones for the purpose of forcing them down with
a long poker, and in a moment the substance be-
low gave xvay, and the unfortunate men sunk
above the waist, and were suffocated by the large
quantity of smoke arising from the fresh matter.
Their names were William Stoddart and Jonathan
Blakey.
Married.'} At Ryton, Capt. F. Johnston (83d
Regt.) to Miss Downing.— At Bishopwearmoutli,
R. A. Davidson, to Miss Davidson.— At Yarm, J.
Dale, e«q., to Miss Graves. — At Chester-le-Street,
Mr. G. Curry, to Miss Ann Bland.
Died."] At Bishopwearmouth, 83, H. Blythe,
esq.— At Bishop-oak, 81, R. Curry, esq,— W. Met-
calfe, esq., Tynemouth-liouse. — At Beaufront, 89,
J. Errington, esq. — At Ord-house, W. Grieve, esq.
—At Morpeth, 22, Mr. H. Walker, a native of Ja-
maica. He has left the\r freedom, and £ 2 each, to
all his slaves there. — At Newcastle, Robert Foster,
eeq.— At Carville, the Rev. Dr. M'Allum. — At
Bishop Auckland, the Rev. J. Bacon.
CUMBERLAND AND WESTMORELAND.
A meeting of the county of Cumberland was held
at Carlisle, June 30, for the purpose of co-ope-
rating with the county of Northumberland in ef-
fecting the formation of a rail-road between the
city of Carlisle and Newcastle-upon-Tyne, whei>
the scheme was unanimously sustained, a com*
mittee formed, and subscriptions entered into to
carry it into effect.
Died.'] At Eden-hall, Sir Philip Musgravc,
bart, M.P. for Carlisle.— At Pooley-bridge, Oils-
water, Mr. Russell, the obliging innkeeper, and
yclept the "Admiral" of the lake.
YORKSHIRE.
Our accounts of the state of trade from the va-
rious towns where the woollen cloth and the
worsted stuff manufactures prevail, have been ex-
tremely gratifying during the past month, and con-
tinue so. The domestic manufacturers aie at pic.
sent pretty well employed, and all the factories of
the district are in full work. The demand is steady
but not excessive, and the business done is safej
and moderately profitable. The improvement in
the condition of the labouring classes, as con-
trasted with their state this time last year, cannofc
be viewed without emotions of the most gratifying
kind, and it will be with difficulty that workmen
can be spared from the loom and the jenny to
assist in gathering in the plentiful harvest by
which we are surrounded.
At the recent annual meeting of the members of
the Sheffield Mechanics' Library, held at the
Town's-hall, it was proposed to admit novels and,
plays, when a majority of about ten to one negatived
the proposition, adhering to the original idea, as ex-
plained by Mr. Montgomery (in the chair) " that
novels and plays and infidel publications should
form no part of the library."
Two neighbours at Hull (John Garton and David
Hayneld) had each a hive of bees, which swarmed
on Saturday the 16th ult., in one body on a tree,
from whence they were taken and hived. The fol-
lowing Tuesday, a similar phenomenon took place
from the same two hives. A circumstance perhaps
never heard of before.
A Mechanics' Institute has been formed in York.
A mushroom was gathered on the 30th June at
Dring-houses, near York, which measured 3& inches
in circumference.
In the first week in this month, a subterraneous
fire was discovered in St. Peter's-square, Leeds ;
the smoke issued from the earth in such quantities
as to alarm the neighbourhood ; and an excavation
being made to discover the cause of this extraor-
dinary phenomenon, a large body of fire was seen,
which, on the accession of air, burst into a vivid
flame. Engines were procured ; and it was sup-
posed the fire was extinguished. The next day,
however, the smoke was seen to arise again, and
excavators were set to work to discover the same ;
it was found to have originated in a vein of coals,
over which a pipe burner's furnace had been
erected ; and was supposed to have been burning1
for six months.
As WombwelPs Menagerie was at Dewsbury, on
its way to Leeds fair, some villain endeavoured to
set tire to it, by throwing a lighted brand on one o£
the caravans ; fortunately it was discovered, and
extinguished before the outer cover of the caravan
was burnt throwSn> or the consequences might hav«
been dreadful.
2 F2
220 Provincial Occurrences : Stafford, Salop, Lancashire, £c. £A to
Married.] At North Ferriby, M. Babington,
fsq., to Miss Fanny Sykes.— At Leeds, E. Hutton,
esq., to Miss Luccor'hu. — At Knate'sbrough, H.
Dewes,esq.,toMiss Dearlove. — At York, K. Tedlie,
esq., to Miss Walsh ; the Rev. J. Wreiord, to Miss
V,>ilbeloved.— At Hull, the ilev. A. Hinehclitfe,
to Miss Lowers.— At Beverley, the Rev. A. Ford,
to Miss Bentley; J. Bogg, esq., to Miss Beatley ;
A. Cox, esq., to MissScfuton. — At Doncaster, E.
Jew, esq., to Miss Hind.— At Leeds, W. Paul, esq.,
to Miss Whitaker; R. Bleasley, esq., to Mrs.
Hargreaves. — At Great Duffield, the Rev. C. Forge,
to Miss Kirkley.— At Halifax, J. C. Johnson, esq,,
to Miss Greaves.
Died.'] At Harrowgate, 73, Mtsa Hurton.— At
Waketield, Mrs. E,gremont. — At Heworth, Miss
Coupland.— At Malton, G. Wright, esq.— At Mir-
field, the Rev. T. Ledgwicke.— At Kirkstall, J.
Holdforth, esq.— At Tnkliill-rastle, S. Shore, esq.
—At NunappL'ton, J. Shore, esq.— At Masham, J.
BoIlauJ, esq.
STAFFORD AND SALOP.
July 19, the first stone of the New InSrmary at
Shrewsbury was laid by the Right Hon. Lord Hill,
with the usual ceremonies.
A meeting has been held in St. Chad's Vestry-
room, Shrewsbury, for the purpose of adopting
measures for the erection of an additional church
in Frankwell, when a liberal subscription was en-
tered Into for that purpose.
Married.] At Madeley, Mr. Smith, to Miss
Ford. — At Shrewsbury, Rev. E. Nicholson, to Miss
Rowley.— At Ludlow, G. Garrett, esq., to Miss
Adarne.
Died] At Stoke-upon-Ticnt, 73, J. Spode, esq.
At Minton, 103, Alice MedTTcolt; she practised
midwifery for upwards of 60 years... At Ludlow,
Miss M. Millinchip.— At Barton-under-Needwood,
89, T. Webb, esq. ; ana the day after, 75, Alice, his
sister.
LANCASHIRE AND LINCOLNSHIRE.
A meeting has been held at Manchester, the
Boroughreeve in the chair, and very numerously
attended, when it was resolved to address the1
King, praying him to enjoin on his ministers to
introduce early in the next Session of Parliament
such an arrangement with reference to the Cora
Laws, as may satisfy the reasonable wishes, and
reconcile the substantial interests of all classes of
His Majesty's subjects.
At the recent anniversary meeting at Man-
chester of the Missionary Society, the sum sub-
scribed actually netted from that place alone
A dreadful Accident happened, July 6, at the new
factory of Mr. Kearsley, Tyldesley Banks, near
Chowbent. The engineer having neglected (as it
is supposed) to open the valve of the steam-engine,
communicating with the pipe running across the
boiler-hpuse to the engine in the old factory, caused
a tremendous explosion, which shivered to pieces
the whole of the beams and pillars, both of wood
and iron, &c. and caused the death of 11 unfortu-
nate persons, besides wounding several others.
Married] At the Catholic-chapel, Alston, and
At the parish church, Preston, J. P. Anderton,
esq, to Miss M. Sidgreaves __ At Birstal, Mr. J.
Priestley (relative of the late Dr. Priestley) to Miss
Overend.
, Died] At Liverpool, 81 , Mrs. E. Miller; her
death was occasioned by treading on an orantre
peel. — At Bolton,74, Mr. Crompton, the inventor
of the Mule spinning machine, now so much used,
and for which he neglecting to take out a patent,
others had the benefit of the invention. Parlia-
ment granted him '.£5,000 upon petition, which he,
}ost in bubinc*s.
DERBY AND NOTTINGHAM.
The Melbourne Infant School was opened for
public inspection June 29, and afforded a respect-
able audience the highest gratification ; it consists
of 113 infants- It is estimated that 13,000 infants
are now receiving instruction in the different
schools in this kingdom!
The fragments of a piece of stone, in which a
live toad was found, and which, for any thing w«
can tell, may Imve been its dormitory since thS
flood, is now in our possession, and may be seen
by any one who is curious in such matters. It
was discovered last week by some persons in the
employ of Messrs. Barber and Walker of Eastwood t
while at work in a limestone quarry at Watnall.
The stone is hard, but of a gritty texture, and its
place in the quarry was 16 feet below the surface
of the earth. When found, the toad was alive;
it was buried by the men in its petrid cradle, they
intending to remove the whole at their leisure.
Some unlucky urchins, however, who it seems Ilad
been watching the workmen, in the absence of the
latter, went to the spot and killed the animal.
The cavity in which the toad was imbedded is so
confined as barely to admit of its turning round in
its cell, and is coated with a crystalized or sparry
substance.
Married] At Clowne, R. Machell, esq., to
M;ss Harriot Pawsey.— At Alfreton, Mr. Dent, to
Mr?, /.vison. — At Pinxton, G. Robinson, e.<q.. to
Miss S. S. Coke.— At Amberstone, the Rev. J.
Nail, to Mrs. Johnson.
Died] At Melbourne, 77, Mr. Cockrane.— At
Southwell, 98, Mr. Trivett.— At Mansfield, 85, Mr.
Whiteman : 87, Mr. Cooley ; and, 70, Mrs. Hooley.
— At Lamcote-house, 77, J- Topott, esq., deputy
lieutenant for Nottinghamshire. — At Locko-park,
74, W. D. Lowe, esq., a magistrate of Derby-
shire.
LEICESTER AND RUTLAND.
Married] At Hinckley, the Rev. S. Allard, to
MissShipman.
Died] At Snareston-lodge, G. Moore, esq. ; he
served the office of high sheriff for Leicester. — At
Leicester, 78, Rev. T. Grundy ; he was 30 years
minister of the Independents at Lntterworth, and
20 years to that at Ullesthorpe.— At Sutton-in-the-
Elms, 83, Mr. Strong.— At Leicester, the Rev. J.
H. Worthington.— At Leir, T. Sutton, esq.
WARWICK AND NORTHAMPTON.
Married] Rev. J. Gallaway, to Miss M. Shed-
don, of Paulerspury-park, Northampton.
WORCESTER AND HEREFORD.
The Mayor and Corporation of Worcester voted,
June 30, the freedom of their city to the Right
Hon. R. Peel, late secretary of state, for " his
consummate abilities and inflexible integrity as a
statesman, and his invariable fidelity and attach-
ment to the constitution in church and state."
Married] W. Reynolds, esq., of Berbice-villa,
Hereford, to Miss M. Waring.— At Great Malvern,
Captain R. R. Houghton, to Miss Hardy. — At Om-
ber.4ey, T. Adie, esq., to Miss Roe.
Died.] At Staunton, 90, Mrs. Attwood.— At
Upton-upon-Severn,74, Mr. Jakeman, for 40 years
postmaster of that place. — At the Firs (Bromyard)
P. Bray, esq.— Mr. T. Loton, a farmer of Acton
Beauchamp, was killed by his own bull. He was
standing in his fold-yard, smoking his pipe, when
the bull attacked and gored him to death.
GLOUCESTER AND MONMOUTH.
July 2, the Gloucester Old Friendly Society cele«
18-27.] . Qj/ortMiire, Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridge,
221
brated their fifty-second anniversary ; the mem-
bers formed a procession of great extent, with
banners, music, &c. to St. Mary's Church ; after
which the society returned, and 230 sat down to
dinner, cheered by merry peals from the bells, and
at 8 o'clock|the national anthem of " God save the
King" was sung by the members in full chorus, at
the conclusion of which the meeting broke up in
the greatest order and decorum. Several of the
members, from age and infirmities, were drawn in
open flies.
Married.] At Mangotsfield, Mr. C. Grey, to
Miss Wiltshire. — At Cheltenham, T. A. Perry,
esq., to Miss Maria Greenaway ; and the Rev. A.
Donald, to Miss Harriet Greenaway.
OXFORDSHIRE.
The commemoration and musical festival at Ox-
ford passed off in the most brilliant manner. 1,328
persons attended at the first concert, 2,113 at the
second, and 1,639 at the third. «£130 was received
at the sale of ladies' work for the establishment of
an Infants' School.
NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK.
The Nene Navigation and Drainage Bill is a
subject of particular congratulation to Lynn, as it
will be the means of forming a direct line of com-
munication between that town and the eastern
coast of England, with the principal northern and
midland counties.
A meeting has been held at the Guildhall, Lynn,
for the purpose of establishing there a society for
the diffusing useful and scientific knowledge, when
subscriptions were entered intn, and a committee
formed, to organize " The Lynn Literary and
Scientific Institution."
At Norwich, a meeting wffs recently held, and
subscriptions entered into, for the establishment of
two new charity schools.
, The disbursements of the treasurer for the city
nnd county of Norwich amounted last year to
.£3,846. 7s. 8d.
A new Roman Catholic Chapel was lately opened
at Thetford, by the Right Rev. Dr. Walsh, the
bishop of the midland district, on his triennial
visitation. He will also open two others in Suf-
folk, one at Ipswich, and the other at Stoke by
Nayland.
At the recent Bury Sessions, Mr. Grant, the
magistrate, thus addressed the Court:— "I con-
gratulate the town of Bury on this day ; things
are assuredly mending, which is unequivocally
indicated by the absence of complaint on the part
of the poor. From Ratcliffe there is only one ap-
plication for relief; none from Heap, which con-
tains 16 mills, the whole of which are going at full
work : no application for Walmeslcy ; none from
Elton ; none from Tottington, either higher or
lower end. Formerly we had 60 or 70 applications
every week from the poor of Bury, and now this
is the satisfactory state of the place and its out
townships. How my heart does rejoice to see the
sufferings of the poor so much ameliorated. I love
to see them comfortable and well paid for their
labour, and to behold them loving to each other,
and loyal to their King."
Married.] At Gimingham, Rev. R. Jickell, to
Miss Thompson.— At Glemsford, Rev. E. D. Butts
to Miss Hill.— At Semer, Rev. J. Edwards, to Miss
Spurrier.
JXcd:] At Langley-park, 71, Sir T. Beauchamp:
Proctor, bart.— At Diss, 84, Mrs. H. Fincham, of
the Society of Friends.— At Norwich, 67, Rev. E.
Glover.— At Yarmouth, 87, J. Preston, esq. ; he
served the office of mayor in 17^-3, 1801. and 1813.
—At Woodbridge, 68, Mrs. Tailer.— At Stody, 87,
Mrs. Lidia Paul.
CAMBRIDGE AND HUNTINGDON.
The Commissioners of the Nene Outfall Act held
their first meeting at Thorney, July 2, when reso-
lutions were passed for carrying the act into im-
mediate effect, so that the drainage of the North
Level, South Holland, Wisbech Hundred, with
adjoining districts, containing upwards of 100,000
acres of land, will be very materially improved, as
well as the navigation of the river from Wisbech
to the sea; besides which, several thousand acres
of land will be reclaimed from the sea, and brought
into immediate cultivation. Messrs. Telford and
Rennie are the engineers ; and the time for com-
pletion of this great undertaking is calculated at
three years.
Married.'] At Wraking, C. W. Watson, esq,,
son of Sir C.Watson, bart., to Miss J. C. G. Col-
lerton, eldest daughter of the Countess Morel de
Champenont.
Died.] At Little Stukeley, 79, Rev. J. Water-
house, vicar of that parish ; he was murdered with
circumstances of peculiar atrocity.
HANTS AND SUSSEX.
The Rose, Capt. Martial, from Calcutta, arrived
at Portsmouth June 30, and has brought to Eng-
land, as a present from Lord Combermere and the
army to His Majesty, a remarkable ponderous piece
of ordnance, which was taken at Bhurtpore. It
weighs 17 tons, and carries a one hundred
pound iron ball ; it is 16 feet long, and 37 inches
diameter at the breach, and, what is Very sin-
gular, it was cast at two periods, and of two
distinct metals— the breach and muzzle being dif-
ferent. Its surface is profusely ornamented with
Persian characters, complimentary of the maiden
fortress of Bhurtpore, and the Sultan by whom it
was founded.
Died.] At Titchfield, Rear Admiral Sir A. C.
Dickson, bart.— At Winchester, 90, Mis. Anne
Dilly.
DORSET AND WILTS.
At the general quarter sessions for Dorset, th$
Chairman complained of the non-attendance of
several of the grand jury; he deprecated such a
spirit of indifference and contempt, and said he
would put the laws in force, and compel them to
that attendance which they were so unwilling to
grant. He called the attention of his hearers to
the alteration which had taken place in the crimi-
nal code, whereby one hund red and forty statutes
had been reduced to two or three!!! The convic-
tions for larceny alone amounted in this kingdom
(injudiciously praised, it should now seem, for its
criminal laws!) in the six years ending with 1826,
to no less than forty-three thousand!!!
At the last general half-yearly meeting of the
managers of the Blandford Savings' Bank, it ap-
peared that the funds of this popular and flourish*
ing institution, vested in government securities,
exceeded .£39,000, and the depositors' numbers
had advanced to 1,330, exhibiting a considerable
increase since the last half-yearly meeting.
His Majesty's steam-packets at Weymouth are
now regularly fixed to convey the mails to Guern-
sey and Jersey; and such is the expeditious regn*
222
Provincial Occurrences : Somerset, Devon, fyc. [Arid.
latiou of these packets, that on Wednesday, July
11, two gentlemen having breakfasted in London,
departed by the coach, arrived in Weymouth the
same evening in time for the packet, and on the
following morning were comfortably seated at
their breakfast in Guernsey, thus accomplishing
the journey from the metropolis to that island in
24 hours.
Married.] At Ward our -castle, E. Doughty,
epq., to the Hon. Miss C. Arundell, sister to Lord
Arundell. — Rev. W. Doncaster, rector of Winter-
bourn-bassett, to Miss Williams, daughter of Lieut.-
Col. Wiliiains.— At Strikland, J. K. Galpine, esq.,
to Miss D. Bragg.
Died.'} At North Bradley, 83, Archdeacon Dau-
beney, author of" The Guide to the Church," and
several other works. — At Weymouth, 84, Mrs.
Cwhnar, of Chard.
SOMERSET AND DEVON.
There is much cause to congratulate the public
on the evident improvement (speaking of the quar-
ter sessions) in the state of society within our
(Exeter) walls, attributable, there is no doubt, to
increased exertion on the part of the magistracy
and the police. — THE ALFRED.
An institution for literary snd scientific lectures
has been recently formed at Tavistock, under the
fostering care of the Duke of Bedford.
The iron ore lately discovered at the Haytor
granite works, on the verge of Dartmoor, has
already become an article of export from Teign-
mouth for Wales, for the purpose of smelting ; the
specimens produced having been of the richest
kind.
A meeting has been recently held at Plymouth
to promote the erecting a chapel of ease in the
parish of Charles, for the Rev. S. Courtenay,
curate to the late Dr. Hawker, when subscriptions
and donations were registered to more than .£1,700
for that purpose.
The fourth annual meeting of the Royal Naval
Annuitant Society was held at Devonport, July 2,
when the report was of a most cheering and satis-
factory nature. It appeared that the validity of
fifty-seven annuities had been investigated, and
certificates granted to the claimants on this excel-
lent society.
The Rev. J. G. Maddison, rector of West Monk-
ton, has recently presented the parish church with
a splendid stained glass window, representing
various portions of our Saviour's history. The
parishioners are about to enjoy the benefits of a
new organ, the purchase money of which, be-
tween .£2,000 and .£3,000, has been raised by sub-
scription.
Married.*] At Bath, Mr. Duffield to Miss
Cranefield.— At Bathwick, Mr. Lewis to Miss
Watson.— At Wiveliscombe, B. Parham, esq., to
Miss Mogridge.
Dind.] At Totness 85, Mrs. Cornish.— At Crew-
kerne, Mrs. Hoskins, sister to Lord Sidmouth. —
88, Rev. W. Baynes, for nearly 50 years rector of
Rickinghall Superior and Inferior. — Rev. E. A.
Kitson, vicar of Saint Mary's Church.— At Bath,
Charlotte, wife of Mr.Cruttwell, printer and editor
of tb« Bath Chronicle.— At Cheddon Fitzpaine,
101, Mary Nation.— At Bath, Eliza Matilda, widow
of Lieut.-Col. Richardson, daughter of Lady M.
Sannders, and niece to Earl Aldborough. — At
Ashburton, Mr. C. Tucker.
CORNWALL.
Within these last two or, three da^s there have
been tevcial mermaids seen on the rocks at Tie-
nance, in the parish of Mawgan, near Columb, ih
the Bristol Channel. One evening this week, a
young man who lives adjoining the beach at Maw-
gan Porth, had made an appointment to meet ano-
ther person on the beach to catch sprats with him.
He went out about 10 o'clock at night, and coming
near a point which runs into the sea, he hoard a
screeching noise proceeding from a large cavern
which is left by the tide at low water, but which
has some deep pools in it, and communicates with
the sea by another outlet. He thought it was the
person he bad appointed to meet, and called out to
him, but his astonishment is not to he described
when on going up he saw something in the shape
of a human figure staring on him, with long hair
hanging all about it. He then ran away, thinking*
as he says, that he had seen the devil. The next
day, some men being on the cliffs near this place,
saw three creatures of the same description. The
following day five were seen. The persons who
saw the last five, describe them in this manner :—
The mermaids were about 40 feet below the men
(who stood on the cliff) and were lying on a rock,
separated from the land some yards by deep water ;
two of them were large, about 4£ to 5 feet long,
and these appeared to be sleeping on the rock ; the
other small ones were swimming about, and went
off once to sea and then came back again. The
men looked at them for more than an hour, and
flung stones at them, but they would not move off.
The large ones seemed to be lying on their faces ;
their upper parts were like those of human beings,
and black or dark coloured, with very long hair
hanging around them ; their lower parts were of
a bluish colour, and terminating in a fin, like fish.
The sea would sometimes wash overthem and then
leave them dry again. Their movements seemed
to be slow. The hair of these mermaids extended
to a distance of 9 or 10 feet.
Married.'} At St. Clement's, J. J. A. Boase,
esq., to Miss Charlotte Scholl.— At St. Allen, Mr.
R. Lanyon, aged 80, to Mrs. Cock, 57 ; the bride-
groom has CO grand-children, and 3 great-grand-
children!
Died.'] At Lelant, Mr. E. Banfield ; he fell from
his horse, which took fright by a squib being let
off by a boy at a bonfire!— At Truro, 91, Mr. G.
Davey.
WALES.
Tire Chester and Holyhead Road is undergoing
much improvement. The new line from Convvay
to Penmaenmawr, winding round Penmaenbach
to Pendyffryn, was opened for general travelling
early hi June. Although the length of this piece
of road is only about five miles, the coach arrives
at Conway from Bangor twenty minutes earlier
than usual, and this time is considered to be gained
by avoiding the tremendously steep high hill of
Sychnaut. Further improvements on this stage from
Conway to Bangor are in contemplation, particu-
larly under Penmaenmawr to Aber. The mail
from this place to Conway is allowed one hour and
thirty minutes, but it is expected that in future
the distance will be accomplished in an hour, thus
effecting a saving of time to the extent of thirty
minutes in a distance of nine miles.
The Pentlyne (Glamorgan) Annual Cottage and
Garden Premiums were recently distributed to
deserving labourers and their wives, for the clean-
est and neatest cottage— for the best cultivated-
garden— for the .best vegetables, &c., &c. -The
1827.]
Scotland, and Ireland.
223
emulation evinced by almost all the occupiers of
cottages in the parish to surpass one another in
meriting the rewards, and the neatness and clean-
liness of the cottages, and the highly cultivated
state of the different gardens, combined with the
industry, contented dispositions, and good feelings
of the occupants could not be exceeded.
An explosion of fire-damp lately took place in a
colliery at Llansamlet, Swansea, by which three
people lost their lives, through the obstinacy of
neglecting to use the Davy lamps.
The ceremony of laying the first stone of the
tank for a glass manufactory at Newtown, Mont-
gomery, took place July 2.
Mr. Crawshay, Cyfarth fa-castle, Glamorgan, cut
six pines at the latter end of June, from his own
garden, weighing 121b. 13oz.— 121b. 8oz.— lolb.
Soz. — lOlb. — and two of 91b. each.
The new blast engines, lately erected at the
British Iron Company's Works at Abersychan,
near Pontypool, were started July 6, for the first
time. They consist of two 52-inch steam cylin-
ders, with corresponding blast cylinders, of 104
inches in diameter, and are connected by a fly-
wheel of a proportionate weight and substance.
United, they form a power adequate to about 200
horses.
At the recent anniversary meeting of the Swan-
sea and Neath Peace Society, after some admirable
speeches on the occasion, several resolutions were
entered into, and it was agreed to distribute "the
Permanent Tracts of the Society throughout the
Principality/' in furtherance of the promotion of
permanent and universal peace.
Married.'] At Llansaintffread - cwmtoyddwr,
Glamorgan, J. Davies, esq., to Miss E. Lewi?. —
At Wrexham, T. Gonthwhite, esq., to Miss Ann
Hayes.
Died,~\ 73, Rev. J. T. Nash, rector of St.
Thomas's, Haverfordwest and Herbrardston, Pem-
broke.— At Mallwyd Rectory, Merioneth, Rev.
R. Davies.— At Noyaddlwyd, Miss Phillips.— At
Llwynrhydowen, 84, the Rev. D. Davis, for more
than half a century pastor of the dissenting con-
gregations at Llwynrhydowen, Penrhiw, Cilian,
and Alltyplacca : he was a feeling poet, witness
his translation of Gray's Elegy into Welsh.
SCOTLAND.
July 11, the inhabitants of Fochabers and its
neighbourhood were thrown into a state of the
utmost confusion and consternation, caused by
Gordon-castle beinar on fire. The first indications
appeared about half-past four in the morning, and
every exertion was instantly made to counteract
its further progress, but without effect. The con-
flagration increased with indescribable rapidity,
and in the course of a few hours, the whole eastern
wing was enveloped in one general blaze. The
Bcene at this moment was inconceivably grand.
At length a great portion of the roof fell in with
a tremendous crash; and the spectators, dreading
every moment lest the fiery element should com-
municate with the body of the castle, wore obliged
to cut down the colonnade which unites it with
the eastern wing. The fire was got under about
twelve o'clock at noon. The whole of the eastern
wing of this beautiful and magnificent super-
structure is now a scene of entire devastation.
There is something extremely striking and melan-
choly in the contrast which this part of Gordon-
castle presents to the rest of this imposing edifice,
and to the indescribable beauty of the surrounding
scenery. The destruction of property occasioned
by this melancholy occurrence is immense. Per-
haps some idea of the extent of this mournful de-
vastation will be formed, when We state that the
eastern wing*is two stories in height, and about
one hundred and ninety feet in length, and seventy
in breadth.
A curious phenomenon occurred here one night
last week, being nothing less than a large shower
of herring fry, which fell upon part of the nur-
sery ground at the north end of the town. The
surprise which filled the minds of the people in
that quarter, in the morning, on seeing nearly
about an acre of the fields, with the vegetables, &c.
covered with the scaly inhabitants of the deep may
be easily supposed. The only way of accounting
for this strange occurrence is, that the herrings
had been conveyed thither by a water-spout, from
the Atlantic. — Montrose Revicv\
Died] At Sprinfield, 72, Mr. D. Laing, the far-
famed Gretna-green " priest;" he had officiated for
35 years, and caught cold on the outside of the
coach on his way to Wakefield's trial.— At Bogend,
69, H. Walker, blacksmith, Symington; he was
the fourth of the same name, from father to son,
buried in the same grave ; and, for 300 years back,
he and his forefathers lie all within six feet of one
another, and were each, in succession from father
to son, blacksmiths in Symington.— At Dalmahoy,
66, the Earl of Morton. — At Milburne cottage,
Morningside, Georgina Christina Kerr, 3d daugh-
ter of Lord R. Kerr.— At Edinburgh, Archibald
Constable, esq.
IRELAND.
At a recent meeting in Dublin, Mr. O'Connel
alluded to the principle laid down in the resolu-
tions of a late meeting of the Dissenters in Londoti,
Lord Milton in the chair. The Catholics, he said,
should take up that principle ; they should assert
the broad principles of civil and religious liberty,
and the right of every human being to worship
God according to the dictates of his conscience.
They ought to cast away the expression " Catho-
lic Emancipation," and adopt " Civil and Religious
Liberty to all." Mr. O'Connel concluded by pro-
posing a resolution, pledging the meeting com-
pletely to identify their cause with that of the
Protestant Dissenters; which was carried with
unanimity and applause.
Sunday, June 24, in the afternoon, an immense
crowd of men, women, and children were observed
rushing down Marlborough-street, Dublin, shout-
ing and yelling, and tossing up something in the
air, which was sometimes caught by one, and
sometimes by another, and occasionally fell to the
earth, where there was a scramble for it, and it
was again tossed from one to another, amidst the
most diabolical yells, \vhich, on a nearer approach,
was distinguished to be a very decently dressed,
dwarfish, deformed female, whom these monsters
had suddenly fallen on ; and whenever she fell to
the earth, fiend-like women then rushed upon her
with horrid shrieks, tearing her clothes and cry/ing
out, "a witch! burn or drown the witch !" direct-
ing their course to the river. At length a young
gentleman rushed into the midst of these hell-
hounds, and courageously bore the helpless female
through the crowd, who then directed their ven-
geance against him; crying out, " The witch's
husband !" A few policemen luckily came up, and
were compelled to do ample justice with their
sticks on the savage crowd before they got the poor
creature safely into the police-office.
[ 224
DAILY PRICES OP STOCKS,
From the 26th of June to the 25th of July 1827.
» Bank 3 Pr. Ct. * Pr. ( t. 3A.Pr.Ct. SAPr.Ct. N4Pr.C. Lonp
Stock. Red. Consols. Consols. Red. Ann. Annuities.
India
Stock.
India Exch. Consols
Bonds. Bills, for Ace.
2«
27
2^!
29
' 30
July
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
If
20
21
2-2
23
24
25
206
2053
20C£207
85| *
93l
19 f 13-16
19 1-16 1"-16
19 13-16
19 13-16 £
19 13-16 a
19 13-16 jj
19| 13-16
19 15-16 20
20 1-16 A
19 15-16 20
19 15-16 20
19 15-16 2d
19 13-1615-16
19 15-16 g
19 15-16 20
15-16
15-16
2:0^ |
2505
252J
232A.
2.1 2J
19|
19}
252
19 J 15-16 252* |
19 15-16 20
87 89p
89 p
88 89p
86 88p
85 8 5P
85 87 p
8fi 89p
89 90p
9092p
84 88 p
8687p
86 87p
86 88p
85 8/p
87 88p
88 90p
89 90p
88 S9p
88 89p
5456p
55 57p
5356p
53-55p
54 56p
55 56 p
55 56p
5557p
57 59p
596}p
60 62p
53 55 p
50 53p
53 55 p
5253p
54 58p
5456p
55 5/ p
56 58p
56 5Sp
56 58p
87
E. EVTON, Stock Broker, 2, Cornhill and Lombard Street.
MONTHLY METEOROLOGICAL REPORT,
From June ZOth to 19th July inclusive.
By WILLIAM HARRIS and Co.. 50, High Holbcrn.
i
Therm,
Barometer.
tDe Luc's
Hygro.
Winds.
Atmospheric Variations.
a
O
5
— "
*g
i
'3
c
§
^
X
CO
s
9 A. M.
10P.M-
05
ft
9 A. M.
10 P. M.
9AM.
2P.M.
10 P.M.
a
•V
flfi
0)
S
i
o
o
20.
61
69
52
29 72
29 7«
8t)
80
WSW
WSW
Clo.
Fail-
Fine
21
5
58
68
50
29 77
29 83
73
77
WSW
WSW
Fair
Rain
22
66
55
29 89
29 97
77
74
W
W
_
Fair
Fail-
23
60
6!
52
29 98
3& 01
76
72
NW
WNW
—
Fine .
24
O
60
69
57
29 91)
29 99
73
73
SE
ESE
25
59
67
;6
29 99
29 95
78
80
ENE
ESE
— '
Clo.
Fair
26
61
72
58
29 93
29 90
77
74
WSW
WSW
Fair
62
69
58
29 83
29 66
80
90
S
ssw
Clo.
__
Clo.
28
60
64
58
29 53
29 57
98
93
SW
SW
Rain
Clo.
Rain
29
40
6]
70
58
29 52
29 62
98
80
W
SW
Clo.
30
6
63
72
59
29 67
29 77
80
80
WSW
SW
Fair
Rain
—
July
62
70
58
29 65
29 73
88
82
SSE
SW
Clo.
Clo.
2
30
&
59
71
57
29 77
29 69
92
8S
S
SW
Rain
Rain
—
3
62
72
55
29 72
29 95
82
72
W
WSW
Fair
Fair
Fair
4
6
62
73
62
30 06
30 06
77
92
WSW
WSW
Clo.
Rain
5
62
71
55
30 10 30 31
95
82
NE
ENK
Clo.
Fair
Fino
6
63
71
61
30 32 30 26
79
82
8
W
Fair
—
_
7
66
79
63
30 26 30 25
78
78
W
N
Fine
Fail-
8
o
66
79
63
30 25
30 21
74
73
NNW
N
—
—
Fine
9
71
80
59
30 17
30 10
71
72
W
WNW
Fine
'_
-"~ >
10
75
59
30 05
29 91
76
78
WXW
WNW
f
11
60
71 1 56
29 93
30 02
82
76
N
NNB
Overc.
—
—
63
73
57
30 05
30 07
74
78
E.VE
E
Fair
—
—
13
68
72
54
3) 07
30 09
7o
70
SE
E
14
62
72
53
30 07
30 01
73
75
ENE
ESE
_
__
_
15
€
64
74
56
29 96
29 93
81
74
NE
ENE
—
—
Clo.
16 '
.
64
72
56
29 93
29 94
79
78
E
SSK
—
_
Fair
17
61
60
29 94
29 91
81
76
S
SW
_
—
18
65
73
58
29 87
29 93
82
69
SW
W
Clo.
Fair
—
19
35
61
69
60
29 90
29 93
79
95
WSW
SW
S.Rain
Rain
Rain
The quantity of Rain fallen in the month of June wus 73-100ths of an inch.
ERRATUM. — In last Journal, for the quantity of Rain fallen in one day, &c., read the quantity of Rain
THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOL. IV.] SEPTEMBER, 1827. [No. 21,
ON MEANS AND ENDS.
" We work by wit, and not by witchcraft."— IAGO.
IT is impossible to have things done without doing them. This seems
a truism ; and yet what is more common than to suppose that we shall
find things done, merely by wishing it ? To put the will for the deed is
as usual in practice as it is contrary to common sense. There is, in fact,
no absurdity, no contradiction, of which the mind is not capable. This
weakness is, I think, more remarkable in the English than in any other
people, in whom (to judge by what I discover in myself) the will bears
great and disproportioned sway. We desire a thing : we contemplate the
end intently, and think it done, neglecting the necessary means to accom-
plish it. The strong tendency of the mind towards it, the internal effort
it makes to give birth to the object of its idolatry, seems an adequate cause
to produce the wished-for effect, and is in a manner identified with it.
This is more particularly the case in what relates to the Fine Arts, and
will account for same phenomena in the national character.
The English style is distinguished by what are called ebauches*— rude
sketches, or violent attempts at effect, with a total inattention to the details
or delicacy of finishing. Now this, I apprehend, proceeds not exactly
from grossness of perception, but from the wilfulness of our characters, our
determination to have every thing our own way without any trouble, or
delay, or distraction of mind. An object strikes us : we see and feel the
whole effect at once. We wish to produce a likeness of it ; but we wish
to transfer the impression to the canvas as it is conveyed to us, simulta-
neously and intuitively — that is> to stamp it there at a blow — or, other-
wise, we turn away with impatience and disgust, as if the means were
an obstacle to tho end, and every attention to the mechanical process were
a deviation from our original purpose. We thus degenerate, by repeated
failures, into a slovenly style of art; and that which was at first an undis-
ciplined and irregular impulse, becomes a habit, and then a theory. It
* Properly, daubs,
M.M. New Series,— VOL. IV. No. 21. 2 G
226 On Means and Ends. [SEPT.
seems a little strange that the zealous devotion to the end should produce
aversion to the means ; hut so it is : neither is it, however irrational, alto-
gether unnatural. That which we are struck with, which we are
enamoured of, is the general appearance or result ; and it would certainly
be most desirable to produce the effect we aim at by a word or wish, if it
were possible, without being taken up with the mechanical drudgery or
pettiness of detail, or dexterity of execution, which, though they are essen-
tial and component parts of the work, do not enter into our thoughts, or
form any part of our contemplation. In a word, the hand does not keep
pace with the eye ; and it is the desire that it should, that causes all the
contradiction and confusion. We would have a face to start out from
the canvas at once — not feature by feature, or touch by touch; we would
be glad to convey an attitude or a divine expression to the spectator by a
stroke of the pencil, as it is conveyed by a glance of the eye, or by the
magic of feeling, independently of measurements, and distances, and fore-
shortening, and numberless minute particulars, and all the instrumentality
of the art. We may find it necessary, on a cool calculation, to go through
and make ourselves masters of these; but, in so doing, we submit only to
necessity, and they are still a diversion to, and a suspension of, our favour-
ite purpose for the time — at least unless practice has given that facility
which almost identifies the two together, and makes the process an
unconscious one. The end thus devours up the means ; or our eagerness
for the one, where it is strong and unchecked, renders us in proportion
impatient of the other. So we view an object at a distance, which excites
in us an inclination to visit it : this, after many tedious steps and intricate
windings, we do; but, if we could fly, we should never consent to go on
foot. The mind, however, has wings, though the body has not ; and,
wherever the imagination can come into play, our desires outrun their
accomplishment. Persons of this extravagant humour should addict them-
selves to eloquence or poetry, where the thought " leaps at once to its
effect," and is wafted, in a metaphor or an apostrophe, " from Indus to
the Pole ;" though even there we should find enough, in the preparatory
and mechanical parts of those arts, to try our patience and mortify our
vanity ! The first and strongest impulse of the mind is to achieve any
object, on which it is set, at once, and by the shortest and most decisive
means ; but, as this cannot always be done, we ought not to neglect other
more indirect and subordinate aids; nor should we be tempted to do so,
but that the delusions of the will interfere with the convictions of the under-
standing, and what we ardently wish, we fancy to bo both possible and
true. Let us take the instance of copying a fine picture. We are full of
the effect we intend to produce ; and so powerfully does this prepossession
affect us, that we imagine we have produced it, in spite of the evidence
of our senses and the suggestions of friends. In truth, after a number of
violent and anxious efforts to strike off a resemblance which we passion-
ately long for, it seems an injustice not to have succeeded ; it is too late
to retrace our steps, and begin over again in a different method ; we prefer
even failure to arriving at our end by petty, mechanical tricks and rules ;
we have copied Titian or Rubens in the spirit in which they ought to be
copied ; though the likeness may not be perfect, there is a look, a tone, a
Something, which we chiefly aimed at, and which we persuade ourselves,
seeing the copy only through the dazzled, hectic flush of feverish imagina-
tion, we have really given ; and thus we persist, and make fifty excuses,
sooner than own our error, which would imply its abandonment ,;, or, if
1827.) On Mean* and Ends. 227
the light breaks in upon Us, through all the disguises of sophistry and self-
love, it is so painful that we shut our eyes to it. The more evident our,
failure, the more desperate the struggles we make to conceal it from our-
selves, to stick to our original determination, and end where we began.
What makes me think that this is the real stumbling-block in our way,
and not mere rusticity or want of discrimination, is that you will see an
English artist admiring and thrown into downright raptures by the tucker
of Titian's Mistress, made up of an infinite number of little delicate folds ;
and, if he attempts to copy it, he proceeds deliberately to omit all these
details, and dash it off by a single smear of his brush. This is not igno-
rance, or even laziness, I conceive, so much as what is called jumping at
a conclusion. It is, in a word, an overweening presumption. " A wilful
man must have his way." He sees the details, the varieties, and their
effect: he sees and is charmed with all this; but he would reproduce it
with the same rapidity and unembarrassed freedom that he sees it — or not
at all. He scorns the slow but sure method, to which others conform, as
tedious and inanimate. The mixing his colours, the laying in the ground,
the giving all his attention to a minute break or nice gradation in the
several lights and shades, is a mechanical and endless operation, very dif-
ferent from the delight he feels in studying the effect of all these, when
properly and ably executed. Quam nihil ad tuum, Papiniane, ingeniuml
Such fooleries are foreign to his refined taste and lofty enthusiasm ; and
a doubt crosses his mind, in the midst of his warmest raptures, how Titian
could resolve upon the drudgery of going through them, or whether it was
not rather owing to extreme facility of hand, and a sort of trick in laying
on the colours, abridging the mechanical labour ! No one wrote or talked
more eloquently about Titian's harmony and clearness of colouring than,
the late Mr. Barry — discoursing of his greens, his blues, his yellows,
" the little red and white of which he composed his flesh-colour," con
amore ; yet his own colouring was dead and dingy, and, if he had copied
a Titian, he would have made it a mere daub, leaving out all that caused
his wonder or admiration, or that induced him to copy it after the English
or Irish fashion. We not only grudge the labour of beginning, but we
stop short, for the same reason, when we are near touching the goal of
success, and, to save a few last touches, leave a work unfinished and an
object unattained. The immediate steps, the daily gradual improvement,
the successive completion of parts, give us no pleasure ; we strain at the
final result ; we wish to have the whole done, and, in our anxiety to get it
off our hands, say it will do, and lose the benefit of all our pains by stint-
ing a little more, and being unable to command a little patience. In a day
or two, we will suppose, a copy of a fine Titian would be as like as we
could make it : the prospect of this so enchants us, that we skip the inter,-
vening space, see no great use in going on with it, fancy that we may spoil
it, and, in order to put an end to the question, take it home with us, where
we immediately see our error, and spend the rest of our lives in regretting
that we did not finish it properly when we were about it. We can execute
only a part ; we see the whole of nature or of a picture at once. Hinc ilia:
lackrymcd. The English grasp at this whole — nothing less interests or
contents them ; and, in aiming at too much, they miss their object alto-
gether.
A French artist, on the contrary, has none of this uneasy, anxious feel-
ing—of this desire to master the whole of his subject, and anticipate his
good fortune at a blow — of this massing and concentrating principle. He
2 G 2
228 On Means anil Ends. [SEPT.
takes the thing more easy and rationally. He has none of the mental
qualms, the nervous agitation, the wild, desperate plunges and convulsive
throes of the English artist. He does not set off headlong without knowing
where he is going, and find himself up to the neck in all sorts of difficulties
and absurdities, from impatience to begin and have the matter off his mind
(as if it were an evil conscience) ; but takes time to consider, arranges his
plans, gets in his outline and his distances, and lays a foundation before
he attempts a superstructure which he may have to pull in pieces again, or
let it remain — a monument of his folly. He looks before he leaps, which
is contrary to the true blindfold English rule ; and 1 should think that we
had invented this proverb from seeing so many fatal examples of the viola-
tion of it. Suppose he undertakes to make a copy of a picture : he first
looks at it, and sees what it is. He does not make his sketch all black
or all white, because one part of it is so, and because he cannot alter an
idea he has once got into his head and must always run into extremes,
but varies his tints (strange as it may seem) from green to red,- from
orange-tawney to yellow, from grey to brown, according at they vary in
the original. He sees no inconsistency, no forfeiture of a principle, in
this (any more than Mr. Southey in the change of the colours of his coat),
but a great deal of right reason, and indeed an absolute necessity for it, if
he wishes to succeed in what he is about. This is the last thing in an
Englishman's thoughts : he only wishes to have his own way, though it
ends in defeat and ruin — strives hard to do what he is sensible he cannot —
or, if he finds he can, gives over and leaves the matter short of a triumphant
conclusion, which is too flattering an idea for him to indulge in. The
French artist proceeds with due deliberation, and bit by bit. He takes
some one part — a hand, an eye, a piece of drapery, an object in the back-
ground—and finishes it carefully ; then another, and so on to the end.
When he has gone through every part, his picture is done : there is nothing
more that he can add to it; it is a numerical calculation, and there are
only so many items in the account. An Englishman may go on slobbering
his over for the hundredth time, and be no nearer than when he began. As
he tries to finish the whole at once, and as this is not possible, he always
leaves his work in an imperfect state, or as if he had begun on a new can-
vas— like a man who is determined to leap to the top of a tower, instead of
scaling it step by step, and who is necessarily thrown on his back every
time he repeats the experiment. Again, the French student does not, from
a childish impatience, when he is near the end, destroy the effect of the
whole, by leaving some one part eminently deficient, an eye-sore to the
rest; nor does he fly from what he is about, to any thing else that happens
to catch his eye, neglecting the one and spoiling the other. He is, in
our old poet's phrase, " constrained by mastery," by the mastery of com-
mon sense and pleasurable feeling. He is in no hurry to get to the end;
for he has a satisfaction in the work, and touches and retouches perhaps
a single heed, day after day and week after week, without repining,
uneasiness, or apparent progress. The very lightness and buoyancy of his
feelings renders him (where the necessity of this is pointed out) patient and
laborious. An Englishman, whatever he undertakes, is as if he was carry-
ing a heavy load that oppresses both his body and mind, and that he is
anxious to throw down as soon as possible. The Frenchman's hopes and
fears are not excited to a pitch of intolerable agony, so that he is compelled,
;in mere compassion to himself, to- bring the question to a speedy issue,
even to the loss of his object. He is calm, easy, collected, and takes his
1 827.] On Means and Ends. 229
time and improves his advantages as they occur, with vigilance and alacrity.
Pleased with himself, he is pleased with whatever occupies his attention
nearly alike. He is never taken at a disadvantage. Whether he paints an
angel or a joint-stool, it is much the same to him : whether it is landscape
or history, still it is he who paints it. Nothing puts him out of his way,
for nothing puts him out of conceit with himself. This self-complacency
forms an admirable ground-work for moderation and docility in certain
particulars', though not in others.
I remember an absurd instance enough of this deliberate mode of setting
to work in a young French artist, who was copying the Titian's Mistress
in the Louvre, some twenty years ago. After getting in his chalk-outline,
one would think he might have been attracted to the face — that heaven of
beauty (as it appears to some), clear, transparent, open, breathing freshness,
that "makes a sunshine in the shady place ;" or to the lustre of the golden
hair; or some part of the poetry of the picture (for, with all its materiality,
this picture has a poetry about it) ; instead of which he began to finish a
square he had marked out in the right-hand corner of the picture, contain-
ing a piece of board and a bottle of some kind of ointment. He set to
work like a cabinet-maker or an engraver, and appeared to have no sym-
pathy with the soul of the picture. On a Frenchman (generally speaking),
the distinction between the great and the little, the exquisite and the indif-
ferent, is in a great measure lost : his self-satisfied egotism supplies what-
ever is wanting up to a certain point, and neutralizes whatever goes beyond
it. Another young man, at the time I speak of, was for eleven weeks
daily employed in making a black-lead pencil drawing of a small Leo-
nardo : he set with his legs balanced across a rail to do it, kept his hat
on, every now and then consulted with his friends about his progress, rose
up, went to the fire to warm himself, talked of the styles of the different
masters — praising Titian pour les colon's, Raphael pour ^expression,
Poussin pour la composition — all being alike to him, provided they had
each something to help him on in his harangue (for that was all he thought
about), — and then returned to perfectionate (as he called it) his copy.
This would drive an Englishman out of his senses, supposing him to be
ever so stupid. The perseverance and the interruptions, the labour with-
out impulse, the attention to the parts in succession, and disregard of the
whole together, are to him utterly incomprehensible. He wants to do
something striking, and bends all his thoughts and energies to one mighty
effort. A Frenchman has no notion of this summary proceeding, exists
mostly in his present sensations, and, if he is left at liberty to enjoy or
trifle with these, cares about nothing farther, looking neither backwards nor
.forwards. They forgot the reign or terror under Robespierre in a month ;
they forgot that they had ever been called the great nation under Buona-
parte in a week. They sat in chairs on the Boulevards (just as they do at
other times), when the shots were firing into the next street, and were only
persuaded to quit them when their own soldiers were seen pouring down
all the avenues from the heights of Montmartre, crying " Sauve quipeut !"
They then went home and dressed themselves to see the Allies enter
Paris, as a fine sight, just as they would witness a procession at a theatre.
This is carrying the instinct of levity as far as it will go. With all their
affectation and want of sincerity, there is, on the principle here stated, a
kind of simplicity and nature about them after all. They lend themselves
-to the impression of the moment with good humour and good will, making
it riot much bettor nor worse than it is: the English constantly over-do or
230 On Means and Ends. [SEPT'.
under-do every thing, and are either mad with enthusiasm or in despair*
The extreme slowness and regularity of the French school have then arisen,
as a natural consequence, out of their very fickleness and frivolity (their
severally supposed national characteristics) ; for, owing to the last, their
studious exactness costs them nothing ; and, again, they have no headstrong
impulses or ardent longings that urge them on to the violation of rules, or
hurry them away with a subject or with the interest belonging to it. All
is foreseen and settled before-hand, so as to assist the fluttering and feeble
hold they have of things. When they venture beyond the literal and
formal, and (mistaking pedantry and bombast for genius) attempt the
grand and the impressive style, as in David's and Girodet's pictures, the
Lord deliver us from sublimity engrafted on insipidity and petit-maitre-ism !
You see a solitary French artist in the Louvre copying a Raphael or a
Rubens, standing on one leg, not quite sure of what he is about : you see
them collected in groupes about David's, elbowing each other, thinking
them even finer than Raphael, more truly themselves, a more perfect com-
bination of all that can be taught by the Greek sculptor and the French
posture-master ! Is this patriotism, or want of taste ? If the former, it is
excusable ; and why not, if the latter ?
Even should a French artist fail, he is not disconcerted — there is some*
thing else he excels in : " for one unkind and cruel fair, another still con-
soles him." He studies in a more graceful posture, or pays greater atten-
tion to his dress ; or he has a friend, who has beaucoup du talent, and
conceit enough for them both. His self-love has always a salvo, and
comes upon its legs again, like a cat or a monkey. Not so with Bruin the
Bear. If an Englishman (God help the mark !) fails in one thing, it is
all over with him ; he is enraged at the mention of any thing else he can
do, and at every consolation offered him on that score ; he banishes all
other thoughts, but of his disappointment and discomfiture, from his
breast — neither eats nor sleeps (it is well if he does not swallow down
double " potations, 'pottle-deep/* to drown remembrance) — will not own,
even to himself, any other thing in which he takes an interest or feels a
pride ; and is in the horrors till he recovers his good opinion of himself in
the only point on which he now sets a value, and for which his anxiety
and disorder of mind incapacitate him as effectually as if he were drunk
with strong liquor instead of spleen and passion. I have here drawn the
character of an Englishman, I am sure; for it is a portrait of myself and,
I am sorry to add, an unexaggerated one. I intend these Essays as studies
of human nature ; and as, in the prosecution of this design, I do not spare
others, I see no reason why I should spare myself. — I lately tried to
make a copy of a portrait by Titian (after several years' want of practice),
with a view to give a friend in England some notion of the picture, which
is equally remarkable and fine. I failed, and floundered on for some days,
as might be expected. I must say the effect on me was painful and exces-
sive. My sky was suddenly overcast. Every thing seemed of the colour
of the paints I used. Nature in my eyes became dark and gloomy. I had
no sense or feeling left, but of the unforeseen want of power, and of the tor-
menting struggle to do what i could not. I was ashamed ever to have
written or spoken on art : it seemed a piece of vanity and affectation in
me to do so — all whose reasonings and refinements on the subject ended
in an execrable daub. Why did I think of attempting such a thing with-
out weighing the consequences of exposing my presumption and incapa-
city so unnecessarily ? It was blotting from my mind, covering with a
1827.] On Means and Ends. 231
thick veil all that I remembered of these pictures formerly — my hopes
when young, my regrets since, one of the few consolations of my life and
of my declining years. I was even afraid to walk out of an evening by
the barrier of Neuilly, or to recal the yearnings and associations that once
hung upon the beatings of my heart. All was turned to bitterness and gall.
To feel any thing but the consciousness of my own helplessness and folly,
appeared a want of sincerity, a mockery, and an insult to my mortified
pride ! The only relief I had was in the excess of pain I felt : this was at
least some distinction. I was not insensible on that side. No French
artist, I thought, would regret not copying a Titian so much as I did, nor
so far shew the same value for it, however he might have the advantage of
me in drawing or mechanical dexterity. Besides, I had copied this very
picture very well formerly. If ever I got out of my present scrape, I had
at any rate received a lesson not to run the same risk of vexation, or com-
mit myself gratuitously again upon any occasion whatever. Oh! happy
ought they to be, I said, who can do any thing, when I feel the misery,
the agony, the dull, gnawing pain of being unable to do what I wish in
this single instance ! When I copied this picture before, I had no other
resource, no other language. My tongue then stuck to the roof of my
mouth : now it is unlocked, and I have done what I then despaired of
doing in another way. Ought I not to be grateful and contented ? Oh,
yes ! — and think how many there are who have nothing to which they can
turn themselves, and fail in every object they undertake. Well, then,
Let bygones be bygones (as the Scotch proverb has it) ; give up the
attempt, and think no more of Titian, or of the portrait of a Man in black
in the Louvre. This would be very well for any one else ; but for me,
who had nearly exhausted the subject on paper, that I should take it into
my head to paint a libel of what I had composed so many and such fine
panegyrics upon — it was a fatality, a judgment upon me for my vapouring
and conceit. I must be as shy of the subject for the future as a damned
author is of the title of his play or the name of his hero ever after. Yet
the picture would look the same as ever. I could hardly bear to think so :
it would be hid or defaced to me as " in a phantasma or a hideous dream."
I must turn my thoughts from it, or they would lead to madness ! The
copy went on better afterwards, and the affair ended less tragically than I
apprehended. I did not cut a hole in the canvas, or commit any other
extravagance : it is now hanging up very quietly facing me ; and I have
considerable satisfaction in occasionally looking at it, as I write this para-
graph.
Such are the agonies into which we throw ourselves about trifles — our
rage and disappointment at want of success in any favourite pursuit, and,
our neglect of the means to ensure it. A Frenchman, under the penalty of
half the chagrin at failure, would take just twice the pains and considera-
tion to avoid it : but our morbid eagerness and blundering impetuosity,
together with a certain concrete/less of imagination which prevents our
dividing any operation into steps and stages, defeat the very end we have
in view. The worst of these wilful mischiefs of our own making is, that
they admit of no relief or intermission. Natural calamities or great griefs,
as we do not bring them upon ourselves, so they find a seasonable respite
in tears or resignation, or in some alleviating contrast or reflection : but
pride scorns all alliance with natural frailty or indulgence; our wilful pur-
poses regard every relaxation or moment's ease as a compromise of their
232 On Means and Ends, [SEPT.
very essence, which consists in violence and effort : they turn away from
whatever might afford diversion or solace, and goad us on to exertions as
painful as they are unavailable, and with no other companion than remorse,
— the most intolerable of all inmates of the breast; for it is constantly urg-
ing us to retrieve our peace of mind by an impossibility — the undoing of
what is past. One of the chief traits of sublimity in Milton's character of
Satan is this dreadful display of unrelenting pride and self-will — the sense
•of suffering joined with the sense of power and " courage never to submit
or yield" — and the aggravation of the original purpose of lofty ambition
and opposition to the Almighty, with the total overthrow and signal punish-
ment,— which ought to be reasons for its relinquishment. " His thoughts
burn like a hell within him !" but he gives them " neither truce nor rest,"
and will not even sue for mercy. This kind of sublimity must be thrown
away upon the French critic, who would only think Satan a very ridicu-
lous old gentleman for adhering so obstinately to his original pretensions,
and not making the most of circumstances, and giving in his resignation to
the ruling party ! When Buonaparte fell, an English editor (of virulent
memory) exhausted a great number of the finest passages in Paradise
Lost, in applying them to his ill-fated ambition. This was an equal com-
pliment to the poet and the conqueror : to the last, for having realized a
conception of himself in the mind of his enemies on a par with the most
stupendous creations of imagination ; to the first, for having embodied in
tiction what bore so strong a resemblance to, and was constantly brought
to mind by, the fearful and imposing reality ! But to return to our sub-
ject-
It is the same with us in love and literature. An Englishman makes
love without thinking of the chances of success, his own disadvantages, or
the character of his mistress — that is, without the adaptation of means to
ejids, consulting only his own humour or fancy;* and he writes a book
of history or travels, without acquainting himself with geography, or
appealing to documents or dates; substituting his own will or opinion in
the room of these technical helps — or hindrances, as he considers them.
It is not right. In business it is not by any means the same ; which looks
as if, where interest was the moving principle, and acted as a counterpoise
to caprice and will, our headstrong propensity gave way, though it some-
times leads us into extravagant and ruinous speculations. Nor is it a dis-
advantage to us in war; for there the spirit of contradiction does every
thing, and an Englishman will go to the devil sooner than yield to any
odds. Courage is nothing but will, defying consequences ; and this the
English have in perfection. Burns somewhere calls out lustily, inspired by
rhyme and usquebaugh, —
• Dr. Johnson has observed, that " strong passion deprives the lover of that easiness
of address, which is so great a recommendation to most women." Is then indifference or
coldness the surest passport to the female heart? A man who is much in love has not his
wits properly about him : he can think only of her whose image is engraven on his heart;
he can talk only of her ; he can only repeat the same vows, and protestations, and expres-
sions of rapture or despair. He may, by this means, become importunate and troublesome
— but does he deserve to lose his mistress for the only cause that j>ives him a title to her — •
the sincerity of his passion / We may perhaps answer this question by another — Is a
woman to accept of a madman, merely because he happens to fall in love with her? "The
lunatic, the lover, and the poet," as Shakspeare has said, "are of imagination all com-
pact," and must, in most cases, be contented with imagination as their reward. Realities
are out of their reach, as well as beneath their notice.
1 827.] On Means mid Ends. 235
" Set but a Scotsman on a hill ;
Say such is royal George's will,
And there's the foe : —
His only thought is how to kill
Twa at a blow."
I apprehend, with his own countrymen or ours, all the love and loyalty
would come- to little, but for their hatred of the array opposed to them. It
is the resistance, " the two to kill at a blow/' that is the charm, and
makes our fingers'-ends tingle. The Greek cause makes no progress with
us for this reason : it is one of pure sympathy, but our sympathies must arise
out of our antipathies ; they were devoted to the Queen to spite the King.
We had a wonderful affection for the Spaniards — the secret of which was
that we detested the French. Our love must begin with hate. It is so
far well that the French are opposed to us in almost every way ; for the
spirit of contradiction alone to foreign fopperies and absurdities keeps us
within some bounds of decency and order. When an English lady of
quality introduces a favourite by saying, " This is his lordship's physician,
and my atheist," the humour might become epidemic ; but we can stop it
at once by saying, "That is so like a Frenchwoman!" — The English
excel in the practical and mechanic arts, where mere plodding and
industry are expected and required ; but they do not combine business and
pleasure well together. Thus, in the Fine Arts, which unite the mecha-
nical with the sentimental, they will probably never succeed ; for the one
spoils and diverts them from the other. An Englishman can attend but to
one thing at a time. He hates music at dinner. He can go through any
labour or pain with prodigious fortitude; but he cannot make a pleasure of
it, or persuade himself he is doing a fine thing, when he is not. ' Again,
they are great in original discoveries, which come upon them by surprise,
and which they leave to others to perfect. It is a question whether, if
they foresaw they were about to make the discovery, at the very point of
projection as it were, they would not turn their backs upon it, arid leave it
to shift for itself ; or obstinately refuse to take the last step, or give up
the pursuit, in mere dread and nervous apprehension lest they should not
succeed. Poetry is also their undeniable element ; for the essence of
poetry is will and passion, " and it alone is highly fantastical." French
poetry is verbiage or dry detail.
I have thus endeavoured to shew why it is the English fail as a people
in the Fine Arts, because the idea cf \he end absorbs that of the means.
Hogarth was an exception to this rule ; but then every stroke of his pencil
was instinct with genius. As it has been well said, that " we read his
works, so it might be said he wrote them. Barry is an instance more to
my purpose. No one could argue better about gusto in painting, and yet
no one ever painted with less. His pictures were dry, coarse, and wanted
all that his descriptions of those of others indicate. For example, he speaks
of " the dull, dead, watery look" of the Medusa's head of Leonardo, in
a manner that conveys an absolute idea of the character : had he copied it,
you would never have suspected any thing of the kind. His pen grows
almost wanton in praise of Titian's nymph-like figures. What drabs
he has made of his own sea-nymphs, floating in the Thames, with Dr.
Burney at their head, with his wig on ! He is like a person admiring the
grace of an accomplished rope-dancer; place him on the rope himself, and
his head turns ; — or he is like Luther's comparison of Reason to a drunken
man on horseback — " set him up on one side, and he tumbles over on the
M.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 21. 2 H
234 OH Means and End*. [SEPT.
other." Why is this? His mind was essentially ardent and discursive,
not sensitive or observant ; and though the immediate object acted as a
stimulus to his imagination, it was only as it does to the poet's — that is, as
a link in the chain of association, as implying other strong feelings and
ideas, and not for its intrinsic beauty or individual details. He had not
the painter's eye, though he had the painter's general knowledge. There
is as great a difference in this respect between our views of things as
between the telescope and microscope. People in general see objects
only to distinguish them in practice and by name — to know that a hat is
black, that a chair is not a table, that John is not James ; and there are
painters, particularly of history in England, who look very little farther.
They cannot finish any thing, or go over a head twice : the first coup-d'cetl
is all they ever arrive at; nor can they refine on their impressions, soften
them down, or reduce them to their component parts, without losing their
spirit. The inevitable result of this is grossness, and also want of force and
solidity ; for, in reality, the parts cannot be separated without injury from
the whole. Such people have no pleasure in the art as such : it is merely
to astonish or to thrive that they follow it; or, if thrown out of it by acci-
dent, they regret it only as a bankrupt tradesman does a business which
was a handsome subsistence to him. Barry did not live, like Titian, on
the taste of colours (there was here, perhaps — and I will not disguise it —
in English painters in general, a defect of organic susceptibily) ; they were
not a pabulum to his senses ; he did not hold green, blue, red, and yellow
for "the darlings of his precious eye." They did not, therefore, sink into
his mind with all their hidden harmonies, nor nourish and enrich it with
material beauty, though he knew enough of them to furnish hints for other
ideas and to suggest topics of discourse. If he had had the most enchant-
ing object in nature before him in his painting-room at the Adelphi, he
would have turned from it, after a moment's burst of admiration, to talk of
the subject of his next composition, and to scrawl in some new and vast
design, illustrating a series of great events in history, or some vague moral
theory. The art itself was nothing to him, though he made it the stalk-
ing-horse to his ambition and display of intellectual power in general ;
and, therefore, he neglected its essential qualities to daub in huge alle-
gories, or carry on cabals with the Academy, in which the violence of his
will and the extent of his views found proper food and scope. As a
painter, he was tolerable merely as a draftsman, or in that part of the art
which may be best reduced to rules and precepts, or to positive measure-
ments. There is neither colouring, nor expression, nor delicacy, nor
striking effect in his pictures at the Adelphi. The group of youths and
horses, in the representation of the Olympic Games, is the best part of
them, and has more of the grace and spirit of a Greek bas-relief than any
thing of the same kind in the French school of painting. Barry was, all
his life, a thorn in the side of Sir Joshua, who was irritated by the tem-
per and disconcerted by the powers of the man ; and who, conscious of his
own superiority in the exercise of his profession, yet looked askance at
Barry's loftier pretensions and more gigantic scale of art. But he had no
more occasion to be really jealous of him than of an Irish porter or orator.
It was like Imogen's mistaking the dead body of Cloten for her lord's —
" the jovial thigh, the brawns of Hercules :" the head, which would have
detected the cheat, was missing !
I might have gone more into the subject of our apparent indifference to
the pleasure of mere imitation, if I had had to run a parallel between
English and Italian or even Flemish art; but really, though I find a great
1821.] On Means and Ends. 235
deal of what is finical, I find nothing of the pleasurable in the details of
French more than of English art. The English artist, it is an old and
just complaint, can with difficulty be prevailed upon to finish any part of
a picture but the face, even if he does that any tolerable justice : the
French artist bestows equal and elaborate pains on every part of his pic-
ture— the dress, the carpet, &c. ; and it has been objected to the latter
method, that it has the effect of making the face look unfinished ; for as
this is variable and in motion, it can never admit of the same minuteness
of imitation as objects of still life, and must suffer in the comparison, if
these have the utmost possible degree of attention bestowed on them, and
do not fail into their relative place in the composition from their natural
insignificance. But does not this distinction shew generally that the Eng-
lish have no pleasure in art, unless there is an additional interest beyond
what is borrowed from the eye, and that the French have the same plea-
sure in it, provided the mechanical operation is the same — like the fly that
settles equally on the face or dress, and runs over the whole surface with
the same lightness and indifference ? The collar of a coat is out of draw-
ing : this may be and is wrong. But I cannot say that it gives me the
same disturbance as if the nose was awry. A Frenchman thinks that both
are equally out of drawing, and sets about correcting them both with
equal gravity and perseverance. A part of the back-ground of a picture
is left in an unfinished state : this is a sad eye-sore to the French artist or
connoisseur. We English care little about it: if the head and character
are well given, we pass it over as of small consequence ; and if they are
failures, it is of even less. A French painter, after having made you look
like a baboon, would go on finishing the cravat or the buttons of your
coat with all the nicety of a man milliner or button-maker, and the most
perfect satisfaction with himself and his art. This with us would be quite
impossible, " They are careful after many things : with us, there is one
thing needful " — which is effect. We certainly throw our impressions
more into masses (they are not taken off by pattern, every part alike) :
there may be a slowness and repugnance at first ; out, afterwards, there is
an impulse, a momentum acquired — one interest absorbing and being
strengthened by several others ; and if we gain our principal object, we can
overlook the rest, or at least cannot find time to attend to them till we have
secured this. We have nothing otihepetit-maitre, of the martinet style
about us : we run into the opposite fault. If we had time, if we had
power, there could be no objection to giving every part with the utmost
perfection, as it is given in a looking-glass. But if we have only a month
to do a portrait in, is it not better to give three weeks to the face and one
to the dress, than one week to the face and three to the dress ? How often
do we look at the face compared to the dress ? " On a good foundation,"
says Sancho Panza, " a good house may be built :" so a good picture
should have a good back-ground, and be finished in every part. It is
entitled to this mark of respect, which is like providing a frame for it, and
hanging it in a good light. I can easily understand how Rubens or Van-
dyke finished the back grounds and drapery of their pictures : — they were
worth the trouble ; and, besides, it cost them nothing. It was to them no
more than blowing a bubble in the air. One would no doubt have every
thing right — a feather in a cap, or a plant in the fore-ground — if a thought
or a touch would do it. But to labour on for ever, and labour to no pur-
pose, is beyond mortal or English patience. Our clumsiness is one cause
of our negligence. Depend upon it, people do with readiness what they
2 II 2
236 On Means and Ends. [SEPT.
can do well. I rather wonder, therefore, that Raphael took such pains in
finishing his draperies and hack-grounds, which he did so indifferently.
The expression is like an emanation of the soul, or like a lamp shining
within and illuminating the whole face and body ; and every part, charged
with so sacred a trust as the conveying this expression (even to the hands
and feet), would be wrought up to the highest perfection. But his inanimate
objects must have cost him some trouble ; and yet he laboured them too.
In what he could not do well, he was still determined to do his best ; and
that nothing should be wanting in decorum and respect to an art that he
had consecrated to virtue, and to that genius that burnt like a flame upon
its altars ! We have nothing that for myself I can compare with this
high and heroic pursuit of art for its own sake. The French fancy thek
own pedantic abortions equal to it, thrust them into the Louvre, " and
with their darkness dare affront that light !" — thus proving themselves with-
out the germ or the possibility of excellence — the feeling of it in others.
We at least claim some interest in art, by looking up to its loftiest monu-
ments— retire to a distance, and reverence the sanctuary, if we cannot
enter it.
" They also serve who only stare and wait."*
W. H.
PYRAMUS AND THISBE I
AN OPERATIC TRAGEDY.
Dramatis Persona.
PYRAMUS, a Cobbler's Son, in love with Thisbe, and in liquor with his Father's Beer.
THISBE, the Daughter of a respectable Char- Woman.
COBBLER, Fa her of Pyramus, heard but not seen.
LEO, a Lion, 15 feet from the snout to the tail, aud 16 feet, cfec.
NINNY, a Ghost.
LEON A, the Lion's Lady.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — A Junction Wall between the Garrets O/PYRAMUS and THISBE.
Pyr. Some folks maintain that grief is very dry;
That's not my case — it always makes me cry.
Here Feyther thumps and bumps me all about j
Some day, I'm 'fear'd, he'll knock my soul clean out.
* Zoffani, a foreign artist, but who, by long residence in England, had got our habits of
indolence and dilatoriness, was employed by the late King, who was fond of low comedy,
to paint a scene from Reynolds,^ SPECULATION ; in which Quick, Munden, and Miss Wallis
were introduced. The King called to see it in its progress ; and at last it was done —
" all but the coat." The picture, however, was not sent ; and the King repeated his visit
to the artist. Zoffani with some embarrassment said, " It was done all but the goat." —
" Don't tell me," said the imp atient monarch ; " this is always the way : you said it was
done all but the coat the last time I was here.'' — " I said the goat, arid please your
Majesty." — " Aye," replied the King, " the goat or the coat, I care not which you call
it; I say I will not have the picture,"— and was going to leave the room, when Zoffani,
in an agony, repeated, " It is the goat that is not finished," — pointing to a picture of a
goat that was bung up in a frame as an ornament to the scene at the theatre. The King
laughed heartily at the blunder, and waited patiently till the goat was finished. Zoffani,
like other idle people, was careless and extravagant. He made a fortune when he first
came over here, which he soon spent : he then went out to India, where he made another,
with which he returned to England, and spent also. He was an excellent theatrical portrait-
painter, and has left delineations of celebrated actors and interesting situations, which
revive the dead, and bring the scene before us.
1827.] Pyramus and Thisbe. 237
No solace now my wretched bosom knows,
Save love and liquor, to destroy my woes ;
And but for Thiz, my truest love and friend,
My life, alas! would soon wax to an end.
Hush ! sure I thought I heard her gentle pat
Against the wall. Ah ! no — it was a rat ! —
No— it is she. What! Thizzy, little dear !
What kept you, love, so long from coming here ?
Thisbe. I should have come, dear Pyrry, long before;
But mother made me stop and scour the floor.
Pyr. See, darling, what a pretty hole I've made
Through the rough wall! — you needn't be afraid.
Peep-o, my pretty dear ! Law, I can see
Your twinkling eye that looks so sweet at me!
And now, my dearest, doating, darling Thiz,
Do blow me, through the wall, a little kiss. [She blows.
Laws, Thizzy ! you have took me by surprise,
And blown a lot of brick -dust in my eyes!
Why do I slop here, pent up in the house,
And make love through a hole, like any mouse ?
Straight from our hated parents let us fly,
And meet each other in the wood hard by :
There I will join you 'neath the forest's shade,
Where Ninny's tomb is seen amid the glade.
Thisbe. Nay, Pyrry, don't go there ; they say each night
Poor Ninny's ghost stalks in the pale moonlight.
You know his story, and you best can tell
How by his hand the wretched lover fell.
So say for why his spirit cannot rest ;
You knows that naughty men tell stories best.
Pyr. Poor Ninny once did woo a tender maid,
Who love, 'twas said, with equal love repaid;
But then her father thought his feelings trash,
And called on Ninny to fork out the cash.
Now all the blunt he had beneath the sun
Amounted to the sum of one-pound-one.
With this to raise the wish'd-for dower he tried,
And to a lottery-office quickly hied.
But when a blank rewarded all his pains,
He took a pistol and blowed out his brains :
So thus he lost his love and lost his guinea ;
And there he lies entombed.
Thisbe. Alas poor Ninny !
Pyr. But of this ghost you need have no alarm,
For Ninny living could do no one harm.
Thisbe. Well, at his tomb we'll meet at twelve o'clock,
And I of victuals will lay in a stock.
Don't cry, dear Pyrry ! we shall meet again;
Til blow a parting kiss to ease your pain.
Pyr. Laws, Thizzy, it is pain that makes me cry,
With all that brick-dust what's got in my eye.
Thisbe. Oh! if its all your eye, dear, never mind ;
I've heard folks say as Love is always blind.
Pyr. I'm blind enough at present, never doubt;
But father aint, and p'rhaps he'll find us out.
[begins to funk.
Thisbe. Nay, don't be 'fear'd — such terrors are but stuff j
To-morrow we'll be found out, sure enough.
Pyr. Let's stop the hole up I made in the wall,
And then he'll not suspect the thing at all.
Thisbe. Stop ! sure I heard a noise upon the stairs.
Hush ! 'tis your father's voice. Laws, how he swears !
238 Pyramus and Thisbe : [SEPT.
The COBBLER (from below).
Cob. What are you after there, you rascal^ hey ?
You're at no good there, I'll be bound to say.
Pyr. There was a hole, dear father, in the wall,
And I was just a stopping it — that's all.
Cob. If you don't come down stairs and mend this shoe,
I'll come up stairs, and, damme, I'll mend you.
Pyr. I'm j ust a-coming, father. Oh, my eye !
Confound that brick-dust ! how it makes me cry ! [Exit.
SCENE II.— A Wood— Dark Night.
Enter a LION, drunk (singing) .
1.
This maxim is found,
For those jolly dogs that roam,
The longest way round
Is the shortest way home.
But if until the morning quite
Perchance we cannot stay,
Grog in each nose a torch will light
To guide us on our way.
So we'll stagger, and we'll swagger,
And a jolly row we'll kick up;
And with grog before us, let our chorus
Always end in — hiccup.
2.
A little drop of liqour,
When we chance to get in trouble,
Only makes us feel the sicker,
For we see our sorrows double :
But if we drink until we find
We cannot see or go,
To sorrow we shall then be blind,
And dead to every woe.
So we'll stagger, &c.
Enter THISBE, looking about her. LION goes up to her, and they sing.
(Tune—" Through Erin's Isle").
Lion. My pretty dear, you need not fear,
I'll nothing do amiss;
I want from you, my darling true,
Just nothing but a kiss.
Thiabe. I'm so afeard all at your beard,
That here I will not stay.
Lion. Poh, poh, poh, poh ! you shall not go !
Thisbe. Nay, zounds I'll run away.
Lion. Nay, if you run, sure as a gun
Just like a shot I'll follow.
Thisbe. Upon my life I'll call your wife,
And set up such a holloa!
Both. Fol lol de riddle dol, ri fol de riddle da.
[LioN runs at her, but is so drunk that he falls down ; the runs off, but
leaves a shawl. LION gets up and sees it.]
A pretty shawl is this, upon my life !
'Twill make a famous present for my wife.
1827/J «n Operatic Tragedy. 239
Stop— (musing)— no it won't — my missus will be thinking
I kept in naughty company while drinking ;
And perhaps will say, with apron at her eye,
Some damsel gave it— so I'll let it lie.
Our wives get now-a-days so plaguy jealous,
It damps the spirit of us lively fellows.
[4 roar is heard from behind.
• Zounds ! close behind I hear my missus roar ;
It is a sound I've often heard before!
I'll post off home, and into bed I'll creep,
And when she comes I'll feign to be asleep.
Then if she rows me, starting with a snore,
Til swear I've been in bed an hour or more. [Exit.
[Mrs. LION is heard singing behind the scenes],
(Air—" Nobody comes to woo").
Now, Lion, you seldom come here,
And take little care of your child ;
And poor little Johnny, I swear,
Is getting uncommonly wild.
Last night he said learning
learning got stale,
And he would to school go no more ;
But his bottom I whipped with my tail,
And sent him to bed in a roar.
Oh dear, what can the matter be !
Oh dear, what shall I do !
Lion, you now won't come after me ;
So I must go after you. [Sound ceases.
[Clock strikes twelve; Ghost of NINNY rises, and dances on the top of
the Tomb, singing}.
(Tune—" My Name it is Poor Jack").
1.
I am a ghost, good lack,
Just from the tomb set free,
With no flesh on my back, —
Pray what d'ye think of me ?
Sing tol de rol de ri di do,.&c.
2.
When on the earth above,
Upon a fatal day,
On being crossed in love,
Myself myself did slay.
Sing tol de rol, &c.
But steady, boys ! a mortal comes — a fool !
He used to beat me black and blue at school.
Enter PYRAMUS.
Pyr. Be'st thou a sprite of hell, or goslin damned,
Thus from the earth— in which we saw thee crammed,
To rise ?
Ghost. Peace, fool ! Thus Ninny your foul nonsense stops !
By giving you a douse upon the chops. . .
[Lifts his toe, and hicks him in the mouth.
Pyr. Why, Ninny, zounds! what can you be about ?
You stupid fool ! you've knocked a tooth clean out.
Ghost. You should have held a ghost in greater awe ;
He who would keep his teeth must hold his jaw.
240 Pyramus and Thixbt: [SEPT.
Pyr. I own I'm wrong, — and now of you I crave
That you will go once more into your grave ;
For here I wait to meet my love to-night,
And perhaps your presence might not be all right.
Ghost. I grant the boon. But now, ere yet I go,
Behold a sight to fill your breast with woe!
See there ! the shawl, so late by Thisbe worn,
By some great shaggy lion rent and torn!
[Puts on his night-cap and goes into the tomb.
Pyr. What do I see ! the shawl, by Thizzy worn,
By some huge shaggy lion rent and torn !
Oh ! where she is I now too well can guess —
The beast has of her carcase made a mess.
Now, by the Fates I swear, I'd give a groat,
My love may stick fast in the wretch's throat.
Ah me ! of hope and joy I'm clean bereft ;
I have not now a drop of comfort left.
Thus then I seek the assistance of my knife,
To end at once my sorrows and my life.
[Stabs himself, and falls.
Enter THISBE at the other side.
Thisbe. I hope that nasty lion's gone away.
Laws ! what so long can make my Pyrry stay ?
Sure some foul demon's envious attacks
Have placed upon his bench a piece of wax.
And glued him to his seat! May Heaven forfend
He may not thus have made his cobbler's end!
Ah, no ! I fear that horrid Pa of his,
For work undone, or else work done amiss,
Has locked him in the dismal cellar, where
He grieves for me, and drowns his grief in beer.
[PYRAMUS, faintly rising, falls lack.]
Ah ! now I feels more fainterer
and sicker —
Just like a man when he's the worse for liquor.
Blood rises in my throat — I fall back dizzy:
Receive me, spirit of immortal Thizzy ! [Hiccups, and diet.
[THISBE, looking about in the dark.}
Sure that was Pyrry's voice ! but 'tis so foggy,
1 cannot see him — yet it sounded groggy !
Methought — and yet methinks it was absurd —
His hiccups' well-known sound I also heard.
He spoke of spirit ! Now, egad, I fear
In liquor, not in love, he staggered here. [Espies him.
See where he lies — a pig — stretched on the ground !
Drunk as the sow of David, I'll be bound !
What blood is this about his mouth I see ?
Why, sure he's bumped his nose against a tree!
What, still more blood ! By gum, my darling's killed ;
And here's the knife that has his dear blood spilled!
Oh ! cruel steel that stole my Pyrry's life,
Thus take the ditto of his maiden wife ! [Stabs litrself.
And now, my dearest darling, ere I die.
I'll kiss your bloody lips, and say good bye.
Oh dear ! to-morrow is our washing day !
Laws ! laws ! I wonder what will mother say !
[She hiccups, and dies.
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
1827.] [ 241 ]
TRAVELLING SKETCHES !
No. I.
Travelling in General: Bordeaux Diligence in particular.
I AM fond of travelling : yet I never undertake a journey without
experiencing a vague feeling of melancholy. There is to me something
strangely oppressive in the preliminaries of departure. The packing
of a small valise ; the settlement of accounts — justly pronounced by
Rabelais a blue-devilish process ; the regulation of books arid papers ; —
in short, the whole routine of valedictory arrangements, are to me as
a nightmare on the waking spirit. They induce a mood of last wills
and testaments — a sense of dislocation, which, next to a vacuum, Nature
abhors — and create a species of moral decomposition, riot unlike that
effected on matter by chemical agency. It is not that I have to lament
the disruption of social connexions or domestic ties. This, I am aware, is a
trial sometimes borne with exemplary fortitude ; and I was lately edified
by the magnanimous unconcern with which a married friend of mine sang
the last verse of " Home ! sweet home !" as the chaise which was to con-
vey him from the burthen, of his song drove up to the door. It does not
become a bachelor to speculate on the mysteries of matrimonial philosophy ;
but the feeling of pain with which / enter on the task of migration has no
affinity with individual sympathies, or even with domiciliary attachments.
My landlady is, without exception, the ugliest woman in London ; and
the locality of Elbow-lane cannot be supposed absolutely to spell-bind the
affection of one occupying, as 1 do, solitary chambers on the third floor.
The case, it may be supposed, is much worse when it is my lot to take
leave, after passing a few weeks at the house of a friend in the country ;— •
a house, for instance, such as is to be met with only in England : — with
about twenty acres of lawn, but no park ; with a shrubbery, but no made-
grounds; with well-furnished rooms, but no conservatory; and with a
garden, in which dandy tulips and high-bred anemones do not disdain the
fellowship of honest artichokes and laughing cauliflowers — no bad illustra-
tion of the republican union of comfort with elegance which reigns through
the whole establishment. The master of the mansion, perhaps an old and
valued schoolfellow : — his wife, a well-bred, accomplished, and still beauti-
ful woman — cordial, without vulgarity — refined, without pretension — and
informed, without a shade of blue ! Their children !. . . .But my reader
will complete the picture, and imagine, better than I can describe, how
one of my temperament must suffer at quitting such a scene. . At six
o'clock on the dreaded morning, the friendly old butler knocks at my room
door, to warn me that the mail will pass in half an hour at the end of the
green lane. On descending to the parlour, I find that my old friend has,
in spite of our over-night agreement and a slight touch of gout, come down
to see me off. His amiable lady is pouring out for me a cup of tea —
assuring me that she would be quite unhappy at allowing me to depart
without that indispensable prelude to a journey. A gig waits at the door:
my affectionate host will not permit me to walk even half a mile. The
minutes pass unheeded ; till, with a face of busy but cordial concern,
the old butler reminds me that the mail is at hand. I bid a hasty and
agitated farewell, and turn with loathing to the forced companionship of a
public vehicle.
M.M. New Scries,— VOL. IV. No, 21. 21
2 12 Travelling Sketches. [SEPT.
My anti-leave-taking foible is certainly not so much affected when I
quit the residence of an hotel — that public home — that wearisome resting-
place — that epitome of the world — that compound of gregarious incompa-
tibilities— that bazaar of character — that proper resort of semi-social egotism
and unamalgable individualities — that troublous haven, where the vessel
may ride and tack, half-sheltered, but finds no anchorage. Yet even the
Lilliputian ligatures of such a sojourn imperceptibly twine round my
lethargic habits, and bind me, Gulliver like, a passive fixture. Once, in
particular, I remember to'4mve stuck at the Hotel des Bons Enfants, in
Paris — a place with nothing to recommend it to one of ordinary locomotive
energies. But there I stuck. Business of importance called me to Bor-
deaux. I lingered for two months. At length, by one of those nervous
efforts peculiar to weak resolutions, I made my arrangements, secured my
emancipation, and found myself on the way to the starting-place of the
Diligence. I well remember the day : 'twas a rainy afternoon in spring.
The aspect of the gayest city in the world was dreary and comfortless. The
rain dripped perpendicularly from the eves of the houses, exemplifying the
axiom that lines are composed of a succession of points. At the corners of
the streets it shot a curved torrent from the projecting spouts, flooding the
channels, and drenching, with a sudden drum like sound, the passing
umbrellas, whose varied tints of pink, blue, and orange, like the draggled
finery of feathers and flounces beneath them, only made the scene more
glaringly desolate. Then came the rush and splatter of cabriolets, scatter-
ing terror and defilement. The well -mounted English dandy shews his
sense by hoisting his parapluie ; the French dragoon curls his mustachio at
such effeminacy, and braves the liquid bullets in the genuine spirit of
Marengo ; the old French count picks his elastic steps with the placid
and dignified philosophy of the ancien regime ; while the Parisian dames,
of all ranks, ages, and degrees, trip along, with one leg undraped, exactly
in proportion to the shapeliness of its configuration.
The huge clock of the Messageries Roy ales told three as I entered the
gateway. The wide court had an air of humid dreariness. On one side
stood a dozen of those moving caravansaras, the national vehicles, with
their leathern caps — like those of Danish sailors in a north-wester — hanging
half off, soaked with wet. Opposite was the range of offices, busy with
all the peculiar importance of French bureaucratic. Their clerks, deco-
rated with ribbons and crosses, wield their pens with all the conscious dig-
nity of secretaries of state ; and " book" a bale or a parcel as though they
were signing a treaty, or granting an amnesty. The meanest employe
seems to think himself invested with certain occult powers. His civility
savours of government patronage ; and his frown is inquisitorial. To his
fellows, his address is abrupt and diplomatic. He seems to speak in cypher,
and to gesticulate by some rule of freemasonry. But to the uninitiated he
is explanatory to a scruple, as though mischief might ensue from his being
misapprehended. He makes sure of your understanding by an emphasis,
which reminds one of the loudness of tone used towards a person supposed
to be hard of hearing — a proceeding not very flattering where there happens
to be neither dulness nor deafness in the case. In a word, the measured
pedantry of his whole deportment betrays the happy conviction in which he
rejoices of being conversant with matters little dreamt of in your philosophy.
Among the bystanders, too, there are some who might, probably with more
reason, boast their proficiency in mysterious lore — fellows of smooth aspect
J827.] Travelling Sketches. 243
and polite demeanour, whom at first you imagine to have become casual
spectators from mere lack of better pastime, but whose furtive glances and
vagrant attention betray the familiars of the police — that complex and
Mighty engine of modern structure, which, far more surely than the " ear
of Dionysius," conveys to the tympanum of power each echoed sigh and
reverberated whisper. It is a chilling thing to feel one's budding confi-
dence in a new acquaintance nipped by such frosty suspicions ; yet —
Heaven forgive me ! — the bare idea has, before now, caused me to drop,
unscented, the pinch of carotte which has been courteously tendered by
some coffee-house companion. In the group before me, I fancied that I
could distinguish some of this ungentle brotherhood ; and my averted eye
rested with comparative complacency even on a couple of gens-d'armes,
who were marching up and down before the door, and whose long swords
and voluminous cocked hats never appeared to me less offensive.
In the mean time, knots of travellers were congregating round the differ-
ent vehicles about to depart. In the centre of each little band stood the
main point of attraction — Monsieur le Conducteur — that important per-
sonage, whose prototype we look for in vain among the dignitaries of Lad-
lane, or the Bull-and-Mouth, and whose very name can only be trans-
lated by borrowing one of Mr. Me Adam's titles* — " the Colossus of Roads.1'
With fur cap, official garb, and the excursive eye of a martinet, he
inspects every detail of preparation — sees ea'ch passenger stowed seriatim
in his special place — then takes his position in front — gives the word to
his jack-booted vice, whose responsive whip cracks assent — and away rolls
the ponderous machine, with all the rumbling majesty of a three-decker
from off the stocks.
I was roused from these contemplations by a hasty summons to the
Bordeaux Diligence, which was now ready to start, and which, in a few
minutes, was thundering, like, its predecessors, along the Rue des Vic-
toires. It consisted of three distinct corps de loges, capable of holding
altogether eighteen passengers ; but in the centre compartment, to which I
had articled myself, I found only one travelling companion. A numerous
host of friends had attended his departure; and I had observed him
exchange the national embrace with nearly a dozen young officers of the
Royal Guard. He appeared about five-and-twenty years of age, with
dark intelligent eyes, and an agreeable countenance ; but the peculiarly
mild expression of which checked the surmise — suggested by his demi-
military costume — that he belonged to the army. There was an evident
dejection, too, about him, which ill-assorted wTith the reckless buoyancy
of spirit so characteristic of the young French soldier.
As we emerged from the narrow streets, and neared the Pont Neuf, a
flood of glorious sunshine bathed the long vista of architectural ma^nifir
cence which burst on our view. Every cornice, frieze, and pilaster of that
dazzling perspective gleamed out in all the distinctness of their sculptured
tracery : yet the effect of the whole was as that of a mellowed painting,
and the eye slighted every detail to revel in the luxury of that sublime and
fugitive emotion which abhors decomposition, and is destroyed by analysis !
My companion leaned eagerly to gaze on the splendid scene, and sighed
deeply as his last lingering look was intercepted by the projecting angle of
the street into which we were now entering. The seriousness of his manner
—so unusual in a Frenchman — checked any inclination which 1 might
have felt to indulge that " spirit of free inquiry" so often adopted in these
2 12
244 Travelling Sketches. [SEPT.
cases. He was too much absorbed in his own feelings to relish conversa-
tion, and we remained silent. In a short time, however, he seemed dis-
posed to rally his spirits ; and — evidently from a motive of politeness —
addressed me. Sense, information, and talent marked all he said. In
classical learning he seemed. a proficient, and shewed an equal acquaintance
with history, philosophy, and science. By degrees he became animated ;
his gloom wore off, and occasional flashes of wit proved that his intellectual
wealth did not all consist of a paper currency, Still there was in his talk
a guardedness on every topic pointing to himself — an anti-egotism — which
evinced his wish to preserve the incognito. .
At the end of the first stage, we were joined by a young officer — lively,
frank, and spirited, and with a mind as brimful of the present as if there
were no such things, in or out of the world, as the past and the future.
The accession of his gaiety was a fresh supply of oxygen ; and my Parisian
friend and 1, who ran some risk of growing profound and prosy, brightened
up, like reviving chandeliers. Our new guest lost no time in informing us
that ho was a native of Brittany — that he had been bred at the Ecolo
Polytechnique — had fought among the pupils at the memorable defence of
Mont Martre — had fallen in love the week after — had tried to run away
with his mistress — and had gotten into disgrace with his father, who hired
him the next day in the disguise of a footman, and forgave him for the
sake of the frolic — that, as a dutiful son, he had passed a month in a
counting-house, and ten days in a lawyer's office — then followed nature,
and entered the army — was fond of the flute — thought Petit the best boot-
maker, and Lamarque the best tailor, in Paris — was now a captain in the
Guards — was on his way to join his corps at Bayonne — liked all good fel-
lows— and hated but one man in the world, and that was the chaplain of
his own regiment.
A volubility like this, is generally unpromising; but there was a
redeeming air of candour and generosity about this young militaire, which
impressed us favourably ; and I found on this, as I had done in many
other instances, that a redundant flow of animal spirits is not certain
evidence of weak intellects, or shallow feelings. " But, why, Sir," said
I, " this ungracious exclusion of the chaplain from the benefit of that
rule of universal good will which you profess, and which ought surely to
be a rule without an exception ?"
" I cannot help," he replied, "hating hypocrisy. It is a sort of
refined treachery, and has always struck me to be that sin against the
Holy Ghost, for which there is forgiveness neither in this world nor in the
next."
" So much the greater danger," I said, " of imputing it rashly ; ,and
you will not be offended at my saying, that among young soldiers, it is
too much the fashion to make some individual priest the scape-goat of all
the ecclesiastical demerits of Christendom. The clerical robe may save
a man's bones ; but 'tis a weak mantle of defence against prejudice." —
" I am an enemy," he replied, " to all prejudice, and am neither a man-
hater, a woman-hater, nor a priest-hater : but as you view this matter
seriously, permit me to ask, whether religion can be recommended, or
morality promoted in a regiment by a gloomy monk, or stray ascetic, who
knows no difference between mirth and vice, demureness and virtue ; who
shuns society, or mars it by pedantry or fastidiousness ; and whose
theory and practice constitute the perfection of bigotry ? For my part,"
1827.] Travelling Sketches. 245
he continued, " whatever be my practice, I have no antipathy to any
form of religion ; and if I could once meet with a priest of social man-
ners, cheerful conversation, and liberal opinions, in the genuine sense of
that term — I am not sure that the practical effect of such a rencontre
would not go farther to convert me than all that has been preached and
written for a century. But wbat is of more importance, the influence of
a few such" ecclesiastics in the army would be prodigious : for after all, Sir,
scepticism is not a fundamental ingredient in the French character. The
organ of veneration finds a place even in the pericranium of a soldier;
and your Corporal Trim has, you know, ably defended our profession from
the charge of never praying."' — " But, surely," I rejoined, " your clergy
must number many such as you describe." — " Not one, I assure you ;
and so inveterate is the mannerism of the whole body, that I would wager
the best dinner Bordeaux can furnish, that, disguise a priest as you will,
I should know him among a thousand." — " I accept your wager, Sir,"'
said the Parisian, " and though my society is much more among soldiers
than ecclesiastics, I do not despair of winning your entertainment."— ~
" And I should be most happy to lose it," said the Captain, " were it
only for the honour of the church; but I have little doubt/'' added he,
laughing, " that we shall fare sumptuously at your expense."— -" I run
all risks," replied the other, '* and pledge myself to introduce you to a
young clerical friend of mine at Bordeaux, with whom you shall converse
for an hour, or a day, if you please, without ever suspecting him to be a
clerk." — " Done, done, by all means," said the Captain. — " Done,"
said the Parisian : and I was requested to register the bet.
We were just then entering a village where we stopped to change
horses ; it .was a beautiful summer's evening. A group of peasants were
gathered round the inn door ; some at their light potations : a more juvenile
party dancing under some elms at a short distance, while nearer to us a merry
circle were enjoying the mimics and drolleries of a comical looking fellow,
with a head of cabbage for a nosegay, and a cock's tail in his hat. He
was evidently the jester of the village, and seemed privileged among the
girls, whose shrill peals of laughter — (breaking through the staves of a
Bacchanalian chorus from within) — responded to every new flash of his wit,
or no less irresistible contortion of his countenance. Every surrounding
object furnished matter for his quips and cranks; and our trio in the
Diligence did not escape. He aimed at us some side-long jibes, which
produced a roar of laughter; and such is the effect of ridicule, that
even when of the cheapest quality, no one likes to pay for it. For my
part, I felt that I was no match for this champion of fun, and looked for
support to the young captain ; but his power of repartee, after one or two
unlucky attempts, was equally at fault; and our cause was growing
utterly hopeless, when the Parisian thrust his head out of the window.
The wit seemed determined to punish his temerity, and let fly a shower
of barbed jests; but to the astonishment of all present, he was met by
such a counter volley of jocular retort — Rolands for Olivers — doubles for
singles — all delivered in so exact an imitation of his own voice, manner,
dialect, and slang, that victory soon changed sides. The cabbage nosegay,
from a badge of honour, became suddenly transformed into a mark of
defeat : the cock's tail drooped : the luckless jester grinned, blushed, and
finally slunk away, amid the jeers of his fickle audience, who compli-
mented our triumph by giving us three cheers, as we rolled away.
246 Travelling Sketches. [SEPT.
" Well," said the Parisian, smiling, and evidently enjoying our almost
incredulous astonishment, " it is fortunate for me that the morose chap-
Jain is not here, for I suppose he would set me down as a profligate, past
redemption ; but as I take you to be like myself, orthodox lovers of a joke,
what say you, if we devote ourselves to Momus, during the remainder of
this journey ? We must needs do something to beguile the tedium of the
road ; and I have ever found Moliere a better travelling companion than
Puffendorfor Locke."
We gladly assented to this proposal, and ratified the compact at supper
in an • extra glass of Burgundy. This repast, at all times exhilarating,
is peculiarly so on a journey; and we rose to resume our route in excel-
lent spirits. At the door of the Diligence, we found a young gentleman
preparing to join our caravan : he was accompanied by an elderly female,
who assiduously kerchiefed his neck, warned him to nurse his cold, and,
as he stepped into the carriage, slipped into the pocket of his sur-coat, a
provision of barley-sugar, pectoral lozenges, and other toothsome specifics.
•' Behold our first victim to Momus," said the Parisian ; and forthwith
addressing the youth, he overwhelmed him with a thousand civilities, so
strangely officious, yet so gravely volunteered, as to produce a highly
diverting effect of gratitude and astonishment. He bewildered him by
assuming sundry whimsical modes of expression — a slight stutter, and the
tone of a privileged oddity : a combination which, while it nearly con-
vulsed the captain and myself, placed our guest in the ludicrous predica-
ment, unconsciously, of furnishing the jest, — being himself all the time
under the compound torture of excited awe and suppressed laughter.
It would require the dramatic talent of a Mathews to describe the
scene that followed. Our young traveller was, it appeared, employed
in the department of the forests ; and his indefatigable mystifier, after
putting him through a rigorous examination, on the various branches of
his duty, ended by asking him if he could at a glance tell the exact
breadth of a river? " No" was of course the answer. " Then," replied
the other, " if you will attend to me I will give you a simple rule for
that purpose, highly useful to a gentleman in your situation." At the
same moment, his clenched hand descended with such force on the hat
of his astonished auditor, as to bring the rim of it nearly in con-
tact with his nose — (just then the light of a lamp, near which we had
stopped, gave us a full view of the scene). '« Pardon me, Sir,'' he con-
tinued, seizing the hands which were struggling to extricate the engulphed
head, " this is the first part of the rule, and cannot be dispensed with.
Now, Sir, fancy yourself on the banks of the Oronoco, or any other river.
When you come within fifteen paces of the bank you must hold up your
head, brace your knees, and step out boldly till you reach the water's edge.
Now be pleased to shut the right eye, and look up with the left, till you
bring the visual line in contact, as it were, with the extreme rim of your
hat ; keeping that eye so fixed, next open the other, and let it rest on the
opposite bank of the river. The moment that is done, wheel half-round,
suddenly, so ! (and suiting the action to the word, he gave the hapless tyro
a twirl, assuring him that this too was indispensable). Now, Sir, by this
movement — pray, pay particular attention — your eye has described an arc,
or section of a circle, which must, as you are well aware, be the measure of
the angle formed by the two visual lines above-mentioned, of which angle
—mark! — this (seizing his nose) u may be called the apex; and conse-
182?.] Travelling Sketches. 247
quenily, having formed the said arc, you have only to measure the sub-
tended chord, which will give you to a fraction the breadth of the river !"
" I hope," he added, " that I make myself understood : if not, I shall be
happy to repeat the proposition." But his bewildered pupil who had, by
this time, reached his journey's end, and was rising to depart — evidently
convinced that he had been under the examination of an inspector general
of the forests — assured him that his explanation had been perfectly clear ;
and, amid a'profusion of thanks for his condescension, hinted a hope that
he would note his name for promotion.
From Orleans to Tours, and from Tours to Bordeaux, our compact of
merriment was faithfully adhered to. But to follow our facetious compa-
nion through a tithe of the drolleries which he enacted, would overtax ihe
pen of a Smollett. The versatility of talent, and compass of learning, which
he enlisted in the production of " broad grins," was quite prodigious, and
redeemed his feats of practical wit. To each new tenant of our vehicle,
he exhibited himself in a different disguise, assuming, by turns, the manner
and phraseology of every rank, profession, and even trade. With sur-
prising tact he seized and developed, at will, the salient points of every
new character, literally playing on each — as though he were modulating
on a musical instrument; and, with still greater skill, so effectually guarded
his own, that on reaching Bordeaux, neither the captain nor I could form
the remotest idea of who or what he was. It was clear, however, not-
withstanding the mask of waggery which he had chosen to assume, that
he possessed a mind of no ordinary stamp ; — -and we gladly accepted an
invitation to breakfast with him the morning after our arrival, that — as he
added — no time might be lost in settling the wager between him and the
captain.
The moon was just rising as we entered the second city of France, by .
the finest bridge in Europe. A beaded crescent of luminous points, reflected
in the water, marked the outline of splendid masonry that sweeps round
the broad Garonne, exhibiting a quay of such grandeur, as to prove the
fitness of the appellation, which denotes that the main feature of the city
is its fine position, sur le bord de I'eau. But ray limits warn me to reserve
this subject for a future paper, and the repose which I needed after this
laughing journey, may not be unacceptable to some of my readers. They
will not, however, I trust, decline to join the breakfast party of the Pari-
sian unknown, to which I was summoned, next morning, at the appointed
hour, by my friend the captain. We again interchanged surmises respect-
ing our travelling enigma, but not a scintilla of probability could be struck
from any of our conjectures. " Well," said the captain, " we may unriddle
him at breakfast ; and, at all events, I promise you another chance over a
bottle of Lafitte, at the excellent dinner which I am to win presently by
my skill in divination;" so saying, he led the way to the apartment of our
Parisian friend, whose cheerful voice greeted our signal of approach : — but
how shall I attempt to describe the paralysis of astonishment which smote
us, on beholding, as we entered, the living image, the speaking prototype
— nay, the very person and identity of him who was, but yesterday, the
scholar, the philosopher, the wit — now standing before us a tonsured,
cropped, and cassocked PRIEST!!! After a staring pause, so long, that
even on the stage it Would have appeared unnatural, he advanced smiling,
and cordially shaking our passive hands, said, " Gentlemen, I am truly re-
joiced to greet you at length in my real character. I am, indeed, a
priest ; and having now, I hope, fairly won my wager, I may congratu-
248- Travelling Sketches. [SEPT/
late myself on having begun the shearing of my flock ; among which,
Monsieur le Capitaine, you will perceive that I have the honour of num-
bering you." So saying, he exhibited, to our increased wonder, his offi-
cial appointment as chaplain to the regiment of guards. <e I am
aware," he continued, " how prone ignorance or malevolence might be,
to misconstrue that vein of pleasantry which, I trust, has been, in the pre-
sent instance, not only innocent, but in some degree useful. In taking
from choice the sacred profession, J neither forfeited my feelings as a man,
nor the genial tendencies of my disposition to social enjoyment. These,
ever taught me, and teach me now, to despise cant, and hate hypocrisy.
In the ministers of religion these vices are doubly odious, and shall never'
esdipe the lash which it may be in my power to apply : but while I make
no 'defence for such as resemble the description given of my morose prede-
cessor in the chaplaincy, I cannot admit (Heaven forbid!) that the majo-
rity of my clerical cotemporaries are fashioned on so deformed a model;
nor could I decline the opportunity of attempting to prove by one humble
example, that misanthropic gloom, and monkish bigotry, do not necessarily
enter into the composition of a French priest ! — His animated and eloquent
address, of which this is but a faint sketch, drew from the soldier a frank
avowal of what he termed " his blundering logic." He shook the young
chaplain most cordially by the hand, and assured him that, with such sen-
timents, he would find a friend in every man in the regiment." t{ And a
friend," added I, " in every country in Europe !"
I need not add that the captain most punctually paid the penalty of his
forfeit, and was amply compensated for the loss of his wager, by the acqui-
sition of a friend. On the following morning, after bidding me a cordial
adieu, they pursued their route together for the Spanish frontier; and I
found myself once more in the solitude of an inn. P.
UPON THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE.*
THERE is a phenomenon in the history of the English people, the exist-
ence of which we do not remember to have seen or heard remarked. It is
their infinitely closer affinity, under every intellectual point of view, to the
French, and perhaps to every Southern people of Europe, than to the
Germans, or perhaps to any people of the North ; and this in spite of the
physical fact of the German national, original, and even present language,
of the English or Anglo-Saxons. Can the dissimilitude of the migratory
branch to the features of the parent stock be explained, by supposing that
the Saxous, after all, have been the minority in England, and therefore
have yielded to the influence of foreigners in the formation of their intel-
lectual character ? Did they, at their first arrival in England, imbibe the
Gaelic notions of the Britons, whom they subdued, or of the Romans, the
previous masters of the Britons ? Were they frenchified by their Norman
conquerors, by the continued influence of a Norman dynasty, and by the
admixture of Norman blood; or by their constant intercourse, whether in
peace or war, with France — France, which has been taught to speak and
think by Rome, by Italy, and by Greece ? Gr, lastly, is it the active —
the commercial, the maritime, and the exploratory, life of the Anglo-
* Treatise upon the Origin of Language. Translated from the German of I. G. Vo\\
Herder. London. 8vo. LongmaH and Co. 1827.
1827.] The Origin of Language. 249
Saxons, which has given to them, in the course of ages, and through their
inhabitation of a narrow island, a tone of mind, and a consequent manner
of speech, so distinct from those of the sedentary and speculative German,
the continued inhabitant of a continental region, little tempted to sail over
every sea, estranged almost from every great navigable river, shut out from
southern intercourse, little engaged in commerce, little communicating with
foreigners of-any soil whatever, and still less with those of France, and of
the rest of the South of Europe, in particular ?
We are provoked to these inquiries by the marked and unqualified Ger~
manism of the pages before us ; a Germanism of thought and expression,
that evinces how small a part of the difficulty of an Englishman's reading
a German author consists only in the difference of language— or, as it
really is, of dialect alone ! In a French, Spanish, Italian, or other South-
ern author, upon the other hand, let an Englishman but once conquer the
language, and he finds himself conversing — we had almost said, with one
of his fellow-men ; — but certainly with an individual of the same general
education, mode of thinking, and mode of speaking with himself. National
differences there still undoubtedly are ; but, in spite of these, there is a
general resemblance. But take up a German author, and whether we are
ourselves conversant with the German, or the German is ever so success-
fully rendered into English, yet, at last, how small is the approximation
obtained ! Other remarks would offer themselves in other departments
of German literature ; but it is a philosophical work which is now under
review, arid it is only to German philosophical literature that we are here
addressing ourselves. A " Treatise upon the Origin of Language" is
before us ; and, though the " Origin of Language," upon any hypothesis,
belongs to what is usually called " metaphysics," yet what Englishman or
Frenchman would conduct a metaphysical discussion in the manner of this
" Treatise;" or can follow, with patience and pleasure to himself, the
waste of words, the waste of thought, and the multiplied abstractions,
and at least peculiar phraseology, which such pages, even when perfectly
anglicised, present ?
The diversity too of national education between the German and modern
English is rendered, ten times the more remarkable in the instance here
adduced, from the language employed by the Translator himself; in
which, while the most correct English is confessedly written — -while none
but the most usual English words are confessedly employed — yet the
modes of expression at once proclaim the German birth and education of
the writer, and make, as we should fear, that writer's avowed purpose of
being " instrumental," through the means of this version of Herder, " to
more amalgamation between the Germans and the English," utterly hope-
less ! It is not merely the text of the Author which repulses, but the
Translator's " Introduction" itself, written for the directly opposite pur-
pose, must answer, as we actually fear, and sincerely regret, no other end
than that of a scarecrow, to drive away the feet of the Englishman
who would approach any German treatise in philosophy J The Trans-
lator, in the mean time — and while taking a just view of the c( opposite
spheres of speculative and practical life," in which the Germans and Eng-
lish are respectively engaged — assures us, that, " by the strenuousness of
their strongly-contrasted exertions, they are become more closely connected
than they imagine." But, for our own part, we can perceive no symptom
of the desired and most desirable union ! The character which is ascribed,
in this very 4< Introduction," to German philosophising, and the very Ian*
M. M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 21. 2 K
250 The Origin of Language. [SEPT;
guagc held by the Translator, remind us more of the abstraction of an
Indian Joghi, than of any thing like English thought or inquiry ; and,
after glancing over the whole work, we recal, without surprise, the saying
of Frederick the Great, who, breathing the atmosphere of German philo-
sophy and mysticism, averred, that man was made to be a postillion, and
not a philosopher! The Translator, in anticipation of any charge of
deficiency in his translation, reminds us of the richness of the German lan-
guage, in words appertaining to the sphere of speculation and deeply
excited feeling, while the English language is more copious in the sphere
of action and observation. Now all this is exceedingly just, and, in itself,
offers much that is valuable to the true philosophy of language ; but does
not so important a contrast forbid the hope of amalgamation between men
whose tongues hold language so opposite, only because their minds are
so differently engaged ? What is intended by the phrases that follow is
doubtless very true ; but are not the English estranged from the Germans
(we speak of the thinking part of both nations) at once by phraseology,
and by those modes of thinking, or of philosophising, of which that
phraseology is the result ? " The sphere of the deepest internal existence"
says the Translator, at the outset of his Introduction, " is where the Ger-
man is most at home — here he has become most intellectually enlightened ;
while the Englishman, from the active spirit which characterizes his coun-
try, has made greater progress in the external ivorld."
We shall readily grant that much of the obscurity which presents itself
in these and similar pages, is capable of dissipation through a proper change
of German for English idioms, and of terms employed by the German
philosopher for those in use with the English ; but; these concessions made,
and these changes supposed, what is an Englishman to pursue? An inquiry
into the " Origin of Language," amid reveries, fantasies, abstractions,
modes of expression, and style of argument, so peculiarly exotic, as those
which, for example, present themselves, as well in the text of Herder, as
in the " Introduction" of his German translator into English ! The fol-
lowing paragraphs from the " Introduction," will contribute, among other
things, to explain the German distinction between " internal and external
existence :': —
" This translation of Herder's masterly treatise, c Upon the Origin of Lan-
guage,' is offered to the cultivated of the English nation, as the commencement
of a series of selections, from the philosophical literature of the Germans."
" The Germans and the English have, indeed, entered so deeply into, and
effected so much in the opposite spheres of speculative and practical life, that, by
the strenuousness of their strongly contrasted exertions, they are become more
closely connected than they imagine; and more intimately related, than ever
nations were before. Internal and external existence have value and true signi-
fication only when viewed in relation to each other.
" The necessary connection, in which every created thing stands, with the
infinite and multifold variety of all created things and beings ; the infinite fullness
of power, which constantly streams in, incessantly and progressively effecting a
higher development : this constitutes the internal state of all existence. But
that limitation, which manifests itself in a visible form, arising from the play of
action and re-action, in short, that finite nature which is appointed as the sphere
of exercise for life in every stage, that is the external state of all creation.
" We should feel, think, and act as finite beings, but at the same time, by con-
tinual solution of all opposition, in the limited sphere allotted to us, should
elevate ourselves towards the next above, and thus approach nearer to divine light,
to more unsullied joy, and to a nobler state of being. Our nature is both finite
and infinite ; by withdrawing ourselves from our finite nature, we should fall into
a confused, phantastic state of unconsciousness ; or by estranging ourselves from
our infinite nature, should sink into a kind of morbid insensibility, whose limited
J827.] The Origin of Language. 251
boundary for thought and action admits of no higher aim than dead form, devoid
of all superior spiritual sense.
" I trust it will be excused, if, by way of introduction, I enter somewhat further
into this subject. It may possibly tend to render the peculiarities of German
literature more intelligible to the cultivated Englishman, and to make him esti-
mate more correctly the value of that internal sphere of existence, where feeling
and intellect, together with the arts and philosophy (which arise from them) are
more especially nurtured.
" I could wish to be instrumental to more amalgamation between the Germans
and the English, as between external and internal life. I could wish to contri-
bute towards our further insight into that depth of science, to which the Ger-
mans have attained, and which contains treasures not easily conceived. These,
however, can only be discovered and appreciated after the mind has been trained
for a certain period, in the profound sphere of intellectual cultivation and
elevated feeling, and thus fitted to receive the revelation of higher truths."
The Translator then speaks as follows of his Author : —
" Herder's writings appear, in a philosophical point of view, pre-eminently
calculated to direct the attention, with more certainty, towards that deep internal
state of existence peculiar to the Germans.
" Herder is equally free from too flighty speculation, and from that too deep
immersion in the spiritual realm, which is incompatible with perspicuity, and
which, from deviating too far into the sphere of mere possibility, loses s ght of all
reality. Herder's ideas flow rapidly and decidedly, they furnish continual novelty
in his views, and, proceeding upon the basis of history and nature, adhere to what
is intelligible and true, as presented to the mind of man from every thing around
him, which, like his own nature, is both finite and infinite.
" Herder's proposition is, ' Language arose with the first spark of conscious-
ness.' This, like every other production, became gradually more perfectly
developed. The first gift is followed by a second, as soon as it has been appro-
priated and consciously assimilated by a free intelligent being. Thus each pro-
gressive step succeeds the other. Every revelation, when intellectually resolved,
brings fuller manifestation to the mind, which becomes more and more elevated
by every act of assimilation.
" The most important task of life, is progressively to resolve into thought and
action, all that is gradually revealed through the medium of sense and feeling.
This is the noblest avenue of approach to God; for in God is comprehended all
freedom and fulness of being in thought and action, throughout eternity."
The subjoined concession also, while it points to an additional repulsion
in the mode of German philosophising, affords, at the same time, a fresh
and original example of that mystic enthusiasm, that air of " deep internal
existence," which is so prominently and mischievously obtruded (to speak
with the ideas of an Englishman) into every path of German inquiry : —
** It must also be difficult to the English reader to admit many things as posi-
tively true, which are asserted here in a positive tone. And it is characteristical
of the Germans, that in the course of exposition (perhaps from too great zeal)
they pronounce many things too absolutely, although fully convinced that every
system, every thought, every view, and even every observation and fact, has only
symbolical worth, as instrumental to the discovery of truth ; as a symbol of the
eternal, invisible, Supreme Being. And the only use of all, to finite man, is to
bring him nearer and nearer, to a fuller manifestation, and more conscious intel-
ligence of the Great Incomprehensible."
This " Treatise" appears to have been written at the public invitation
of a philosophical society or academy, and in reply to the following ques-
tion— so inserted in these pages as not to appear, what it really is, the-
thesis of the whole discussion : — t( Could man, by his unassisted natural
powers, have invented language for himself?" That question it answers in
the affirmative, or against the hypothesis of " divine origin;" and, with
this conclusion of the German philosopher we are so entirely satisfied, that
2K2
252 The Origin of Language. [SEPT.
we have no subject of complaint, other than that against the German mode
of analysis, argument, and illustration, of which these pages afford us so many
examples! Very many of these subordinate parts have our admiration ;
while, from others, we are turned away by what we describe as the national
difference of thinking and expression.
It may be observed that the question proposed, at least as it is here given
in English, does not regard the actual fact of the " Origin of Language," but
only the hypothetical inquiry, " Whether, if man had been left to his
natural unassisted powers, he could have invented language for himself?"
For ourselves, we say, that man did invent language for himself, simply as
he invented walking for himself! He walked, because he had feet; and
he spoke, because he had a tongue. He walked, because he felt the im-
pulse or the inducement to walk ; and he spoke, because he felt the impulse
or the inducement to speak. God, when he gave man feet and a tongue,
and the motives to use both, sent man into the world fully qualified both to
walk and to speak. But man cultivates both his walk and his speech ; and
the cultivation of speech has produced that whole science and variety of
words to which we give the collective name of language, or the action or
produce of the tongue.
M. Von Herder is of the same general opinion with ourselves ; but his
arguments and modes of expression are not always equally to our taste.
He calls language " a sense of the mind ;" while we should call it a
product consequent upon " sense" — that is, we speak, because we feel or
think ; and, unless there is some error in. the translation, we think our
philosopher singularly unhappy and forced, both in his doctrine and in his
proof, when (p. 41) he tells us, that " man invented his own language
from the tones of living nature :"
" I ask whether the following truth, viz. that the intelligence by which man
rules over nature, was the parent of a living language, which he abstracted as
distinguishing signs, from the tones of every creature which uttered sounds ? I
ask, whether in the oriental style, this dry proposition could have been more
nobly and beautifully expressed than ' God brought the beasts of the field to
Adam, to see what he would call them, and whatsoever he called them, that was.
the name thereof.' In the oriental style, it can scarcely be more precisely said,
' man invented his own language from the tones of living nature, thus forming,
marks for his sovereign intellect.' And this is just what I endeavour to prove."
This text and context of Genesis, indeed, plainly imply that God did
not teach man language, but absolutely called upon him to exercise a
faculty which he already enjoyed ; and, as to the names which Adam gave
to the " beasts of the field," they might, or might not, express his ideas
concerning them, either as to their figure, their size, their habits, their
tones, or any other characteristic ; and, by the way, there is, in this place,
some danger of confounding language with thought — things which M. Von
Herder insists upon as naturally identical. If we were to say that God
invented the words or names which Adam proposed (a supposition contrary
to the text), and if Adam's names expressed his thoughts, then we must
attribute to the Divinity, — first, the invention of the thought, — and next, of
the word or name to convey it; or, if we suppose the thought arising natu-
rally in the mind of Adam — that is, from the nature of the mind which
Cod had given him — then all that remained was to invent the name or word
which should express the thought.
Our author treats the " Confusion of Tongues," or, as it has otherwise
been translated, the «« Confusion of Lips." as " a poetical fragment for the
archaeology of the history of nations ;" but we cannot think him more
1827.] The Origiti of Language. 253
happy upon this than upon the former occasion, in his view of the " idea"
which the book of Genesis has intended to convey : —
" An ancient oriental relic upon the division of languages (which I only con-
sider as a poetical fragment for the archeology of the history of nations) con-
firms, in a very poetical narrative, what so many nations, in all parts of the world,
have proved by their example. * Languages were not suddenly changed,' as
the philosopher multiplies them by migration. ' Nations united themselves
(says the poem) for some great undertaking, then came upon them the dizziness
of confusion and of multiplied languages, so that they left off their work and
separated.' What was this but sudden exasperation and discord, for which any
important work furnished fittest occasion. There, perhaps, some trifling point
gave rise to offended family pride; union and mutual intention were destroyed,
the spark of dissention shot into a flame, they fled from each other, and from
their violence, caused the very thing which their work was intended to prevent — •
they confounded their origin and their language. Thus arose different nations,
and the ruins, says a later writer, were called the ' confusion of nations.'
" Whoever understands the oriental spirit in such metaphorical introductions
and histories (though, for the sake of theology, I willingly yield here to a
higher decree) will not in this allegory mistake the principal idea, though sen-
tiently expressed, that dissension upon any important design undertaken in com-
mon, and not merely the migration of nations, was the reason of the rise of so
many languages. But setting aside this oriental testimony (which I only adduce
here as a poem) it is apparent that multiplicity of languages can furnish no objec-
tion against the natural and human progressive cultivation of language."
M. Von Herder appears to feel himself strongly called upon to overcome
the prepossession of those who teach the divine origin of language. The
following are his concluding propositions : —
" The divine origin has nothing in its favour, not even the testimony of the
oriental scriptures, upon which it relies, for these clearly indicate the human:
origin of language, in the designation of the brute creation.
" Every thing is in favour of, and nothing absolutely against the human origin*
of language. The inmost nature of the human soul, and the elements of lan-
guage, the analogy of the human race, and the analogy of the progress of
language.
" The important example of all nations, in all ages and quarters of the world.
The divine origin, however pious it may appear, is altogether irreligious. It
degrades God at every step, to the lowest and most imperfect anthropomor-
phosis.
" The human origin manifests God in the highest light.
" His work, a human soul, is able of itself to create and perpetuate language.
Because it is his work, because it is a human soul, gifted with the faculty of free
will, it is able to produce language, this ingenious organ of its reason, as a medi-
ating symbol of its existence. The origin of language can then only in a dignified
sense be termed divine, in as far as it is human.
" The divine origin is rather injurious than beneficial, it destroys all the activity
of the human soul, and renders both psychology and the sciences inexplicable.
For with language man must have received the seeds of all knowledge from God.
Nothing, therefore, proceeds from the human soul. The commencement of
every art and science, and of all knowledge, must be thus rendered incon-
ceivable. The human origin admits of no step, without some view, or without
the most useful elucidation in every branch of philosophy, in all kinds and coin-
positions of language. The author has presented some of these here, and may
have more to offer upon a fit occasion.
" How would he rejoice, if this treatise should invalidate an hypothesis, which
considered, in many points of view, has long tended, and can only tend, to obscure
the human mind !"
We have pointed out some of the difficulties which stand in the way of
an English perusal of this work ; but, to such readers as are prepared to
struggle with them, we can strongly recommend it, as abounding witl}
many attractions, and as leading to unquestionable truth. *K.
[ 254 ] [SKPT.
ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS
Of the Reverend THOMAS BOTHEHDM, S.T.P., Archdeacon of Leatherhead, Rector of
Braiutown Parva, cum Mucklepudding, F.A.S., <fec. &c.<fec.
" Cos! sen vanno 1'arti, e i magisteri,
Tutti in rovina, e non 6, clii sollcvi
Chiuro ingegno, di cui faoia si sped." — ARIOSTO, SATIRE.
" Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tarn can capitis. — Hon.
IT is now many years since I first promised myself the pleasure of
committing to paper those passages in the life of an ever-to-be-lamented
friend, which came within my own notice, and thus preserving for pos-
terity a slight sketch of the domestic hahits and table-conversations of a
great man. But procrastination (it has been well observed) is the thief
of time ; and the numerous memoranda 1 collected in those happy times,
" 0A, nodes ccen&que deum") in which he was yet among us, have for
some years lain untouched in the drawers of my bureau. I take shame
to myself for this neglect, and the more so when I reflect that in these
degenerate days, in which steam-engines have taken precedence of clas-
sical lore, and " rude unwashed mechanicals" hold their heads above the
doctors in the faculty, the reverence for illustrious public characters has so
much diminished. If a " great man's memory in these times may out-
live his life," it certainly is not by " building churches :" t( virtus lau-
datur et alget ;" and popery and dissent o'erspread the land. At the
eleventh hour, therefore, I take up the pen ; and while every paltry play-
wright and actor is permitted to thrust forward his two octavo volumes of
auto- biography, I shall, ere I descend to the grave, consign to the press,
the precious record of the gesta et dicta of Archdeacon Botherum ; and
leave behind me, for the benefit of my children, a monument of that
intercourse, which, like the friendship of Sir P. Sydney, may be a boast
and an ornament to the end of time. I was but seven years old, when
the decease of old Zachary Bluebottle prepared the way for Archdeacon
Botherum's (he was not then archdeacon) collation to the parish, in
which my father had his habitual residence. The presentation to the
living is in St. John's College ; and Botherum, who had long had an eye
to the mastership, accepted of this collegiate ostracism, I believe, with
regret. When a man has been used to be capped by sizers, and to have
his jokes laughed at by complaisant fellow-commoners, the obscurity of a
remote countrv village is any thing but flattering. Botherum had likewise
inveterate college habits ; and was so unprepared for house-keeping, that,
(as he used himself facetiously to repeat,) — when he left the college gate,
one fine summer's morning, to take possession, having four shirts, a pair of
black small clothes, and a set of sermons strapped in a portmanteau behind
the saddle of his dapple mare, he cried out to the Dean, " mea omnia
mecum porto."
The arrival of the new rector was a great event in our parish. A merry
peal was rung from the steeple ; and it was upon this occasion that the
curate, who was about to be dismissed, vented his spleen, by giving utter-
ance to a joke, afterwards embodied in a Cambridge epigram: for the
squire riding into the town, and asking what the meaning of all this noise
1827.] Anecdotes and Conversations. 255
was, and observing that it was neither the anniversary of the king's ascen-
sion, nor of the gunpowder plot, he contemptuously replied, " they are
only ringing a hog."* My father, who was a zealous high churchman,
and old-fashioned enough to fear God and honour his king, was not the
last to call on the rector : on the next Sunday after his arrival, our worthy
pastor gave his blessing to our plenteous table ; and ever afterwards, on
the return of the Lord's day, he was our constant guest ; when " church
and king," you may suppose, was not forgotten. Even now, at the
distance of nearly fifty years, I remember the consternation which this
first visit occasioned in the nursery. No episcopal visitation of Horsley
or of Magendie themselves, ever struck greater awe into their assembled
curates ! The authoritative tone of a voice long accustomed to command
attention, and the stern contraction of the new rector's bushy eyebrows,
when patting us on the head, and asking each a question from the cate-
chism, were almost too much for our tender nerves. Fortunately, we
answered without much hesitation, and he called us good children ; and
turning to my father, he said, with much complacency, " Mr. Tomlins,
you have made a great way in my esteem. Parents are too apt to neglect
the timely inculcation of a prejudice in favour of the church's dogmas
into the infant mind. He who fails to sow the seeds of orthodox theo-
logy early in the spring, will never fail to reap in the autumn — an harvest
of sectarianism, or of indifference."
The Doctor, I have said, brought into rural life many college habits.
He had no objection to a glass of good port ; and though he never dis-
graced the cloth by an unsteadiness either of head or foot, yet sometimes,
" indulgens genio" he would, in agreeable society, and among men of
good principles, take his glass ; and then he would open the storehouse of
his erudition, and pour forth ample quotations from Longus or Tertullian,
Tryphiodorus or Origen, St. Chrysostom (whose verses he greatly praised)
or Dr. Sacheverel ; now and then cracking a merry jest from Aristophanes,
to the great delight of the squires of the neighbourhood ; who were wont
to declare, that since Latin was no longer quoted in sermons, they did not
wonder at the increase of sectarians ; and that the Archdeacon's Greek did
them good to hear, though they did not understand a word he said.
However, I must do his good nature the justice to add, that he never
spared to translate, when properly requested. True genius is ever con-
descending.
The Archdeacon, who justly thought that there is a time for all things,
and that too much severity is a misprision of Presbyterianism, was fond oi
a game of backgammon. He wrote a treatise to prove that this was the
* The members of St. John's College, Cambridge, are nick-named " hogs,'' in the
University. The epigram alluded to was made by the late Sir B. Harwood, on the knight-
ing of Sir J. Penuington. It was as follows : —
" When the knight of St John's from St. James's came down,
The bells were set ringing throughout the whole town,
A blue-stocking sizer, alarm'd at the noise,
Asked one of the starve-gutted bed-maker's boys,
What the cau?e of it was? ' What ?' replied the arch dog,
' Why, there's always a noise, when they're ringing a hog.' "
I do aot, however, mean to assert that Sir B. H. was not original in his epigram. Wits
often jump ; and I have no reason for supposing that the curate's ban mot reached the
ears of the late facetious professor of anatomy. This observation is due to justice.
Note by the Author.
256 Anecdotes and Conversations. [SEPT.
game invented by Palamedes, and not chess ; averring in his own person,
that it had often made him forget his supper till it was quite cold. He
confessed that he played, on an average, twelve hundred hits in a year;
and such a hold had the game on his imagination, that he not unfre-
quently illustrated his discourse by metaphors taken from its technicalities.
On 0ne occasion, I remember, when he was sore pressed in an argument
by a malignant, who had clearly proved an oversight in the minister's
operations, which might have ruined the campaign if properly taken
advantage of, — he triumphantly replied, with a voice of thunder, " Like
enough, Sir; every body makes mistakes — humanum est errare. But,
Sir, a blot whatever you may think of the matter, is no blot till it is hit :"
the reply was unanswerable.
The archdeacon's temper was essentially equable and bland. Two
things only were apt to disturb his equanimity ; and these were, a whig
and a papist. Hence he was greatly puzzled what consideration to give
to the Scotch rebels. Their attachment to divine right and their martyr-
dom in defence of the Pretender, he could not deny, were most commen-
dable : but then, that Pretender was a papist, and the Pope was Antichrist.
I remember he told me in a confidential conversation, in which he laid
open his whole heart, that he never could make up his mind concerning
those a7T£|>t£w/zaTo< politicians; but, he added, in a half" forgiving tone,
" the dogs loved their king after all."
The archdeacon, like many of the Cambridge men of his day, was
given to tobacco ; and never said better things, than when he puffed care
away after dinner. Had he lived to the present times, he would have
doubtless discouraged the modern innovation of cigars, which have so
greatly contributed to the decay of mathematics in the university. The
true Virginia, as he himself used to say, " ascended into the brain," and
"favoured contemplation;" whereas every body knows, that the boys
who smoke cigars, never trouble themselves to think at all : and this is the
reason, perhaps, why the Spaniards have never thrown off the " slough
of a slavish superstition.'-1 My mother, who by long intercourse with the
archdeacon, did not hold him in that awe, with which the females of the
parish were accustomed to regard him (so much does familiarity breed
contempt), used often to rate him soundly, for what she called his beastly
habit of smoking before females : and she once carried her vituperations
so far, that a shyness took place between them ; the Doctor fulminating
against her the epigram —
" Aspide quid pejus? tigris ;— quid tigride ? Dsemon,
Da&mone quid? mulier ; quid muliere? nih'il."
Which being interpreted, my mother vowed she could never forgive. We
were all sorry for this breach, and, with some difficulty, over-persuaded
her to apologize. This she did, with a truly feminine resignation ; at the
same time, presenting the doctor with a silver tobacco-box, with his own
portrait engraved on the lid, with his pipe in his mouth ; to which I fur-
nished the motto, t( ex fumo dare luce?n." The good man was highly
pleased with the compliment; and gallantly saluting the back of the
offended lady's hand, he assured her, that he was well pleased so un-
pleasant a dispute should end in smoke. The next Sunday, I remarked
that he preached from the text, that the price of a good woman was above
rubies.
In the summer of 1786, all the world, in our part of the country, went
1827.] Anecdotes and Conversations. 257
over to the county town to witness, what was then a rarity, the ascent of
an air-balloon. The archdeacon, however, would not budge. The inven-
tion, he justly remarked, was French ; and he added, " timeo Danaos et
dona ferentes" Besides, he asked, " where is the pleasure in seeing two
fools impiously setting Providence at defiance;" a remark, the justice of
which I have often had reason to recal. It was on this occasion, that
our village surgeon presumed, somewhat too jocosely, to say to him, " you
are afraid, lest they should get near to Heaven, and find out how little
you doctors of divinity know about the matter." I never saw the arch-
deacon so seriously angry as then. Rebuking the surgeon for his levity
and indifference in religious matters, which he said belonged to his cloth,
he continued with a prophetic solemnity — <( this reigning taste for experi-
ment, bodes no good. Franklin's rods and his blasphemous boast of
*' eripuit fulmen calo," have deeply injured religion. Men no longer can
say, " calo tonantem credimus." He who is solicitous concerning
second causes, is but too apt to overlook the first." For the rest of that
evening he sat silent ; nor did he ever afterwards hear balloons mentioned
without launching forth some contemptuous sarcasm. Another fashionable
folly, which roused the indignation of the archdeacon, was, the unlimited
admiration of Sterne. The fellow, he would say, is a disgrace to the
church. His religion is full of levity ; and what is worse, his levity is not
full of religion. The antithesis was striking.
At the breaking out of the French Revolution, the Doctor, in common
with all right-thinking men, was seriously alarmed lest the principles of
the people should be injured; and when Burke published his diatribe
against that insane and atheistical ebullition of a stiff-necked generation,
he took a journey to London, solely to see that splendid orator; availing
himself of the opportunity to solicit the then vacant archdeaconry ; an
energy wonderful in a person of his years and infirmities. Burke received
him as he deserved, and invited him to Beaconsfield. Pitt was of the
party, and port and politics were the order of the day. The port was as
sound as the politics, and the politics as old as the port ; so the Doctor,
we may be sure, enjoyed the feast of reason and flow of soul. Indeed,
this evening was a constant theme of conversation with him for the rest of
his life. Among many anecdotes that he was in the habit of telling, I
shall repeat only one or two. The French armies were in rapid advance,
and the stocks were falling. Pitt, for once in his life, spoke despondingly;
and Burke said something about the chivalry of stock-jobbers being gone :
but Botherum reminded the premier of the just confidence a British prime
minister ought ever to have in Divine Providence, which would not suffer
a set of miscreants, who had not only killed their king, but had actually
abolished tithes, to prosper. A foreign ambassador, who was at table,
whispered something about " gros lataillons" which the doctor was
not Frenchman enough to understand, but which made the premier
smile. However he was not discouraged ; but pledging the master of
the house in a bumper, he thundered forth with an air of inspiration.
Jl7rcw$E? 'EXXwuv m, ixiydifatfn Tarpi^a, &c. &c. ; and Pitt shaking him heartily
by the hand, bid him not to fear, " with such right-thinking persons on
our side," he said, " we are confident against the world in arms ; and so,
doctor, I hope for your vote at Cambridge on the approaching election."
The doctor lamented that the distance of his living and his age, had pre-
vented his voting the last time ; and Pitt significantly shaking his head,
replied, " I think we may remedy that before long."
MM. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 21. 2 L
258 Anecdotes and Conversations. [SEPT.
The conversation afterwards turned on taxation, and Dundas, holding
his glass to the light to look for the bce's-wing, said it was a thousand
pities, so it was, such wine should be taxed, when a halfpenny a pot on
porter would raise a greater revenue. Pitt said, that something must be
done now and then to please the populace ; but he added, facetiously, he
was sorry to lean so heavily upon Harry's prime article of consumption,
at which, says Botherum, we all laughed very heartily. A certain bishop
who was at table suggested, that the clergy, at least, ought to drink the
orthodox liquor tax free ; and, as for the people, they had nothing to do
with the taxes but to pay them. True, replied Botherum, taxation
sharpens industry. It is taxation that has made England the first commer-
cial nation in the world ; poverty, as Theocritus observes, being the
mother of all the arts. The bishop begged to drink wine with the doctor,
and thus commenced a friendship which ended only with the lives of tho
parties. Three days afler this visit Dr. Botherum got his archdeaconry,
and on his return, wrote his famous pamphlet against Priestley, to shew his
gratitude to the administration. An angry and acrimonious polemical war
ensued, in which there was no lack of abuse on either side ; but the arch-
deacon used to say that Priestley was not worth the powder and shot.
" He is a shabby fellow, Sir, and not orthodox even in vituperation."
While in London, Botherum was elected fellow of the Antiquarian Society,
and put in his elaborate account of Braintown Parva, which he proved to
have been a Roman station, and the site of a Druidical college. On this
occasion, he presented the society with three fragments of broken pottery,
and a pike-head, which he had himself dug from a barrow, and received
the thanks of that learned body. About this time, also, he supplied Syl-
vanus Urban with his elaborate account of the monumental inscriptions on
Mucklepudding Church-yard, together with an elegant view of the ruins
of the chancel (Gent.'s Mag. vol. ccccxxiii.), which, truth to tell, was
drawn by the parish clerk ; and also a fac-simile of a Celtic inscription in
the tree character. This drew upon him a somewhat unpleasant contro-
versy ; for the surgeon before-mentioned (probably out of pique at the
archdeacon's rebuke), privately conveyed intelligence to a rival antiquary,
that the inscription which he interpreted, " Divus Belus," was merely the
initials of a stonemason's name, who was yet living in the memory of the
older parishioners, with the date of the year — -turned upside down.* Upon
turning the stone, as the archdeacon continued, topsi-turvy — or, as his
opponent would have it, the right side upwards, there certainly did appear
a provoking resemblance to the Roman capitals and Arabic figures, neces-
sary to establish the hostile hypothesis ; which caused the wicked wits of
the day to laugh at the archdeacon's expense. But the doctor made an
excellent defence ; clearly proving that Ins inscription ought to have been
erected in the very place where it was found ; and strengthening his case
with great erudition by many pregnant analogies. In the appendix to this
paper, he gave an ample account of the bowl of a tobacco pipe, found rive-
ana twenty-feet below the surface of a peat bog, in the neighbourhood of a
Roman station ; which distinctly proves, that the Romans were in the
habit of smoking, if not tobacco, at least some indigenous weed ; a
neglected verity, still further corroborated by many classical texts, especi-
ally Virgil's account of Cacus : —
* Thi* fact i« said, likewise, to have occurred to an Irish antiquarian.
1827.J Anecdotes and Conversations. 259
"Illeautem,
Fauci bus ingentem fumum, mirabile dictu,
Evomit ;"
and the satirists "fumum et opes strepitumque Roma" the last, likewise,
indicating that the habit of smoking was not, as with us, chiefly preva-
lent among the lower classes, but was practised by the rich. The "fumus
et vapor balneamm," mentioned by Valerius Maximus, shews that smoak-
ing was among the luxuries of the bath : and Martial speaks of (< venders
vanos circum Palatiafumos," as an usual mode of getting bread. Cicero's
"fumosce imagines," affords still further confirmation, if any were need-
ful, of so evident a discovery.
I have very little to add to what the world already knows, concerning
the doctor's Greek translation of Chevy Chase, which drew upon him the
ill-natured epithet of " seventh form school-boy," a reproach which he felt
very keenly. " Many wise and good men," -he remarked to me, almost
with tears in his eyes, " had exercised themselves in Greek translations
from the English poets ; nor could he conceive how a man could be a
worse Christian for writing the language of the New Testament, or a worse
statesman for practising the nervous diction of Thucydides and Demos-
thenes ;" " but/' he added, in a solemn and awfully prophetic tone of
voice, " the run which is made against Greek is part of the jacobin con-
spiracy against social order. He who despises learning wars against his
superiors, and is wanting in that humility and prostration of intellect,
without which there can be no true religion."
The archdeacon was amongst those who believed in the authenticity of
Ireland's Shaksperian MSS. ; and as he had been intimate with Dr.
Farmer at Cambridge, and was enthusiastic in all that concerned the great
natural poet, he could not bear with patience being jeered on this mistake.
*' Sir," said he, " if the play was not written by Shakspeare, it ought to
have been : not indeed for the matter (though Vortigern is at least as good
as Titus Andronicus) — but on account of the evidence, which he who
doubted might as well doubt the thirty-nine articles." The strength of
his conviction could not be more forcibly demonstrated. Another point on
which he was sore, was Pitt's resignation about the Catholic Question.
He was amongst those who never believed that statesman in earnest, and
to the last declared it was an hallucination wholly inexplicable. But,
" nemo" he said, (t nemo omnibus horis sapit." and though he had given
his support at once to Mr. Addington's administration, he could not but
forgive his old favourite, as soon as he found him once more at the head of
affairs ; a circumstance that fully evinced my respected friend to have been
as good a Christian as he was an eminent scholar, and shewed that if he
had zeal, it was not untempered by discretion. The archdeacon, holding
good church preferment, it was often thought that he would marry ; and
when he painted the parsonage house, we all set it down that his friendship
for a certain maiden lady, who shall be nameless, would have terminated
in a conjugal alliance. Whether it was through the doctor's fault, or the
lady's, I never could learn ; but the marriage did not take place. That
he would have made a good family man is barely possible. He was a
professed misogamist, and was never at a loss for a quotation from Euri-
pides to back out a sly hit at a sex, from which, I more than suspect, he
had in early life received some slight. " Sir," he would say, " there is
one thing in which I think the papists are right, and that is, in representing
2L2
260 Anecdotes and Conversations. [SEPT.
their good woman without a head," — a piece of humour in which, by-the-
by, he rarely indulged before the ladies — so great was his sense of pro-
priety.
About the lime when Sir Samuel Romilly was endeavouring to overturn
our judicial institutions, the archdeacon was called on to preach the Assize
sermon before the judges. In this sermon he laid it down that, as Christia-
nity was part of the law of the land, it followed that the law of the land
could not be contradictory to Christianity ; and that, consequently, to alter
the law was as bad as to alter the gospel. He cited the example of the
French revolution, in which the law and religion had perished together ;
and praising the wisdom of the Medes and Persians, thenco took occasion
to eulogize the existing government, whose hostility to all amelioration was
truly Asiatic. For this sermon, which he printed with the motto of " stare
super vias antiquas," he was so unmercifully handled by the opposition
press, that, as he once told me with great glee, he was not without hopes
of being kicked into the prelacy. Whether this promotion was in reality
intended, it is now hard to say, for death deprived the parish of Braintown
Parva of its ornament, and the world of a luminary, somewhat suddenly,
just as the archdeacon put the finishing hand to his treatise, " de inutili-
tatis prastantid in disciplinis academicis," in which he ably vindicated
the British universities, and proved by the equation of a+b — v x=0, that
the whole genius and talent of the country gentlemen, as exhibited in both
Houses of Parliament, which were the efficient causes of the unparalleled
greatness of England, were exclusively owing to a discipline that palpably
refuted the maxim of " non ex quovis ligno." The king, he justly
observed, could make a peer of whom he pleased : but Oxford or Cam-
bridge could alone form the truly aristocratic mind, and level genius to the
senatorial calibre. Thus did this truly great man die as he had lived, the
steady and able advocate of the wisdom of our ancestors — the studious cul-
tivator of all those inapplicable sciences, which, by keeping the human
mind aloof from the realities of life, preserve mankind in innocence, docility,
and obedience to the powers that be — and the able opponent of that ignis
fatuus illumination, which, under the modest designation of innovation, is
in reality, and to the whole extent in which it is conceded, nothing more
nor less than revolution. In the evil days upon which we have fallen, the
example of such a life cannot be without its use. Would to heaven that
the Rev. S. S., and many others who are looked up to in the church as
" wits and philosophers," and who openly profess a latitudinarian liberality,
would profit in time by the instruction it affords, and step forward man-
fully to fight the good fight, while it is yet time, in the ranks of the ex-
ministers, against the two great evils of the age, Popery and George
Canning. T.
1827.] [ 261 ]
SOME ACCOUNT Ob' A LOVER.
I FIND myself compelled to differ toto coelo from those who profess to
hold modesty in such high veneration. My own modesty, I conceive, has
been long in that predicament mentioned by young Woodall in Dryden's
play — who had hidden his blushes where he should never be able to find
them again. In short, not to be diffuse, I think I may aver that I am
" A flower born to blush — unseen"
Not so was my deceased friend Diaper, of whom I purpose to speak.
Perhaps that ingenious person died a martyr to that very weakness from
which I have just declared myself perfectly free. As a theoretical pro-
fessor of assurance, there I admit his claims were hardly to be dis-
puted ; but he broke down in the practice. The difference between us
was this — his views were good — my manner was inimitable : in resources
he was great — but my comprehension was vast. In a word, what he could
so exquisitely contrive was perfected by me.
But Diaper had his faults. — Firstly, his ideas of property were vague
and unsatisfactory ; his principles of action, loose ; and the current coin
of the realm, once deposited in his hands by way of loan, like the tides of
the Pontick sea, knew no return.
Secondly, Diaper was a genius — in truth, of that kind denominated
queer. He was, however, assured by some of our periodical critics, that
he possessed great poetical talent; consequently, he was often to be found
contemplating a basin of water, and apostrophizing the ocean ; or toiling
up the craggy precipices of Primrose-hill, to pay adoration to the glorious
spirit of Nature. Again, it was his custom to cast himself listlessly by the
side of a kennel,
" And pore upon the brook that bubbled by."
Thirdly, It pleased him to encourage a lownpss of spirits, and to culti-
vate an acquaintance with unclean demons. Day after day he strolled
about, as melancholy as a bear in a barber's shop, but with no appearance
of that fatness which is so desirable in the quadruped. Some portions of
the fat of that animal, by-the-by, might have been adopted with advan-
tage at this period ; for the youthful enthusiast, by clipping off locks of
hair for his numerous fair admirers, and by shaving the front of his skull
for a high forehead, had succeeded in reducing that globular appendage to
a primitive state of baldness, and now furnished a lively idea of a newly-
discovered maniac — to which, in other respects, he bore no slight resem-
blance.
These were faults, nay, positive blemishes in his character, which I
vainly endeavoured to eradicate. I vindicated my friendship, but without
avail. He told me that they were part and parcel of his idiosyncrasy —
that I knew not how to make or to find an excuse for the errors of
genius — and, in fine, turned his back and a deaf ear to my advice. Diaper
was one upon whom remonstrance was as much lost as of whom the poet
says or sings,—
" Csesar, qui cogere posset,
Si peteret per amicitium patris atque suam, non
Quidquam proficeret."
His was a madness without benefit of Bedlam.
This ill-fated gentleman incautiously fell into love — a most unhappy
declension, and to which I attribute his untimely end. The " bridge of
262 Some Account of a Lover. [SEPT.
sighs," or the " pons asinorum" of existence, is, I apprehend, that part
of the journey lying across the ocean of love ; into which ocean, mark me,
too many do lamentably become immersed. Now love, though a grievous
dolour, admits motives of alleviation ; but to plunge in " usque ad Escu-
fapium"—~io be, as it were, love-sick — is, not to speak it mincingly,
excessively affecting — a romantic bore. It is the affliction of a kind of
sentimental nightmare, during which an ugly beast (Cupid) sits, heavily on
the breast, and an ass (the doctor) grins through the bed-curtains. — And
so was it with Diaper.
I was surprised by a visit from my infatuated friend soon afterwards —
the purport of which was to lay open his whole heart to me, and to engage
my assistance in the furtherance of his views towards a lady, whose name,
after oaths of secresy extorted from me, he divulged.
• Rut, that .this might be the more comfortably explained, we adjourned
to an adjoining tavern, and called for a bottle of wine — during which it
appeared that his inflammable bosom could in nowise withstand the
triple fascination of mind, person, and purse possessed by the fair one's
iu whose scale of affection he flattered himself (he did indeed !) that ho
had been tried and found " wanting," He assured me that he was bent
upon winning her, " for love or money ;:' and began to recapitulate the
steps he had taken, in consequence of such determination.
This agreeable intelligence could not have been received by me other-
wise than with rapture. Another bottle was called for : we thrust the
decanters towards each other with amazing velocity, from which we con-
tinued to quaff huge libations, exchanging mutually congratulation and pro-
fessions. He proceeded to inform me, that the family having been to their
country-house at Clapham, he had flown down every afternoon upon the
summit of the stage, bearing along with him a shrill octave and " Six Lessons
for the Flute ;" and, *' seated on a ruined pinnacle," his musical score hang-
ing on a tree, he had " made sweet melody/' which, regularly performed,
the book was closed, the joints of the instrument unscrewed, and the lover
returned to town. Also, when she went to church, his devotion was sure
to be making itself audible in the adjoining pew ; if she visited the theatre,
he was enscrewed in the next box ; and if she was taken to the exhibition,
the " portrait of a gentleman" fortified the walls of the academy.
In return, therefore, for incense thus devotedly offered up, he had given
himself to expect a speedy fruition of joy, in the candid avowal, by the lady
herself, of a mutual passion; though he confessed to me, that he had
hitherto contented himself with indications of love uttered in the language
of the eyes — an absurd miscalculation of chances ! I can't say I admire
optical orthography or visual expression : it is like a lecture on phrenology —
a great deal said, and no understanding a syllable.
The degree of faith, then, I chose to attach to this tale was, for a time,
just as much as is understood by the reception of what is termed " a flam "
— the due acceptance whereof I have seen expressed, in vulgar society, by
placing the thumb on the extremity of the nose, and agitating the fingers
in a peculiarly significant manner.
While I sat ruminating upon this subject (for I had fallen into a deep
reverie), I took no heed of the manner in which my friend was engaged —
which was, in fact, by snatching enormous pinches of snuff, and applying
them incontinently to his nostrils, and by swallowing the nut-shells and
orange-peel. Struck, however, at last by the somewhat frequent manner
in which the waiter was flinging his hands up after his eyes, I turned, and
1827.] Some Account of a Lover. 263
beheld my intemperate companion lying involved in his chair, with a most
cruel distortion of feature ; his whole appearance betraying what it had
been more prudent than ingenuous to conceal ; namely, that he was, " in
vino," very drunk — a new adaptation of the well-known laconic axiom
which he forthwith began to illustrate.
• For, having effected a transition of his body into the street, this " beastly
pagan" began shouting forth hymns to Diana, accompanying the same by
saltatory motions, and recommending himself to her goddess-ship's notice
as her Endymion, while he protested his intention of meeting her in a
submarine apartment — an engagement, the completion whereof was a little
facilitated by the fact that he was considerably more than "half seas over."
For my own part, I found it very shortly expedient to relinquish a personal
attendance upon him ; for, by reason of these unnatural upspringings, I
expected nothing less than the instant destruction of his frame " in toto,"
or his rapid disappearance through one of the coal-holes in the pavement ;
to say nothing of a difference of opinion that might arise between us, and
that worthy Diogenes of the night, who makes it his business to look after
honest men with a lantern, and who was now approaching, dressed in a drab-
coloured great-coat. By this peripatetic professor of moral philosophy was
he eventually " reprehended," and by him conducted and introduced to the
interior of an agreeable but small mansion, where he passed the night.
In pursuance of a resolution, approved and adopted by us the preceding
evening, I sallied forth the next morning to reconnoitre the residence of
his charmer, with the view to the completion of a plan of elopement, in
which I profess my entire skill — my attention through life having been par-
ticularly turned to flights of all description — from the gently abrupt injec-
tion of the personal identity into a shop, upon the sudden appearance of
an incipient dun, to the superhuman scramble from the outstretched palm
of a full-grown fingerer .of shoulder-blades. But I wander.
The possibility of completing this rather premature arrangement having
been ascertained by a minute survey of the house — by which I perceived
that Diaper could, in case of emergency, escape through the iron railings,
and delighted to observe, that the discharge of a pistol from the street-door
by the alarmed father, or any of his domestics, must infallibly lodge its
contents in the os frontis of the watchman opposite ; — having ascertained,
I say, these things, I was preparing to depart, when a figure at the window
attracted my observations — the fair cause of my friend's disquiet ! " Oh !
call her pale not fair!" Not to flatter, her's might be said to be
" Beauty, which, whether sleeping or awake,
Shot forth peculiar graces."
And yet, 1 know not, her style of countenance was neither in the Grecian
nor the Roman mould, but might be more aptly termed the Gorgonic. I
was more than ever convinced of the truth of the line, —
" None but the brave deserve the fair,"—
and hurried away with some precipitation to reveal to Diaper what — I
could not say whom — I had seen.
This recital was listened to by him with intense satisfaction ; and, upon
its conclusion, he produced a parcel, which, with sundry winks, and dozens
of self-satisfied smirks, he delivered into my hands, enjoining me to bear it
suddenly according to its direction. Sanguine of success, he would take no
denial, but thrust me forth, instructing me to meet him at the corner of
the street.
264 Some Account of a Lover. [$KPT.
I was ever an indifferent substitute for the god of love, my ovention being
altogether hostile to such embassies of moment , but, faithful to the duty
I had imposed upon myself, I lay in wait for the man-servant ; and placing
the letter in one palm, I infused a sixpence into the other, to secure its safe
delivery into the young lady's own hands.
Being ushered into an elegantly furnished apartment, I began to specu-
late upon the brilliant prospects of my friend. He has disdained, thought
I, to pay an abject homage to some proud beauty, who, every time she
opened her mouth, would shut his eyes, that he might afterwards see what
the devil had sent him ; — no, he has wisely sought elsewhere, and the
property will be all the safer for the scarecrow on the premises. In the
midst of these delighted visions, I was astounded by the violent opening of
an adjoining door, from which flew first a tremendous courier of a voice,
articulating, " Where is this impudent rascal ?" followed by its master, a
tall military figure ; to whom succeeded the identical daughter — the " mon-
strum horrendum" of the morning — torturing her unique frontispiece by
demoniac cachinnations.
Approaching me, a scroll in one hand, covered over with slender iambics
(the detestable versification of Diaper), and an uplifted cane in the other,
this military man began to imprecate curses, and to hold out threats of a
very horrid description. My presence of mind instantly suggested my
absence of body, which I, who profess only a moral courage and am not
quarrelsome, happily succeeded in effecting.
I have said that I am no god of love ; yet truly did I shew my wings
in this critical moment — flying down the flight of steps, and darting from
the house with as much precipitation as a tenant at quarter-day. Hurry-
ing to the lover at the corner of the street, I upbraided him bitterly for
having so cruelly trifled with my personal safety — perhaps magnifying in
my wrath the indignation of the captain, and the insane grins of his
daughter.
The state of mind of the ill-fated sentimentalist at this intelligence can
neither be conceived nor described. He cast himself upon the earth, and
exhibited several mathematical lines upon the pavement ; and rising sud-
denly, assaulted the dead walls with his head. To these exertions,
another train of thought succeeded, as I collected from his frequent imita-
tion of the action of a knot under the left ear ; and now he threw out more
than hints of self-destruction. Not content with the bare imagination of
making away with himself, he luxuriated in all the possible modes and
practices on record by which it might be accomplished — from strangulation
in a water-butt to immersion in the crater of Vesuvius ; finally, entreating,
with tears, the loan of my garters for a few minutes, that he might attach
himself without delay to the lamp-post opposite his inexorable fair one's
abode.
Upon these symptoms, I was for bearing him away to the Lambeth
Asylum ; but this he would by no means permit. I was under the neces-
sity, therefore, of leading him to the door of his lodgings, where I gave
private injunctions to the servant to screw down the windows, and to secure
all knives, washing-lines, and bodkins ; accompanying the douceur of a
shilling with another request — that she would refuse to furnish the sufferer
with any Epsom salts, which the apothecaries have lately discovered to be
the same thing as oxalic acid.*
• It is the p.itient, wo are afraid, that makes the discovery. — Ed.
1 827.] Some Account of a Lover. 265
A few days after this, I was apprized that the lover, unable to withstand
the shock that this entire rejection of his claims had occasioned, and home
down by a complication of misfortunes " too numerous to mention," had
taken to his bed ; from whence I received a bieroglyphical scrawl, entreat-
ing my instant presence, and affirming that, if I had any desire to behold
him yet alive, I must come, "per saltum" or by leaps, —
" Like angels' visits— -few, and far between" —
which, seizing my hat, I obeyed.
Being come to the house, I knocked with that sort of respectable pre-
cision which indicates that there is "somebody" waiting for admittance —
whereto I received that kind of attention which implies that that " some-
body" is likely to wait. A length, a begrimed lad made his appearance,
with a man's coat on his back, a human being too large — one arm buried in
a monstrous boot, and, drawn down over his eyes, a huge hat, which, upon
discovering me through a crevice in the brim, was, with some difficulty,
laid aside. Receiving no answer from this youth to my thrice-repeated
inquiry, whether I could see Mr. Diaper or not ? I took the liberty to add
a supplementary appeal, by lowering my cane with remarkable perpen-
dicularity upon that extremity of the frame terminated by a head.
The boy, thus appealed to, discovered immediately an irregular aperture
in his jaws, from which he emited yells quite anti-silencial and perfectly
discordant ; which yells, as if by miracle, pierced the long-discarded tym-
panum of an aged hag, who now made her appearance.
This ancient beldam, placing herself before me, put both her ears into
her left eye, and began to listen with it ; that organ of vision, at the same
time, carelessly lolling from its sphere with a sang froid and immovcable
curiosity not a little astonishing. In vain did I muster the powers of a pair of
lungs that might have " torn hell's concave," and pour them into one ear ;
in vain did the little boy shriek wildly into the other ; — she did but smile
complacently, as though she said. " Be such sweet silence eternal !" At
last, by furious signs and violent gesticulations, I gave her to understand
the purport of my visit, and was conducted to the chamber of my dying
friend.
This was a room situate on the third floor of the house, and stuck (like
a parenthesis) in the middle of a long passage. The want of a stove was
relieved by the presence of a large fire-place, between which and the win-
dows there was evidently a vile collusion. It was. I verily believe, a house
of call for the four winds. This yEolian hole was split asunder by a
pasteboard diaphragm or screen ; and, in one of these moieties of misery,
stretched upon a bed, lay the once graceful, ever graceless, Diaper.
Here was a scene \ I approached the couch tremblingly — he was asleep !
Alas ! disease had got the start of the worm by a strange anticipation. He
was of a lean habit of bone. I dropt a few tears — but they missed him !
and attempted to accomplish a fleeting remembrance of him, by way of a
front likeness, but could cut no pencil fine enough; It was never my for-
tune, or misfortune, to behold a living subject cleaner picked. The digging
of a grave, as I told the undertaker, was entirely a work of supererogation.
Enough to have borne him forth, and, the service of burial performed, to
have decently dropt his remains through a crack in the parched earth — for
it was sultry weather. But of this no more.
After some time, opening his eyes, my departing friend recognized me,
and, raising himself in the bed, began to discourse eloquently upon his
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV, No. 21. 2 M
266 Some Account of a Lover. £SEPT.
" future prospects." He said that it was all up with him, which I was
glad to hear, and remarked that, " in the other world, there would be found
no anxious tumults of the mind — no falsehood — no perjured inconstancy —
no " Here I drew out my pocket-handkerchief; and he plucked forth
a lock of hair, in extent and quality resembling a horse's mane, which he
gazed upon with much sorrowful metamorphosis of visage. This settled,
he turned his memory to the manifold extravagancies of his youth — parti-
cularly dwelling upon anight of inebriation and imprudence; and solemnly
recording, as a warning to youth, an exacted sum of five shillings, in which
he had been mulcted by the offended watchman. He also gave me a post-
obit, claim upon his aunt for the eighteen-pence and other loans I had
advanced on his .account — an instance of affectionate remembrance, that
affected and, at the same time, comforted me.
And now, all temporal affairs being concluded, it was evident that his
strength was quite spent, which was shortly afterwards verified by his soul's
perfectly unostentatious departure — no notice whatever being given, save an
oblique protrusion of one leg, that dislodged a bundle of transversely-
arranged bones, which, upon examination, proved to belong to a helpless
being, 'yclept the nurse. This somnolent person, picking herself up, arid
rubbing* her eyes, observed, that her patient had died " like a lamb,'*
— which satisfactorily accounted for his being " dead as mutton." — Peace
to his ashes!
" The course of true love never did run smooth."
Thus have I, with infinite impartiality and justice, set down such parti-
culars of my late-lamented friend's fortunes as must extort no common
sympathy from readers of sentiment — from lovers, whether hastening to a
wife or to a willow — to a stagnant pond, or a less perturbed parson. lam
desine — it is enough.
After all, I cannot but agree with the philosophic Falstaff — " There's
never any of these demure boys come to any proof."
TO THE ZEPHYRS.
HAIL to your glad return, ye Zephyrs bland!
Joining in dalliance with our new-born flowers.
Whose odorous beds are sweet as spicy bowers
Of your loved southern vales, — or where ye fanned,
Upon her couch of roses, Beauty's queen,
What time enamoured of an earthly scene,
In her own Paphian groves she loved to stay,
Attended by heY handmaid Graces fair,
With whom, in myrtle arbours as they lay,
Passing the noontide hours, ye joined in play,
Loosening the bright braids of their golden hair, —
Or the light covering stealing soft away,
Ye to their glowing bosoms would repair !
Though those times are long past, nor Venus there,
Nor Graces now are known, your pastime still
Ye love to take by fountain, grove, and rill—-
Nor to one spot confined, but with the spring
Ye coast the world around on viewless wing ;
1827] To the Zephyrs. 267
And winter's frowns by you are never seen,
Whose influence lays all Nature's beauty low—
Where fields are all in flower, and groves still green,
And, but your sweet breath, not a wind can blow.
Ye 're ever found — and as the fountains flow,
. And brooks around with chiming murmurs play,
Ye waft the soft sounds on your wings away,
Mingled with all the music of the grove,
Where thousand throats are warbling all the day
Their choral symphonies of joy and love.
Soon as with fragrant kisses ye awake
Your mother, young Aurora — she whose smile
Glads the green earth — your joyous flight ye take
To visit every lovelier scene awhile :
Forth from her bosom with the winged hours,
Through summer realms of life, and light, and joy,
Ye go — and gathering from the opening flowers
A balm for Beauty's breath, is your employ ;
And whether along the sunny shores of Nile,
Or through the balmy fields of Araby,
Or in the bosom of some ancient isle,
Your gentle mission all unweariedly
Ye oft pursue, — or to our steamy vales,
Where vernal sweets invite, as now, ye stay,
Ye still are blest. Oh \ would I might partake
Of your invisible being, and this clay
That loads the buoy ant spirit henceforth forsake,
And as I list light wing myself away,
In endless pastime, o'er the hills and dales!
Then, when the milk maid roamed in morning gay,
Or lovers met at eve to tell their tales,
I would be present, or to hear her lay,
Or listen to the tender vows they made j
And I would waft the first sound to their ear
Of hated spy, or loiterer wandering near,
With ill-timed visit lo profane the shade.
Oft, too, should deeds of mercy me engage,
When to imprisoned beauty's joyless bower,
With vernal fragrance at the morning hour,
I'd fly a welcome visitor — and the dew
Of heaven around her lattice I would strew ;
And when I saw her pining cheeks presage
Of early dissolution, I would come
With every soft aerial melody
That charmed the groves, to hymn her spirit home ;
And when beneath the willow she was laid,
Long would I linger in the pensive shade,
And whisper all unseen her elegy. H. B.
2 M2
[ 268 ] [SEPT
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MADEMOISELLE 8ONTAG ;
INTERSPERSED WITH CHARACTERISTIC ANECDOTES OF THE LEADING FASHIONABLES
OF BERLIN.
«• Here be truths."
{The little work from which this sketch is extracted—" Henriette die Schone San-
gerinn," or, Henfiette the beautiful Songstress — has excited so much attention at Leipsic
(where it was published) and at Berlin, that we rhink an abridgement of it may not be
wbotiy unacceptable to our readers. It is said, that the fair lady to whom it refers, and
of whom so many strange reports have been circulated, is at length actually engaged, and
to make her del-fit next season at the Italian Opera House in England.]
THE Opera was over! Still, however, the tumultuous applause uplifted in
honour of the fair debutante who had that evening made her first obeisance
before the audience of Berlin, reverberated through the house, and seemed as
if it would have no end. A thousand clapping hands, and a corresponding num-
ber of roaring voices, were employed in bearing testimony to the merits of
Henrietta,* and in demanding her momentary re-appearance, to receive the
homage of the spectators. At length the curtain again rolled up, and the beauty
came forward in all the graceful loveliness whereby she had previously enchanted
her auditory.
In comparison to the noise which now arose, the former might be regarded
almost as the silence of the dead ! Every one present, in fact, seemed to abandon
himself to the most extravagant marks of rapture ; the young songstress, alone,
was unable to give vent to her emotions, and was obliged to retire with silent
obeisances ; her eyes, however, were eloquent, demonstrating, by their animated
lustre, the gratification she experienced.
But the amount of Henrietta's gratification appeared trivial beside that mani-
fested by the glances and exclamations of the gentlemen in the house. A regu-
lar epidemic seemed to have seized them (although of no very disastrous nature)
and to have included every class and every age within its range of attack. Even
old Field Marshal Von Rauwitsch/f- upon whose head, worn grey during numer-
ous campaigns, scarcely a few straggling hairs were to be counted — even he
appeared, in his old age, to have been wounded by Love's dart, against which he
perhaps imagined himself completely armed.
If, however, these right noble warriors were fascinated by the syren, he was
more than matched by a couple of royal counsellors — Messrs. Hemmstoff and
Wicke,J who had become close friends in consequence of a congeniality of
sentiment in matters relating to the fine arts and the drama. The latter, his
eye fixed on the fallen curtain, broke out with an ejaculation — " Oh, friend !
what is life without love ? I now understand the delicate lines of the poet."
" True, very true!" interposed Hemmstoff) vainly endeavouring to pass, in
the true exquisite style, his fingers through the remnant of that luxurious crop of
hair which the scythe of Time had cut down — "very truly does the poet say-
but I feel confoundedly hungry. Shall we sup at the Restaurateur or where ?"
* Mademoiselle Sontug.' t Marshal Von Bniuchilsb, Governor of Berlin.
Gormnstoff and Wilke.
1827.] Biographical Sketch of Mile, bontag. 261)
" Below, my dear fellow," rejoined Wicke, in a melting tone, " for I under-
stand there is a supply of fresh oysters just arrived. Alas! how sweet a thing
is love !"
Thus sentimentalizing did he and his companion descend into the supper-
room, which was unusually full — doubtless on account of the necessity felt by
so many young bucks of of recruiting their shaken nerves and spirits by the help
of a little eau-de-vie.
All the 'tables were soon entirely occupied; next our two friends, to the
right, sat a rather elderly French Abbe',* whose head, to the infinite consolation
of Hemmstoff, was even more scantily strewn with locks than his own. Accord-
ing to the prevailing character of the French ministers, this was a jovial, free-
thinking man, by no means dead to the joys of this life in consequence of his
monastic education, but who loved his wine, his oysters, and his music — nor
did the third article of the Lutheran Catechism seem to be either unknown or
unpleasant to him, as appeared by the ecstacy into which the young songstress
had thrown him. " Ah, mon Dieul qu'elle est belle!" exclaimed he: "here,
garfon, a bottle of champaign ! — to the health of Henrietta."
To the right of the Abbe was placed a tall thin figure, in a blue coat, with an
Order of the Cross in his button-hole. This man's grey though well-dressed hair
formed a singular contrast to his red, and at the same time wrinkled, face: the
latter quality whereof shewed that the owner had exceeded his sixtieth year,
notwithstanding he was desirous of passing muster as a dandy of nve-and-twenty.f
He wore a double lorgnette constantly round his neck — had an opera-glass in
his hand — and his cravat was tortured into the elaborate tie of an Englishman,
who wishes on his visit to the continent to be thought of the first water. He
was styled by some members of the company Lieutenant-Colonel; and to aid his
assumption of a consequential air, he minced and muttered his words as if he
thought it beneath him to give any body or any thing an intelligible answer.
It is true, he was not long put to much expense, even of this sort of conversation :
for the seat beside him was taken by the manager of the theatre, t an intelligent
and agreeable man, to whom were addressed, as a matter of course, all questions
relating to the charmer of the evening.
There was, however, present a young man of very interesting exterior, who
was seated at the bottom of the table, and who, wrapped in utter silence, still
paid attention, as he sipped his wine, to the discourse of the individuals sur-
rounding him. He could not be a native of the capital, or indeed a resident
there of any long standing, as neither of the guests already mentioned (who
piqued themselves upon knowing every body, who was any body) were acquainted
with his name or rank, although his whole air and aspect betokened a person of
consideration.
The discourse naturally turned on the opera; and all coincided in voting
Henrietta's abilities to be pre-eminent, although each differed from the other as
to her chief qualifications. Hence, the uproar began almost to resemble that of
Babel (for the parties seemed to think that the strength of the argument lay in
vociferation) when it was suddenly checked by the manager rising, and politely
calling upon the young stranger to favour the company with his opinion.
" Most willingly/' was the reply : * although I fear I stand but an indifferent
chance in the society of so many enlightened connoisseurs. In my estimation,
the debutante is endowed with irresistible grace, and with a voice at once melo-
dious and full of sentiment ; her execution, also, is blameless : but she evinces
little taste in the selection of her operas, and still less in that of the theatre whereat
she performs (here our friend the manager was all attention), which is well known
to have no higher ambition than that of money -getting, however it be com-
passed.|| In this point Signora Henrietta must certainly be held to have squared
her views with those of the sordid multitude in no very worthy manner."
* M. B. — , now in England. f The Chevalier Von Treikow. J Von Holter.
|| The " Konigstadter Theater" is a sort of minor theatre of Berlin, situate in one of
the fauxbourgs of the capital. It is limited to the performance of second-rate pieces, or
270 Biographical Sketch of ^llla. Sontag* [SEP^.
The stranger was silent, and the company seemed disposed to continue so ;
the Lieutenant-Colonel, it is true, whilst he picked his teeth, muttered some unin-
telligible words between them, as if he would have spoken out, but durst notj
and the manager seemed too much taken aback by the truth of the imputation
to be provided with an apt rejoinder. The Abbe was the first to recover his
voice, and said, having previously moistened his palate with a glass of champagne
— "I love the gentleman's enthusiasm, and disesteem of sordid motives. \i\ too,
have myself a preference for nobler pleasures ! Here,gflrpow, a couple dozen more
oysters."
Just at this moment, the night-watch proclaimed the eleventh hour, and spite
of the pathetic remonstrances of the Abb£, the party made preparations for
breaking up. I shall leave them to put these duly in execution, and introduce
my reader to another scene.
The first visit I paid next morning was to the house of the beautiful Caroline,*
who had hitherto ranked as the prima donna of the K — Theatre. This amiable
young lady exhibited a complete picture of the mingled workings of rage, jealousy,
and disappointment at intervals, relieved by a passionate flow of tears. I strove
to console her, in vain ; nor was it until the entrance of her bosom friend
Auguste,f the first actress, that she began to rally. A consultation ensued as to
the most effectual means for interrupting the progress and thwarting the success
of the hated novelty. The only hand whose extension appeared likely to save
the mourning Caroline, was that of criticism : and the twain lost no time, there-
fore, in pitching upon a select few of its professors to enlist in their favour; and,
with the view of securing the full co-operation of these, they determined to relax
in a great degree that haughtiness and reserve wherewith they had accustomed
themselves to treat the gentlemen of the press.
Thus had the lovely songstress's appearance put in motion a double train of
feelings— those of adulation and envy: the shallow-minded eulogies of the one,
and mean injustice of the other, are alike disgusting; and we turn with pleasure
from both to a more agreeable and interesting object — the songstress herself.
To the young, pure, and sensitive heart of Henrietta, the notice she attracted
was any thing but congenial. She was conscious that the publicity of her situa-
tion could not fail to imply something indelicate to true feminine feeling : but
circumstances and custom (together with a certain innocent belief that it could
not be otherwise) t- nded greatly to overcome this sensation. Altogether, how-
ever, her lot had more the appearance than the reality of being enviable ; and
this chiefly from two co-operating causes — namely, the impertinent freedom of
the critics, who (probably because they knew nothing of music) seemed to prefer
descanting in no measured terms upon her personal accomplishments, and the
countless tedious visits which were daily made her, and which she, unfortunately,
was obliged to receive. By this latter annoyance, indeed, all those leisure hours
were purloined which she had formerly been habituated to devote to the enjoy-
ment of her own thoughts and the society of books, varied by agreeable household
occupations.
Amongst her regular train, it will not be difficult to imagine that our friends
the orators of the Restaurateur were duly numbered, including the young man (of
whom the rest knew no more than we did). He spoke but little, although a
sarcastic smile now and then curled his lip : by Henrietta he was uniformly well
received— but this courtesy was not extended to him by his fellow admirers, who,
indeed, appeared alone withheld by fear (inspired by his evident decision of cha-
racter) from treating the stranger rudely. Nothing further could be gathered
respecting him than that he was a young musician, by name Werner ; and he
was, as we have before observed, of superior presence, although his dress betrayed
not the man of opulence.
such (of a better order) as have been already acted a full twelvemonth at the two great
bouses. Mademoiselle Sonntag's engagement there was extremely lucrative, beiug under-
stood to amount to 10,000 Prussian dollars a-year— almost an unheard-of salary iu
Germany.
* Caroline Seidler. t Augusta Stick.
1827.] Biographical Sketch rf Mile. Sontag. 271
One morning, the party assembled in Henrietta's saloon, were engaged in dis-
course respecting the journals of the day, and the criticisms they contained,
which (judging from a certain tone of asperity, and even banter, regarding our
songstress) had imbibed the poison dealt out by the rival queens, when the
Lieutenant-Colonel, who had been looking out of the window through his lorgnette,
exclaimed — " My honoured friends, I have to announce Lord Monday;'1"* and
his lordship immediately after ascended the stairs — a succession of coarse oaths
resounding,* the cause of which nobody knew. Without waiting to be
announced, he burst into the room— his huge mantle hanging over his shoul-
ders. " Good morning, most adorable !" was his first exclamation : " how have
you slept ?"
" I am obliged by your lordship's inquiries," answered the somewhat embar-
rassed Henrietta. " Louise, a chair."
" Oh, never mind," said the peer, " I will sit upon the sofa ;" and he forthwith
stretched himself thereon at full length — but his cloak embarrassing him, he
hurled it, with a dignified God damn, upon a chair, near which stood a side-board,
Rill charged with coffee-cups; his lordship's aim was unsteady, and* down went
the apparatus.
The whole room was now in confusion; Henrietta looked terrified; the gen-
tlemen busied themselves in assisting the servants to remove the broken china ;
and the lord gave his aid in the shape of stamping and cursing. Henrietta, on
observing one of the fragments, uttered a half-suppressed exclamation of regref,
which struck in a moment the ready ear of Werner, who looked extremely indig-
nant at the whole transaction. " What is the matter?" said he.
" Oh, nothing," replied Henrietta, endeavouring to brighten up, " except that
my poor departed sister's favourite cup is amongst the wreck, and that gave me
a momentary pang."
The Englishman caught these words, although uttered in a low tone; and
thinking perhaps that they demanded some notice, cried out — "Never mind,
beauteous Henrietta, I will pay you for the cups threefold. You shall have a
dozen for every one— far more handsome."
Werner looked very much inclined to chastise this coarse presumer on his
rank ; but his rising passion was checked by a few deprecating words which the
lady contrived to say to him apart.
The company w.ss now on the point of resuming their seats, when there arose
a general exclamation of — "Here comes Count Regenbogen," f who in a moment
or two entered the saloon.
Count Regenbogen was held to be the most polite and well-dressed cavalier
at the court of Berlin. Nobody had a more stylish head of hair ; his perfumes
were all procured direct from the French capital ; his boots and shoes were uni-
formly made at Vienna— his coats at Paris — his nether-garments and surtouts at
London. Even at the very first period of the morning (namely, about 12 o'clock)
on lifting himself out of bed, he was elegant ! and the report went, that he
absolutely slept in two waistcoats, and a cravat of the finest mixture — al'iitcroy*
able ! and that, for greater luxury, he was accustomed to dress his hair himself in
bed, for which purpose a sheet of looking-glass was affixed to the top ! It was
also rumoured, on the authority of his lawyer, that he had made provision in his
will for being buried en habit habille — deeming it unbecoming to appear at the
day of judgment otherwise than full dressed.
This notable gentleman was assiduously paying his devoirs to the assemblage,
amongst whom he used particular attention to my lord, when his brilliant
nothings were interrupted by the stalking in of a very ghastly apparition, which
bore some resemblance to M. Briickbaner, director of the K — Opera. A uni-
versal exclamation ensued upon his entrance— the more particularly as his gar-
ments displayed some stains of blood.
" Good heavens !" said Henrietta, "what is the meaning of this?"
" God damn it 1" cried the Englishman, " a duel."
* Lord C — m. f Regenbogen (rainbotv) — Count Arnim.
272 Biograph iced Sketch of Mile. SoHtag. [S EPT.
" Let me breathe, dearest lady," said Briickbaver, " and you sliall learn the cause.
Never, surely, was any director of a theatre at once so gratified and terrified as
I have been within the last five minutes. I had just called on the cashier of the
house to ascertain how it stood respecting the tickets for to-morrow's opera,
wherein you are to appear as Amanda, and learnt that one only was left. Two
officers entered at the same moment — mutual friends — each inquiring, as if with
one breath, whether places were to be had. The cashier exhibited the solitary
ticket — like tigers, both sprang at it: a dispute arose; we tried to interfere, but
in vain ! Already swords were drawn, and the steels clashed together : both
were practised fighters, and their strokes fell swift as lightning, and thick as
hailstones ! Nor had more than a minute scarcely passed, before one of the
combatants lay bleeding on the earth, whilst the other (who had not himself
escaped without receiving a wound) struck triumphantly the point of his sword
into the ticket, and retired with his dearly-bought prize."*
" And the wounded officer?" demanded Henrietta.
" They were taking him to his barracks," answered the director.
" God damn it!" cried my lord, "this affair merited to have taken place in
London."
" Yes," exclaimed Werner, emphatically, " in Bedlam!"
Lord Monday fidgetted about in evident annoyance at having no ready rejoinder,
and would in all probability have sought refuge in some brutal vulgarism, had
not a fresh occurrence attracted universal attention. The beautiful songstress
herself, who, to conceal her emotion at this serious accident, had turned toward
the window, sank fainting upon a chair.
All rushed to her assistance; and his lordship, anxious to shew himself forward
in the business, cried — " Her corset must be loosened !" Werner, however,
pushed him unceremoniously aside, and, with Louisa's aid, conveyed the fainting
girl into an adjacent apartment. He returned immediately, and addressing the com-
pany, said—" The invalid is confided to the care of becoming attendants ; and
as rest and silence are now most important to her well-doing, I trust, gentlemen,
you will all see the propriety of following my example." With which words, he
seized his hat and departed.
My lord now inquired of Regenbogen — " Tell me, who is that impudent fel-
low, who acts here as if he were master of the house ?"
" Who can be supposed to know every mauvais sujet?" answered Regenbogen,
somewhat drily ; " but come," continued he, " doubtless we dine together at his
Serene Highness's ?"
" Certainly," replied Monday ; and they quitted the house, as did likewise the
remainder of the party, all of them learning the cause of Henrietta's sudden
disorder when they reached the street, namely, that the wounded man had just
been carried down it, and must have been seen by her.
The violent shock which our heroine's nerves had experienced on viewing
the body of Maulbeeref carried out of the cashier's house (opposite which she
resided) rendered her for some time speechless. On recovering, her first inquiry
was after the wounded officer, which the servant was enabled to answer, through
the attention of Werner (who had meanwhile made inquiries) satisfactorily. The
attendant the n proceeded to communicate a request of Werner's that he might be
permitted to renew his call, and favoured with an interview in the evening, as
he had something of importance to disclose. This proposition was complied
with, and accordingly about dusk the young man re-appeared. Henrietta was at the
moment engaged in reading, and every thing around wore the air of deep quiet
and seclusion, the room being lighted only by an astral lamp. " I almost fear to
interrupt this stillness," said the visitor. " Oh," replied Henrietta, "I rejoice
to see you — and the rather, as this is literally the first evening which, since my
stay in this city, I have been able to call my own."
Werner took his seat by the lovely girl, and an animated discourse ensued ; in
one of the pauses whereof, Werner, half mechanically, took up the book which
* Matter-of-fact. f Molliere, on officer of artillery.
1827.] Biographical Sketch of Mile. Sontag. 273
Henrietta had laid down on his entrance. " You should know that volume,"
said she, " for it was through you I became acquainted with it — and through it
I became acquainted with you."
" Ah, Jean Paul's Titian," exclaimed Werner, turning over the leaves.
" The same ; and I now peruse it with a feeling of melancholy, since the great
heart from which it sprang has ceased to beat. Werner, do not think me over
bold if I say that I prize the work not only from its intrinsic merits, but from the
circumstances attending my first acquaintance with it."
The delighted youth, taking her hand, was about to reply, when she said,
smiling, " Come, I will be your landlady for once, and make tea for you/*
The equipage was accordingly introduced ; but a chord had been touched, which
ceased not to vibrate, and the young pair insensibly found themselves recurring
to the interesting tone of thought and feeling that had been started.
" I shall never forget your attention that day," said Henrietta; "forced to
descend the hill on foot, whilst the carriage proceeded alone, and admiring the
woody landscape around, and the green valley at my feet ; the jutting rocks on my
ieft, and the dark forest of firs on my right. Aye," continued she, " I could
even paint the stone whereon I found your open book, and, curious (woman-like)
took it up in the idea that some traveller had forgetfully left it behind him.
How surprised was I, on lifting my eyes again from its pages, to find you, Werner,
standing by me ! What must you have thought of me ?" And she turned aside
her head to conceal the rising blushes.
" I was overjoyed to think," replied he, " that my favourite author seemed
to interest you so deeply. I too retain the memory of that day as one of the
happiest of my life ; for it was then, as I escorted you to the next village, that
we became gradually known to each other. Ere we had reached it, I was aware.
Henrietta, what you were in the world, and what in your heart; whilst from you
I did not conceal that I was a poor musician, undistinguished, although devoted
to my profession."
My readers will easily imagine that this kind of conversation was, under all the
circumstances, by no means the securest for a young couple who had previously
felt for each other an incipient attachment. Perhaps they did not wish to guard
themselves ; but at any rate, before the lapse of an hour, a passionate declaration
vras made by the youth, and received by the lady, who, in the confidence of her
affection, entreated her lover to continue near her, and act as her guide in her
precarious situation.
" But why not abandon it, Henrietta ?" said Werner.
" My kind friend," returned she, " reflect a while. In the theatrical profession
I grew up ; and was forced to accustom myself, in spite of the glittering splendour
wherewith we are surrounded, to many humiliations imposed on me by the station
Fate had pointed out. To what, indeed, besides could I resort ? I have not
received the education necessary to enable me to fill the situation of a governess,
and that of mere companion would only be a change for the worse ! The labour
of my hands, it is true, remains ; but the proceeds of that would be insufficient to
support my young and helpless brothers and sisters, for whom I sacrifice myself,
in order to draw them from a profession which certainly, to a heart impressed
with honourable principles, is in many respects irksome and dangerous."
The seriousness of her appeal exhausted herself, and deeply moved her auditor.
Leaning her head upon the cushion of the sofa, she left her hand free to the
warm pressure of Werner, who after a while arose and paced the room in silence,
as if revolving in his mind some great determination. At length he resumed
his seat, and said — " Henrietta, let us combine our efforts for your emancipation.
I think I know a person who, if he can be propitiated, is able amply to provide
for you and your's. Say, my charming girl, will you at once be mine?" She
answered not, but turning her eloquent eyes, into which the tears were starting,
full upon him, sank upon his breast,
I will not attempt to detail the conversation which followed. Suffice it to say,
that a plan was arranged, by virtue of which, Henrietta was to bid farewell to
public life, taking her leave in a concert, the proceeds whereof, which would
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 21. 2 N
274 Biographical Sketch of Mile. Sontag. [SEPT.
bably be large, were to be laid aside as a fund to further their ultimate objects :
that, meantime, Werner was to use every means to soften and reconcile his father
to the union, and to obtain an appointment as teacher of music at the University.
Some other preliminary measures being decided on, the lovers separated.
The days flew by. The contemplated arrangements were made; and Hen-
rietta, now fully contracted to Werner, resolutely declined the gallantry of her
host of other beaux, who, at length perceiving the authorized and constant atten-
tions of their rival, one by one retired from the field. Thus were matters cir-
cumstanced, when the eventful day appointed for the final public exhibition of the
syren's powers approached.
Never had there been such a demand for tickets. All classes vied with each
other in giving parting testimonies of respect to the fair songstress, and the rich
and great loaded her with handsome presents. For three days previously not
a ticket was to be procured — and hence it was announced that no pay-office would
be kept open.
On the morning of the concert-day, a visitor was announced to Henrietta —
Count Klannheim. On being introduced, he stated that he had arrived the pre-
ceding night at Berlin, as plenipotentiary from the court of V — , and had learnt
with chagrin that the enjoyment he had so long promised himself, of hearing
Henrietta, was likely to be denied him. He had therefore taken the liberty of
appealing to herself, to inquire if there were no means of his obtaining admission
into the concert-room. Henrietta expressed herself highly flattered by this com-
pliment on the part of the Count ; but assured his Excellency that she was alto-
gether powerless in the matter, as, literally speaking, every place had been long
engaged.
The Count expressed great mortification on receiving this answer. " Must I
then," said he, " abandon all hopes of hearing this wonder by which so many have
been entranced ?"
" I know but one way," returned Henrietta, smiling, " of averting such an
evil, and that is by your allowing me to sing an air to you on the spot."
This offer was made with so much grace and modesty, that Count Klannheim
was quite delighted ; and seating herself at her piano, Henrietta sang several can-
zonettes with her characteristic sweetness.
The Count was much moved; he pressed her hand gratefully, and before he
dropped it, said, in the words of Schiller — "Accept a remembrance of this hour!"
placing on her finger, as he spoke, a brilliant ring. He then retired, requesting
her not to mention his visit, as he had not yet publicly announced his arrival.
The concert, it is almost superfluous to say, passed off with the utmost eclat.
The applause was almost stunning ; roses and myrtles were thrown into the
orchestra at the feet of the singer ; and tears gushed from her eyes on bidding
farewell, for the last time, to her generous auditors.
The following morning, Henrietta was somewhat surprised by a visit from an
elderly minister, who addressed her as follows: — "My daughter, Fame reports
you to be kind-hearted and charitable, no less than accomplished, and I have
been tempted, in my compassion for a destitute family, to make trial of your
goodness. The parties in favour of whom I seek to interest you, I know to be
as deserving as they are unfortunate; the father is now in confinement for debt ;
but a few hundreds would at once liberate him, and re-establish them all. Will
you be the ministering angel to effect this benevolent purpose ?"
Henrietta was touched with the speaker's venerable manner and urgent appeal.
She answered — " I am but too happy in being able to do this. Fortune has been
liberal to me, and ill would it become me to hesitate in aiding the distressed."
She then inquired the necessary sum, produced it, and the minister retired,
exclaiming, as he received her bounty, " God will reward you, my daughter I1'
His voice had a prophetic tone, nor was the prophecy false.
Henrietta had scarcely time to recollect and felicitate herself on this occur-
rence, before an elegant carriage stopped at her door, and her former visitor,
Count Klannheim, was announced. After some mutual passages of ceremony,
the Count, though with rather an embarrassed air, spoke as follows :—
1827,] Biographical Sketch of Mile. Sontag. 275
" I am not a man of many words ; nor will I now attempt to deny that it is
chiefly on your account, lovely Henrietta, I am at present in Berlin, Our
Prince, a man in his best years, has found it necessary, from political considera-
tions, to take a step repugnant to his taste, and is about to marry. He antici-
pates in his spouse those charms of society which he seeks. In short, he has seen
you.1'
" Proceed no further, I entreat, Count !'' exclaimed Henrietta, shrinking; " I
believe I anticipate what you would say."
" Perhaps you consider the affair in a false light. The Prince will avow that
he not only loves but also honours you. Can you blame him if, in spite of the
duties his state imposes, he still feels he has a human heart ?"
The fair girl rose from her seat : her bosom heaved tumultuously : she took
hastily from her finger the jewel which Count Klannheim had previously fixed
there, and returned it him — " I know now," cried she, " the object of this gift;''
and the starting tears prevented further speech.
The Count, visibly moved, was silent a few minutes, during which Henrietta
stood as if expecting him to retire. At length he resumed — " Well, then, I will
proceed to unfold to you the whole of my commission."
" Not another word, I pray," answered she: " I dare not — I will not hear
you ! '
" You dare ! you must ! The Prince anticipated your reply, and was prepared
to meet it. So entire is his devotion to you, Henrietta, that he is even willing,
since the laws of the state forbid his offering you his hand while he continues to
reign, to resign in favour of his brother ; and, in lawful possession of you, whom
he accounts his greatest treasure, to retire from a throne to the private station.
Say but the word, and I greet you the wife of my prince."
Henrietta paused one moment, as if hesitating in what terms to couch her
reply. She then said — " Count, I am indeed grateful for this proposal, and I
honour and esteem the party from whom it springs. But I will not deprive his
country of such a man. Nay, I will go further, and own to you, in confidence,
that, even could your prince raise me to his throne, I should not be at liberty
—I should not be desirous to share it with him. You are too thoroughly a gen-
tleman, I am sure, to press me farther !"
The Count, during this address, had observed his fair companion with eyes
beaming with joy. At its conclusion, he could restrain himself no longer,
but tenderly catching the astonished maiden in his arms, he cried — "Noble,
excellent girl ! come to my heart ! You shall be my daughter!*' and, at the same
moment, the door sprang open, and Werner, rushing toward the old man,
exclaimed — " Henrietta, my father !"
The riddle now is easy to solve. The Young Count Klannheim had been
travelling some two or three years incognito, and during that interval had con-
tracted an irrepressible passion for Henrietta. Of. this he apprised his father,
who, as might be expected, opposed it inexorably. Finding, however, that his
son's happiness was positively at stake, he, like a wise parent, set about proving
the worthiness of the object ; and the prosecution of this purpose will at once
explain the visit of the old minister, and the mock proposal on the part of the
prince. Werner had, indeed, like a dutiful son, determined to marry his beloved
at any rate, and seek his own fortunes, in case his father should disinherit him.
What remains ?— but that the nuptials of Werner (no longer the poor musi-
cian) and Henrietta (no longer the popular actress) were celebrated with all due
publicity and splendour ; — and that our old friends of the Restaurateur, &c., being
each necessitated to sink the admirer, were happy to mix in the gay circle as
respectful guests,
2 N 2
[ 276 ] [SEPT.
NOTES FOB THE MONTH.
THE whole of the circumstances connected with the recent regretted
death of Mr. Canning, have been already so fully canvassed, that we shall
detain our readers a very few moments only in referring to them. The
disease of the right honourable premier was one for which there is no
cure. It was premature old age ; — an early but rapid breaking-up of the
system, brought on by over bodily exertion and incessant mental fatigue.
It was the same complaint that killed Pitt and Fox, and which overthrew
Lord Liverpool; and we may add the names of Romilly and Londonderry ;
for whether the inflammatory action does its work upon the brain, and
produces, first, nervous irritability, and then insanity ; or whether it attacks
the viscera, and ends in the horrible form of general mortification, the
originating cause is the same.
For Mr. Canning's political character, with much to praise, one word
is no less necessary in extenuation of some parts of it. Throughout his
career he laboured under those disadvantages which inevitably attend
every man who has his fortune to make by politics. Such a man can
seldom have the power — a power, without which no statesman can
escape occasional compromise — of withdrawing himself from the arena
of public life, when he can no longer appear on it with perfect consist-
ency and dignity. He has no stake in the country — no station — no
ground to fall back upon ; he may support government, or he may
oppose it; — but he must be in action, or he is nothing. To a man so
circumstanced, politics can hardly be a pleasurable trade ; and, certainly,
in Mr. Canning's case — beyond whatever may be the enjoyment of
gratified ambition — it was by no means a very profitable one. If he
had gone to the bar, as he purposed to do in early life, he would have
made a large fortune ; probably have become Lord Chancellor : certainly,
if it be true (which we believe) that his exertions have cost him his life, he
has purchased dearly, by a death at fifty-seven, more than all the honours
and emoluments that the state has bestowed upon him. The personal
habits of the late Premier were not lavish ; and the fortune of which he
died possessed is considerably less than that which he acquired by his
marriage. As the country has been told five hundred thousand times over
of " pensions" and " annuities" granted to his " mother and sisters," it
may be as well to observe, that no stateman's relatives or connexions ever
received less from the purse of the public. His eldest son, Captain Can-
ning, is captain of a man-of-war, and, at the time of his death, was sta-
tioned in the Black Sea. This is not a very unreasonable provision for
the eldest son of a prime minister.
The ministerial arrangements consequent upon Mr. Canning's death
have been made with great rapidity ; and the King's immediate choice of
Lord Goderich, as the right honourable gentleman's successor, assured the
country as to one main object of the anxiety connected with his decease —
to wit, that the Liberal party was to continue in office. This decision is
a triumph to reasonableness and common sense. What the Whig ministry
will do, is not certain ; but to have the mere principle recognized, that
the men who will march on with the changing state of society, instead of
attempting to hang back and retard it, are the men to be employed
and entrusted, is of itself an acquisition of great value. One circum-
stance in favour perhaps of fair measures is, that the strength of the
ministry will lie chiefly in its principles. In shewy talent, and especially
1 827.J Notes for the Month.
in debating talent, it is singularly weak. The powers of Lord Goderich,
as an orator, are certainly very slender. His lordship's manner is unpre-
tending, and his delivery is sufficiently intelligible, and his style is so far
to be tolerated, that its fault lies in its being too light, rather than oppres-
sive or heavy; but all this is negative praise ; and yet it is the best that
his own friends, in candour, can afford his lordship ; excepting only some
touch of occasional readiness, he has not a single quality of a debater about
him. As we go lower, affairs hardly mend. Mr. Huskisson is an inva-
luable coadjutor in the administration ; but— he cannot " manage the
House of Commons." Mr. Herries may do well as Chancellor of the
Exchequer ; that is, what he can do in that office remains to be proved :
but it is certain that, as a speaker, he can do nothing at all. The com-
fort of the ministers is, that what unofficial talent there is in the House
of Commons, it is all on their side. With Mr. Tierney as a regular retainer,
and Mr. Brougham and Sir Francis Burdett as volunteers, they have not
a great deal to apprehend (as far as eloquence is concerned) from the
attacks of the Opposition.
The autumn assizes have passed over since our last, and have been marked
by an increase in the number of Actions for Libel, brought in the names
of plaintiffs who have no hope of recovering more than a farthing damages,
but really instituted by attornies, for the sake of obtaining profitable jobs,
by the payment of their " costs." This system — like the new Old Bailey
science of horse-stealing — is now making its way up into a regular trade ;
and we are not very sorry for the fact ; because, when it gets a little far-
ther, it must produce one or two advantageous results : it will either com-
pel an alteration in the present absurd and unjust construction of what is
" Libel" by the courts, — or it will lead to a departure from the practice of
allowing a verdict of one farthing damages, in cases of libel, to carry
costs. We should be well pleased, for our own parts, with this last
arrangement. It could do no mischief; because, where a jury thought a
plaintiff entitled to costs, they would give him a shilling instead of a
farthing; and the increased amount of " damages" would be no great
infliction on the defendant ; while it would arm juries with power — which
under the present system they do not possess — of protecting a defendant
from being put to enormous expense by an action which their own verdict
declared to be purely litigious and vexatious. As the law which defines
libel now stands, every newspaper proprietor must publish two or three
libels every week. It is sufficient that he writes, or copies from another
publication, any statement which may (even remotely) tend to prejudice
the reputation of an individual, and which he cannot prove to be true, in
the very letter in which he publishes it. The moral absurdity which this
demand of literal proof constantly involves, is so notorious, that we need
not observe upon it. There can be no doubt that, if a newspaper stated
that a particular individual, A. B., had been convicted of burglary^ and
it turned out that the conviction had actually been only for stealing in a
dwelling-house, that individual, A. B., being charged by the newswriter
with a higher offence than the writer could prove against him, if he were
to bring an action for libel, must recover a verdict. But, what is far
worse — by the law, which, in every case of libel — no matter what the
amount of damages — gives costs to the plaintiff, although the complainant,
in such a suit, may gain nothing (for the jury would dismiss it probably
with a farthing for the injury he had sustained) ; yet any attorney, who
can get leave to bring the complainant's action, gets certainly a job in his
278 Notes for the Month. [SEPT.
trade (o the amount of from one. to three, or perhaps to five hundred
pounds.
Now the same practice of allowing nominal damages to carry costs, exists
in all actions of Assault ; and it is true that, attirstsight, the cases appear to be
the same. And frivolous actions for assault are not very numerous ; although
itwould be possible tobringthem on very slight, yet sufficient grounds, every
day. But the truth is, that the advantage of bringing these actions (to an
attorney) is extremely different. In the first place, the persons among
whom the assault and battery cases arise, are not often in a rank of life
from which much money is likely to be gained. They are either parties
both in a low condition, who have no money ; or both in a respectable
condition, who have some character. It seldom happens that a man of
straw is beaten by a man of substance; but where that does happen, five
times in six an action is brought. In the next place, an assault case is one
that must be proved; and an attorney knows that it is always a case
proved with difficulty and uncertainty. The jury have some discretion
as to the verdict they give, and will consider whether the circumstances
amount to an assault or not. And, lastly, it is to be particularly recol-
lected, that, for an assault — however well-packed and got up — we can
.bring no more than one action : one case, when it is arranged, can only
serve for once ; we cannot, because a man has had his ears boxed, bring
actions against a whole county. Now this last circumstance alone consti-
tutes a sufficient cause for the preference shewn to an action for libel ;
— a matter in which, when once — to use a printer's illustration — we have
a case set up, we may go on striking off as many impressions as we please.
Seven actions, it appeared, had been commenced for one newspaper para-
graph, at the suit of a man called dies was, who lately obtained a verdict
for a. farthing against the Wolverhampton Chronicle I But the whole pro-
cess is sure gain, and plain sailing. Some man — no matter who — has some-
thing said of him, or some report referred to concerning him, which no one
doubts, but which no one can prove to be literally true. A prize-fighter is
reported to be suspected of having made his last battle a " cross ;" — our
" Mr. Cheswas," we believe, was spoken of as having incurred blame, by his
mode of riding a race. Nowhere is a case that is cock sure ! Nobody can
prove that the battle was a " cross :" and the judge will certainly declare that
the paragraph is a libel. For us to break down in our evidence is impossible ;
for we have no evidence to give but the copy of the paper, and the register
of the proprietorship from the Stamp-office. If the jury do their worst
against the plaintiff, therefore — if they give him a Farthing damages — •
the attorney (who is the real promoter of the cause) will get his tf lump-
ing" damages — not a " Farthing," but a good Two hundred pounds,
under the name of u costs !" And — " The greatest is behind." This
" libel" is not a question of one action ; not of one two-hundred pound
job, but of twenty. For the offensive paragraph has made the usual
round of the newspapers; and the attorney, with his verdict against the
FIRST in his hand — with his point settled and decided — goes to work
against all the OTHERS. In every case where the " libel" has been copied,
— nay, in every case where it has beon sold, — the judge will declare that
" the party" (the attorney) is entitled to a verdict; and, no matter how
much of contempt or disgust the terms of that verdict may exhibit on the
part of the jury, while it gives him two hundred pounds in the shape of
"costs," — which it must do, — the man of parchment is perfectly content.
Now the duty of juries, in civil actions, is to do justice between the
Notes for the Month. 279
parties. They are not empanncled to decide merely what compensation
a plaintiff shall receive for the injury that he has sustained ; they are also
to say what fine a defendant shall pay for the wrong that he has com-
mitted. It is laid down by judges every day as law, that " a defendant
who cannot pay in his purse, must pay in his person ;" i. e. that the expense
and charge to which a verdict puts him, is a punishment for the act
which he has done, quite as much as a remuneration to the party who
complains against him. And is it not perfectly monstrous to provide, that
where a jury declares the very lowest coin "of the realm — the wilfully
and prepensely meanest and basest — to be all that the plaintiff (as com-
plainant) deserves for a frivolous and vexatious action, — that he should be
allowed (as attorney) to exact a penalty from the defendant to the enor-
mous amount of three hundred pounds!
The fact is, that some part of this scheme must be altered, or juries will
very soon refuse to execute it, and so alter it themselves. For the practice
which is held somewhat to correct the evil as it stands — that of allowing
the judges to deprive the plaintiff of his costs, by " certifying" that the
action is frivolous and vexatious — it is a remedy, in our opinion, highly
dangerous and inconvenient. In cases of libel, it is all that was wanted to
complete the nonentity of the jury, and to make the court sole arbitrator of
the whole question — law and fact together. It is the judge who, by
his power of direction as to the law, settles, first, whether what the
defendant has written is a " libel ;" and the power of certifying, in the
practice, enables him to settle afterwards what penalty he shall pay for it.
Letters from Lisbon and Madrid, in the absence of political information,
contain long accounts of the Bull fighting exhibitions of these capitals ; and,
in some instances, with strictures upon the character of the sport, more,
calculated to gratify the amour-propre of English readers, than founded
exactly in reasonableness or justice.
All combats in which brute animals are compelled to take a part, have
that about them, no doubt, which should be offensive to a humane and
cultivated taste ; but such combats, nevertheless, have been popular with
the most highly civilized and cultivated nations ; and, of such combats,
the bull fights may certainly claim, we think, to be the best.
If the ladies of Spain and Portugal attend the bull fights, it should be
recollected that the ladies of England, in the times of Elizabeth and
James the First, attended the bear-baits ; and these were bear -baits, not
of our modern and merciful character, but of a far more ferocious and san~
guinary description. The following advertisement, for example, of Bar-
bage, who was " master of the bears" in the time of James the First, may-
serve to shew the nature of the delights which, not two centuries ago,
our own delicate dames were entertained with : —
" To-morrow, being Thursday, will be shewn, at the Bear-Gardens on the
Bankside, a great match, played by the gamesters of Essex, who have challenged
all comers whatever to play five dogs at a single bear for 51. Also; to worry a bull
dead at the stake. And, for their further content, visitors shall have pleasant sport
with the horse and ape, and the whipping the blinded bear."
This " horse and ape" business consisted in strapping a large baboon
upon horseback, tying squibs to the horse's tail ; and turning a number of
mastiffs loose, both upon horse and ape, in an open ring. And it com-
monly concluded in the tearing to pieces of both the unhappy animals pur-
sued— the dogs being as fiercely excited by the alarm of the horse, and hi*
280 Notes for the Month. [SEPT.
desperate efforts to escape their attack, as by their hostility (natural or
inculcated) to the monkey. The " whipping the blinded bear" was a still
more exquisite diversion ; and is described by an old writer thus : — " It is
performed by five or six strong men standing in a circle with large whips,
which they exercise without mercy on the bear, who cannot reach them
on account of his chain. Nevertheless, he defends himself with great force
and skill, throwing down all such as chance to come within his reach,
and tearing their whips out of the hands of others, and breaking them."
This was in the reign of James. In a still later day, we became more
curious and dainty in our amusements ; as the following superior cata-
logue of entertainments, in an advertisement in Read's Journal (174 J ),
may testify: —
'« At the boarded house in Marylebone-fields, on Monday next, will be fought
a match, between a wild and savage panther, and twelve English dogs, for 300/. ;
fair play for the money, and but one dog allowed on at a time. The doors to open
at three o'clock, and the panther to be upon the stage at five. Also, a bear to be
baited, and a mad green bull to be turned loose, with fireworks all over him. A
dog to be drawn up, with fireworks after him, into the'middle of the yard, and an
ass to be baited on the same stage."
Another advertisement, of about the same date, announces the appearance
of a sea bear (" the first ever baited in England"), whom the proprietors
have no doubt will " conduct himself in such a manner as to Jill those who
are lovers of the sport with delight and satisfaction."
What is intended by a "green bull," we doubt if any body now alive
distinctly understands ; but the t( drawing up a dog with fireworks," con-
sisted simply in a spree of wanton barbarity — the covering the animal
with squibs and crackers, and then setting them on fire, to enjoy his fury
or alarm. The same amusement is still popular at Constantinople ; where
a splendid mansion was not long since burned to the ground, in conse-
quence of the ill-behaviour of two bears, who did not, like the " sea bear,"
" conduct themselves in such a manner as to give universal satisfaction ;"
but, after having been tarred and set on fire, escaped from their tormentors,
and ran among a great concourse of canvas pavilions, and tents, setting
(in their turn) all on fire before them. But, certainly, these old English sports
are very inferior to the bull fight, as regards any display — by man — of
courage or address ; while they fully rival them in offensiveness and cru-
elty, inflicted upon the animal. There is, at least, so much to place the
bull fighter above the baiter of a bear, or a badger, that there is a fight ;
and one in which he must exhibit great skill and activity ; — besides
exposing himself to considerable risk — which is always a circumstance of
great interest, and no where more fully appreciated than in England !
Two thirds of the delight which we experience, when we see a man
balancing himself upon crutches ten feet high, arises out of the idea that he
is every moment in danger of falling. Or, when a rope-dancer runs from
the ground to the top of a " firework tower," atVauxhall, he does no
more — except increase the sensible chance of his destruction — than if he
had passed along the same cord at a fourth part of the same altitude : but,
if he did the feat at the lower level, or even took any precaution to ensure
himself from being destroyed in doing it, all the attraction of his performances
would cease. The same principle would operate, if we looked at the
Spanish Picador — as he enters the bull ring on horseback, and salutes the
spectators lance in hand ! It is impossible to observe this performer, as he
advances, coolly and fearlessly, to meet an animal of such power and fury
.1827.] Notes fo) the Month. 281
as our own sensatidns tell us cannot be approached without the hazard
of destruction, without feeling that intense interest in the result, which —
no matter how objectionable the indulgence is — does amount to a pleasur-
able sensation. The anxiety is even still more acute when the Matador,
or destroyer, presents himself in the circle! whose life, as well as his suc-
cess, depends upon his striking almost to the eighth part of a second, and to
the eighth* section of an inch: for it is only at the moment when the ani-
mal is in the act of making the rush which must end in his destruction,
that he can secure succeeding in the blow, which, piercing the spinal mar-
row, lays it dead and motionless at his feet.
The combatants on foot, however, who take no part in the death of the
bull, and who perform the Pierrot and Scaramouch rather, as it were, to
the serious pantomime of the horsemen, are, perhaps, the most amusing
actors in the spectacle ; and their parts may be perfectly well exhibited
without the infliction of any torture upon the animal. The more dexte-
rous of these men enter the arena on foot, and approach the bull, single
handed, and unprovided with any weapon — with the most perfect con-
fidence. They seldom retire to the niches provided for them to slip into ;
evading the animals attack, when he darts at them, only by stepping
rapidly aside. In the end — chusing the moment always when he makes
his rush — they close with him, grasp him by the horns, and throw them-
selves upon his back ; from whence they slide off at their leisure (to renew
the attack) behind ; or, once seated, keep their position in spite of all his
most furious endeavours to dislodge them.
So passionate is the appetite of the people of Spain and Portugal for
bull fighting, upon any terms, that combats of this last description are got
up every day in the villages, where the killing an animal would be — if
not too great a violation of humanity — too expensive a diversion; and in
these places, the court yard of an inn, or the enclosure called the corral,
in which the cattle are secured at night, does duty for the more costly and
elaborate arrangement of the arena. A recent traveller describes, as the
most amusing bull-fight he ever saw in the peninsula, one which was con-
trived in a small court yard, which had a low colonnade round it, the
pillars of which served as points of shelter, or retreat, to the combatants.
An extremely powerful and furious bull was so completely tired out in
about an hour by six assailants on foot, that he concluded by becoming
sulky, and laid his head to the ground, refusing to meet his antagonists.
The most entertaining point in this exhibition was the acting of a man
who fought inclosed in a long bottle of wicker, or basket work, just of
sufficient dimensions to hold him stretched out at length, and in which he
was rolled by the bull in every direction about the yard, to the infinite
delight of the spectators. Whenever the bull became quiet, the man
cautiously stretched his neck out of his bottle, and shook a small red flag
that attracted the attention of the animal. The attack then generally
recommenced ; upon which he drew back in a moment within his shell,
and was rolled about as before, and sometimes thrown up into the air,
without sustaining any inconvenience. The combatants had a valuable
ally too in a figure,, shaped and dressed like a man, and made upon the
principle of the Dutch toy, which sat upright in the arena ; and as fast
as it was knocked down by the enraged bull, started, of course, again to
its erect position. The rage of the beast at the obstinate vitality of this
enemy is indescribable. He repeatedly knocks it down with great force
and fury, five or six times successively ; and then — as if aware that there
M.M. New &ri«,--VoL. IV. No! 21. 2 O
282 Notes for the Month. [SEPT.
is some fraud in the matter, or something more than he understands —
walks off for a considerable time, refusing to deal with it again.
From great matters, descending to small — we have received several
letters from " Sedentary young men," in the course of the lost month,
complaining of our strictures upon the practice and science of "gymnas-
tics." These "sedentary persons" — who, from their mode of entitling
themselves, we suppose must he tailors — mistake our meaning. We have
not the slightest objection to their taking "active exercise;" on the con-
trary we think it particularly right that they should do so ; all we object
to is their thinking it necessary to make a fuss about it — calling all the
world to take notice, every time they go to jump over (instead of on to) the
shop board. Now these struttings and Growings are objectionable, because
they are superfluous. It is not the act of climbing a maypole after a leg of
mutton that one would castigate ; or the playing at hop, step, and jump,
for farthings — or even sixpences ; but when these simple diversions are
erected into "sciences," and gentlemen talk of becoming " Professors" of,
and " giving lessons" in them, then every one must feel that a little whip-
ping and stripping becomes essential. The most useful art may be rendered
offensive by obtrusiveness and affectation. No one would complain of a
" sedentary young man" who sharpened his sheers when he was going to
cut out a pair of trowsers ; but if he were to keep sharpening them all day
long, out of window, and calling the passengers to look at the sharpening
as a " new exercise," the foreman of the shop would do no more than
justice, if he knocked him down with the goose for his pains.
The difference of literary taste between the English and the French,
is hardly any where better exemplified than in the columns of their
daily newspapers. The plain, dry, slang-like, half technical, descriptions
of ordinary accidents and events contained in our London journals, are so
strongly opposed to the Ossianic accounts of the continent ; where every
street squabble becomes a tremendous riot, and a suspicion of a chim-
ney on fire, an actual conflagration. The following paragraph, from the
Courier Francais of the 12th ult, is a good example of such poetic taste
in reporting : —
" We have the following letter from Lyons, of the 10th of August, eight p. m. : —
* A thick column of smoke announces at a distance a vast fire ! It has broken
out in the house of M. Berthet, manufacturer of wooden shoes, at the extremity
of the slaughter-houses of St. Paul. The building is not high ; the combustibles
in it are said to be increased by a large quantity of wooden shoes ! The sky is
all on fire, and the sparks which cover the horizon look like fire-works ! Several
ecclesiastics are observed to be very active in assisting to extinguish the flames.
Two women are said to be severely wounded.
' Eleven p. m. — The fire has gained the neighbouring houses, and particularly
the lofts of the slaughter-houses, which contain a great quantity of raw hides and
tallow ! This has added to the intensity of the fire, and spreads an intolerable
stench throughout the quarter ! It is hoped, however, that by judicious measures
the fire may "be confined within a certain space," &c. &c.
Tho Report of the Committee of the House of Commons on the sub-
ject of " Criminal Commitments and Convictions," gives the following
enormous increase of crime in England as having arisen within the
last twenty years. In the year 1804, it appears that the number of per-
sons committed for trial in England and Wales, was 4,346. In 1816, it
had advanced to 9,091. In the last year, 1826, it had risen to 16,147:
having rather more than doubled itself in the first twelve years of the
account, and very nearly doubled itself again in tho last ton.
1827.] Notes for the Month. 283
This increase in the amount of offenders against the law is distressing ;
but few persons who are in the habit of observing what goes on before
them, we think, will be astonished at it ; on the contrary, it would have
been surprising to us, and we dare say to a great many others, if, under all
the circumstances of the country, crimes against property — (the species
of crimes .which has so largely multiplied) — had remained stationary.
The average gains of an able-bodied labourer in England, according to
a late grand jury charge (which was very deservedly applauded, and will
be not at all attended to) of Lord Chief Justice Best, are very little, if
any thing, more than the smallest amount upon which, at English prices,
such a labourer can support existence. If he has a wife and family, for
him to live is impossible : he must come upon the parish as a pauper.
It is difficult for him, if he strolls abroad, to move three yards in any
direction off the king's highway, without being a trespasser. If he is seen
with a gun, he is likely to be apprehended, or the weapon taken from
him, as a poacher. His youth is passed in very hard labour and in ex-
ceeding penury ; his old age has no hope of refuge but the workhouse ;
and we are just now giving him what we call " education" — and per-
haps doing wisely in giving it to him; but one of its first results must be
to make him feel completely the misery of his own condition, and see the
absence of all prospect of his improving it. Now men who have know-
ledge enough, to understand the value of those comforts and advantages
in others, of which they themselves are destitute and which they have no
chance of obtaining, are not subject to any violent temptation to be honest;
especially if they happen to perceive that they have nothing at all to fear,
and a great deal to hope, from being otherwise. And, although it is
difficult to quarrel with a charity that benefits any creature in distress —
even the undeserving, still the care and pains which are so sedulously
bestowed by some sectarians upon the souls and bodies (peculiarly) of
criminals, are ill examples to many who are not criminals ; and who —
equally on necessity — find their souls or bodies little cared about,
while they remain without the larcenous or felonious qualification. The
conversions to piety and fatness of burglars and highwaymen — and the
bestowals of bibles and breeches — by preference — upon utterers of base
coin and stealers in dwelling-houses, must raise strange misgivings occa-
sionally in the minds of the fw-conderaned, who are not fatted, or petted,
by any body. And the superior joy over the "one sinner" that "repents"
to the ten thousand "just men" who " have no need of repentance," is
a better religious maxim than a political one. But the most unfortunate
part of the affair is, that any distressed man who can read, may very
speedily satisfy himself that the transportation for life — which is the worst
sentence that he has to apprehend at the close of a career of crime —
that is, of the species of crime which he desires to commit, the crime
of robbery — will place him in a condition far more desirable in a distant
country, than the best conduct could ever have given him a chance of, if
he had stuck to honesty, and remained in his own.
Mr. Cunningham says of our convict colony of Australia — (we must
extract the result of his statements rather even than abridge them, for our
limits will not admit of much detail) — " New South Wales is a rich and
fertile country, possessing a climate more salubrious than that of England,
and, even to Englishmen, more agreeable. The settlers (these are the
convicts, and the descendants of convicts) are already surrounded with all
the comforts and appliances of civilization. The single town of Sydney,
202
284 Notes for the Month. [SEPT.
now covers a mile and a half of ground in length, and near half a mile in
breadth. There are two churches in it; a Presbyterian, a Methodist, and
a Catholic chapel ; excellent hotels and taverns ; hospitals, breweries, dis-
tilleries, markets, newspapers, auction-rooms, and assemblies ; and a
French milliner, by coming over to provide fashions for the ladies, made
a fortune of 10,000/. in less than six years! As all the richest settlers
are emancipists, or liberated criminals, the word " convict" is, by agree-
ment, dismissed from the vocabulary of the colony ; and the Old Bailey
sentence under which a man is transported from England, ranks as very
little impeachment upon his character; not much more than a verdict
against him from the Court of King's Bench, would do at home. In this
very desirable country — to which Mr. Cunningham particularly recommends
those persons to emigrate who can command a capital of J,200/., and
which, consequently, can hardly, of itself, be considered objectionable to
a person who does not possess a meal or a shilling — in this very desirable
land, where there are neither game laws nor forest laws ; where man is
needed, not burthensome, and where a family, therefore, is not a curse but a
blessing ; three years of good conduct gives a convict his freedom. The
moment he is free, if he is a farmer, he is at liberty to commence cultiva-
tion on his own account; and he obtains a grant of land, of which he pro-
bably could never have hoped to rent an acre of land if he had remained
in England. If he is an idle London tradesman, free mechanics of every
description obtain large wages and constant employ. And while he remains
under sentence, he works as a farm labourer ; subject — -to prevent all mis-
takes— to the following government table, touching his extent of allowance
and time of employ. — " The convicts (Mr. Cunningham says) who are
placed upon farms, commence labour at sunrise, and leave off at sunset ;
being allowed an hour for breakfast, and an hour, or more, again at din-
ner. The afternoon of Saturday is allowed them to wash their clothe?,
and grind their wheat. Their allowance (of food) is a peck of wheat;
seven pounds of beef, or four and a-half of pork, two ounces of tea, and
two ounces of tobacco, and a pound of sugar per week : the majority of
settlers permitting them, moreover, to raise vegetables in little gardens
allotted to them, or supplying them from their own. They are also fur-
nished with two full suits of clothes annually ; a bed tick to be stuffed
with grass ; a blanket, a tin pot, a knife, with cooking utensils, &c. &c."
Now the writer concludes by expressing (very reasonably, we think)
a doubt, whether the convict servants are much harder worked, or more
scantily fed, than 01 :.r parish-paid English agricultural labourers. A nd, in
fact, it is impossible not to perceive that, between the mildness of our laws
and the multitudinousness of our population, the fortune of the convicted
offender — not to speak of his fortune (in his own view) so long as he
escapes — is incomparably better than that of the industrious and honest
man. We may question whether even Mr. Cunningham's description of
Botany Bay will attract a great many emigrants there who can command
a capital of «£J,200. Men who possess a sum like this have local attach-
ments ; and some of them have prejudices ; and a man who would emigrate
(according to Mr. Cunningham's suggestion) for the sake of benefiting
and providing for a rising family of children, may have some suspicions
about the convenience of a state of society, in which the having con-
demned criminals, in a sufficient state of in-discipline, for servants, is a
matter of struggle and contention. The last of these objections, however,,
will be little felt by persons in the lower classes ; and, for the first — the
1 827.] Notes fcr the Month. 285
ties of Home are very different in the man that lives in his country, and
the man that starves in it. The crime that has increased in England is
the crime to which want naturally directs men — and the crime which
transportation punishes — the crime of theft. And with Mr. Cunning-
ham's account of Botany Bay in one hand, and the paragraphs from the
Scotch an<J Yorkshire papers in the other — " The Irish are still landing
at the rate of a thousand a week at the Broomielaw ! They are in the
most dreadful state of destitution, and wander about the towns even
without food or lodging during the night." — *' Three hundred more Irish
peasants ! passed yesterday through Huddersfield; their state of misery
beggars description, and they are offering to do the work of our own ill-
paid peasantry, at half, or indeed at any, price !" — that it should so
increase may be a matter of regret, but it can hardly be one of astonish-
ment. The worst that a thief will look to is to quit his country. " The
wretched," as poor Maturin truly said, " have no country !" An
evening paper observes, as a fact worthy of notice — that the enormous
increase from the year 1816 to the present time has taken place during
a period of peace. This fact would seem to be of little consequence one
way or the other, for the increase in the preceding ten years (which were
years of war) proceeded in as nearly as possible the same ratio. But,
a term of peace would be so far more likely to be attended with an increase
of crime in a thickly peopled country than a season of war — that the
arrangements consequent upon the latter state carry off a great number of
the idle and dissipated of the population, who are left to go on in mis-
chief until habit or necessity makes them offenders in the former.
Speaking with reference to the Old Bailey, it gives us great pleasure to
observe, that the two carriers, Cato and Bean, who caused the death of a
man of the name of Dunn, by their furious driving on Battersea Bridge
some time back, have been found guilty of manslaughter at the Croydon
assizes, and sentenced to seven years " forced labour" (as our French
neighbours term it) in the Hulks. And it is extremely desirable, moreover
— now public attention has been drawn to the subject — that some act
should pass, to inflict — in cases where absolute death does not occur —
something like a punishment upon stage-coachmen — carriers — butchers —
and the whole of that variety of artists indeed, generally, who do mischief
by their carelessness and insolence in driving through the streets about
every other day. It would be almost too much, if the parties who suffer
by the misconduct of these knaves stood upon an equality of risk with
them, to admit that the lives and limbs of sober and respectable individuals
may be endangered by ruffians who are too drunk, or too desperate, to
have any consideration for their own. But the fact is, that those who
do the mischief, nineteen times in twenty, are themselves in a situation to
run no risk whatever. Every man who is in the habit of driving near town,
will have observed that, whenever he meets a stage coach — or a butcher's
cart — it is he who must turn out of the road ; and usually with very little
notice, or room, allowed him for doing so. And this is an insolence which
arises merely from the consciousness of superior weight and strength :
because the same Paddington coachman who drives almost wilfully against
a light chariot, or a gig, or a man whose horse is restive so that he cannot
instantly get out of the way, regulates himself with the most exemplary
modesty and caution, when he approaches a brewer's dray or a broad -
wheeled waggon. An act of parliament is much wanted to reach sum-
marily and decidedly every man who does mischief in the streets by care-
-86 Notes for the Month. [SEPT,
less or furious driving Such a statute would be a salutary check upon
the very worthiest conductors of vehicles, who — in the* infirmity of
human nature — are apt to be hasty when they know that they have
weight enough "certainly to knock down every thing before them. But,
as the law now stands, a man may have an extensive injury done to his
carriage or horses — or an irreparable one — any, short of death — to his
person; and his only remedy is by an action at law, possibly against a
fellow who is not worth a shilling ; or by an information before a magis-
trate for furious driving, upon which ten shillings, we believe — some very
small and inadequate fine certainly — is the highest penalty that can be
inflicted.
Danger of Concession. — " You look sorry, brother/' said an American
general to an Indian chief, who was on a visit to the city of New York :
" is there any thing to distress you ?" " I'll tell you, brother,'1 answered
the Indian — " I have been looking at your beautiful city, the great water,
your fine country, and see how happy you all are. But then I cannot
help recollecting that this fine country, and this great water, were once
cur's. The white people came here in a great canoe ; they asked us only
to let them tie it to a tree, lest the water should carry it away. They
then said some of their people were sick, and they asked permission to
land them and put them under the shade of the tree. The ice then came,
and they could not go away ; they then begged a piece of land to build
wig-warns for the winter : we granted it. They then asked for some corn
to keep them from starving : we kindly furnished it. They promised to
go away when the ice was gone : when this happened, we told them
that they must go away with their big canoe ; but they pointed to their
big guns round their wig-warns, and said they would stay there, and we
could not make them go away : afterwards, more came. They brought
spirituous and intoxicating liquors, of which the Indians became very fond.
They persuaded us to sell them some land. Finally, they drove us back
from time to time into the wilderness, far from the water, the fish, and the
oysters. They have destroyed our game ; our people are wasting away ;
and we live miserable and wretched, while you are enjoying our fine and
beautiful country. This makes me sorry, brother, and I cannot help
it." West's Mission to the Indians. — There certainly is nothing got but
ruin by shewing mercy at any time to any human creature ! Whenever
any king — or usurper — or giant, is killed upon the stage, it always happens,
our readers may have observed, by his deferring somebody's execution an
hour — or two hours — or perhaps putting it off until a " prayer" is said,
when we (the audience) see clearly that it ought to take place upon the
spot. Well has the wise man spoken on the subject of such omissions,
when he cautions us to " put nothing off until to-morrow, that might as
well be done to-day.''
The " Narrative of Don Juan Van Halen," published by Colburn in
the last month, is a book which will be read with interest : less from the
information it professes to give, than from that which, as it were by the
way-side, will be gathered from it — an insight into the extraordinary state
of domestic politics, at the present moment, in Spain. It is curious to
observe the condition of a country in which every man above a certain
rank must be a political agent, and in which the most honest or cautious
man cannot hope to be secure or right. Two parties tear the state, and
each other, into pieces ; there is no neutrality ; and, whichever such a
man may identify himself with, he finds equal distress and danger. If he
1827.] Notes/or the Month. 287
becomes a Constitutionalist, which his opinions would incline him to do,
he stands in the situation of a traitor, or at least a rebel, against the exist-
ing government. If he supports the party of the Faith, he must become
a party in atrocities, which even his anxiety for order cannot reconcile him
to take a share in. This choice only of evils — in which the oldest con-
nexions, and even members of the same family, often choose different sides—
produces dn uncertainty of life and property in Spain worthy of the meri-
dian of Constantinople. Every third person that is mentioned throughout
Signor Van Halen's work, there comes a note directly afterwards, at the
bottom of the page — that he was killed, on such a day, in such a commo-
tion— or that his property was confiscated, by such a decree — or that, at
such or such a place, he was executed — or that he fled the country, to
avoid being so ! The same causes, which puts almost every man's life,
from hour to hour, at the mercy of his neighbour, lead necessarily also to
a state of morals and feelings throughout society, such as an Englishman
has no comprehension of ; and which baffles all the rules by which men
calculate probabilities or events : — the most monstrous acts of perjury and
treachery, for which the system offers a premium, and which of course
abound on the one hand, are met by the most inconceivable examples of
fidelity, and devotion, and disinterestedness, on the other. A few para-
graphs, however, from the Narrative of Senhor Van Halen himself, will
illustrate this condition of things better perhaps than our own description
could do.
Don Juan Van Halen, who, at the time when he writes this book, has
seen at least a great variety of service (and of wretchedness) began life
as an officer in the Spanish navy, and continued in that profession up to
the date of the battle of Trafalgar. On the invasion of Spain by the
French, we are compelled to state that he was one of that party which
joined King Joseph — " believing," as ho says, " that no resistance, how-
ever heroic, could be successful." And, afterwards, when Joseph was
driven out — believing " that his power had ceased, and he would never be
able to recover it," he availed himself of the decree of 1813, and joined
the national army of Spain, under the Regency, again. The manner in
which this last change of service was brought about deserves to be
described, as it shews that Don Juan was not a particularly scrupulous
politician. While he was living retiredly at Bordeaux, he says, in 1813,
he received the decree of the Regency, in which most of the Spaniards
who had espoused the cause of Joseph were invited to return to their
country. Accordingly, resolving to avail himself of the opportunity, he
demanded of the French Minister at War a passport to proceed to Barce-
lona, where Marshal Suchet had his head-quarters; still under his former
character of officer in the service of Joseph ; and, on his arrival at Bar-
celona, wrote to the Spanish government, announcing his intention to
return. As a man, however, who changes sides should do something
to make himself acceptable to the new friends he joins, it occurs to
our Spanish friend — still protected by a French passport, and in his
" former character of officer in the service of Joseph" — that it would be
well if he could — in plain words — bring something away with him, to
shew the sincerity of his conversion; and, after having for a long time
vainly endeavoured to decide what this should be, it strikes him that some
mportant service might be rendered to the country by his bringing away
u a copy of the French general's seal T Having at length, with some
trouble, got this token into his power— which was difficult, as the original
288 Notes for the Month. [SEPT.
was never entrusted to him — he goes over to the Spanish army ; and, by
the help of some forged papers, and by his appearing in his French uniform,
and passing himself as an aid-de-camp of Marshal Suchet's, he actually
succeeds in obtaining the cession of the French fortresses of Lerida, Mequi-
nenza, and JVlonzon. Which exploit, certainly hazardous — for, if he had
been detected by the French, he would infallibly have been hanged for
the execution of it — of course propitiates the Spanish authorities ; and
the repentant author returns to his flag, as " Captain of the army in the
service of the Regency."
Now it is only justice to say of Colonel Van Halen, that his sins (of
which we are afraid this transaction must count as something like one), as
far as we can judge from his book, are chiefly of a political character.
There is a good deal of manly frankness employed in all private details
touching himself, and no one circumstance let out, even by accident, which
a gentleman might be ashamed of. But political sins lead sometimes,
although remotely, to political punishments; and the "perfidious" Ferdi-
nand, as our author calls him, when he was restored to the Spanish throne,
probably felt a suspicion that persons, generally, who had displayed emi-
nent talents for turning, might be likely to turn again : and the result was
that Signer Van Halen, in a very short time from this, found himself in
the prisons of the Inquisition.
The manner in which Don Van Halen finds his way into prison is as
sudden and rapid as a stroke of harlequinade. His escape is still more
extraordinary ; and both incidents are strikingly illustrative of the condition
ofSpanish society. He is denounced to the government by an old friend,
to whom in distress he gives refuge and entertainment in his house : he is
liberated by the exertions of a perfect stranger, who seems to have no
motive for the act, and who is involved by it in great danger and suffering.
Some of the circumstances, however, connected with his imprisonment are
curious in the details which they present; and, among the most interesting,
is the account of his interview with the king. Being known to be widely
engaged in the Constitutional societies or " conspiracies" (as the reigning
government, unfortunately, was entitled to call them) of the day, as soon
as he hinted that it was in his power to make " communications," he was
carried into Ferdinand's presence. On the night fixed for the interview,
at about seven in the evening, the author was summoned from his dun-
geon ; and, after passing through what he calls " a labyrinth of passages,"
found himself at the outer gate of the prison of the Inquisition. A carriage
was in waiting, which he entered, accompanied by two officers of the royal
household, and his gaoler. The vehicle takes the direction of the palace.
Ascending to the principal gallery by a private staircase, they enter
through a principal door into the ante-room of the king's private chamber,
which is called the Camarilla. Here one of the guides precedes the rest
of the party, and, on reaching the doors of a saloon, cries out, " Sire !"
" What is the matter?" inquired a thick voice from within.
" Here is Van Halen," replied Arellano.
The answer is to come in ; the second officer remaining at the door of
the apartment :—
" We were desired to enter, Villar Frontin remaining outside the door of the
cabinet. The king was alone, sitting in the only chair that was in the room. As
we entered, he rose and advanced a few steps towards us. We found him in
a complete negliye, being without a cravat, and his waistcoat wholly unbuttoned.
Before the arm-chair stood a large table, on which there were various papers, a
portfolio, a writing-desk, and heaps of Havannah cigars spread about. Beside the
1827.] Notes for ihe Month. 289
table stood an escritoir, which probably was the same mentioned by Irriberry in
which the king had locked my papers. As I approached him, [I bent a knee to
kiss his hand, according to the usual etiquette ; but he raised me, and said, * What
do you want ? Why do you wish to see me ?'
" « Sire,' I replied, i' because I am quite confident that your majesty, if you
would deign' to hear me leisurely, will dismiss those prejudices against me, which
you doubtless must have been inspired with, to have ordered the rigorous treatment
I have experienced.'
" « Well, but you belong to a conspiracy, and you ought to reveal it to me. I
know it all. Are you not horror-stricken ? Who are your accomplices ?'
" « To desire the good of one's country, Sire, is not conspiring. I feel no hesi-
tation in revealing to your majesty those good wishes ; on the contrary, I rejoice at
having found an opportunity of disclosing them to you. But if your majesty know-
all, and know it correctly, there will be nothing more for me to add. Any farther
explanation your majesty may require will only contribute to soften your anger
towards me, and to convince you that, if we have hitherto concealed our object
from your majesty, it was to avoid the vengeance of those who are striving to render
hateful your illustrious name.'
" 4 Who are those who have so wilfully misled you ? Tell me who they are-
do not hesitate.'
" ' Sire, if your majesty know all, you must be aware that I have not been misled
by any one; but that I have always acted from self-conviction, and that the events
of the times and the general mistrust have arrived at such a pitch, that I do not
personally know one any of those who labour in the same cause.'
" * But you must know the means by which they are to be discovered. Your duty
is to obey me. Choose my favour, or your disgrace.'
" ' Sire, place yourself at our head, and you will then know every one of us.'
"At these words, Ramirez de Arellano came forward foaming with rage, and,
raising his hands, exclaimed, in a most insolent and improper tone for the presence
of a monarch, « To the seed, Sir! to the seed ! We want no preambles or sophisms
here. There is paper; take this pen — here, here (pushing a pen and a sheet of
paper towards me,), here — you must write the names of all the conspirators — no
roundabouts, no subterfuges. His majesty is the king of these realms, and there
ought to be nothing hidden from him under the sun. I have read the Btirroel (he
meant the Barruel) ; I have been in France, and I know what all those factions are.
Where are the sacred oaths for your king and your religion ?'
" During the whole of this furious ranting, I kept my eyes fixed on the king, who
seemed converted into a statue from the moment Ramirez commenced speaking;
but when I saw him insist on my taking the pen, I said, without even looking at that
despicable wretch. « Sire, I know no one.'
" * Sire, to the Inquisition with him !' cried Ramirez : ' the tribunal will easily
extort them from him.'
'* The king, shewing some displeasure at Ramirez's behaviour, said to me, 4 But
it is impossible you should not know them ?'
" ' Sire, if I meant to say what I could not prove, or if I wished to conceal a crime,
I would rather avoid than seek the presence of my sovereign ; but if, being guilty,
I sought it, once before your majesty I would profit of the opportunity to ask a
pardon which my innocence does not need.'
" The king remained a few minutes thoughtful, his eyes fixed on me, and then
said, * Tell me by writing whatever you have to say.' Another short pause
now ensued, after which he took a cigar from the table, lighted it, and asked me
if I smoked. On my answering in the affirmative, he said to Arellano, who heard
him with displeasure, * Carry him some cigars ;' and then motioned me to with-
draw. When I took his hand to kiss it, he pressed mine with an air of interest;
and as I turned round at the door to make my obeisance, I heard him say, while
conversing with Arellano, * What a pity, such a youth !' "
This account shews the personal character of Ferdinand rather in a less
unfavourable light than it has been represented. The interview, however,
leading to no disclosures — which are the things wanted— Senhor Van
Halen is again urged to make them. And the argument of Villar Frontin,
MM. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 21. 2P
290 Xotf$ fot the Month. [SEPT.
a statesman employed among others in this ncgociation, and whom Van
Halen describes as a man of feeling and honour in favour of the required
confession — is too good not to be extracted :
«« «Do not be distressed, Van Halen,' he said. ' I understand you, and am inca-
pable of persisting in the unpleasant commission with which I am charged by his
majesty. But it is really a pity to s«:e you sacrifice yourself to an erroneous system,
the theory of which is certainly seductive, but which is totally impracticable. He
who, like myself, has in other times professed liberal ideas, and who has experienced
their futility, knows too well the enormous distance there is between moral and
political notions, to act in all cases according to both. If we were all enlightened,
Satan himself would not be able to govern us. Our countryman, however, are too
ignorant to be ruled otherwise than by an iron sceptre; and along time will elapse
before they may be brought to understand their own interests. Till that epoch
arrives, which can only take place when the king himself decides in its favour, we
must all sail with the current of circumstances. You are younger than myself, and
are a military man; but 1 have been a judge, and have seen much of human
nature; consequently, I know something of its ruling passions and characteristic
points. I am convinced that, if you die, your friends will be consoled by knowing
that they are delivered from the fears which night and day disturb their repose.
Believe me, this is a truth proceeding from a man of experience ; but you shall
find me more a friend than a seducer.' "
This suggestion of Don Villar Frontin respecting the alarm of Van
Halen's friends, receives something like confirmation from a circumstance
afterwards related in the book. Some of them send him word, that, in
case of the worst, they will do themselves so much violence as even to
furnish him with poison. The colonel, however, resolutely refuses to
betray his associates ; and, after repeated examinations, with increased
severities of confinement, he is put to the torture ; the effect of which
throws him into a protracted and dangerous illness. The manner of this
torture is very oddly, and not very luminously, described ; but we pass over
the subject, as well as the details of the author's imprisonment, to come to
the circumstances connected with his escape ; the whole of which seem as
if they could only have occurred in a romance — or more properly in
Bedlam — for they have not the reasonableness and vrai semblance which
we call for in a work of fiction.
It was six months after Van Halen had been in prison, and while he
was confined to his bed from the illness that followed the application of
the torture, that he saw for a moment a young woman — a sufficiently strange
agent to employ in such place — who was brought in to assist in sweeping
and clearing out his dungeon, under the inspection of the gaoler. This girl
is the adopted daughter of the chief gaoler, Don Marcellino, and resides
within the walls of the prison of the Inquisition, which has been before
described as possessing all the circumstances of strength and privacy suited
to such an edifice. The prisoner sees her only for an instant, and over a
screen, as he lies in bed — the custom being to remove him from his dun-
geon while it is cleaned ; but, on this occasion, his state of illness has pre-
vented it. He has no means of exchanging a word, or even a sign, in con-
-cert with her. But, some days after, when he is something recovered, and
his cell has been cleaned while he has been absent from it, as he goes to
lie down in his bed at night, he finds in it a little lump, which he first
takes for a button, but which turns out to be the upper part of a drop ear-
ring. In some situations, this sign might have seemed the effect of acci-
dent; but a straw seems an oak to a drowning man, and a gleam of hope
is certainty to a man who has been six months in prison. The author
winds some of his hair round the ear-ring, to shew that he has received it,
1827 J Notes for the Month. 291
and deposits it again in the bed : as may be guessed, it proves to be a
token from the young woman who sweeps his dungeon. The natural solu-
tion is, that this girl has conceived some passion for him. Not at all.
She refuses to accompany him in his flight. She will accept no remune-
ration for her assistance. But, from some wild feeling, which it is difficult
to explain, but of which instances among a highly-excited and totally ungo-
verned people such as the Spaniards are at present, do occur, she commu-
nicates with his friends for htm, deceives the persons by whom she is
employed, and, at the cost of a sentence to herself of perpetual banish-
ment, procures his escape.
The fact is, that extraordinary emergencies elicit extraordinary resources ;
and the whole order of things in Spain is intrigue, arid plot, and romance,
and mystery. The surgeon Saumell, who attends Signer Van Halen in
an illness after his escape, is the companion of Dr. Gil, the " familiar,"
who attended him in the prison of the Inquisition ; and, also, while aiding
the concealment of a political offender! — a surgeon in the body-guard.
The Marquis of Mataflorida — " furious in every thing connected with
the Inquisition" — spoke with more confidence than any body of Van
Halen's recapture, and organized a set of spies peculiarly to undertake
it. The friends of Van Halen formed a. corps of counter-spies ; and this
with such success, that the very reports which the Marquis of Mataflorida
received from his agents they heard, through a hole in his wall, at the
moment when they were delivered. To conclude — the colonel was libe-
rated from his confinement by the romantic devotion of one woman ; and
he was within an ace of being restored to it by the unreasonable jealousy
of another, whose habit it was always to send a servant to watch her hus-
band when he went out, lest his business abroad should be to visit other
ladies !
The actual manner of the author's escape, from the extraordinary sim-
plicity of it, after all that he describes of the terrors and difficulties of the
dungeons of the Inquisition, is the most curious part of the whole
affair:—
" At length the hour for the execution of my plan drawing near, I listened atten-
tively through the opening in the door, till hearing the distant noise of bolts,
I retreated towards my bed. As soon as Don Marcelino entered, without recol-
lecting the sign agreed upon respecting the plate, and fearing that this might be my
last opportunity, I advanced towards him, extinguished the light, and pushing him
violently to the farthest corner of the dungeon, flew to the door, and, rushing
through, shut it upon him and drew the bolt, at the same moment that he reco-
vering himself threatened my life. Once in the passage, I groped along in com-
plete darkness ; but the astounding cries of the new prisoner echoed so loudly
through those vaults, that fearing they might be heard, I no sooner arrived at the
third door of that labyrinth, than locking it after me, I took out its ponderous key,
with which I armed myself for want of a better weapon.
" I passed the dungeon of the other prisoner confined in those passages, who,
far from imagining the scene that was acting, mistook my steps for those of the
jailer. Following my way at random, 1 twice lost myself in the various windings,
and a thousand times did I curse the obscurity which threatened to frustrate ail my
hopes. At length, after groping about for seven or eight minutes, which appeared
an eternity to me, I reached the last staircase, from which I could distinguish the
glimmerings of a light. As I ascended the stairs, I grasped the key in the manner
of a pistol, and soon after found myself at the threshold of a door wide open, that
led to an outer kitchen, in the middle of which hung a lantern. I judged by this
that I was already out of the prison j but uncertain what direction to follow, and
hearing the voices of people in some part of the house, 1 stood still for a moment,.
2 P 2
202 -No f e3 for the Month. [SEPT.
and then hastened to the kitchen to look for a hatchet, or some other weapon that
might serve me in case of meeting opposition.
" On entering, the first object that presented itself was Ramona, who stood pale
and breathless, with a countenance in which astonishment was blended with anxiety
and alarm. « What pistol is that? — where is my master?' she exclaimed, after a
moment's silence, raising her clasped hands towards heaven.
"I calmed her apprehensions by shewing her the key, when, immediately reco-
yering her presence of mind, she drew from her bosom the notes I had given her,
and returning them to rue, pointed to a court which led to the outer door, saying,
• That is the way to the street. My mistress and her guest are in the saloon : you
hear their voices. This is the very hour when she expects the arrival of some
friends j and I must immediately call out, because they know I must necessarily
see you before you get to the court. For Heaven's sake, hasten away ; for I can
render you no farther assistance !' Saying this, she pressed my hands in her's with
deep emotion, and I hurried towards the court. As the remainder of my way was
also involved in darkness, I lost some minutes in finding the right direction to the
door, when the rustling of the bell-wire served to guide me to it. Here I heard the
voices of some persons outside, who certainly did not expect to meet with such a
porter.
" Meantime Ramona, who was to open the door, on hearing the bell ring, began
screaming for assistance, as if she had been hurt by some one passing in great haste.
The ladies, alarmed, joined their cries to hefs ; and I opened the door amidst this
confusion, pushed down the person just entering, and reached the street, feeling as
if I breathed a second life."
The remainder of the Narrative applies to Colonel Van Halen's travels
arid adventures in England and in Russia. These notices are not destitute
of merit ; but it is the details relative to Spain that form the principal value
of the book.
Getting a name. — The houses in the city of Dieppe (says the French
Globe'} are for the most part handsome and regular ; but whole streets are
deformed in some quarters by the addition, to the back of every house, of
a species of supplemental building, or single wing, of the full height of
the original edifice. The cause of this singular appearance, is, that the
architect who was employed to erect the best rows of building in the town,
performed his work in many respects with great taste and skill, but planned
every house, without allowing for the staircase ; and did not discover his
error till the work was too far advanced to recede. The descendants of
this unlucky disposer of buildings, it is said, are still living in Dieppe ;
where they have acquired the surname of Gateville.
There is generally, among: the scientific conundrums and quackeries^of
the day, some particular remedy abroad by which every disease is to be
cured, and some particular malady of which every body is to die. The
malaria is the favourite folly in all quarters now. The marshes of Italy
are poisonous, and why not the marshes of England? There are puddles
(like Captain Fluellan's salmons), and why should there not be fevers in
both ? Accordingly, Mr. Loudon, of the Gardner's Magazine, proves
beyond opposition, that a vast sum is being thrown away by the country ;
for neither our king nor any king in Christendom, will ever be able to live
in the new palace of Buckingham House. And Dr. Macculloch's octavo
volume carries conviction " to the meanest capacity," that the man who
waters flower-pots out of his drawing-room window, while he imagines
that he is only pouring slop upon the heads of the passengers, is, in fact,
bringing down death and pestilence upon his own.
The peculiar poison, according to Dr. Macculloch, properly known and
described by the name of malaria, is generated whenever vegetable matter
comes into contact with water ; subject to the presence of atmospheric air,
182?.] Notes for the Month. 293
and the assistance of a temperature — say equal to that of 60. The situations
particularly active in producing it, are — as nearly as we can collect — all fens^
meadows, and marshes ; spots contiguous to woods and copses, and spots
where there are neither woods nor copses. All places near water — whether
fresh or salt — stagnant or running — in ponds, rivers, ships' holds, or house
cellars ; and a great many places near which no water is to be found. A hot
climate, like that of Africa or Italy, suits the generation of the poisonous
matter best; but a cold one, like that of Holland, answers the purpose very
tolerably well. And the ailments which the noxious exhalations produce,
are — all that can bo found in the Dictionary of Diseases ; from typhus
fever down to the tooth-ache. As these assertions seem rather sweeping,
we ought to shew that we have authority for them ; but our extracts can
only consist of single lines ; and we must refer our readers, for fuller
satisfaction, to the book itself, which, although we do not agree in the
conclusions drawn in it, is entertaining, and will repay their perusal.
Salt water and fresh are equally pernicious.
" While it is generally believed that marshes of fresh water are productive of
malaria, it is scarcely a less common opinion that salt marskes are innocent in this
respect. Other circumstances being the same, it is indifferent whether the marsh
be salt or fresh." — pp. 35, 38.
As water may be the death of a man, although he is not born to be
drowned, so wood will be dangerous even to those who have no apprehen-
sion of a drier destiny.
" The power of woods in generating malaria is not less notorious than that of
marshes. If any one will examine the districts in Kent and Sussex, which produce
both intermittent and remittent fevers, he will often be unable to assign a cause,
unless he seeks it in the woods, &c." — pp. 42.
Meadow land, independent of any marshy character, makes it necessary
for every man to order his coffin who goes to inhabit near it.
" If some of the great tracts of meadow land in this country have once been
marshes, it is certain that there are many of them which are now purely meadows.
And yet that these do produce the diseases of malaria is familiar to every one's
experience." — p. 73.
On the other hand, wood occasionally is a protection.
" If woods or trees do, in sufficiently numerous cases, generate malaria, and thus
tender a district unhealthy, they are also often a safeguard; and a country which
was before healthy may become the reverse by cutting them down. Reversely, it
follows that the planting of trees will sometimes check the production of malaria,
&c." — pp. 43, 44.
On the folly of supposing that running water, under any circumstances,
is innoxious, the author insists very strongly.
" It is not only a popular but a rooted opinion in England, that there can be no
malaria produced near a running river, or stream of any nature; an error beyond
doubt, and one of which the consequences may be serious. The fact as regards the
Thames 1 have already noticed. There is no reason to doubt that such streams as
the Ouse and the Lee are productive of malaria. And abundant facts have shewn
that such diseases exist habitually and endemically, on the banks of streams even
of the smallest size ; or those for example which flow, almost like artificial canals,
through ?haven lawns that border them with a thin and grassy margin." — p. 80.
" 1 may add here an instance of the mill dam of a paper-mill in Hertfordshire;
after the formation of which, the workmen became subject in the worst degree to
remittent fevers, which were before that time unknown. It would be easy to
confirm this by analogous instances from many of the -well-dressed pleasure
grounds ornamented by water, which skirt the Thames near Walton and Chertsey ;
the produce of a well-known improving gardener " (Capability Brown)," who has
brought the intermittent to our doors under cover of the breeze of the violets, and
294 Notes for the Month. [SRPT.
formed pest houses offecert where we study to retire for coolness from the heat3
of the autumn."— p. 106.
The following cases will shew that our hypothesis of the flower-pot at
the drawing-room window was not an exaggeration.
«« In one instance, the recurrence of intermittent fever in a susceptible subject,
was caused repeatedly, by merely entering a garden containing a pond of the
fashion of King William's day, dedicated to gold fishes and river gods ! la
another case, it was observed at Havre de Grace, the soldiers were seized with
headache and giddiness, within Jive minutes after approaching the ditch" [of the
fortifications] ; " with the usual consequences of fever, and that fever, of course, of
a violent character. This seems to prove incidentally that a very brief exposure
to this poison is sufficient to produce the effects; and farther, that the eifect imme-
diately follows the application." — pp. 94, 106.
Low and watery situations having been clearly shewn to be the causes
of fever, it now appears that high arid dry ones are not always in a better
condition.
" If a recent traveller has expressed his surprise at the occurrence of fevers in
the Maremma of Tuscany, where the land is not only free from lakes and rivers,
but absolutely dry, I may remark that in a case which will immediately come
under review — Rome receives its malaria by a propagation of a peculiar nature ;
as the high lands of many places receive from the low grounds at hand, what does
not, comparatively, affect the inhabitants where it is produced. In France, at
Neuville les Dames, and at St. Paul, near Villars, both situated upon high grounds,
there are found as many, or more, fevers than in the marshes beneath. A case of
this nature occurs in Malta of a very marked nature; the malaria which is produced
upon the beach beneath a cliff, producing no effect upon the spot itself, while it
affects, even to occasional abandonment, the village situated above. At Wey-
raouth, where the back water produces autumnal fevers, commonly mistaken for
typhus, these diseases scarcely affect the immediate inhabitants of its vicinity, but
are found to range along the higher hills above," &c. &c." — p. 243.
This is Dr. M'Culloch, whose denouncements of Malaria, want of room
has compelled us to touch but very slightly ; and who is only withheld by
a merciful consideration for the consequences to property, from pointing
out, not merely particular residences, but whole districts — here in our
own country — which must be the grave of all who inhabit them ! We
now come to Mr. London's application of the Doctor's principles, and to
the uninhabitableness of the King's new palace.
" Had the problem been proposed (how) to alter Buckingham House and gardens,
so as to render the former as unhealthy a dwelling as possible, it could not have
been better solved than by the work's now executed. The belt of trees, which
forms the margin of these grounds, has long acted as the sides of a basin, or small
valley, to retain the vapours which were collected within ; and which, when the.
basin was full, could only flow out by the lower extremity, over the roofs of the
stables and other buildings at the palace. What vapour did not escape in this
manner, found its way through between the stems of the trees which adjoin these
buildings, and through the palace windows. Now, all the leading improvements
on the grounds have a direct tendency to increase this evil. They consist in thick-
ening the marginal belts on both sides of the hollow with evergreens, to shut out
London : in one place substituting for the belt an immense bank of earth, to shut
out the stables j and in the area ot the grounds forming numerous flower-gardens,
and other scenes with dug surfaces, a basin, fountains, and a lake of several acres.
The effect of all this will be a more copious and rapid exhalation of moisture from
the water, dug earth, and increased surface of foliage-, and a more complete dam to
prevent the escape of this moist atmosphere, otherwise than through the windows,
or over the top of the palace. The garden may be considered as a pond brimful of
fog, the ornamental water as the perpetual supply of this fog, the palace as a cas-
cade which it flows over, and the windows as the sluices which it passes through.
We defy any medical man, or meteorologist, to prove the contrary of what we
1 827.] Notes for the Month . 293
assert, viz. that Buckingham Palace is a dam to a pond of watery vapour, and that
the pond will always be filled with vapour to the level of the top of the dam. The
only question is, how far this vapour is entitled to be called malaria. We have
the misfortune to be able to answer that question experimentally, &c. &c. A man
must be something less or more than a king, to keep his health in that palace
for any length of time."
Now it has been truly observed that he who knows much is the near-
est to have ascertained that he knows nothing ; and this must be pretty
nearly the case, we suspect, with Dr. Macculloch, on the subject of
malaria. Half the doctor's facts might have made a delusive theory ;
but taken altogether — as he Las very fairly given them — they seem to
prove nothing but that fevers are found in all -places; and that, let them
be found where they may, he is determined to ascribe them to what hd
calls " malaria." These fevers, no doubt, must be caused by some atmos-
pheric agency ; and it is probable that, however opposite the situations may
be in which they are found, that agency may be still the same, but it
does not at all appear to us that Dr. Macculloch bas established his prin-
ciple, that, whenever they occur, they proceed from the exhalations of vege-
table matter, decayed or decomposed by the action of damp, or water.
Nothing can be more particular than the location of all the machinery
of death in the notice of Buckingham House New Palace. The " basin,
full of vapour" — the garden, a " pond brim full of fog" — the palace walk,
" a dam over which the fog flows" — the windows, " sluices" — writing
even in August, it almost gives us the ague to look over it ! But yet we
cannot help recollecting St. James's Square, in which people have con-
trived to live a great number of years, although it had a pond, and a largo
one in the middle of it. Thoughts come over us too about the canal in
St. James's Park, which makes a u basin of vapour," of the whole bottom
between Piccadilly and Westminster. Or of the Reservoir, independent of
an odd pool or two full of duck weed, in the Green Park ; the " mala-
ria," from which, whenever the wind is southward, has no possible means
of vent, except through the windows (or " sluices") of Mrs. Coutt's and
Mr. Baring. Or of the serpentine river in Hyde Park ? or the water in
the Regent's Park ? or the basin in Kensington Gardens ? or the little
fountain in the Temple ? Every one of all which should generate " malaria"
enough to poison its whole neighbourhood, beggaring the apothecaries*
shops of all their Peruvian bark, within a fortnight ; and the Turks that
go about the streets of all their rhubarb in a month,
The fact is, that if Dr. Macculloch's theory were sound, it would tend
to no purpose ; because, like Mr. Accurn with his " Death in the pot" —
(Mr. Macculloch's is "Death in the watering pot") — he proves too
much ; his evil is so extensive that we are hopeless, and feel that
there is no choice but to submit to it. But it seems to us that our every
days experience and practice is in the very teeth of the probability
of everything that he says. The banks of a tide river, according to
this author, are a site almost fatally unwholesome : what is the condition
of the people who live in the wharfs, covering every inch of ground on both
sides of the Thames, from Limehouse to Battersea-bridge ? Mud
exposed to the sun at low water generates a fever worse than pestilence :
how do the inhabitants of Portsmouth contrive to exist, between the
eternal ditches of their fortifications, and the still more abominable swamp
—as well as so much more extensive — Porchester lake ? If it be the
decomposition of vegetable matter by the action of water, that liberates
" malaria," what a state must not London be in from its sewers ! in which
Notes for the Month. r$EPT.
such a rank decomposition, and such heterogenous compounds is going on
perpetually. The sewers, it is true, are covered ; but the gratings and open-
ings afford every exhalation abundant means of vent ; in fact, we all in hot
weather, do perceive the vapours from the sewers, and find them offensive;
but we do not take a fever at the corner of every street, and die in conser
quence. But, to take an illustration equally familiar, and yet more striking :
the danger which threatens Buckingham Palace is to arise from the presence
of malaria. But it is not water * it will be recollected, according to Dr.
Macculloch, that does the mischief: it is the decomposition which water,
or wet, or damp alone, excite when they come into contact with vegetable
matter : so that the less water — so that there be but enough to carry on the
decomposing process — the more " malaria." Why then, at worst, the King is
in no more danger than hundreds of thousands of his subjects ; for, if it is the
decay of vegetable matter that is to be dreaded, we may safely pronounce,
that, in the single area of Covcnt Garden market, London possesses a retort
in its very centre, distilling " malaria," enough to poison half its inhabitants !
Here is a square of very considerable extent; incessantly covered, and to
the depth very often of a foot or even eighteen inches, with every possible
variety of vegetable matter; and of matter precisely in that state, as
regards damp and commixture, and even mechanical trampling or titura-
tion, the most favourable to fermentation and decay. The mass of exha-
lation which must arise from this hot bed of miasma after every shower of
rain, has no choice but to diffuse itself in the very heart of the metropolis.
With a southerly wind, it must blow up the " sluices" of James-street,
to poison the people in Long-acre. With a wind from the north, it goes
down Southampton-street, and Lord have mercy upon us all in the Strand.
An easterly wind carries destruction along New-street and Henrietta-street,
to the clothes-shops of St. Martin's-lane and the hotels of Leicester-
square.. And, when it blows from the west, the malaria takes up the
exhalations of Lincoln's-Inn fields and Gray's-Inn gardens, as it were,
in its hand by the way, and murders us all the way along Fleet-street,
to Cheapside and Whitechapel.
It may occur to people gifted with coolness and common reason, that
causes will engender disease in one climate, which do not — although we
cannot explain the reason of the difference in their action — produce it in
another. We cannot take upon ourselves to believe, without some evi-
dence as to the actual fact, that, because people die in the Pontine
marshes, the villas on the banks of the Thames are uninhabitable from
their insalubrity : and we find no such evidence in Dr. Macculloch's book.
It is dangerous, Dr. Macculloch says — nay, death — to have a canal, or a
fishing-pond, or even a t( basin for gold fish" in the neighbourhood of one's
house: if the persons who possessed these comforts or embellishments died
much more rapidly than their neighbours, we cannot help thinking that
they would long since have fallen into disuse. Particular facts — taken
without a very strict analysis of all the circumstances connected with them,
in the way of proof, are good for nothing. Dr. Macculloch knew a man
who caught intermittent fever repeatedly from merely entering a garden in
which there was a water that contained gold fish. A patient in the
hydrophobia is thrown into convulsion by the sight of a glass of water, or
even by the mention of water in his presence. There is a peculiarity,
which we do not understand, in the ailment of both these persons ; but it
is neither the pond nor the glass of water which, of itself, produces their
complaints.
1827.] L 297 ]
MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.
Travels in South America, in 1825-26,
by Captain Andrews^ late Commander of
H.C.SWyndham. 2 rols. pout 8ro. 1827.
— If the ruining- schemes in South America
have done the schemers no good, they
have been the means at least of adding1
very considerably to our knowledge, not
only of the events of the revolutionary
war, and the characters of the leaders,
but of the face of the country, and of the
condition and manners of its population.
They have been the cause of several very
intelligent persons crossing the immense
continent in all directions, many of whom
have given very copious, and, what was
scarcely to be hoped for, in general very
consistent accounts of the country. Head's,
Miers', and Calclough's, particularly, are
creditable specimens. To these we have
now to add Captain Andrews, whose little
volumes will deservedly class with the
very best of his predecessors. He works
a most glib and felicitous pen, and, cur-
rente calamo, plans and bargains, de-
scribes and speculates, with the same feli-
city with which he seems to have entered
into the spirit and manners of the people,
among whom he freely mixed, giving and
gleaning delight almost wherever he
went.
He set out, it appears, as agent, and
himself a very considerable shareholder,
of the Chili and Peru Mining Association,
armed with discretionary powers ; which
he — a man as much interested as any one in
the fortunes of the company — freely and
confidingly made use of ; but of which his
employers — a very common thing — quick-
ly repented ; and, in consequence, though
in the midst of what he conceived his suc-
cessful prosecution of the views of the as-
sociation, he was recalled — a mortifica-
tion, which he attributes, apparenty with
good reason, to ignorance in the directors
at home, and envy in his brother agents
abroad. At all events, though niggardly
enough in their approbation of his general
conduct, he has had the satisfaction of
receiving their testimony to his econo-
mical management of their funds.
With all his hopes, by this unexpected
stroke, thus blown into the air, and seeing
the miserable management of the associa-
tion, Captain Andrews, as a shareholder,
an agent, and a man of business, is a good
deal vexed, and naturally gives a little
Tent to his vexation. The mining com-
panies have most of them, he thinks, acted
ignorantly and unwisely in giving way to
a senseless panic, and suddenly abandon-
ing the fair hopes that were springing be-
fore them. The world is judging, too,
very blindly about them. Not because
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV.
some speculations were wild, must all be
considered impracticable ; nor because
Coruish men cannot profitably work Ame-
rican mines, are American mines unwork-
able. Companies have gone headlong to
work; some have dispatched English
miners, with English machinery, on pro-
digious salaries, before a mine was pur-
chased ; and even Captain Andrews' em-
ployers, who seem to have begun more
like men of business, sent a cargo of work-
men, before they heard whether he had
really done any thing or not. His opinion
of American mining — and a very rational
one it appears to be — is, that neither men
nor machinery are wanted from England,
but simply capital. There are men enough
in America, accustomed to the mines of
the country, and to the cheapest modes of
working them ; they only require being
set to work. As gain has been made, so
by the same means it may be made again :
the old ground is not exhausted, and there
is virgin ground in abundance. With
these labourers, and beginning humbly —
using a little forethought, and advancing
by degrees slowly and cautiously, intro-
ducing improvements occasionally — the
mines will well repay the working. This
is the sum of Captain Andrews' opinion ;
and he argues the matter well, and sub-
stantiates his case with some stout facts,
and with good phrase and emphasis.
The volumes, however, must be looked
at a little as the journal of a tour. Captain
Andrews started from Buenos Ayres, and
travelled through the united provinces of
La Plata — places very little known — along
roads none of the smoothest, and on mules
something of the roughest, relieved occa-
sionally by a day's ride on horseback, full
two thousand miles, meeting a town about
every 250 miles on an average — through
Cordova, Santiago del Estero, Tucuman,
Salta to Potosi, the capital of the new re-
public of Bolivar; from thence, by the
deserts of Caranja, to Arica ; and, finally,
to Santiago de Chili and Coquimbo. In
general, he found the population of the
towns considerably below the common
estimate, and the country every where
thinly peopled — almost every where a
want of employment, and the Indians in a
wretched, woe - begone condition. But
every where — at Cordova, Santiago, Tu-
cuman, Salta, Jujuy — he meets with
agreeable society — nay, elegant and cul-
tivated ; every where a smiling welcome,
— plenty of feasting and dancing; and
every where the good people were de-
lighted to hear of the English coming
among them — not to plunder, but enrich
them — to set the streams of wealth a flow-
2 Q
298
Monthly Review of Literature,
[SEPT.
ing among them — to make the country
ring with the sounds of labour, and the
purses of the natives rattle with the pre-
cious metal, which they were themselves
unable any longer to wrench from their
own mountains. Every where, however,
Capt. Andrews was obliged to have his eyes
about him ; for every where the confound-
ed Buenos Ayres speculators were before-
hand with him, and buying1 up the mines,
to secure for themselves a monopoly price
from the greedy and spendthrift compa-
nies of England. But he was too canny
for them ; he was tiware of these forestal-
Jers and intriguers — too old a bird to be
caught with straws. He knew they must
eventually disgorge, and he held off ac-
cordingly. He succeeds in making1 ca-
pital bargains ; but all his gast-drawn
schemes have exploded, and left not a
wreck behind. We really cannot forbear
pitying the disappointment of the hopes he
entertained of one day himself blowing up
the rock of Potosi. Only listen :— •
At Potosi (says lie) there is plenty of virgin
ground untouched, perhaps full three-fourths. A
million sterling might be embarked, though one-
third would answer every end required. I had
projected, while examining the mountain, the re-
duction of the peak of it downwards. The que-
bradas around it are deep, and seem adapted to
receive the rubbish by their capacity. The crater
at the top is open, ready to receive 2 or 3,000 bar-
rels of gunpowder, which would send the peak
into the air, and possibly open the hill to the gal-
leries of the uppermost mines. I have often thought
what a sight it would be from the city heights to
witness such an explosion !
Go where he will, Captain Andrews'
indignation is raised against fat and luxu-
rious monks ; and he rails against them,
not only as the encouragers of superstition,
which may be safely allowed, but as the
promoters of all sorts of immoralities for
the indulgence of their own profligate
passions — which looks very like the sug-
gestion of indiscriminating prejudice.
Even the lascivious dances, in which
.all classes seem inclined to indulge,
he imputes to the monks, from the
same lustful motives. The nunneries,
too, in his account, are mere brothels.
Surely here is a little extravagance !
But every where, at the same time,
he has the satisfaction of believing the
reign of superstition and of the monks
is shaken : the men, at least, universally
deride the mummeries and pageantries of
the Catholic worship ; and the women —
beautiful, graceful, accomplished, as he
almost every where finds them — will
surely — grow wiser in time.
The English, it seems, are every where
in the provinces in good odour. The alarm
about them, as heretics, is fast wearing
away. The ladies eye them, and find Ihey
really have no tails— and may he as much
men as the Spaniards themselves ; and
English customs are rapidly spreading
among them, in spite of the monks and
the donnas.
Oh, my dear girls (said a mother to her daughter)
we are all ruined — undone.
Daughters. — How, dear mamma, what is the
matter?
Donna, — Oh, my dear children, matter enough ;
Pad re M. says the heretics are coming to take pos-
session of our mines first, and afterwards of the
whole country. Oh, my dears, what will become
of us all.
Eldest. Daughter. — Oh, mamma, is that all ? I
feared there was something worse ; if they do
come, be comforted, mamma, they will not hurt us.
Donna. — I do not know that— (wiping a tear
from her parental eye) — I do not know that —
(almost overcome with her anxiety.)
Youngest Daughter. — Oh, don't be alarmed,
my dear mamma, we must not believe half that
stupid old Padre says about the English. I re-
member you told us when we were little girls, and
on the authority of the same holy Padre, too, that
the English had tails like devils, or monkeys at
least.
Eldest Daughter. — I remember it too, mamma.
And now, my dear mamma, we have often seen
Englishmen, have you ever observed tails to them?
Donna. — It is true, my dear, that I never did,
and that I must have been imposed upon by such
a story. They look much as other men. Still, my
dears, I am convinced there is much danger from
them.
Daughters. — Why so, mamma? If the first
story is nonsense, the second is likely to be so
too.
Donna. — No, no, my dears. Do you think the
Padre would have come, and even gone upon his
knees to me, to solicit my influence against them
if there is no danger? Neither he, nor the father
Jesuit, would have done so before the business in
the Sala came on, if there had not been some rea-
son for it.
Eldest Daughter. — Oh, mamma, but do listen
to me. Do you see any thing so very dangerous
iu the persons or manners of these English ?
Donna. — None at all, my dear ; I like them
very much, they are very agreeable ; what a pity
they can never go to heaven I
Youngest Daughter. — So much their greater
misfortune, mamma ; but consider what with the
war and emigration to Buenos Ayres, there are ten
ladies to one gentleman left here ; and if the five
hundred English they talk of should come, we
shall perhaps some of us get husbands, and an
Englishman will be better than none, you know.
Eldest Daughter. — And only think, mamma, of
the merit and pleasure of converting a young here-
tic to the true faith.
Donna. — There is something in that, my dear, T
allow. Well, you will have it your own way, chil-
dren, I perceive. It is useless for me to argue the
matter with you any further.
The interlocutors of this lively little
dialogue are Tucumane>e, and, pleased
as Captain Andrews is with the South
Americans every where, it is Tucuma-
nese and Tucumanese ladies he is most
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
299
enchanted with. The province has been
sadly devastated by the war ; but
there are still forty or fifty thousand of
them left, in an extent of country some
hundred miles square. On the king's birth-
day, Captain Andrews, in return for the
abundant civilities he met with, gave a
dinner, and a ball in the evening to the
ladies ; in all which he was ably seconded
by one Mr. George Brown, whom he
drolly describes, in the O'Connel style, as
a " fine specimen of an Englishman, both
in respect to personal and mental endow-
ments." In praise of these Tucumans he
keeps no manner of measure. He attends
the Sala, the House of Assembly of the
province : —
The style of debate (says he) was not as I ob-
served it at some other places. The members did
not deliver their sentiments sitting. The orator,
having gained the eye of the president or speaker,
advanced in front and addressed himself to the
chair, standing much as in our House of Commons,
and with an air of independence and frankness
very agreeable to an Englishman's notions of free-
dom in debate. One of the members, an advocate,
was the most able of the opponents of government.
He spoke with a boldness and vehemence, that
very strongly reminded me of Fox ; but he dis-
played infinitely more grace of manner, and a finer
intonation than that great orator. I shall never
lose the figure of this wiry gray-headed old man,
whose coarse hair seemed to erect itself like
bristles, while employed in thundering his denun-
ciations against the executive. The nerve and
force of his rapid delivery were finely contrasted
with the easy, elegant, and persuasive manner of
Dr. Molino, who answered him with arguments
rather than declamation, and with an ease and
self-command not to be exceeded in any European
assembly. I observed several other members of
very considerable power as speakers, and fit to
rank with the first order in any senate, &c.
And when he quits the country, it is in
these ecstatic terms: —
Farewell, delicious Tucuman, and hospitable
Tucumaneses ; farewell to your delightful plains,
and mighty and romantic mountains! Though
Englishmen are not to be your brothers in your
country's bosom, there is one Englishman, who
will ever bear towards you the kindly feelings of a
brother, and desire your prosperity and happiness.
Though thinking Captain Andrews a
little too ardent for sober admiration, we
are well pleased with his book — have ac-
companied him throughout in his tour,
without weariness — and should be ready
at any time to set out again somewhere
else under his guidance ; and we heartily
wish him better luck in his next under-
taking.
The Military Sketch Book. 2 vols.
12mo.; 1827. — These are rather amusing
volumes. The writer is a good clever
sort of person, and dashes off a descrip-
tion lightly and readily, where the cir-
cumstances are all placed plain before
him, or press forcibly upon him ; but,
from want of tact, or perhaps mere want
of experience, he does not always know
what will fell, and of course often falls
short of his mark. His attempts at hu-
mour are miserably ineffective, and as to
his niess-lable chat, of which there are no
less than four sketches, good lord deliver
us from such vapidity — such absolute
inanity — both from the reality and the de-
scription of it. The guard-room sketches
are all of them better, and the gossip of
the men something like that of rational
animals. Among them is the story of
Maria de Carmo, told by the corporal with
real feeling ; and there are touches of the
same kind scattered here and there over
the volumes equally felicitous in the exe-
cution, and thrilling in the effect. But
we were perhaps more struck by the
scenes of desolation, in the Spanish cam-
paigns, which the writer spreads vividly
before the eye ; and we are glad to place
some of these horrors before our readers —
not to harass their feelings surely, but to
force upon their convictions the miseries
of war. The more general among indi-
viduals becomes the odium of such effects,
the more unwilling will the aggregate —
the nation— and consequently the rulers
of the nation — become to plunge and pre-
cipitate into a renewal of war: —
After the battle of Busaco, which was fought
in the year following that of Talavera, the army
retreated over at least 150 miles of a country the
most difficult to pass: steep after steep was climbed
by division after division, until the whole arrived
within the lines of Torres Vedras. The whole of
this march, from the mountains of Busaco to the
lines, was a scene of destruction and misery, not
to the army, but to the unhappy population.
Every pound of corn was destroyed, the wine-
casks were staved, and the forage was burnt ; the
people in a flock trudging on before the army, to
shelter themselves from the French, into whose
hands, had they remained in their houses, they
must have fallen. Infants barely able to walk;
bedridden old people ; the sick and the dying — all
endeavouring to make their way into Lisbon ; for
which purpose all the asses and mules that they
could find were taken with them, and the poor
animals became as lame as their riders by a very
few days' marches. It was a severe measure of
Lord Wellington's thus to devastate the country
which he left behind him, but, like the burning of
Moscow, it was masterly ; for Massena being thus
deprived of the means of supplying his army, was
soon obliged to retrace his steps to Spain, pursued
in his turn by the British, and leaving the roads
covered with his starving people and slaughtered
horses.
Here is a mass of misery. These things
are kept too much out of sight. This
measure of Lord Wellington's was stu-
diously executed to distress the enemy —
at the expense, however, of our allies; — -
but here is another scene, occasioned by
2Q2
300
Monthly Review of Literature,
[SEPT.
what will be termed the quiet march of
friends over a friendly country. The wri-
ter is hastening1 to overtake the army then
on its march towards France — in the last
peninsular campaign. — •
At length I could descry the wide and sweeping
track of the advancing armies—in the abstract,
melancholy to contemplate! The country was
chiefly covered with a luxuriant crop of corn, over
which the immense column of the army passed,
with its baggage, artillery, and cattle :— the traces
of the cavalry — of the infantry — and of the can-
non, could be distinctly and plainly distinguished
from eacli other ; and although their road was
through the high and firm corn, the pressure upon
it was so great that nothing but clay could he seen,
except at the verges of the tracks, where the bro-
ken and trampled wheat was less over-trodden.
Then there was as much cut down for forage as de-
stroyed by feet; the mark of the rough sickle of
the commissaries, the dragoons, and the muleteers,
were in patches all around, disfiguring the beauti-
ful waving ocean of yellowing corn, &c.
The siege of St. Sebastian is well de-
scribed. The author contradicts the
" Subaltern " here and there in several
particulars, and charges him with a little
occasional colouring — at the same time,
allowing the general correctness of his
details : —
I went into the town through the breach, in the
evening, and there witnessed the true horrors of
war ; the soldiers were, for the most part, half
drunk — all were busy plundering and destroying ;
—every tiling of value was ransacked— furniture
thrown out of the windows — shops rifled— packages
of goods torn open and scattered about — the streets
close to the breach, as well as the breach itself,
covered with dead and wounded :— over these
bodies, of necessity, I passed on my way. As few.
women were in the town, the horrors attending
the sex under such circumstances were also few ;
and the attempt at ill-treating a female on the day
subsequent to the capture of the town, was sum-
marily punished by Lord Beresford on the spot.
It was thus : — although plunder was nearly sub-
dued on the day after entering St. Sebastian, yet
stragglers were prowling about in spite of all
efforts to prevent farther mischief: a woman was
looking out of a window on the first floor of a
house, and I saw a drunken Portuguese soldier run
into the passage directly befow where the woman
was. Lord Beresford happened to be walking a
little before me in a plain blse coat and cocked
hat, accompanied by another officer : his lordship
saw the Portuguese running into the house, and
presently we heard the screams of a female — the
woman had gone from the window. Lord Beres-
ford instantly followed the Portuguese, and in a
few minutes brought his senhorship down by the
cullar; then with the flat of his sword gave the
fellow thatsi>it oi drubbing which a powerful man,
like his lordship, is capable of inflicting. Under
the circumstances I thought it well bestowed, and
far better than trying him by a court-martial.
This, by the way, reminds us of a fact,
which we have never seen alluded to,
though it must be known to numbers —
occurring at a place (the name of which
we forget) the first halt on quitting Bur-
gos in the march to France — surpassing
the rape of the Sabines in atrocity, and
perhaps in numbers. A regiment of dra-
goons— between four and five hundred at
least— as soon as they had stabled their
horses — set out together, invaded the
town, seized the women, old and young,
married and single, without discrimina-
tion, and after effecting their purpose,
returned quietly to quarters. The deed
was done in the confidence that they were
too numerous to punish. The peasants
complained — but no redress was to be
had ; they were unable to point out indi-
viduals— all being dressed alike. The
matter was reported at head-quarters ; but
nothing could be done — or at least nothing
was done ; the commander said it was
"too bad" — smiled — and the matter was
thought of no more. We do not state this
fact to throw blame on the commander.
It is one of the calamities of war — but one
that should not be forgotten in the esti-
mate. Of the fact itself we have no doubt
whatever — it came direct from a superior
officer of the corps.
The following seems to be thought a
good thing — such measures we suppose
are occasionally necessary : —
General Picton, like Otway's Pierre, was a
" bold rough soldier," that stopped at nothing; he
was a man whose decisions were as immutable,
as his conceptions were quick and effective, in all
things relative to the command which he held.
While in the Peninsula, an assistant commissary
(commonly called assistant-commissary general,
the rank of which appointment is equal to a cap-
tain's) through very culpable carelessness, once
failed in supplying with rations the third division
under General Picton's command, and on being
remonstrated with by one of the principal officers
of the division, on 'account of the deficiency, de-
clared, with an affected consequence unbecoming
the subject, that he should not be able to supply
the necessary demand for some days. This was
reported to the general, who instantly sent for the
commissary, and laconically accosted him with —
" Do you see that tree, Sir?"
" Yes, General, I do.1'
" Well, if my division be not provided with ra-
tions to-morrow by twelve o'clock, I'll hang you
on that very tree."
The confounded commissary muttered, and re-
tired. The threat was alarming; so he lost not a
moment in proceeding at a full gallop to head-quar-
ters, where he presented himself to the Duke of
Wellington, complaining most emphatically of the
threat which General Picton had held out to him.
" Did the General say he would hang you, Sir?"
demanded his grace.
" Yes, my lord, he did," answered the commis-
sary.
" Well, Sir," returned the Duke, •' if he said so,
believe me he means to do it, and you have no
remedy but to provide the rations."
The spur of necessity becomes a marvellous use-
ful instrument in sharpening a man to activity;
and the commissary found it so ; for the rations
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
301
were all up,aud ready for delivery, attwelye o'clock
next day.
If we could afford space, we should
quote an amusing account of the sailors
at Walchcren, when on shore — their drill-
ings— playing at soldiers — huntings of
the French ^harp-shooters, &c. vol. 1.207.
Historical Inquiries respecting the
Character of Edward Hyde, Karl of
Clarendon, Lord Chancellor of England,
/>!/ the Hon. Ar,nr Ellis; 1827. — No
minister probably ever stood on so high
ground in the estimation of posterity for
probity and palrioJism — for purity in the
personal discharge of his office, and re-
sistance to the profligate politics of the
court, as Clarendon, who has moreover the
reputation of having finally sunk in strug-
gling against an overwhelming tide of
corruption. Where get we these notion*;
of Clarendon ? From himself chiefly, and
his heedless or ignorant eulogist — Hume.
He himself pre-occupied the ground with
his own partial and voluminous details ;
and the manifest and unrivalled superi-
ority of his performances excluded com-
petitors from the field. He was besides
the zealous friend of the Church, and the
enemy of the Presbyterians j and has had
the incalculable advantage of successive
panegyrics, age after age, from the cleri-
cal quarter. The ruined non-conformist
squeaked indeed ; but the episcopal trum-
pet out-brayed his feeble whinings. Mr.
Agar Ellis, already favourably distin-
guished for his discussions on the " iron
Masque," has the merit of first bringing
together the scattered evidence, which
shews up the chancellor in a very diffe-
rent light — as rapacious and corrupt in
office, and cruel aud tyrannical as a states-
man.
We shall just run our eyes over the
evidence. The first witness is Evelyn,
speaking, however, through Pepys's
report : —
By the way, he (Evelyn) tells me that of all the
groat men of England there is none that endea-
vours more to raise those that he takes into favour
than my Lord Arlington ; and that on that score
he is much more to be made one's patron than my
Lord Chancellor, who never did nor will do any
thing but for money.
And Evelyn, though not in such direct
terms, clearly alludes to the same thing,
in his owu diary : —
Visited (says he) the Lord Chancellor, to whom
his Majesty had sent for the seals a few days be-
fore; I found him in his bed-chamber very sad.
The Parliament had accused him, and he had ene-
mies at court, especially the buffoons and ladies
of pleasure, because he thwarted them, and stood
in their way; I could name some of the chief.
The truth is, he made few friends during hit
grandeur among the royal sufferers, but ad-
ranced the old rebels. — He was my particular
friend on all occasions.
Now we have only to glanco at Claren-
don's own writings, to learn that no body
hated these " old rebels" more than he.
Then why advance them ? B.-cause (sug-
gests Mr. Agar Ellis) they were rich, and
the u royal sufferers," just returned from
banishment, were poor. The one could
pay, and the other not.
This charge of favouring the old rebels
— distinctly from corrupt motives -is fully
confirmed by another tory, Lord Dart-
mouth, in a note of his taken from the
Oxford edition of Burnett's History of
his own limes — the tories had naturally
a leaning, it should be remembered, to-
wards Clarendon . —
The Earl of Clarendon (says Lord Dartmouth)
made it his business to depress every body's merit*
to advance his own, and (the king having gratified
his vanity with high titles) found it necessary to-
wards making a fortune in proportion, to apply
himself to other means than what the crown could
afford (though he had as much as the king could
well grant;) and the people who had suffered most
in the civil war were in no condition to purchase
his favour. He therefore undertook the protection
of those who had plundered and sequestered the
others, which he very artfully contrived, by mak-
ing the king believe it was necessary for his own
ease and quiet to make his enemies his friends:
upon which he brought in those who had been
the main instruments and promoters of the late
troubles, who were not wanting in their acknow-
ledgments in the manner he expected, which pro-
duced the great house in the Piccadille, furnished
chiefly with cavaliers' goods, brought thither for
peace-offerings, which the right owners durst not
claim when they were in his possession. In my
own remembrance Earl Paulett was an humble
petitioner to his sons, for leave to take a copy of
his grand father and grandmother's pictures (whole
lengths, drawn by Vandyck) that had been plun-
dered from Hiriton St. George; which was ob-
tained with great difficulty, because it was thought
that copies might lessen the value of the originals.
And whoever has a mind to see what great fami-
lies had been plundered during the civil war,
might find some remains either at Clarendon House
or at Cornbury.
This specific charge of furniture and
pictures rests entirely, as to documentary
evidence, on Lord Dartmouth's assertion j
but the fact is curiously established by
circumstantial evidence. The furniture
is of couise gone, but the pictures sur-
vive, and can be traced uninterruptedly
to their present possessors, Lord Claren-
don at the Grove in Hertfordshire, and
Lord Douglas at Bothwell Castle. These
pictures are a very extraordinary collec-
tion— all portraits — arid portraits of the
different members of most of the conspi-
cuous royalist families — the Stanleys,
Cavendishes, Villiers, Hamiltons, Coven-
try?, &c.— families with whom the par-
rcnu Clarendon had not the remotest con-
nexion or affinity. They are chiefly
painted by Vandyck and Cornelius Jau-
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Monthly Review of Literature,
[SKPT.
sen, and therefore in existence before the
civil wars. Now how came Clarendon by
them? People do not give away family
pictures to strangers ; they are among
the last things they sell; these families
did not themselves sell; Clarendon had
no family motive, and was not likely to
buy. The conclusion is irresistible.
We come again to Pepys' diary — and
presently we shall have Pepys' own testi-
mony to a particular fact. Pepys relates
a conversation of a party, where one
Captain Cocker, in the presence of Sir VV.
D'Oyley, and Evelyn, characterizing the
different ministers, says 4< My Lord Chan-
cellor minds getting of money, and nothing
else;" and next a conversation with him-
self of Sir H.Cholmley, who, speaking of
the impeachment, thought the Commons
would be able to prove the Chancellor had
taken money for several bargains that
had been made with the crown, and did
instance one that was already com-
plained of.
Next come Anthony A. Wood's accusa-
tions. In his life of Judge Glynne, in the
Atheu. Ox., he says, " After the Restora-
tion, he made his eldest son serjeant by
the corrupt dealing of the then Chancel-
lor.'1'' Again, in speaking of David Jen-
kyns, he says, " Every body expected he
would be made a judge ; and so he might
have been, had he given money to the
than Lord Chancellor; but he scorned,
&c." Clarendon's son prevailed upon the
University to prosecute Anthony A. Wood j
and he was accordingly expelled till he
made proper recantation ; the book was
burnt; and costs to the amount of £34
inflicted. This proceeding proved nothing
but the vindictive feelings of the son and
the University — so much indebted to
Clarendon.
Andrew Marvell's severities against
Clarendon are well known ; but, though
proverbially an honest man, he was a
Presbyterian — and a satirist. The rest
are tories— even Pepys, whatever might
be his professions, had the true tory-spirit
in him.
The next fact is Clarendon Park. This
park, situated near Salisbury, Charles I.
mortgaged for £20,000. Charles II. gave
the estate?, thus encumbered, to Monck,
who sold it to Clarendon ; and the king
gave him an order on the treasury for
£20,000 to pay off this mortgage. But
more of this park. The timber belonged
to the crown, and the Commissioners of
the Admiralty wished to cut it down for
the navy. Clarendon was highly exaspe-
rated, and abused the Commissioners
roundly. One of them, Pepys, after ad-
vising with his friend Lord Sandwich,
waited on the Chancellor to propitiate
him, who, while he took care not to com-
mit himself, made Pepys understand that
the Commissioners must report of the
timber, that there was none — "Lord,11 adds
poor Pepys, "to see how we poor wretches
dare not do the king good service for fear
of the greatness of these men."
Clarendon, moreover — it is now well
known from d'Estrade's papers — origi-
nated the sale of Dunkirk, and was most
anxious about the terms, and the closing
of the bargain. The Parliament were
ready to take it off the king's hands, but
he declined — money, money was the ob-
ject. But would Clarendon have been so
zealous to conclude the sale, against the
wishes of Parliament, if he was to have no
share ? It seems improbable — coupled too
with the fact of his building immediately
after the sale a magnificent place in Pic-
cadilly, at an expence of £50,000. Where
was Clarendon to get this large sum —
within three years of his holding office ?
The house and grounds covered the space
now occupied by Dover Street and Albe-
marle Street. It was called by the popu-
lace generally Dunkirk House, and some-
times Holland House, from a belief of his
having been bribed by the Dutch; at all
events, the persuasion was, the money was
unfairly come by, and of course it was.
Had Clarendon been in possession of
honourable resources — they would have
been known — no suspicions would have
been raised — nor would there have been
any cause for guessing.
So much for his rapacity and corrup-
tion : let us now turn to his political con-
duct ; and without dwelling on his well-
known advice to the king to govern with-
out parliaments, and do as Queen Eliza-
beth did, which for any thing he could
see, the king was well able to do — with-
out insisting on his reply to Glencairn and
Rothes, who came to court to complain of
Lauderdale's intolerable oppressions, and
were referred by the king to his minister
—that l> the assaulting of a minister, as
long as he had an interest with the king,
was a practice that never could be ap-
proved :— it was one ot the uneasy things
that a House of Commons of England
sometimes ventured on, which was un-
grateful to the court" — without adverting
farther to these matters, let os attend to
the great measures of his administration.
He was the undoubted adviser and fratner
of the declaration of Breda, which pro-
mised religious freedom in the largest
terms. Yet this very man was the chief
instigator of the subsequent persecutions.
The king and the ministers were in favour
of concessions to the Presbyterians; but
Clarendon stood up against them, backed
by the bishops. The first pretence was
seized upon — Venner's mad enterprise in
the city ; sham plots were got up to excite
alarms, and generate hatreds, preparatory
to the introduction of the Act of Unifor-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
303
mity. The first step was the Corporation
Act in 1661, by which every member was
required to make a declaration against
the lawfulness of taking up arms against
the king on any pretence whatever, and
to qualify b£ communion — and thus all
non-conformists — that is, those who were
not of the church — were deprived of a
large portion of their civil rights. Then
followed the Act of Uniformity — directed
against the ministers, by which 2,000
were rejected from their livings. Sheldon,
the archbishop, a close friend of Claren-
don's, in reply to Dr. Allen's — " pity the
door is so strait," answered, " if we had
thought so many would have conformed,
we would have made it straiter."
This measure was entirely Clarendon's
and the bishops, Even Southampton said,
" If a similar oath were exacted from the
laity, he would refuse." But this was not
enough for the Chancellor ; he wanted to
entrap the laity as well ; and, in 1664,
accordingly brought in the Conventicle
Act, by which five or more persons, be-
yond the family, were forbidden to as-
semble for worship in any private house
otherwise than according to the liturgy
and practice of the Church of England —
under a penalty of five pounds, and three
months imprisonment; doubled the second
time ; transportation the third ; and death
for returning. And this hideous law was
enforced with extraordinary severity —
though nothing surely was ever less called
for.
Clarendon — and the bishops — were not
yet satisfied. In 1665 came forth the
Five-mile Act, by which non-conformist
ministers were prohibited from coming
within five miles of any place, where they
had ever preached, unless on taking the
corporation oath, with the additional
clause against any attempt to change the
government either in church or state.
The lords were vehement against the bill,
but the bishops, a compact body, carried
it. The oath was generally refused. Un-
der these persecutions 60,000 suffered, and
5,000 died in prison. " After Clarendon's
fall," Baxter says, " though the laws were
rendered even more severe, yet they were
more tolerable, because they were no
longer executed so unrelentingly and im-
placably."
So much also for the Chancellor's cruelty
and tyranny. But Mr. Ellis still sticks
close to his skirts; and dwells upon his
encouraging the attempts to assassinate
Cromwell, particularly Colonel Titus's; the
act he passed on the subject of Charles
ll.'s religion; and the blasphemous com-
parison he makes on his speaking of
Charles I. &c. With respect to the se-
cond matter, he knew Charles II. was a
Catholic ; and yet in July 1661, he passed
an act subjecting to the penalty of prae-
munire, any who should affirm the king-
was a Catholic.
We have thus given the pith of Mr.
Ellis's book, which is a very respectable
performance — superior to his former pro-
duction, where he was indebted to De
Lort for his materials. Here every thing
is the fruit of his own researches.
Tales of the Harem, by Mrs. Pickers-
gill ; 18-27.— The fair inmates of the Ha-
rem, like monks and nuns, are well known
to the writers and readers of oriental
fancies, to be the especial victims of ennui.
The voluptuary dedicated to raptures, and
the devotee to penance, illustrate, once
more, how closely extremes conduct to
the same result. The lord of the seraglio
was once absent on a hostile expedition,
and the many beautiful creatures, whose
mournful destiny it was to derive all their
excitement from his casual smiles, were
languishing in their monotony of sweets.
Story-telling, the immemorial resort of
indolence, was at length determined ou
by the drooping party to cheat the creep-
ing hours ; and the present volume is pre-
sumed to have been the fruit of the ex-
periment.
The versification of this little produc-
tion is of the smoothest, easiest, and most
flowing description — the very milk and
honey of language — and a considerable
degree of interest is thrown over the
event of each tale. The sentiments are
all of the unexceptionable kind, and the
descriptions of scenery distinct and vivid
— the execution is often brilliant — mate-
riam super at opus.
Spring and summer are the only seasons
for this kind of thing to be fairly appre-
ciated, while all our feelings are attuned
to the soft and enervating — the publica-
tion is therefore well-timed. We cannot
bear even Lallah Rookh before May, nor
later than July ; and Lallah Rookh must
be considered as the great exemplar of a
school of which this little volume is a
very close and successful imitation.
It is no easy matter to select a morsel
possessed of that distinct, insulated beau-
ty, which is requisite for such as would
run while they read, and are too impa-
tient to have to master the whole plot of
a story for the sake of estimating the sam-
ple. We must content ourselves therefore
with the commencement of the Witch of
Hymlaya : —
Fair was the eve ; the sun's last beam
Shone gently on the dark-blue stream,
Mingling his tender streaks of red
With the pure rays the pale moon shed.
Ne'er, save beneath an eastern sky,
Is seen so fair, so sweet an hour,
When Nature's self rests silently,
In soft repose, on shrub and flower ;
304
Monthly Review of Literature,
[SEPT.
Nought brobe that lovely stillness, save
The distant plashing of the wave,
When the light bark, with dripping oar,
Darted to reach the distant shore ;
Or music's thrilling notes, that fell
On the cool breeze, and woke a spell,
So heavenly, that the listening ear
Had thought some wandering spirit near.
Perchance the sweet Sitara's chords
Were struck by one who felt the pain,
That never could be told by words,
But floated sweetly in that strain.
None ever viewed a scene so fail-
As those who haply lingered there,
And marked the horizon's vivid glow,
The mountain's summit clad in snow ;
And where the broad-leaved plantain shone
Near the slight palm-tree's fan-like crown,
The banian's hospitable shade,
By reproductive branches made,
Lending its kindly shelter still,
From noontide heat, or midnight chill ;
Groves where the feathery cocoa grew,
Glittering with eve's wan lucid dew.
A thousand birds, on sportive wing,
Made vocal every bending spray ;
With varied notes they seemed to sing
Soft vespers to the parting day.
The pale moon there her crescent hung,
And o'er the waves a splendour flung
More mild and lovely than the beam
The mid-day sun flings on the stream,
'Twas on the eve the Hindoos lave,
Like sea-born Rhemba, in the wave
Their solemn rites, and spells prepare,
Invoking Beauty's goddess there,
In many a wild and deep-toned dirge,
Resounding o'er the sacred surge.
There troops of girls, with tresses flowing,
In youth's first pride of beauty glowing,
Plunged in the tide, in youthful play,
Dashing around the river's spray ;
Their slender polished limbs they lave,
Like naiads, in the liquid wave.
One, lower down the stream retired,
In richer, costlier garb attired,
Her lone devotions there to pay,
Lit by the moon's auspicious ray.
Her flowing veil was thrown aside,
Unbound her dark and shining hair,
And, ere she touched the silvery tide,
She cast her votive offerings there.
Those who had seen her well might deem
She was the goddess of the stream,
When first she, from the foamy sea,
Rose Beauty's own bright deity.
One sole attendant, near the shore,
A dark-eyed youthful Hindoo slave,
Wrapped in her arms an infant bore,
To bathe in Ganga's holy wave ;
For, in the health-bestowing stream,
Beauty's first gem was said to glow ;
For this, bejieath the moon's pale beam,
She offered up her lonely vow.
A n Essay on the War Gallics of tlic
Ancienfs, by John Hwcll ; 1827.— The
very intelligent and ingenious author of
this essay is we believe an engineer in
Scotland, who, under the auspices of the
Ivlinburgh Academy, embodied his con-
ceptions of the ancient Dallies in a model,
now in the possession of the directors.
The ancients had vessels, which they
disiinguisbed by the terms monocrota and
polycrota, by which, etymologically, ap-
pear to have been meant vessels with one
set, and with many sets of oars. These
polycrota were specifically spoken of as
birernes, triremes, quadriremeSj quinque-
remes, &c., according as they had two,
three, four, five, &c. sets of oars — up to
10 — to 16, and in one memorable instance
to 40 — a vessel of immense bulk, built by
Hiero of Syracuse, and sent as a present
to Ptolemy Philopator. The question un-
der discussion— and which has occupied
the attention of scholars, and sometimes
of mechanics, ever since the revival of
literature — is — how were these different
sets, rows, banks, tiers — call them what
you will — placed in the vessels? No ves-
sel has survived the wreck of time; and
the representations still extant either on
the columns of Rome, or on the walls of
Herculaneutu, are all in too obscure, or too
dilapidated a state to assist in solving the
difficulty.
The first notion that presents itself to
almost every reader, is, that they were
placed one above another ; and so long as
only vessels of two or three banks of oars
are spoken of, no difficulty startles him;
but when the number mounts to five and
six— and still more, to ten and twenty —
these higher numbers were rarely used —
common sense is astounded. Supposing
them for a moment to be so placed — and
that the lowest tier be three feet from the
water, and the length of the oars from
the side of the vessel to the water six feet,
and the space between each tier five feet
— this arrangement will place the upper
tier of a quiuquereme twenty-three feet
above the water, and make the length of
the oar forty-six feet — a length apparently
unmanageable, and at all events one of
double or triple that length must be so.
The length could not be reduced, unless
the upper tiers were placed farther apart.
But these vessels were called Ionga3 naves;
and the more oars, the longer were the
ships, manifestly — not the hit/her.
The second solution is that the different
banks of oars were ranged not one above
another, but in one line along the side of
the galley — the first in her bows, the
second in her waist, and the third in her
stern — supposing the case of a trireme ;—
and if of greater rank, the different banks
were still added ou the same line from
prow to poop at intervals. Though sup-
ported by Stewechius and Castilionius,
this scheme is so obviously at variance
with almost every passage that could be
quoted, that it scarcely deserves attention.
1827.J
Domestic and Foreign.
305
The difficulties of height and length may
be thus gotten rid of, but evidently at the
sacrifice of space and power ; and besides,
the polycrota would thus not essentially
be distinguishable from the monocrota.
The third mode of arrangement is the
one suggested- by Sir Henry Savill, who
supposes the oars not to be placed one
above another, nor in a line from stem to
stern, but in an oblique manner from the
sides of the galley towards the middle of
it. The only advantage of this method
is, reducing the height, which the first
method required, but then it would re-
quire more width ; and from the great
distance from the side at which the rowers
of the upper tiers would be placed, the
range of the oar must be proportionally
lessened, or the oar lengthened beyond
ready management.
The fourth hypothesis is quite distinct
from the rest. It supposes the names cf
the vessels to be derived, not from the
number of banks, or tiers of oars, but
the number of men who worked each oar.
Thus the trireme had its oars of a size to
be worked by three men, a quinquereme
by five, &c. The difficulties attending
this solution are obvious and insuperable.
It leaves no room for the known distinc-
tion between a monocroton and a poly-
croton ; and in the case of vessels of ten,
twenty, and forty — how could so great a
number be advantageously employed at
one oar ? The man nearest the end of the
oar could pull no further than the full
stretch of his arms, and those near the
sides of the vessel would be absolutely
useless. The scheme, however, was spo-
ken of respectfully by many, and among
others by Isaac Vossius, whose imagina-
tion was, indeed, at all times, delighted
with paradox and novelty of any kind.
But Vossius himself had a plan of his
own — adopted also by Le Roy, and which
in one respect at least must be regarded
as suggesting to Mr. Howell his own
solution. These gentlemen place the
oars not directly over one another, but
obliquely — and not like Sir H. Savill,
from the sides towards the middle, but
along the sides from the top to the bottom
— still however making as many banks,
rising one higher than the other, as the
name of the vessel indicates. This of
course partakes of the difficulties of the
first solution — particularly in the higher
numbers.
There is still one more— excogitated by
General Melville, and differing from Vos-
sius's only in this — that he allows but
one man to each oar, and carries out a
galley from the side of the vessel at an
angle of 45 degrees for the rowers and
scalini, or rests of the oars — an arrange-
ment which must render the vessel too
crank, that is apt to overset, and difficult
to trim.
Now what is Mr. Howell's suggestion?
MM. New Series.— VoL.1V, No.20.
To place the oars obliquely along the sides
as Vossius, Le Roy, and Melville ; but
never more than five in one tier. This is
a polycroton; a second oblique row placed
behind the first, just so far as to allow the
oars to play without intermingling with
those before them, constitutes a bireme —
a third row, a trireme, &c. Thus the
vessels, whatever be the number of oars,
may be all of the same height — none, in.
Mr. Howell's opinion, exceeded nine feet;
and all the oars were in the ship's waist —
thus leaving the stern and prow, and a
gallery round the gunnel free for officers,
troops, and the rest of the crew. A tri-
reme will thus carry thirty oars, fifteen
of a side ; a quinquereme fifty, twenty-
five of a side. The crews of vessels are
occasionally mentioned in the old writers,
that of a trireme for instance, as consist-
ing of 150 or 160. Supposing then five
men to an oar, 30X5=150 ; and the re-
maining ten for casualties, steering, hand-
ling sails, &c., will makeup the number.
A quinquereme is spoken of as having
300 ; that is, 5X^0=250, or as the ves-
sel is larger, six to an oar, or five to some
and six to others, will make up the com-
plement—which thus tallies better than
any solution that has ever been given.
The only difficulty in Mr. Howell's solu-
tion is to determine that a bank, bench, or
tier of oars always consisted of five —
neither more nor le«s. Mr. Howell thinks
this may be proved, but does not himself
suggest any evidence towards it, and we
can recal nothing approaching the deci-
sive. That each vessel was named from,
the number of its sets of oars, each set
also determinate in number, is to our
minds clear from this remarkable circum-
stance, that no where is the number of
oars specified, whatever be the size of the
vessel— as being a matter known to every
body, and requiring no mention. That
the oars again were worked by five or six
men is highly probable — the modern gal-
lies of France and Spain are all so worked.
We give the author the benefit of his own
concluding words: —
If I have been successful, I have made it plain
that the ancient polycrota had not more than five
oars, ascending in an oblique line, which the an-
cient authors called a bank or rank of oars ; that
the vessel had her name from the number of these
extending from the prow to the poop ; that each
galley, according to her bulk, had a proportionate
number of rowers placed at each oar, classed ac-
cording to the place he pulled at that oar, and not
the place on the bank ; that the first ships (mean-
ing the monocrota) were entirely uncovered; and
that the objects the ancients had in view (in the
polycrota) was to obtain an elevated deck at prow
and poop, from whence to annoy the enemy.
In our narrow space, and without the
aid of diagrams, we can give but a very
imperfect view of the matter; but we can
assure those of our readers, who feel any
curiosity about the subject, the book itself
will repay the trouble of perusal.
2 R
306
Monthly Review of Literature,
[SEPT.
Life of Judye Jeffreys^ by Humphry
W. Woolrych; 1827 — 'Of Jeffreys, the
prevailing impression — derived not from
any precise acquaintance with his history,
but hereditarily, or from allusions and
current phrases scattered hither and thi-
ther in half the books we meet with — is
that of a man, who exercised the office of
judge with a cruel severity ; and the dis-
tinct instance and proof of cruelty, is his
execution of the extraordinary commis-
sion with which he was invested for
punishing the adherents of Monmouth in
the West — proverbially spoken of as his
compaign against the rebels. The im-
pression, as far as it goes, is unquestion-
ably a correct one ; nor will any part of
his career belie it. As a pleader, a judge,
a chancellor, an ecclesiastical commis-
sioner, he was a " bold, bad man," with
the fewest relieving points, in any thing
approaching the amiable and humane, of
any man's character perhaps upon record.
Throughout his whole course there was
the same insolence and brutality, with the
accompanying characteristics — which in-
deed never fail them — ofsneakingness and
servility, where he was boldly fronted,
and where the great or influential stood
before him. He has found in Mr. Wool-
rych a biographer, with all the disposition
in the world to white-wash him, could he
discover the brightening materials; but
all are of too dark a hue ; and he is too
honest to fabricate, and too frank to sup-
press; but hope seems never to desert
him, and he is ready to catch at shadows
on the chance of finding1 a palliative.
Jeffreys was the son of a Welsh gentle-
man of respectability, with a considerable
family, and was destined by his parent for
trade. He was sent to Shrewsbury school ;
and from thence to St. Paul's, and finally
to Westminster, under the vigorous birch
of Dr. Busby. Quitting school, his de-
sires— from what cause does not appear,
nor is it very material — a dream of his is
suggested — were turned towards the law,
but were resisted by the father. Seeing
the restless and turbulent temper of the
boy, the old gentleman predicted he would
die in his shoes and stockings— meaning,
he would get into difficulties and be
hanged. Luckily for young Jeffreys, his
grandmother took a fancy to him, and
enabled him to indulge his early inclina-
tions; and he was accordingly entered
of the Inner Temple, at fifteen. He was
a forward youth, and quickly got into
society, and made himself agreeable by
his pranks, his impudence, and eating and
drinking powers. Accident threw him
chiefly among the grumblers of the day —
among the Presbyterians, who had often
very good reason for grumbling — he was
welcomed as a clever, ready lad, likely one
day or other to prove useful — invited,
and assisted, when his purse ran low,
during bis noviciate. The commence-
ment of his public career was equally ac-
cidental and precocious. At the King-
stone Assizes, during the plague in 1666
T— where, though there was no dearth of
causes and criminals, there was actually a
dearth of lawyers — young Jeffreys, then
only eighteen, was allowed to plead,
two years before he was regularly called
to the bar.
Once dubbed a barrister, he began to
frequent Hickes's Hall, Guildhall, and the
inferior courts, and was quickly pushed
by his friends, or pushed himself by his
forwardness, mixed with a good deal of
cunning and adroitness, into considerable
business. Circumstances thus bringing
him into contact with the citizens, he
laboured zealously to make an interest in
the corporation, and so successfully, that
he obtained the appointment of common
sergeant at twenty-three. In the pursuit
of an heiress, about this time, the daughter
of one of the city noblesse, he was, how-
ever, less successful. He had employed
the agency of a poor relation of the lady's,
who, by her officiousness in the business,
lost the favour of the family ; and Jeffreys
— to console her and himself perhaps for
their respective disappointments — actually
married her. This act is marked by the
biographer as an instance of generosity —
or, at worst, of a careless yielding to his
fancy, unbiassed by the impulse of avarice.
Of course his motives for this act are be-
yond our reach ; they may have been
good, bad, or indifferent, but cannot surely
— unless something were really known
about them — be fairly the subject of pane-
gyric.
The party who brought Jeffreys in, were
of course his friends — the Presbyterians ;
but about this time, by what means does
not appear, he became the associate of a
very different set, particularly of the
younger Chiffinch, the king's closet-keep-
er, and purveyor of his pleasures, and
through him apparently was introduced
to the Duchess of Portsmouth. By these
honourable approaches he came within
the purlieus of the court, and paved his
way to the recordership of the city — the
object of his ambition — in the appoint-
ment of which — that being then with the
government —his old friends could be of
little service. The city, too, was now on
good terms with the court, and Jeffreys
made no scruple of ratting, without the
ceremony of any gradations. In 1677, he
was knighted — on what occasion is a mys-
tery ; but missed the recordership on the
removal of Howell. The next year, 1678,
however, on the promotion of Sir Win.
Dolben, he attained to the honour of being
the " mouthpiece " of the city ; and about
the same time, within three months of the
death of his first wife, he married the
daughter — herself a widow — of an alder-
man, who had passed the chair. The lady
was brought to bed somewhat prema-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
307
torely, which gave occasion to a great
deal of coarse witticism among1 the rib-
bald scribblers of the day, and subjected
him to a retort in court, where he told a
woman, who had been a little pert, that
she was " quick in her answers" — " quick
as I am (says she) I am not so quick as
ycur lady, Sir George."
By this advance to the recordership, he
became more conspicuous in the courts,
and seized upon every opportunity of dis-
tinction— especially in shewing his zeal
and devotion for the government. He was
engaged on the side of the crown, in the
popish trials, in the case of Coleman — of
Green, Berry, and Hill, for the murder of
Sir Edmund Godfrey — of Langhorn and
the Jesuits; but in the midst of great
virulence of speech and violence of man-
ner— not, to be sure, exceeding that of the
bench, and this is alleged as an excuse by
his biographer — heshewed himselfanxious
for the preservation of the legal system of
evidence, and steadily resisted the admis-
sion of hear-say witnesses.
In the prosecutions for libel, he was
equally zealous with the well-known Chief
Justice Scroggs ; and particularly when
Carr was convicted, amidst the hisses of
the crowd, of publishing the " weekly
packet of advice from Rome," and Scroggs,
annoyed by this expression of the public
feeling, exclaimed to the jury — " You have
done like honest men," the recorder echoed
with great vivacity — "They have done
like honest men."
Honours now dropped thick upon him.
In 1680 he was " called" serjeant, and ap-
pointed a Welsh judge; and quickly after-
wards contrived to oust the chief justice
of Wales, and take his place. Within a
few months he was made king's serjeant,
and the following year a baronet, and
solicitor general to the Duke of York.
This last appointment brought him near the
person of the duke, and was the source of
his future distinctions. He left no stone
unturned to serve his new patron, who
was himself glad enough of any sturdy
supporter. The exclusionists were in full
activity, and gave Jeffreys ample oppor-
tunity of shewing his zeal. Through the
successive prorogations of parliament he
was among the most conspicuous of the
anti-petitioners — in opposition to those
who petitioned for the assembling of par-
liament— who went by the name of ab-
horrers. But soon the necessities of the
crown brought the parliament together
again, and no time was lost by the popu-
lar party of turning upon the abhorrers,
among the most active of whom was the
recorder. An address to the crown for
his dismissal was voted; he himself was
brought to the house, and reprimanded on
his knees ; and being frightened from all
propriety, he— -craven-like— resigned the
recordership, and was laughed at for his
paius by the king, in whose eyes he lost
credit, as a man not parliament-proof; and
was burnt in effigy along with the devil
and the pope, by the populace of the city,
with whom his judicial intemperance had
made him no favourite.
Thus driven backward some steps in his
career, he made attempts to rejoin his old
party ; but they suspected him and repelled
his overtures : and no resource was left
him but sticking steadily by the crown,
and making up for lost time by more ac-
tivity. Though fallen, he fell upon his
legs; he was still not without influence;
he lost nothing for want of looking after
it; and was soon, though to the sacrifice
of some portion of his practice, made
chairman of Hickes's Hall. Here he
quickly again distinguished himself, and
took his revenge on the Presbyterians —
whom on another occasion he said he could
smell forty miles off — by absolutely ex-
cluding them from juries. He was sup-
ported by the judges in this exclusion.
Luckily for him, he got employed in Fitz-
harris's case, where he roared lustily
against the unfortunate and indiscreet
spy; and again, successively in the trials
of Plunket, the titular archbishop, and
College, he was still rougher, meeting
occasionally himself with rubs and rebuffs
from judge, counsel, and witnesses, but
parrying all with no ordinary dexte-
rity ; and finally fought himself up once
more into the favourable notice of the
court.
Jeffreys had had his revenge upon the
dissenters ; and an opportunity was soou
flung in his way of wreaking it upon the
city. The city had opposed the court in
the matter of sheriffs, and some rioting
had ensued. In the trial of the old sheriffs,
Pilkington and Shute, with the rioters,
Jeffrey's opinion was appealed to, as a
man who knew the city, and the abilities
of the parties to pay fines ; and he did
not forget to lay them heavily on his
enemies. But his great triumph was
in the quo warranto cause, by which the
city was called upon, in consequence of
its resistance to the wishes of the court,
to prove the validity of the charter— and
lost it — undoubtedly on the suggestion of
Jeffreys.
One of the last causes, in which he was
engaged as a pleader, was Lord William
Russel's, in which he forgot his old rules
of evidence, for which he had once so
laudably stickled, and was ready enough
to support the doctrine of hear-say evi-
dence of the most doubtful kind. In Sep-
tember 1783, he was made chief justice,
on the death of Sanders, and a privy coun-
sellor. In this elevated station, he pre-
sided at the trial of Algernon Sidney. The
new judge's wrong, in this case, was not
— as the prisoner charged — in refusing to
hear his defence, but in listening to inad-
missible evidence, and mischarging the
jury; and on these grounds it was the
2R2
308
Monthly Review of Literature,
[SEPT,
attainder was afterwards reversed. Jeff-
reys' violence in the case of Armstrong-,
the biographer, who has a sharp eye for
palliatives, attributes to a severe fit of the
stone. In the cabinet, to gratify his pa-
tron the Duke of York, he proposed the
release of the recusants, but was success-
fully opposed by the keeper, North.
On the accession of James, Jeffreys was
made a peer j and very shortly afterwards
had his revenge upon Gates, in a trial for
perjury — who on a former occasion had
twitted him with his reprimand in the
house — by inflicting on him a sentence of
extraordinary severity ; and in the case
of Baxter, his rankling hatred against the
Presbyterians had a sweet indulgence.
Now came on Monmouth's rebellion ; and
Jeffreys' extraordinary commission, as
judge and general, for the suppression
and punishment of the rebels in the West.
But this is all so well known, as to make
any detail quite superfluous ; 351 are said
to have been executed, and many hun-
dreds transported. The sums pocketed
by the judge, for commutations, were im-
mense ; though the court doubtless shared
the spoil. The money exacted from the
parents of the twenty-six girls, who, at a
school, and under the direction of the
mistress, had worked a banner for Mon-
mouth — in sums of £50, and £110, was
given to the queen's maids of honour.
The biographer makes a question, whether
Jeffreys or his master were most to blame
for the severity exercised by the judge
under this commission, and sums up the
case against the king thus : — •
King James put MonmoutH to death, and then
sent out his chief justice to punish some western
rebels. He refused to respite Lady Lisle for a
day, because he had promised the said judge that
he would not do so. Either he sent out an order
to save the prisoners, after 351 were hung— or he
made a judge, who had disobeyed his orders, Lord
High Chancellor of England, tarnished as that
person must have been with a very massacre, if he
had no orders for his conduct. The king moreover
made a present of a rich man (Prideaux) to the said
judge, and permitted the members of his court to
enrich themselves at the expence of some poor
western widows.
But what tells trumpet-tongued against
Jeffreys, is his insisting upon the miser-
able conditions he did with respect to
Lady Lisle and Mr. Prideaux 5 his bru-
tal exultations at the numbers he had
slain; — and, be the king's wishes what
they might, the impossibility of executing
them without such a wretch to carry them
into effect. Jeffreys said he was " snub-
bed at" for not doing more; but what
credit is to be given to this declaration,
•when he was welcomed by the seals on his
return ?
As chancellor, he was still Jeffreys, and
before two months had passed over his
head, he accepted £6,000 of Hampden for
procuring his pardon. For his subsequent
career as chief of the " High Commission""
— for his treatment of the universities and
the bishops, in all which he was the ready
tool of the court, we have no space. A
few days before his flight, the king took
the great seal from Jeffreys — not actually
dismissing him •, but Jeffreys had lost
ground with him by adhering to the
Church; and he had said, the "chancel-
lor was an ill man, and had done many
ill things." In the confusion that fol-
lowed James's flight, the chancellor had a
narrow escape from the vengeance of the
mob ; and was placed for security in the
tower — where a charge of high treason,
was laid against him; but he died before
he was brought to trial, at the age of 41.
So early began and ended his mischievous
and profligate course.
The biographer is apparently an un-
practised hand. Things are not always
in their places ; the anecdotes have little
point in them ; nor are the sentiments al-
ways well sustained. But it is an honest
book 5 — the writer speaks his convictions
freely, and sometimes forcibly.
The Annual Peerage of the British Em-
pire ; 1827. — In so aristocratic a country
as England, where so much real worship
— in the midst of abundance of professed
contempt for what the very worshippers
affect to call silly idolatry — is directly or
indirectly paid to rank and titles, a peerage
is a vade-mecum perfectly indispensible.
" Peerages" of course there are in plenty
— how many we know not — but with the
fast spreading demand, no wonder new
ones should start from new candidates,
with claims fresh and fresh upon our
admiration. Accordingly here are three
sister ladies — the very graces doubtless of
genealogy — Anne, Eliza, and Maria Innes,
who, very harmlessly it may be thought,
very acceptably no doubt to others, and
to their own infinite delight in the fasci-
nating and certainly not unsuitable occu-
pation, have busied themselves in getting
up, under Mr. Murray's auspices, a pair
of new and beautiful volumes, tastefully
decorated, with delicate shadings and
brilliant gildings — all smooth and glister-
ing—not to leave a stain on the purest
white kid, that kisses the sweet little
hands which may be destined to grasp
them.
With so much eagerness and avidity
was the attractive manual seized by the
admiring devotees, that the first edition
was actually exhausted in three little
weeks j and such rapacity on the part of
the tufted and tuft-hunting circles has of
course whetted the industry of the fair and
surely wondering trio to administer still
farther to the fond appetite, and make it
grow by what it feeds on. Behold the
sweets, which the blessed possessors of
the second and improved edition will find
to tickle their palates.
" The work embraces the parentage
1827."
Domestic and Foreign.
309
births, marriages, and issue of all living
members of each family descended in the
male line from the first peer, or in case of
a barony in fee, from the marriage, by
•which the honour passed into the family
now in possession. In peerages of very
recent creation, the living and married
brothers and sisters of the first peer, and
the descendants from the brothers are in-
cluded. All individuals who have mar-
ried are retained so long as any member
of their generation survives. All who
have died unmarried are omitted, unless
one or other of the parents is living, or
unless the individual was heir-apparent to
the title."
Every member of a family occupies a
distinct paragraph ; and what, it seems,
is worthy of notice, all the males of each
family appear in the work in the rotation
in which they would be called to the in-
heritance of the title. The names of those
who are known to be deceased are printed
in italics.
When a collateral branch is introduced,
all its subsequent descendants are deno-
minated by their relationship to the pre-
sent head of the branch, and not, as in
other cases, to the existing peer.
The whole peerage is distinguished by
its three grand divisions into English,
Scotch, and Irish — "thus avoiding the per-
plexity which the more strictly correct
subdivisions of the first class into peerages
of England, of Great Britain, and of the
United Kingdom."
The titles of the peer are given at the
head of each article, but the actual title
only is expressed, without adding the
place from whence it is taken. As some
compensation, however, the Christian names
are printed in capitals.
4< In the successions of the respective
peerages a difference will, in many in-
stances, be found between the present
computation and that hitherto in use j
peeresses in their own right not having
formerly been taken into the account
(shocking !) as they are in this publica-
tion ; and in cases of attainted peerages
now restored, and those which have been
dormant, the persons who are entitled to
them by inheritance are also reckoned,
but this is always noticed in its place."
Some very ingenious and some very
effective abbreviations will also be found
in references— for instance, instead of the
round-about " Admiral the Honourable
John Forbes, second son of George, third
Earl of Granard," you have " Admiral
the Honourable John Forbes of GRA-
NARD^ — and if you want to know any
more of him and his genealogy, you must
turn to the family of Granard, where he
will appear at full length. The word
" dec." also is affixed to the name of any
dead person, instead of " the late."
The whole peerage is thrown into one
alphabetical arrangement ; but to mark
the legal order of precedence, a list i»
prefixed, according to seniority of cre-
ation.
The family of Saxe Coburg Saalfield —
" a novelty in an English work of this
nature." Another novelty, by the way —
all the STILL-BORNS are enumerated. —
Vide Grantham family.
But the bishops — we declare the treat-
ment is scandalous, particularly of the
plebeian ones. Just one line a piece for
the name and date of appointment, unless
they have had the luck of translations.
Not a word for the ladies — nor for sons
and daughters. Just as if they had none
to bless themselves with. Nor even the
date of their birth — how are expectants to
calculate the day of their death ?
Elements of Geometry, with Notes, by
J. R. Young. Baldwin, London. 1827. —
The same sort of boundless respect for
the name and example of a great man,
which led our countrymen to overlook for
so many years the progress which science
had made upon the Continent, has occa-
sioned their almost universal adherence to
the Elements of Euclid ; and while many
introductory treatises on geometry have
appeared from the foreign press, very few
indeed have issued from our own. None
have equalled the Greek mathematician in
rigorous demonstration. In perspicuity
he has no rival — except, perhaps, in the
part of his work which treats of geome-
trical proportion. This is abstruse, and
subtle, and intricate. The doctrine of
proportion, as connected with geometry,
must necessarily be so. Hence Legendre
has excluded the consideration of it from
his Elements, leaving all knowledge of the
subject to be acquired from numerical
proportion. This is a defect which Mr.
Young has abljr supplied. Indeed, we
have never seen a work so free from pre-
tension, and of such great merit. We will
briefly mention a few points wherein it is
superior to all similar productions :—
In reference to the general plan of the work
(observes the author), I have taken a more en-
larged and comprehensive view of the Elements
of Geometry than I believe has hitherto been done ;
as I have paid particular attention to the converse
of every proposition throughout these elements —
having demonstrated the converse wherever such
demonstration was possible, and in other cases
shewn that it necessarily failed.
By introducing the well known and very
elegant proposition of Da Cunha, the
theory of parallel lines is rendered free
from ambiguity. Of the improvements in
the doctrine of proportion we have already
spoken. Of the demonstrations through-
out the work, some are new, and the
rest judiciously selected. Various falla-
cies latent in the reasonings of some cele-
brated mathematicians, both of ancient
and modern date, are pointed out, and dis-
cussed in a tone of calm moderation, which
310
Monthly Review of Literature.
[SEPT.
we regret to «ay is not always employed
in the scientific world. One of these — a
proposition in Simpson's Geometry, which
has been for upwards of seventy years re-
ceived as genuine, and adopted by more
modern geometers, we may venture to
particularize. If two triangles have one
angle in the one equal to one angle in the
other, and the sides about either of the
other angles proportional, then will the
triangles be equi-angular, provided these
last angles be either both less or both
greater than right angles. This is most
satisfactorily proved to be false. We con-
clude with saying, that we have never
seen a work so admirably calculated to
accomplish the purpose for which it was
designed — to supply all the wants of the
student in geometry with the least expen-
diture of time, and, in a manner, free from
ambiguity, vigorous and elegant.
Ursino, Dr. G. P.. Logarithm! vi. De-
cimalium scilicet numerorum ab 1 ad
100,000 et sinuum et Tangentium ad 10",
4-c. tfc. ffc. Christiana. — When we first
saw these tables, we were at a loss to
conceive the use of publishing a set ex-
tending only to 100,000, and to six places
of decimals. A closer inspection has con-
vinced us that, from the extreme accuracy
with which they are printed, there are
none so well adapted for general pur-
poses ; while, in the clearness and size of
the type, they possess a recommendation
which can be appreciated by those alone
who are familiar with logarithmic calcula-
tions. While Mr. Babbage's Tables are
requisite for all the more delicate investi-
gations of science, we shall expect to see
those of Ursinus employed in all the nu-
merical operations of ordinary life.
PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.
DOM ESTI C.
BOYAL SOCIETY.
May 17.— W. H. White, Esq. was ejected
from the society. A paper was read, «« on
the secondary deflection produced in a mag-
netized needle by an iron shell, in conse-
quence of an unequal distribution of mag-
netism in its two branches, discovered by
Captain Wilson, by P. Barlow, Esq." Also
another, " on the difference of meridians of
the royal observatories of Greenwich and
Paris, by T. Henderson, Esq." This gentle-
man has detected an error of one second,
committed at Greenwich, in the reduction
of the observations made officially for deter-
mining the differences of longitude of these
two places, which amounts, in all probabi-
lity, to 9'-21"-5. A letter was read from Mr.
Rumker of Paramatta, giving an account of
several series of observations made at the ob-
servatory there. — 24. The Right Hon. C.
W.W.Wynne was elected into the society;
and a paper read, " on destroying the fire-
damp in mines by the chloride of lime, by F.
Fincham, Esq., by sprinkling the chloride of
lime in places where the fire-damp had ga-
thered." This gentleman has succeeded in
rendering part of Bradford colliery, where ex-
plosions were frequently taking place, ex-
empt from danger. A paper was also read,
" on some properties of heat, by R. W. Fox,
Esq."— 31. E. W. Pendarves, Esq., M. P. ;
Lieut.-Col. Miller ; Major-Gen. Wavell, and
Dr. Harwood were admitted members of the
society. A paper was communicated, tS on
the resistance of fluids to bodies passing
through them, by J. Walker, Esq." Also,
"corrections of the pendulum depending on
Uie value of the divisions of the level of the
small repeating circle, as recently ascertained
by the experiments of Captain Skater, by
Captain E. Sabine." Also a paper, «' on the
effect produced on the air-cells of the lungs
when the circulation is too much increased,
by Sir E. Home."— June 16. W.J. Guthrie,
Esq., was admitted a fellow ; and a paper
read, " on the ultimate composition of sim-
ple alimentary substances, with some preli-
minary remarks on the the analysis of or-
ganized bodies in general, by Dr. Prout."
FOREIGN.
INSTITUTE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.
May 21. -A favourable report was deli-
vered by M. M. de Prony, Molard, and Gi-
rard, on a model of a carriage with a move-
able pole, invented by M. Van Hooricb, and
on which principle several coaches are now
being constructed for the public conveyance.
M. Arago communicated a memoir of Mr.
Cowper, Professor at Kasan, on different
questions relative to the magnetism of the
globe. M. Giron de Buzareingues, a cor-
respondent, read a memoir, entitled " Ex-
periments and Observations on the Repro-
duction of Domestic Animals." A botanical
communication was received from M. Bro-
get, naturalist at the Isle of France.— 28.
M. M. Gay Lussa, and Thenard reported
on a memoir of M. Pol ydore Bo ullay, con-
cerning the double iodures which is to be in-
serted in the collection of papers by persons
who are not members. M. M. Thenard and
Chevreul reported on a memoir of M. Bo-
nastie on a combination of the volatile oils.
This gentleman was recommended to con-
tinue his labours. — June 4. M. Arago read
an extract from a letter of M. Brunei to M.
Delessart, relative to the proceedings in the
tunnel under the Thames. M. Cagnard de
Latour read a note on the two kinds of vibra-
tion of the artificial glottis. — 11. The annual
meeting for the distribution of prizes was
held this day ; when the mathematical prize
was awarded to M. M. Colladon and Sturen
of Geneva. La Lande's astronomical prize
1827.]
Proceedings of Learned Societies.
311
was divided between M. Pons, director of the
observatory at Florence, and M. Gambart, of
thnt of Marseille, for having observed or cal-
culated the three last, comets. M. Montyon's
prize in experimental philosophy was be-
stbvved on M. Adolphe Brongniart. Two
prizes were given for improvements in the
healing art to M. M. Pelletier and Caventon,
who discovered the sulphate of quinine ; and
to M. Civiale, who first succeeded in break-
ing the stone in the bladder, and has con-
tinued the practice with success. Several
medals of encouragement were bestowed
for minor considerations. The prize in sta-
tistics was equally divided between M. M.
Braylo and Cardeau. After these prizes had
been distributed, and the subjects proposed
for the ensuing year, an historical eulogium
would have been pronounced uponM. Charles,
who is principally known for the invention
of balloons which were substituted for those
of Montgolfier, by M. Tourier j but that gen-
tleman was too ill to attend. M. C. Dupin
explained the statistical researches in refer-
ence to the cabals of the north and south of
France, and drew a comparison between the
means of executing them in the reign of Louis
XIV. and at present. M. G. Cuvier then
read an historical panegyric upon Conizart;
and M. Cordier communicated an extract
from his memoir on the interior temperature
of the globe. There was not time to allow
the panegyric of M. Penil, by M. G. Cuvier,
being read.
VARIETIES, SCIENTIFIC AND MISCELLANEOUS.
August's Psychrometer. — A German phi-
losopher, of the name of August, when com
paring the temperature produced by evapo-
ration and that of the circumambient air at
the same time — or, in other words, com-
paring the difference of temperature indi-
cated by a moistened and a dry thermometer
with the difference of temperature of the
interior and exterior thermometer of Daniel's
hygrometer, or the diminution of tempera-
ture necessary to produce a deposition of
dew— found that the first was very nearly and
pretty constantly the half of the second, at the
moment of condensation. This ratio being
established, it is only necessary to compare a
moistened thermometer with a plain one to
determine the variable quantity of water
contained in the atmosphere. A particular
combination of the instruments for facilitating
these observations, M. A. has named a psy-
chrometer, from J>v£?o; (cold). The nearer
the temperature indicated by the two ther-
mometers constituting the psycrometer ap-
proach, the more moist will the air be ; and
twice the difference of the two indications
will tell how much the temperature should be
lowered to produce condensation of ibe at-
mospheric vapours. The ratio between the
psychrometer and Daniel's hygrometer is not,
however, absolutely constant and universal,
and holds good exactly only in the ordinary
state of the barometer (from 331 to 340 Pa-
risian lines), and at mean temperatures (from
10 to 24 Reaumur). The mathematical for-
mula of M. August, for expressing the quan-
tity of vapour contained in the air, is
<•"-
e being the tension of the atmospheric va-
pour, or its expansive force ; t the tempera-
ture of the air ; t1 the cold produced by the
evaporation of a moistened thermometer ; e'
the maximum tension of the vapour, corres-
ponding to the temperature t1, and reduced
to the state of the barometer ; b the height
of the barometer, expressed by unity at 0°,
the same as the tension of the vapour ; y the
specific heat of dry air, =0-2669, according
to Kiot ; k that of the aqueous vapour,
=2-847; I the density of the vapour, com-
pared with that of dry air, =0'62349 (Kiot) ;
x the latent heat of vapour, according to M.
Gay Lussac, 550° of the centigrade scale.
M. August observes, that Daniel's hygro-
meter cannot exactly indicate the quantity of
vapour contained in the atmosphere, because
the exterior surface of the instrument has
constantly a higher temperature than is indi*
cated by the interior thermometer. The
error is greater, as the difference between
the temperature of the point of precipitation
and that of the air is greater — disadvantages,
to which the psychrometer is not liable. The
indications, however, of this latter instrument
are greater in the sun than in the shade— an
effect arising from the radiation of heat. The
same results are observable in the morning
and in the evening. Whether this instrument
can be employed in winter, the inventor has
not yet determined. At all events, it is ne-
cessary to substitute for the value of x=5,50°
X=550°+75° =625° if there be a formation
of ice. In general, the indications will be
more perfect as the values of y and k shall be
better known. The approximative formula
calculated for the mean heights of the ba-
rometer, gives e=J— 0-26 (t — t1) in Pa-
risian lines.
Diamonds in Siberia.— rThe platiniferous
sand of Nischni-Toura, in Siberia, offering a
striking analogy to that of Brazil, in which
diamonds are generally found, has led to an.
expectation of their being discovered in that
inhospitable region. The sand of Brazil is
principally composed of rolled fragments of
hydrate of iron and jasper, and contains more
platinum than gold. The sand of Nischni-
Toura is visibly formed of the same compo-
nent parts ; and the presence of hydrate of
iron is the more remarkable, as it is in a
conglomerate of this species that the Bra-
zilian diamonds are enveloped — as if these
two minerals were not accidentally combined,
but were the remains of one and the same
312
Varieties.
[SEPT.
formation. No steps had been taken, by the
director of the mines at Nischui-Toura, so
late as February last, to promote this dis-
covery ; but it is believed that the govern-
ment will not long allow it to be neglected.
Petroleum Oil in Switzerland. — In search-
ing for pit-coal in the c&nton of Geneva,
abundant springs of a bituminous oil, called
oil of petroleum, have been discovered. The
elevated ridge of the communes of Dardagny
and Chalex, although isolated on three sides
by the Rhone, the Allondon, and the stream
of the Rouleve, appears to be a continuation
of the strata which extend on the other side
of the Rhone, and from its bed. The strata
of which it is composed seem to rise from
the river in an acute angle from the east to
the west, and from the north to the south,
and are broken near Dardagny by the course
of the Allondon. It is towards this place that
the strata impregnated with bitumen appear
at the surface, wherever the water has re-
moved the vegetable mould and clay. The
bituminous bed actually worked is about
twenty feet thick.
Quadruple Rainbow. — Two rainbows are
frequently seen together — rarely three, and
never lour. On the sea-coast, however, a
sort of quadruple rainbow may be seen ; but
.then the bows are concentric in pairs. A phe-
nomenon of this sort was observed by Mr.
Schulz, at 6 p. m., July 3J, 1824, on the
island of Rugen. In a south-east direction,
and very near him, he saw a double rainbow,
of which the colours were extremely vivid.
These two were surrounded by two others,
of which the extremities cut the two others
very near the earth; so that, at the two
.points of the horizon, there was a double in-
tersection. The sea being opposite, and in a
north-west direction, the explanation of this
phcenomenon was not difficult. It was evi-
dent that the two first bows were formed by
the sun itself, and the two others by the
image of the sun reflected in the sea.
Aerolithes. — A circumstance, which ap-
pears not to have been. generally known in
Europe, appears in No. 10 of the " Zeits-
chrift fur Mineralogie," viz. a shower of
aerolithes fell, in 1824, at Sterlitahrak, 200
versts from Rembourg : the masses were of
a regular octaedral form.
Organic Remains. — Near Hiederhohen,
OB the Werra, below Eschwegein-Hesser, a
skull of a rhinoceros has been found in a
gypsum-quarry; and a league from thence,
at Grebendorf, on the right bank of the
Werra, in alluvial clay, a mammoth-tooth,
weighing twenty pounds, has been discovered.
At Stolberg, in the Hartz, at the entrance of
the valley of Rottteberode, bones of the pri-
mitive buffalo have been met with in the
calcareous mountain of the Krieselsberg.
Mensuration. — In the second chapter of
the fifth book of Columella de Re Rustica,
a rule is given for determining thesuperficies
of an equilateral triangle, which, in alge-
braic terms is this — Let a be on one side of
the equilateral triangle, then its superficies
is =»2 (H-T\j) ; or in decimals, a2 0-433.
The exact formula is «2 ^~ ; or in decimals,
a2 0-4330. It is curious that the irrational
\ \/3 should have a rational expression, com-
ing so near it, yet so simple ; and it is cer-
tainly singular that Columella should have
been in possession of this formula.
Telescopes.- Professor Am ici, of Modena,
to whose practical as well as theoretical skill
the scientific world is indebted for some op-
tical instruments which have never been sur-
passed, concludes that, for an achromatic te-
lescope and a Newtonian, of the same local
length, to produce the same effect, the dia-
meter of the mirror of the latter must be to
that of the object-glass of the former as
4 : 3. The ratio assigned by the late emi-
nent Sir W. Herschel was that of 7 : JO. The
professor has likewise given an infallible
criterion by which to distinguish the spurious
disc which even the best telescopes assign to
a fixed star, from the real discs of a satellite
or small planet. It consists in separating the
image into two with the divided eye-glass
micrometer of his construction ; when, if the
disc be real, it will remain perfectly round ;
if spurious, it will be elongated in a direction
perpendicular to the section of the lens — the
other diameter remaining the same. This,
however, supposes the power employed to be
sufficiently high to render the phenomenon
visible. The same effect will arise from
closing half the aperture of the telescope.
Ancient Glass Bottles. — Among the cu-
rious and interesting objects lately discovered
in the excavations at Pompeii are five glass
bottles, in some of which were olives in an
extraordinary state of preservation. These
olives were soft and pasty, but entire, and
had the same form with those called Spanish
olives ; they had a strong varied odour, and
a bitter taste, leaving a biting astringent sen-
sation upon the tongue. A part of these
olives have been analyzed, and the rest have
been deposited in the Neapolitan Museum in
the same bottles in which they were found.
Enviable Employment. — There is a gene-
rally received notion, on the authority, we
believe, of the visions of Quevedo, that ladies
,who from necessity have passed a life of
single blessedness, shall hereafter be em-
ployed in leading apes through the Asphodel
fields allotted them. Von Sweclenborg dis-
poses of these maidens in a different way.
By him they are placed in his second heaven,
there to nurse for ever the babes of grace
who die before they can walk and talk.
What is to become of the sucklings ?
Improved Coach Spring's. — In the man-
ner in which coach springs are generally
constructed, a swinging motion is allowed
to the body of the vehicle, by which, when
the roof is much laden, great danger of over-
turning is incurred. A Lancashire coach-
master, of the name of Lace}-, has recently
contrived and adapted to carriages a sort of
spring, by which this danger is perhaps en-
tirely obviated. His invention consists in
attaching the body of a carriage to shackle-
J827.J
Varieties*
313
bars, rings, or plates, .which are supported
by elastic bearings, constituted of helical or
elliptic springs, or even of cubical pieces of
caoutchouc, enclosed in n box or cylinder
made fast to the rail of the carriage. We
have seen of late few patent inventions so
well entitled as this to the patronage of the
public.
Origin of the Saxons. — The most pro-
bable derivation of the Saxons which has
been suggested, is from the Sacaesienii, or
Sacassaui, a people mentioned by Pliny and
Stmbo as originally inhabiting the regions of
Persia, about the Caspian Sea. In support
of this derivation, it has been observed that
several words in the present language of
Persia nearly resemble those of the same
signification in Saxon. Of such resemblances
five remarkable instances are adduced, by
Camden, from Joseph Scaliger. This hint
has given rise to an attempt, by Mr. Sharon
Turner, to ascertain, by a comparison of the
two languages, whether such a number of
coincidences are discoverable as materially
to confirm the belief that Persia was ori-
ginally the country of our Saxon progeni-
tors. Although, supposing that belief well
founded, the total separation of the two na-
tions for at least 2,000 years, the progressive
migration of the Saxons along the north of
Asia, and through the whole breadth of the
upper surface of Europe, together with the
numerous vicissiludes which have befallen
them, must have tended greatly to obliterate
the marks of original similitude between
their respective languages ; yet the result of
the comparison made by Mr. Turner, during
a very brief period of leisure which he was
able to devote to this object, has been the
discovery of 162 Persian words, which have
a direct affinity with as many Anglo-Saxon
terms of the same meaning. He has like-
wise given a list of fifty-seven similar resem-
blances between the latter tongue and the
Zeud, or ancient Persian ; and a third, con-
sisting of forty-three coincidences of it
with the Pehlier, an intermediate language
used in Persia, between the modern Persian
and the Zeud. In the learned writer's opi-
nion, a more elaborate investigation of these
analogies would further confirm the Asiatic
derivation of the Saxons.
Influence of Strata on the Atmosphere.—
The following is a summary of the leading
points of a novel hypothesis recently sub-
mitted to the Royal Society by W. A. Mac-
kinnon, Esq. He begins by stating that, re-
siding in the vicinity of Southampton, about
seven miles from the great bed of chalk that
runs through part of Hampshire and the
neighbouring counties, be was struck with
the difference of the air when on the chalk
to what it was when going towards the New
Forest, though both were equally distant
from the water. That, in consequence, ex-
atmosphere over the chalk than over clay or
alluvial substance. Mr. M., however, adds,
that the hygrometer is an instrument so very
uncertain in its results, and so liable to inac-
curacy, ihat little reliance ought to be placed
on experiments made with it, unless con-
firmed by other observations. He says, bow-
ever, that every subsequent observation con-
firms the hypothesis — that if chalk be laid
on a field as a dressing, it will, at the end of
some hours, become damp, even if no rain
or little dew have fallen, which dampness
can only arise from the atmosphere. Also,
that turf-grass over chalk or lime-stone, even
in the hottest summer,always looks green and
healthy; which must, it is thought, arise
from the absorption of atmospheric moisture,
by a sort of capillary attraction from the
chalk or lime-stone, which moisture, passing
through the slight covering of mould, keeps
the roots of the grass sufficiently moist to
look green ; whereas the same heat burns uj>
turf-grass over clay, or alluvial substance, or
gravel, in a remarkable degree. Many
other arguments are brought forward in fa-
vour of this assertion. It is added, that, from
this absorbing power or capillary attraction
of atmospheric damp by certain strata, a
house built on a chalk foundation, or of
chalk materials, will commonly be damp ;
and for the same reason, if lime-stone or
sea-sand be used. The paper farther states,
that if the dryness or dampness of the at-
mosphere be affected by the stratum, that
must influence the spirits or the health of the
inhabitants ; and even some other qualities of
individuals or nations may depend more on
the substratum than is commonly imagined.
Saline bitter Waters of Saidschutz. — A
new analysis of these celebrated waters has-
been made, by Professor Steinman, of
Prague ; and a pound of sixteen ounces was
found to contain, —
Principal
Spring.
Sulphate of magnesia
Nitrate of magnesia
Hydrochlorate of magnesia
Carbonate of magnesia ..
Sulphate of potash ,
Sulphate of soda
Sulphate of lime ..;....;..
Carbonate of lime
Carbonate of Strontian ......
Carbonate of the pvotoxyde
Carbonate"of the protoxyde
of manganese 0-028
Subphosphate of alum 0-018
Silcx.... 0-061
[Extracting] 0'385
0-108
Carbonic acid
Atmospheric air
160-691 . 133-292
. 3-304 .. 2-967
. 0-105 .. 0-286
164-100 . 136-545
Communication between the Atlantic and
the Black Sea. — The original design of
periments were tried with the hygrometer uniting by a canal the Rhine and the Da-
me Luc's whalebone, and Daniels'); and nube is due to Charlemagne, by whom it was
undertaken, but, owing to political events,
was soon abandoned. Lately, the Marquis
2 S
the result of these was, that invariably a
greater degree of dryness was found in the
M.M, New Series.— VOL, IV. No, 21.
314
Varieties.
[SEPT.
de Dessollfis, peer of France, nnd at that time
chief of Moreau's staff, renewed the project
(in 1801), to which Bonaparte gave much
attention ; and doubtless, but for the subse-
quent convulsions of Europe, would have en-
sured its completion. The subject is again
agitated ; and the design seems to be to
ascend the course of the Altmuhl from Kel-
heim, where it discharges its waters into the
Danube, to Graben, to form a canal from
thence to both, so as to connect the Altmuhl
and the Retdnitz. The canal need not be
more than five leagues in length, and the
plain through which it would run presents no
difficulty. At three-quarters of a league from
Bamberg, the Reidnitz falls into the Mein,
which latter, at Mayence, unites its waters
to the Rhine. The advantages resulting from
this extensive line of navigation are too ma-
nifest to require any comment ; and it is to
be hoped that no considerations of a private
or local nature will be allowed to interfere
with the interests of Europe.
Commerce of Russia. — During the last five
years the importations of spun cotton into
Russia amounted to, in 1822, 14,641,483
paper roubles ; in 1823, 20,353,698 ; in 1824,
37,223,625; in 1825, 33,277,436; in 1826,
33,120,544. The whole product of the
Russian manufactures, in 1824, amounted in
paper roubles to —
Cloths, casimirs, drugs,
shells, and woollen goods 59,748,085
Silk goods 10,154,791
Cotton goods 37,033,354
Linens 10,689,504
117,625,734
Importation of Foreign Manufactures :
1820.
Woollen goods 22,350,1 14
Silks , 10,491 ,039
Cottons 22,932,933
Linens 2,381,028
58,155,114
1824.
Woollen goods 9,1 96,733
Silks 6,687,327
Cottons 10,408,299
Linens 189,420
26,481,779
Manuscript of Boccacio. — Professor
Ciumpi has discovered, in the Magliabecchi
library at Florence, a manuscript, which is
found to be the common-place book of the
celebrated John Boccaciode Cestaldo. This
curious manuscript not only throws some light
on the different circumstances of the life of
this great writer, but shews how learned and
laborious he was. It comprises many valua-
ble particulars of a period when the disco-
very of America was in agitation, and lite-
rature was dawning in Italy. M. Ciampi has
communicated this work io the public, with
notes, and a fac-simile of the writing of
Boccacio.
Steam-Gun.— On the 29th October 1826,
M. Besetzny, a native of Austrian Silesia,
made some experiments at Presburg with a
steam-gun of his invention, in presence of a
great assemblage of military men, who were
astonished at its extraordinary power. The
furnace of iron-plate which contains the
steam-boiler has the form of an alembic, and
holds twenty (pots ?). It rests upon a frame
having two wheels. This machine, with all
its apparatus, and carrying 2,000 balls, can
easily be dragged by one man on a level
road. The barrel which receives the balls
through a funnel is fixed by some mechanism
to the right of the furnace. In fifteen mi-
nutes the steam is sufficiently raised to bring
the engine into play. Each movement of the
handle disengages a ball ; and the discharges
succeed each other so quickly, that they
scarcely can be counted. Every one of the
balls pierced a plank three-quarters of an
inch thick, at the distance of eighty paces ;
and many pierced a second plank, of the
same thickness, at the distance of 150 paces.
M. B. expects to bring this machine to a
much higher degree of perfection, #nd the
details will then be communicated to the
public.
Parlby Rockets. — The following account
of the effect of Major Parlby's rockets has
appeared in the Asiatic Journal, extracted
from the Government Gazette of Calcutta of
February last. The experiments were insti-
tuted at Meerut. Twenty- four of the 32-
pounder rockets and twelve 18-pounders
were discharged without a single failure.
They were fired with hand-shafts only twelve
feet long, and, at the following elevations,
gave the ranges severally attached. Three
rockets were fired from each elevation.
32- POUNDERS.
Elevation. Average Range in Yards.
20° .,. 1,000
25° , 1,120
30° 1,080
35° J,600
40° 2,080
45° 2,210
50° 2,283
54° 2,123
18-POUNDERS.
20° 1,308
25° 2,133
30° 2,833
35° 2,870
1827.]
[ 315 ]
MONTHLY THEATRICAL REPORT.
THE polite world are now on the wing-.
The nobility of Whitechapel and the opu-
lent of Moorfields, find London insupport-
able, and are roving like butterflies through
the meadows of Margate. Steamers fly
down the Thames at the rate of three
hundred miles a day, and discharge a fair,
gallant, and amatory cargo at the rate of
five hundred tons of humanity a voyage.
Stage coaches race with double velocity,
new establishments of reception houses
for the fractured are propogating along
the favourite roads, and the five hundred
operatives on man, who have not a month
ago taken their degrees in Edinburgh, in
direct defiance of Lord Elleuborough's
famous Act, are already absorbed into the
London surgical circulation, and giving
encouragement for a fresh relay of men
of the tourniquet.
For all this there is a reason, for our
countrymen are nothing without one. The
bee and the ant are honoured by philo-
sophy for making provision in summer for
the wants of the times of frost and snow,
when they can seek and steal no more.
Margate, Brighton, Hastings, the Strand
at Dover, the huts at Sandgate, the three
houses and a half at Eastbourne, the lit-
tle white- washed crescent at Weymouth,
which, from the first south-wester, and
first angry spring-tide may heaven long
preserve, for nothing else can do it ; the
whole circuit of our sweet island, on which
the whole water-loving population are at
this hour performing their ablutions, some
in machines, some in green serge, some in
propatulo, as the doctors of the London
University will have it, clothed only in
the sinless covering of Eve ; some, as at
Brighton, washed by woman, unlike Mac-
beth's witches only in one point, that
their want of beards distinguishes them
from men ; and some, as at Yarmouth, and
through the delicate realm of Norfolk,
washed by men — a fortunate contrivance,
which makes bathing the most popular
amusement possible in that province of
patriots, smugglers, and turkies. But in
all, the grand stimulant is matrimony.
The toil of glory and gain in London is,
unhappily, too headstrong for the tender
passion. The Lord Mayor's coach pass-
ing once a week down Cheapside, the glit-
tering supremacy which even the sheriffs
hold, as surrounded by laced liveries and
bowing constables, they move through the
adoring rabble, and in the sublime sensa-
tion of the moment scarcely deign to re-
cognize their own shops, much less honour
with a glance the genuflexions of their
own shopmen, performing their civic
homage at the door j even the more sober,
grcen-tea-coloured, snuff-coloured, drab-
coloured, trade-complexioned coaches of
the aldermen and common-council, make
an impression on the apprentice senso-
rium that puts to flight all sentiment. The
brightest belles look fatal in rain j the
curls of the most glossy wig of the Ross
dynasty are absolutely thrown away, and
the whole art de faire sauffrir, the last
perfection communicated by the last Pa-
risian femme de chambre of the last Pari-
sian academy, just imported into the ro-
mantic vicinage of Camberwett, Hoxton,
or Lambeth Marsh, might as well be ex-
pended on the fish at Billingsgate. To
be Lord Mayor one day or other, is, as
Alderman Waithman says, an object of
glorious ambition, " worth dying for with-
in an hour after one was born." But once
set the parties on the shore (any shore
will do, from the Isle of Dogs inclusive),
and they feel at once that Venus was born
of the sea, and was in fact nothing but a
handsome kind of Greek oyster. Come
unto these yellow sands, and then take
hands, in the language of nature, by its
natural organ, the lips of Shakspeare.
There the most remote approximate, the
most tardy accelerate, the most feeble in-
vigorate ; the odours of the great, both
from which the goddess of beauty rose
fuming, penetrate the brain ; they smell
the vegetative mud ; saunter along the
shingle to the breathing of the low water
breeze; exchange their mutual morning
gatherings of shells and sea-weed, and
sigh that confession, soft, sweet, and irre-
vocable, for which Moorfields shall yet
rejoice through all her stalls, and the
Minories shall exult in new shops, hops,
and sweet singers of Israel. But London
still retains some few, either whose days
of being smitten have not come, or have
past, or who have lingered to hear Parson
Irving's hot weather cuttings up of the
carnality of the Kirk, or who take an in-
terest in the election of some doctor to
some new college, bringing from the land
of poleetikal ekoonomy, satisfactory cre-
dentials that he involuntarily wears
breeches, and that he does not believe in
God ; or waiting to see what new mi-
nistry we are to have in the next twenty-
four hours ; and how Lord Goderich will
pacify Mr. B. for not being turnspit in.
the king's kitchen^ malgre his being
unrivalled in his qualifications for the
office ; or console the Marquis of L. for not
having the exclusive appointment of those
noble whigs who are ambitious of being
made gentlemen and women of the bed-
chamber, and airing the shirt and slippers
of His Majesty, whom heaven long pre-
serve, in the possession of his own health
and his own kitchen.
2S2
316
Monthly Theatric.q.1 Report.
[SEPT-
There are some still unranked in any of
these classes* Steady scorners of the lo-
comotive propensities of mankind, and
who make a point of going to the theatres
only when something is to be seen worth
going to see — a principle which generally
implies a very slight breach of their dis-
like to motion. Yet it would be unfair to
deny that an evening may be sometimes
spent pleasantly enough at the summer
theatres at the present sitting.
The Haymarket still exhibits the "Ren-
contre," of which we gave the panegyric
last month, which continues to be popular,
and which acted the part of featherbed to
harlequin, in the matter of Mr. Planches
heavy fall last week. In the success of
the " Rencontre," the translator had
hazarded a flying leap at fame, called,
" You must be Buried." It was treated,
as we hope Mr. Planche himself will not
be treated, when he "must be buried."
In short, a sentence set upon it, from
•which no piece in one act, or in five, will
have much the better name ; and " You
must be buried," after two sickly efforts
to prove that it "must live," happily dis-
appeared from the eyes of man. Having
had the single merit of possessing the
most appropriate of all titles, and standing
among those happy instances of modern
genius, by which one journalist entitles
his work the Ass, another the Viper ;
another heads his poems " Nonsense
Verses ;" and another goes about the
world soliciting subscriptions for his epic,
called " Absurdity." " You must be
buried" was equally significant and pro-
phetic; the only possible improvement of
the title would be the addition of " You
shall be d — mn — d" The whole affair
was meant to have some allusion to the
very profitable and unpopular profession
of Undertaking. But the audience thought
it a too grave subject for a farce. Some
felt it personal, and considered that none
but a doctor should remind them of death ;
some thought one act of the kind a great
deal too much ; and Reeve, a much plea-
santer person off the stage than on, gave
it as his private opinion behind the
coulisses, that the dramatis personse much
resembled a deputation of the Humane
Society. Col man, who never misses a good
thing, says, that from the moment he saw
it, he pronounced it " asthmatic," and on
beiug pressed for an explanation, said —
" It was sure to go off in a fit of coffin"
But by the help of Miss E. Tree's bright
eyes and handsome figure, by Madame
Vestris's furious favouritisme, Mr. Far-
ren's oddity, though we think the atti-
tudes of his love scene with the Soubrette
gross, low, and common-place in the most
contemptuous sense of the word, and alto-
gether disreputable to this clever actor,
together with Mr. Cooper's Girth and
worn-out pantaloons, for we must give
him some commemoration, the " Rencon-
tre" goes off swimmingly.
Mr. Poole, too, the essential dramatist
of the Haymarket, the Apollo of its threes-
act pieces from the French, has had, like
Apollo in Midas, a " pretty decent tum-
ble," " Gudgeons and Sharks," a piece
burlesquing the avidity of the vulgar for
place, and the tricks of their betters to
cheat them; a subject that came in the
very crisis of the most showy display of
public trickery witnessed for half a cen-
tury, fell dead at once; dropped like a
victim of the law without a struggle ;
perished in its prime like an apoplectic
Alderman; went off in universal clamour
like Lord Ellenborough's Marriage Act ;
and was buried, like an annuitant, to the
delight of all the parties concerned.
The known talent of the author was OB
this occasion however most vilely second-
ed by the actors. Nothing in the annals
of acting could be duller than every soul
on the stage. Reeve seemed to repeat his
part trusting to the inspiration of his own
genius. Laporte, an actor whom we shall
return to France improved, as an original
offender is improved by a six months resi-
dence Horsemonger-jail, looked unspeak-
able horrors, and talked as he talks Eng-
lish, a style for which language can find
no name. The combination was irre-
sistible, and we scarcely know whether it
was better to perish in Highway Grattan's
Bye-way manner, or not being recited at
all ; or in Poole's, of being recited at the
mercy of Monsieur Laporte's unteachable
tongue.
The Adelphi is getting a new face.
The Strand, destined from its infancy to a
life of dirt, has added to its other species
theatrical rubbish ; and if the coat is to
be evidence of the connexion, no man can
pass within some thousand yards of the
pile without bearing a portion of the
drama on his shoulders.
The Italian Opera is shut, after a stir-
ring season. The house is useful now
chiefly as an excellent place for placard-
ing. The columns are of a convenient
height; and we suggest to Mr. Ebers,
the revenue that he is throwing away by
his neglect of the square foot value of his
architecture. The " Balm of Gilead,"and
" Warren's Blacking" alone would be a
fortune, if he had any of the genius of
finance within his configuration.
The Lyceum is full, up to 110 of the
thermometer. Matthews, with his " Jo-
nathan in England," certainly among the
most repulsive of all his performances ,a
disagreeable picture of the disagreeable, a
caricature of a caricature, the low, selfish,
squalid, aad impudent specimen of the
lowest human brute that degrades even
an American seaport, fights his way ^>c-
J827.]
Monthly Theatrical Report.
317
fore the audience night after night. Why
does the ingenuity of the ingenious mana-
ger," himself a man of taste, and a poet,
puffer the talents of the most dexterous
comedian of his school to be thus humi-
liated ? Why not produce some spirited
sketch of English character, some gentle-
tnau-Hke performance, in which an edu-
cated audience can take some kind of in-
terest. No man could do it more easily
than the manager.
The "Serjeant's Wife" is the popular
afterpiece. It is taken from a newspaper
anecdote of ages ago, since published
among the hideousness of Irish Ro-
mance ; and finally turned into French
location and character by the theatre.
The plot is merely the introduction of a
French soldier's wife with an old fellow-
traveller into a ruined chateau, where an
attempt is made by the inhabitants to cut
the old man's throat. Miss Kelly, the
best melo-dramatist since the brilliant
days of Miss Decamp, plays terror,
anxiety, poisoning, and the sight of mur-
der in perfection ; but the whole concep-
tion of the crime is too real for the stage.
The regular steps of the throat-cutting
scene, shock the audience, and every one
is glad to discover that no blood is actual-
ly running under the curtains. The piece
has an interest, but it is a forbidden, re-
pulsive wnlheatrical interest ; and though
we hate "licencers" we should almost
hare wished that the same policy which
prohibited the display of ThurtelPs ca-
tastrophe, for the benefit of the suburbs,
had relieved us of the Irish-French assas-
sination in the Strand. We were sorry
to see Miss Kelly looking so more than
melo-dramatically thin ; she ought to for-
swear murder till Michaelmas, and go to
the country for the benefit of the legi-
timate drama to come. The character of
this house for music is cleverly sustained
by " The Freebooters," an opera of Paer.
Mere music, with but the usual tyrant,
lover and lady of the Italian Opera, but
on the whole various, gaeeful, and, though
long, not very exhausting.
WORKS IN THE PRESS, AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.
PREPARING FOR THE PRESS.
Lady'Morgan's new work, the O'Briens and
the O'Flaherlys, is on the eve of publication.
A complete Collection of the Parliament-
ary Speeches (corrected) of the Right Hon.
George Canning, with an Authentic Memoir,
which have been some time in the press, will
very shortly be published, illustrated by a
correct and finely executed portrait.
A Portrait of Lady Gruntley is being en-
graved by Meyer, from a painting by Sir W.
I3eechey, which will form the Thirty-fourth
of a Series of Portraits of the Female Nobility,
in the course of publication in La Belle As-
semblee.
The Literary Annuals for 1828 are all in a
state of great forwardness. The Forget Me
Not, The Amulet, and The Literary Souve-
nir, announce fresh attractions, and additional
interest to their former numbers. There will
be two or three new ones this season.
A Defence of the Missions in the South
Sea andSandwich Islands, against the charges
and misrepresentations of the Quarterly
Review, in a letter ad dressed to the Editor of
that Journal!
Rev. Dr. Pye Smith has in the Press a
New Edition, very much enlarged, of his
Discourse on the Sacrifice, Priesthood, and
Atonement of Christ.
The Horticultural Society of London will
commence a Periodical Work on the 1st of
October, to he called the " Pomological
Magazine."
Mr. Ventonillae has in the press a Trans-
lation into French of Bishop Wutson's Apo-
logy for the Bible.
Mr. Thomas Easton Abbott, of Bridling-
tpn, has a Poem in hand, entitled, the " Sol-
dier's Friend," Sacred to the Memory of the
late Duke of York.
The Memoirs and Correspondence of the
late Admiral Lord Collingwood, are very
nearly ready for publication.
A Second Edition of " The Coronation
Oath" considered, with reference to the Prin-
ciples of the Revolution of 1688. By Charles
Thomas Lane, Esq., of the Inner Temple.
Mr. Alex. Irving, of Guildford, is about
to publish a Latin Grammar, with Exercises
in construing and composition.
Dr. Hibbert is in considerable forwardness
with the System of Geology, which he has
many years been preparing for publication.
Mrs. West, Author of a Tale of the Times,
<fcc., has in the press a New Novel, entitled
" Ringrove," or " Old Fashioned Notions/
in 2 vols.
Dr. Scully has nearly ready for publication,
Observations on the Climate of Torquay and
the Southern part of Devonshire generally,
comprising an Estimate of its Value as a
Remedial Agent in Pulmonary Disorders,
&c.
Transactions of the Literary Society of
Madras, 4tov with plates.
Mr. Thomas Maule, Author of Bibliotheca
Heraldica, is preparing.
LIST OF NEW WORKS.
AGRICULTURE.
The British Farmer's Quarterly Magazine,
devoted entirely to Rural affairs. No. 4. 4s.
318
List of New Works.
[SEPT.
Moniealb on Woods and Plantations. 8vo.
7s. 6d. boards.
BOTANY.
The Botanical Register, containing eight
Coloured Plates and Descriptions. By Sy-
denham, Edwards, and others. No. 7, of
vol. 13. 4s.
The Florist's Guide and Cultivator's Di-
rectory. By R. Sweet, F.L.S. No. 3. 4s.
Flora Australasica — the Evergreen and
Scented Plants of New Holland," &e., in-
tended for Conservatories and Rooms. By
R. Sweet, F.L.S. No. 4. 3s.
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &C.
The Chronology of Ancient History in
Qwest ions and Answers. By Mrs. Sherwood.
Vol. 2, and concluding volume. 12mo. 6s.
boards.
Buchanan's History of Scotland, continued
down to the present time. By John Watkins,
LL.D. 1 vol. 8vo. price 15s.
Chronicles of London Bridge. 8vo. 28s.
boards; large paper, £2. 8s.
Bibliotheca Parriana; or a Catalogue of
the Library of the late Rev. and learned Dr.
Parr, interspersed with his Notes, Observa-
tions, and Opinions on Books and their Au-
thors. 8vo. 16s. boards.
Rutter's Questions on Roman History.
12mo. 5s. 6d. boards.
Memorandums, Maxims, and Memoirs.
By W. Wadd, Esq., Surgeon Extraordinary
to the King, &c. 8vo. 9s. boards.
LAW.
Pratt's Criminal Law. 8vo. 5s. boards.
Howard's Colonial Law. 2 vols. royal 8vo.
£3. 3s. boards.
Coventry and Hughes's Index. 2 vols.
royal 8vo. £3. 6s. boards.
Williams's Abstracts of the Acts of 7 and 8
George IV. 8vo. 8s. boards.
Cary's Law of Partnership. 8vo. 14s. bds.
Supplement to Hamilton's Digest, royal
8vo. 8s. boards.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Obadiah's Address from Ireland to the
Worshipful and all Potent People of Almack-'s.
18mo. 2s. 6d. boards.
The Art of Modern Riding, to enable all
to perfect themselves, particularly Ladies,
without the aid of a Master. By Mr. Stanley,
of Vernon's Establishment, Grosvenor-place.
Remarks on the Mustard Tree mentioned
in the New Testament, with a Coloured
Plate. By John Frost, F.A.S. F.L.S. Is. 6d.
A Portrait of Mrs. George Lane Fox;
being the Thirty- third of a Series of Portraits
of Ladies of Distinction. India proof, 5s. ;
plain, 4s.
The State of Society in the Age of Homer.
By W. Bruce, D.D., of Belfast. 8vo. 5s. 6d.
boards.
Foreign Quarterly Review. No. 1. 7s. 6d.
Crowgey's Universal Calculator, and ge-
neral International Accountant ; containing
a Table of Algarisms, or Series of Numbers
in Duplex Arithmetical Progression, <fec.
The Practical Cabinet-maker, Upholsterer,
and Decorator. By Peter and Michael An-
gelo Nicholson, with 103 Coloured and other
illustrative Designs. 1 vol. 4to. £2.
Remonstrance of a Tory to the Rt. Hon.
Robert Peel. 2s.
Twenty-six Illustrations to Walton and
Cotton's Complete Angler. 8vo. prints 21s.,
4to. India proofs £2. 2s.
A Treatise on the Disposition and Duties
of Outposts. Abridged from the German of
Baron Reichlin Von Meldegg by C. W. Short,
Capt., Coldstream Guards. 8vo. 5s. boards.
Architettura Campestre, displayed in Lodges,
Gardener's Houses, and other Buildings,
composed of simple and economical forms in
Modern or Italian style, introducing a Pic-
turesque mode of Roofing. By T. F. Hunt,
royal 4to. 21s. boards.
The Juvenile Forget Me Not. 12mo. 5s.
half bound.
The Common-Place Book of British Elo-
quence. 18mo. 4s. boards.
Lectures on the Study of Natural History,
<fec. By Dr. Wm. Lemprier. Svo. 7s. 6d.
boards.
Alison's Child's French Friend. I8mo.
2s. half bound.
A Course of Elementary Reading in Sci-
ence and Literature. By J. M. M'Culloch,
A.M. 12mo. 3s. 6d. bound.
A Vocabulary to the CEdipus Rex of So-
phocles, containing the English Signification,
<fec.; on the Plan of the Charter-house Vo-
cabularies, for the Use of Schools. By
George Hughes, A.M. 12mo. 2s. 6d.
Cabinet Conversations and Castle Scenes.
18mo. 2s. 6d. boards.
Euclid's Elements systematically Ar-
ranged. 2vo. 10s. 6d. boards.
Emblems pour Les Enfants. Royal 8vo.
3s. 6d. boards.
Classical Manual; or, a Mythological, His-
torical, and Geographical Commentary on
Pope's Homer and Dryden's JEneid of Vir-
gil, with a very copious Index. 8vo. 18s.
boards.
The Annual Register for 1826. 8vo. 16s,
boards.
The Florist's Guide and Cultivator's Di-
rectory, No. 2. Price 3s.
Transactions of the Horticultural Society
of London. Part I. of Vol. VII. In 4to.
£1. 16s.
Encyclopaedia Metropolitan a. Part XXI.
Price 21s. ; large paper, 30s.
Lyrical Essays on Subjects of History and
Imagination.
The Journal or Itinerary of Thomas Beck-
ington, Secretary to Henry VI., and after-
wards Bishop of Batb, Sir Robert Roos,
Knt., and others, during their journey from
Windsor to Bourdeaux, on an embassy to
negociate the marriage between Henry VI.
and one of the daughters of the Count Armi-
nack, in June 1442; from a contemporary
M.S. With illustrative notes, historical and
Biographical. By Nicholas Harris Nicholas,
Esq., F.S.A. 1 vol. 8vo.
1827.]
List of New Works.
319
Rambling Notes and Recollections, sug-
gested during a visit to Paris, in the winter
of 1827. BySir Arthur Brooke Faulkner.
Researches into the Origin and Aflioity of
the Principal Languages of Asia and Eu-
rope. By Lieut.-Col. Vans Kennedy, of the
Bombay Military Establishment. 4to.
Self- Denial, a Tale. By Mrs. Hoffland.
1 vol. ]2mo., with a frontispiece.
Conversations on Animal Economy. With
plates and wood-cuts. 2 vols. 12mo.
An Historical Essay on the Laws and Go-
vernment of Rome. Designed as an Intro-
duction to the Study of Civil Law. By —
Burke, Esq.
POETRY.
Specimens of Sonnets from the most cele-
brated Italian Poets, with Translations. 8vo.
6s. boards.
The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies, Hero
and Leander, Lycus and Centaur, and other
Poems. By Thomas Hood, author of Whims
and Oddities, &c. <fec. post Svo. 8s. boards.
The Pelican Island, and other Poems. By
James Montgomery. 12mo. 8s. boards.
The Orlando Furioso translated. By Wm.
Stewart Rose. Vol. 5. post Svo.
Mont Blanc, and other Poems. By Mary
Ann Browne, in her fifteenth year. Svo.
boards.
Townley on the Law of Moses. Svo.
10s. 6d. boards.
The Battle of Waterloo, a Poem. By
Wm. Cartwrigbt. Svo. 5s. boards.
RELIGION, MORALS, &C.
A Summary View of Christian Principles :
comprising the Doctrines peculiar to Chris-
tianity as a System of Revealed Truth. By
Thomas Finch. 5s. 6d.
The Reasons of the Laws of Moses, from
the More Nevochim of Maimonides ; with
Notes, Dissertations, and a Life of the
Author. By James Townley, D.D. Svo.
]()s. 6d. boards.
The Existence, Nature, and Ministry of the
Holy Angels, briefly considered as an impor-
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tained in the volumes of Divine Revelation.
2s. 6.1.
Finche'sChristian Principles. 12mo. 5s. 6d.
boards.
VOYAGES, TRAVELS, cfec.
A Journal of a Mission to the Indians of
tbe British Provinces of New Brunswick and
Nova Scotia, and the Mohawks, on the Ouse,
or Grand River, Upper Canada. By John
West, M.A. Svo.
The Reign of Doctor Joseph Gaspard Ro-
derick Francia, in Paraguay ; being an Ac-
count of Six Years' Residence in that Re-
public from 1819 to 1825. By Messrs.
Rengger and Longchamps. Svo. boards.
New Publications lately received from
America.
Notes on Colombia, taken in the Years
1822-3 ; with an Itinerary of the Route from
Caracas to Bogota. By an Officer of the
United States army. 1 vol. Svo.
A connected View of the whole Internal
Navigation of the United States, Natural and
Artificial, Pre.<-ent and Prospective; with
Maps. 1 vol. Svo.
American Annual Register, for the Years
1825-6. 1 vol. Svo.
Federalist. New edition. Svo.
American Natural History. By John D.
Godman, M.D. Vol. 1. Part 1— Masto-
logy. (To be completed in 3 vols.)
A Treatise on Physiology applied to Pa-
thology. By F. J. V. Broassais, M.D. 1 vol.
Svo.
America : or, a General Survey of the
Political Situation of the several Powers of
the Western Continent ; with Conjectures on
their future Prospects. By the Author of
Europe, <fec. 1 vol. Svo.
A Report to the Secretary of War of the
United States, on Indian Aftairs. By the
Rev. Jedidiah Aboise,D.D. 1 vol. Svo.
A Greek and English Lexicon of the New
Testament, from the Clavis Philologica of
Christ. Abr. Wahl. By Edward Robinson,
A.M.
A Greek Grammar of the New Testament,
translated from the German of George Bene-
dict Winer, By Moses Stuart and Edward
Robinson. 1 vol. Svo.
The Diplomacy of the United States ;
being an Account of the Foreign Relations
of the Country, from the first Treaty with
France in 17T8 to the Treaty of Ghent in
1814 with Great Britain. 1 vol. Svo.
Constitutional Law : comprising the De-
claration of Independence ; the Articles of
Confederation ; the Constitution of the United
States ; and the Constitutions of the several
States composing the Union. 1 thick volume,
ISmo.
Elements of History, Ancient and Modern ;
with Historical Charts. By J. E. Worcester.
1 vol. 12mo.
Sermons by the late Rev. Samuel C.
Thacker ; with a Memoir by F. W. P. Green-
wood. 1 vol. Svo.
Elements of Mineralogy, adapted to the
Use of Seminaries and Private Students. By
J. L. Comstock, M.D. 1 vol. Svo.
American Quarterly Review, No. 2, for
June.
North American Review, No. 56, for
July.
American Journal of Science. By Pro-
fessor Silliman. Vol. 12, part 2.
[ 320 ] [SEPT.
PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.
Lint of Patents sealed, 1 827.
To Edward Dodd, of Berwick-street, Sobo,
iu the county of Middlesex, musical instru-
ment-maker, for his invention of certain
improvements on pianofortes. Sealed 25th
July ; 6 months.
To Thomas Peck, of Saint John-street, in
the parish of Saint James, Clerkenwell, in
the county of Middlesex, engineer, for bis
invention of the construction of a new en-
gine, worked by steam, which he intends tode-
nominate a revolving steam-engine— 1st Au-
gust ; 6 months.
To William Parkinson, of Barton-upon-
Humber, in the county of Lincoln, gentleman,
and Samuel Crosby, of Cottage-lane, City-
road, in the county of Middlesex, gas-appara-
tus manufacturer, for their having found out
an improved method of constructing and
working an engine for producing power and
motion — 1st August; 6 months.
To Joseph Maudsley, of Lambeth, in the
county of Surrey, engineer, for his invention
of certain improvements on steam-engines —
1st August; 4 months.
To Lionel Lukin, of Lewisham, in the
county of Kent, Esq., in consequence of
communications made to him by foreigners
abroad, and discoveries made by himself for
certain improvements in the manufacture of
collars for draught and carriage horses, and
saddles for draught carriage and saddle horses
— 1st August ; 6 months.
To Eugine du Mesuil, of Soho-square, in
the county of Middlesex, Esq., for his inven-
tion of an improvement or improvements on,
or additions to, stringed musical instruments —
1st August; 6 months.
To Anthony Scott, of Southwark Pottery,
in the county of Durham, earthenware-ma-
nufacturer, for his invention of an apparatus
for preventing the boilers of steam-engines
and other similar vessels of capacity becom-
ing foul, and for cleaning such vessels when
they become foul— 4th August; 2 months.
To Peter Burt, of Waterloo-place, in the
parish of St. Ann, Limehouse, in the county of
Middlesex, mathematical-instrument maker,
in consequence of a communication made
to him by a certain foreigner residing abroad,
for an invention of an improved sleam-en-
gine-*— 4th August ; 6 months.
To John Underbill, of Parkfieldiron-works,
near Wolverhampton, in the county of Staf-
ford, iron-master, for his invention of certain
improvements in machinery or apparatus for
passing boats and other floating bodies, from
a higher to a lower, or a lower to a higher
level, with little or no loss of water, and
which improvements are also applicable to
the raising or lowering of weights on land —
13th August; 6 months.
A grant unto Robert Dickinson, of Bridge-
street, Southwark, in the county of Surrey,
tin-plate merchant, for Ids invention of an
improved buoyant bed or mattrass — 13th Au-
gust; 6 months.
To Thomas Breide-nback, of Birmingham,
in the county of Warwick, merchant, lor his
invention of certain improvements on bed-
steads, and in the making, manufacturing, or
forming articles to be applied to or used in
various ways with bedsteads, from a material
or materials hitherto unused for such purposes.
— 13th August ; 6 months.
To William Alexis Jurrin, of New Bond-
street, in the county of Middlesex, Italian
confectioner, for his invention of certain im-
provements in apparatus for cooling liquids —
13th August; 2 months.
To William Chapman, of the town and
county of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, civil engi-
neer, for his invention of a certain improve-
ment or improvements in the construction of
waggons that have to travel on railways or
on tramways — 14th August ; 2 months.
To Henry Pinkus, of Philadelphia, in the
State of Pennsylvania in the United States of
North America, but now resident at tLe
Quadrant Hotel, Regent street, in the county
of Middlesex, gentleman, for his having in-
vented or found out an improved method or
apparatus for generating gas, to be applied
to lights and other purposes — 15th August ;
6 months.
To William Spong, of Aylesford, in the
county of Kent, gentleman, for an invention
for diminishing friction in wheel-carriages,
water-wheels, and other rotary parts of ma-
chinery— l<5th August; 6 months.
To Lemuel Wellman Wright, of Mansfield-
street, Borough-road, in the county of Sur-
rey, engineer, for his having invented or found
out certain improvements in the construction
of cranes — 17th August ; 6 months.
To Lemuel Wellman Wright, of Mansfield-
street, Borough-road, in the county of Sur-
rey, engineer, for his having invented or
found out certain improvements in machinery
for cutting tobacco — 21st August; 6 months.
List of Patents, which, having been granted
in September 1813, empire in the present
month of September 1827.
4. Jacob Brazil, Great j Yarmouth, for a
machine for working capstans and pumps
on board ships.
— Frank Parkinson, Kingston-upon-Hull,
for a still and boiler for preventing acci-
dents by fire, and preserving the contents
from waste in the operation of distilling
and boiling •
— John Westwood, Sheffield, for emboss-
ing ivory by pressure.
23. Henry Listen, Ecclesmachan, Lin-
lithgow, for certain improvements upon the
plough.
1827.] [ 321 ]
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.
THE RIGHT HON GEORGE CANNING.
THE political life of Mr. Cunning must
be read in the history of his country, in the
parliamentary debates, in the state papers,
<fec. of the last thirty or five and thirty
years. Regarding it through these media,
different inferences will be drawn, different
estimates will be formed, according to the
principles or prejudices of the reader. Under
<>ny circumstances, however, it seems im-
possible— and we make not the remark dis-
respect fully — to consider Mr. Canning other-
wise than as an adventurer ; as a man who,
without family or connexions, made his
way by dint of talent, perseverance, and a
suppleness of ambition, to the highest honours
of the state. Mr. Canning, too, was the
creature of circumstance. He was not a
greater man in the summer of 1827 than he
was in the summer of 1825 ; yet, had he
passed away two years ago, his death would,
comparatively, not have been felt or noticed.
Twenty years hence, if our judgment de-
ceive us not, his memory will be but little
regarded. At the best, his policy on many
points was doubtful. As a scholar, Mr. Can-
ning was elegant and accomplished ; as an
orator, he was caustic, sbewy, brilliant,
and sparkling; as a statesman, he appears
not to have been consistent, profound, or
comprehensive in his views. It is not a little
remarkable that from his warmest eulogists,
his reputation has, since his death, received
the deadliest stabs. Facts, however, not
comments, are our present aim.
Mr. George Canning, the father of the
late premier, was a native of the sister king-
dom, and related to the family of Garvagh,
the present representative of which was
recently elevated to the peerage. He was
educated for the law ; and, without fortune
himself, he married a lady equally destitute.
This offended his wealthy relations ; and,
with only the paltry stipend of £159 per
annum from his father, he came over to
England, became a member of the Honour-
able Society of the Middle Temple, and was
admitted to the bar. He was a man of con-
siderable poetical and literary talent. He
wrote several tracts in favour of public
liberty ; and, amongst other effusions, the
verses supposed to have been written by Lord
William R,ussell, the night before his execu-
tion, are said to have been his. lie is un-
derstood to have lived in humble circum-
stances. We have seen it stated that he died
on the 11th of April, 1771. If so, he died on
the very day that his son George, the subject
of this sketch, completed his first year, as,
according to the inscription on Mr. Canning's
coffin-lid, that gentleman was born on the
llth of April, 1770. Mrs. Canning subse-
quently became the wife of Reddish, a
theatrical performer of some celebrity, who
died insane; and his relict, who died in
MM. Nac Scries.— VoL.IV. No.2l.
March last, at the age of eighty-one,
afterwards married a person— either a linen-
draper or an actor — of the name of Hunri.
George Canning was born at Paddington.
Under the auspices of a paternal uncle, he
was placed at Eton, where his genius soon
became apparent. In the year 1780, he was
one of the senior scholars. He was the
projector and editor of " The Microcosm,"
a periodical paper, which was published by
him and his school -fellows, under the ficti-
tious direction of Gregory Griffin, Esq.
To this work, commenced on the 7th of
November, 1786, and closed on the 30th of
July 1787, Mr. Canning contributed ten or
twelve papers, under the signature <e B,"
all of them distinguished, more or less, by
playfulness of fancy, originality of thought,
and elegance of diction. The Microcosm
has passed through three editions — a fourth
is now in the press, and it is not incurious to
remark that the document still exists, bear-
ing Mr. Canning's signature, and dated July
31, 1787; which, for the sum of fifty gui-
neas, assigned the copyright to Mr. Charles
Knight, of Windsor.
From Eton, Mr. Canning was transferred
to Christ's Church College, Oxford, where
his orations attracted extraordinary notice,
and his Latin poetry was greatly admired.
Having completed his studies at college, he
entered himself at one of the Inns of Court,
and was in due time called to the bar. In
the public debating societies at that period,
he may be suid to have schooled himself for
the senate.
At college Mr. Canning had formed some
good connexions. He was intimate with the
present Earl of Liverpool, and, upon bis
entrance into life he is understood to have
derived considerable advantage from the
friendship of Mr. Sheridan. It is said to
have been owing to the advice of that gen-
tleman, that he attached himself to the
ministerial party. Mr. Pitt became his
patron. At the age of three ami twenty, he
succeeded Sir Richard Wolesley, as M. P.
for the borough of Newport, in the Isle of
Wight ; and, on the 31st of January, 1794,
he delivered his maiden speech in parliament,
in favour of the subsidy proposed to be
granted to the King of Sardinia. His re-
ception was auspicious, and his subsequent
political progress was rapid. In J796 he
was appointed one of the under secretaries
of state. A more important event occurred
to him in the year 1799 : this was his mar-
riage with Miss Joan Scott, one of the
daughters and co-heiresses of General Scott,
whose immense fortune had been made by
play. Miss ScoH's two sisters were mar-
ried ; one to Lord Downe, and the other to
the Marquis of Tichfield, now Duke of
Portland.
About the latter period, or rather before,
2 T
322
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
[SEPT.
" The Anti- Jacobin Examiner," a weekly
satirical paper of great wit and talent, was
brought out in support of the administration.
Mr. Frere, Mr. Ellis, and Mr. Canning are
understood to have been the parlies chiefly
concerned in its publication. Mr. Pitt, him-
self, is said to have been a contributor; and
that Mr. Canning was one of its principal
supporters, there is no doubt. His " New
Morality," a parody on Milton's" Morning
Hymn" — his " Lives of the Triangles," in
which Dr. Darwin's poetical style, and the
principles of the jacobin reformers were
most laughably burlesqued — " The Student
of Goltingen,'* a mock tragedy, in ridicule
of the German drama, <fec., and his " Uni-
versal Benevolence," a parody on one of
Soulbey-'s Sapphics, entitled " The Widow,'*
constituted some of the severest and most
effective satires of the time.
Mr. Canning went out of office with Mr.
Pitt, in 1801 ; and, during the ensuing
short administration of Mr. Addington and
his colleagues, he showed himself a most
powerful antagonist both in and out of par-
liament. His poetic.'il squibs of that period
were equally laughable, and perhaps equally
severe with those which had appeared in
" The Anti-Jacobin Examiner;" but, in
elegance and sarcastic point they were cer-
tainly inferior.
With Mr. Pitt he returned to office in 1 804,
and succeeded Mr. Tierney, in the office of
treasurer of the navy, which he continued to
hold till Mr. Pitt's death in 1806. He was
also honoured with a seat at the Board of
Privy Council. On Mr. Pitt's death, he again
went into opposition: but, soon afterwards
he joined the Duke of Portland, and became
Secretary of State for the Foreign depart-
ment. It was during this secretaryship that
he made his famous speeches on the bom-
bardment of Copenhagen, and the seizure
of the Danish Fleet; and, during his secre-
taryship, also, that (on the morning of Sep-
tember 1, 1809), he fought a duel upon a
dispute arising out of ths conduct of the
Walcheren expedition, with the late Mar-
quis of Londonderry, then Lord Castlereagh,
Secretary for War and Colonies. The par-
ties met on Putney Heath ; on the second
fire, Mr. Canning received his adversary's
ball in his thigh ; but. as there was no frac-
ture, he recovered sufficiently to attend the
levee on the 1 1 th of October, and resign his
seals of office. Lord Castlereagh also re-
signed. Mr. Canning had declared that Lord
Castlereagh was a man whom he could not
act with ; but both parties afterwards came
into office, and Mr. Canning condescended
to act under Lord Castlereagh. The dis-
cussion of this affair alone might occupy
several pages. All that we shall observe is
— the conduct of politicians appears to be
directed by principles and feelings very dif-
different from those of the rest of man-
kind.
In 1812, Mr. Canning identified himself
with the Marquis of Wellesley, endeavoured
to effect a coalition with the Grey and Gren-
ville party, and was very active in the poli-
tical discussions of the period. In 1812,
too, he first offered himself as a candidate
for the representation of Liverpool. He was
four times elected a representative for that
town, but never without a strong opposition.
The second election took place after his
embassy to Lisbon, the third in 1818, and the
fourth in 1820.
It was in 1816, that Mr. Canning went
out as ambassador to the court of Portugal,
on the allowance of £14,000 a year: his
acceptance of which was severely animad-
verted upon in parliament. In 1818 he
came into office as president of the Board of
Controul, for India affairs. In 1820, on the
commencement of proceedings against her
Majesty Queen Caroline, he resigned his
office, and retired to the continent. Having
returned to England, he was in the ensuing
year appointed Governor-General of India.
He had actually taken leave of his consti-
tuents at Liverpool, for the purpose of pro-
ceeding to Bengal, when the sudden death of
the Marquis of Londonderry offered to him
the more desirable post of Secretary of State
for the Foreign department. He accepted
that office, and held it until the lamented
illness of the Enrl of Liverpool rendered it
necessary to appoint a successor to that
nobleman. Mr. Canning considered the
premiership as his inheritance; he received
his Majesty's commands to re-organize the
cabinet ; his Grace the Duke of Wellington,
Lord Eldon, Mr. Peel, and three or four
other members of the Liverpool administra-
tion resigned ; and Mr. Canning becoming
first lord of the treasury, formed a coalition
with several of the leading Whigs. Every
thing connected with this subject is of a date
too recent to require further illustration
from us.
Mr. Canning's talents, as they were dis-
played in the composition of state papers,
during the war of the French Revolution,
were of a very high order. He appeared to
equal advantage in the long and voluminous
correspondence, which during his secretary-
ship he carried on with the American minis-
ter, Mr. Pinkney, respecting the points in
dispute between the British and American
governments. During the time that Mr.
Canning is undersood to have had the ar-
rangement of the royal speeches, delivered
at the opening and close of eveiy parlia-
mentary session, those documents were re-
markable for perspecuity, point, and luminous
expedition. Mr. Canning's oratory was
similar in its character so his literary produc-
tions. It was fluent, perspicuous, brilliant,
and epigrammatic. Mr. Canning was more
eloquent than argumentative, more persua-
sive than convincing, more sarcastic than
impressive. Altogether, he was a man
highly gifted, eminently qualified to arrest
and command attention.
Mr. Canning's health had for some time
beeu seriously affected ; but, we believe, not
1S27.]
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
323
the slightest apprehension of danger was en-
tertained. It is more than probable that his
death was accelerated by the high mental
exc-itement to which he had been for many
weeks, if not months, subjected. The dis-
ease which ultimately consigned him to the
grave, appears to have been a general inter-
nal inflamation. It was not until the morn-
ing of Sunday, the 5th of August, that the
first bulletin respecting bis illness, was issued,
that the public were first apprised of his
alarming indisposition ; and so rapid was his
illness in its progress, that at ten minutes
before four o'clock, on the morning of the
Wednesday following (Aug. 8) he expired.
Daring his illness, Mr. Canning was sedu-
lously and unremittingly attended by his
amiable wife, and his daughter, the Mar-
chioness of Clanricarde. Mr. Canning's
eldest son died on the 31st of March, 1820,
in the 19th year of his age. He has left
two other sons : the first a post captain in
the navy, and the second, a youth about
fourteen or fifteen years of age.
Mr. Canning's remains were interred in
Westminster Abbey, near the grave of Mr.
Pitt, on the 1 6th of August. The fune-
ral was strictly private. The chief mourn-
ers were Mr. Canning's son, the Duke
of Portland, and the Marquis of Clanri-
carde. There was nine mourning coaches,
and several carriages of the nobility, &c.
Amongst the distinguished personages who at-
tended, were the Dukes of Clarence, Sussex,
and Devonshire, the Marquises of Anglesea
and Lansdown, the Lord Chancellor, the
Lords Goderich, Seaford, and Cowper, Count
Munster, and about fifty other noblemen. —
The funeral service was read by the Dean of
Westminster.
The coffin in which were inclosed the re-
mains of the late premier, was covered with
crimson velvet. On the coffin plate was
engraven the family arms and motto of the
deceased; and beneath, the following in-
scription:—
Depositum.
THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE CANNING,
One of His Majesty's Most Hon. Privy Council,
First Lord Commissioner of HisMajesty's Treasury,
Chancellor and Under Treasurer of the
Exchequer of Great Britain and Ireland,
And a Governor of the Charter house, &c. &c.
Born the llth of April, 1770.
Died 8th August, )827.
SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Sir George Rowland Beaumont, Bart., of
Sloughton Grange, in the county of Lei-
cester, D.C.L., F.R.S., and S. A., and a
Trustee of the British Museum, was born at
Dunmow, in Essex, in November 1753. He
was the only child of Sir George Beaumont,
by Rachel, daughter of Matthew Howland,
of Stonehall, Dunmow, Esq. He succeeded
to his title and paternal estate in 1762. He
was educated at Eton, and at New College,
Oxford. In 1778, he married Margaret,
daughter of John Willes, of Astrop, in North-
amptonshire, Esq., the eldest son of Lord
Chief Justice Willes.
Sir George Beaumont commenced the tour
of Europe in 1782. At the general election
in 1790, be was returned as one of the re-
presentatives of the borough of Beeralston,
in Devonshire ; but he sat during only one
parliament.
Sir George Beaumont was long known as
an amateur and connoisseur of the Fine
Arts. Many admirable productions of his
pencil have at different times graced the
walls of Somerset House. He was honoured
with the friendship of Sir Joshua Reynolds,
who bequeathed him his Return of the Ark,
by Sebastian Bourdon. This is one of the
sixteen pictures which Sir George, a year or
two before his death, presented to the Na-
tional Gallery. A portrait of Sir George,
engraved by T.S. Agar, from a painting by
Hoffner, in the possession of Lord Mulgrave,
was published in the year 1812, in CadelTs
British Gallery of Contemporary Portraits.
Sir George Beaumont died of an attack
of erysipelas in the head, at his seat Cole-
Orton Hall, Leicestershire, on the 7th of
February. Leaving no issue, he is suc-
ceeded in his title and estates by his first
cousin, now Sir George Howland Willoughby
Beaumont, who has married a daughter of
the Bishop of London.
THE REV. DR. DAUBENY.
The Venerable Charles Daubeny, D.C.L.,
Archdeacon and one of the Prebendaries of
Salisbury, Fellow of Winchester College,
and Vicar of North Bradley in the county of
Wilts, was born aboutthe year 1744. He was
of lineal descent from a Norman attendant
on the conqueror at the battle of Hastings,
and collaterally from Sir John Daubeny,
brother of the Earl of Bridgwater. Through
life he appears to have been deeply im-
pressed with a high sense of the real value
of hereditary distinction — that of exciting its
possessor to honourable action, that he may
reflect lustre, rather than disgrace, upon the
name of his ancestors. Educated for the
church, he had long been one of its most
distinguished, most efficient members, evinc-
ing, at all times, the highest sense of official
duty, combined with the most zealous soli-
citude to defend and support the great cause
in which he was engaged in an age of scep-
tical indifference to the interests of truth.
His literary productions, in several volumes,
constitute splendid monuments of ecclesias-
tical knowledge and attachment to ancient
principles. Amongst these may be particu-
larly mentioned his celebrated Guide to the
Church : also his Vindiciee Ecclisice Angli-
canee, in which some of the False Reasonings,
Incorrect Statements, and palpable Mis-
representations in a Publication entitled
" The True Churchman ascertained," by
John Overton, A.B., are pointed out. The
latter was published in the year 1803, the
former at an earlier period. In 1803 he
3T2
324
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
[SEPT,
also wrote, and preached at Christ Church,
Bath, "A Sermon on His Majesty's Call
for the United Exertions of his People
against the threatened Invasion." In
1605, his " Charge delivered at the Primary
Visitation of the Rev. the Archdeacon of
Sarum," attracted much notice by the ex*-
cellent sense, and correct feeling which it
throughout displayed. We cannot resist the
inclination of transcribing from it the fol-
lowing paragraph respecting the behaviour
of a clergyman: — " It is a remark not un-
commonly made, that what m»y be done
by a Christian without offence, may also,
without impropriety, be done by a clergy-
man ! But this remark is certainly founded
in error ; an error which, in its application
to our present stabject, may be productive of
most important effects. The example of the
clergy is at all times necessary to enforce
the precepts they inculcate. A minister of
Christ, therefore, should abstain from appa-
rent, no less than from positive evil, be-
cause his influence on the public mind should
be preserved in as unimpaired a state as pos-
sible. Should therefore his indulgence in
pursuits and amusements, in themselves in-
different perhaps, when considered with re-
spect to others, tend in any degree to lesson
that reverence for his character, which is
essential to the effectual discharge of his
important office ; should he riot be able to
restrain himself from temporary gratification
that is to be enjoyed at such an expense,
with what grace will he preach to others the
necessary practice of self denial on still
more important occasions. To all such
cases, the doctrine of expediency, on the
authority of St. Paul, strictly applies. For
in matters which may affect the salvation of
others, admitting that they are allowable in
themselves, the charity of our religion calls
on us to respect even the scruples of our
weaker brethren. It is the position of St.
Paul, that when we sin against the breihrep,
and wound their weak conscience, we sin
against Christ."
Dr. Danbeny, if we mistake not, was one
of the chief theological contributors to the
Anti- Jacobin Review. Independently of his
discussions with Mr. Overton, we have rea-
son to suppose that he was also concerned
in the Blagdon Controversy ; a controversy
in which Mrs. Hannah More, as one of the
patronesses of what is termed the Evangeli-
.cal Sect in the Church of England, was im-
plicated, and which excited considerable at-
tention in the religious world, about four or
five and twenty years ago.
Through the combined influence of a tran-
quil disposition, unremitting abstemiousness,
and studious habits, Mr. Daubeny retained
his intellectual vigour unimpaired till the
close of his earthly existence. He had re-
cently committed a controversial production
to the press ; and, at the earnest recommen-
dation of a literary friend, he had made con-
siderable progress in an auto-biographical
work. It is much to be wished that what-
ever may have been written of the latter
may be given to the public.
Possessed of extensive erudition, inflexible
integrity, and sterling worth, it is not sur-
prising that Dr. Daubeuy should have been,
on royal suggestion, under three successive
administrations, selected, as he was qualified,
for the episcopal church. Through inter-
vening contingencies, however, he was un-
fortunately suffered to remain unrequited
with prelacy.
The parochial district entrusted to Dr.
Daubeuy ;s care will transmit to posterity
extraordinary indications of his pastoral re-
gard. He was the founder of an elegant
chapel of ease at Road, and of two alms-
houses at Bradley, with three official manses.
He also became a parochial benei'actor to
the amount of 10.000Z. superadded to aug-
mentation of incumbency, by surrender of
his personal interest in the rectorial tithes,
with an annual donation of 100/. to the
poor. Christ Church, Bath— a structure, the
lower aisie of which was intended solely for
the public of every description, and was
thence generally called the Free Church —
owes it existence to Dr. Daubeny.
. This truly Christian pastor completed an
archdeaconal visitation the week before his
death ; and he delivered an address to his
congregation at Road, only forty-eight hours
before he was summoned to surrender bis
important charge. It is hardly necessary to
add that Dr. Daubeny was a decided oppo-
nent to the doctrines of Calvinism, and also
of what is termed Catholic Emancipation.
His decease, at the present eventful crisis,
will consequently be regarded in different
lights by different religious and political
parties.
Dr. Daubeny's kindness, no less than his
munificence to every branch of his family,
was exemplary. He died universally re-
gretted at his vicarage, North Bradley, on the
10th of July.
SIGNIOR SAPIO.
Signior Sapio, the father of Mr. Sapio,
the distinguished tenor of Coveut Garden
theatre, and of Mr. A. Sapio, a bass singer,
attached to the Royal Academy of Music,
was a celebrated Italian professor of sing-
ing. At Paris, he was chapel-master ; he
was the instructor of Marie Antoinette,
the unfortunate queen of Louis XVI. ; and
he had the honour of being preferred to
Piccini,Sacchini, and Gluck, his rivals at
the French court. He had married a
French lady ; but, from the nature of his
connexions, he was under the necessity
of emigrating- with his family at the com-
mencement of the Revolution. He came
over lothis country ; aud so widely had his
lame spread, that, immediately on his arri-
val, he was appointed sing-ing- master to
the Duchess of York, and afterwards to the
Princess of Wales. These appointments
g-ave him additional eclat j he was courted
1827. 1 Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons. 3'25
for his instruction by all the higher nobi- and expression ; nor was the facility with
lity ; and, for many years, he continued at which he imparted its peculiarities to his
the head of his profession in the fashion- pupils less extraordinary. Signior Sapio
able world. The superiority of his style died on the night of the 30th of June, after
was ascribed to its incomparable feeling a short illness. He was iu his 77th year.
MONTHLY MEDICAL REPORT.
CLOUDS, showers, and light winds have prevailed in the metropolis and its neigh-
bourhood very generally since the date of the last Report. One or two days have
been characterized by a close and sultry heat ; but the usual range of the thermometer
has been from 65° to 75°. The evenings have been cool, and the nights, in general,
cold. With such a condition of the atmosphere, it is not to be expected that any very
•violent epidemic should reign. The complaints have, indeed, partaken cf that cha-
racter which is common at this season; that is to say, they have been bilious. The
functions of the liver and upper bowels have been manifestly disordered, and from this
source have proceeded many other groupes of symptoms ; but there has been no viru-
lence or malignity in the disease, and the mortality from this cause has proved below
that of ordinary seasons.
One important distinction may be drawn among the bilious cases which the last
month has presented. Some have been attended with alternate chills, and flushes of
heat, and weakness of the limbs — in other words, with fever ; while others have been
free from all marks of pyrexial excitement. The following may be taken as an instance
of the latter, or the simple bilious disorder of the season. A school-boy, aged about
thirteen, came under the Reporter's care, on the 2d of August, complaining of the
severest pain and stiffness of the lower extremities. He was unable to walk across the
room, or even to raise his foot upon a stool. Sleep was totally denied him by the
violence and obstinacy of the pain. His pulse, however, was unaffected, his tongue
clear, and the skin natural. His appetite was good, and the expression of his coun-
tenance unaltered. A moment's reflection convinced the Reporter that this singular
affection of the lower extremities could have its source only in sympathy with the
stomach and liver, that important centre of healthy and of unhealthy action, where,
rather than in the heart or in the brain, the old pathologists fixed the domicile of their
archaeus, or governing principle of the animal ceconomy. An emetic was prescribed,
which detached from the stomach and duodenum a large quantity of viscid rnucus and
of acrid bile. Some amendment followed instantly ; and the cure was completed in
forty-eight hours, by the aid of some appropriate aperients. A variety of cases, vary-
ing in the character of the leading symptom, but pathologically allied to the preced-
ing, have been recently met with.
. Wherever, from the greater severity of the disease, its more gradual advances or
other less obvious circumstance, fever has been superadded to the truly bilious symp-
toms, more time has been required for the cure, and more delicacy in the administration
of the necessary remedies. The following have been the most usual complaints of
patients labouring under the bilious fever of the present season. — Alternate chills and
flushes; a feeling as if they had been beaten all over the body with slicks; pains of
the legs and arms in particular; dryness of ihe mouth and throat ; nausea and disposi-
tion to sickness ; oppression at the chest ; head-ache, particularly severe on one side ;
great languor ; and total loss of appetite. To the physician's eye, the tongue appears
but little affected. The pulse is small, feeble, and, as it were, oppressed. The bowels
are sometimes confined, sometimes in a natural state. Piles have been a very frequent
concomitant of the other symptoms, and have contributed to shew that the proximate
cause of the disorder is a constricted state of the vessels supplying the chylopoietic
viscera. The obvious means of relief are the employment of calomel, emetic tartar,
ipecacuanha, and Dover's powder, iu doses and combinations suited to the strength of
the patient's habit, and the irritability or torpor of the stomach and bowels, but for
which no specific rules can possibly be laid down. The treatment thus began is to be
actively followed up by a solution of Epsom salts in peppermint-water, or by a mild
infusion of senna with aromatics or carbonate of soda, according as languor or acidity
predominate. Perseverance in these or similar means, for several days after the
apparent cessation of urgent symptoms, is requisite to prevent relapses, which have
been, unfortunately, but too frequent.
. It has not occurred to the Reporter to witness as yet any cases of decided cholera;
but he has seen several of very pure dysentery, and he has reason to believe that this
disorder is daily becoming more prevalent. It has for its predisposing causes, warmth,
with moisture of the atmosphere 3 just as catarrh, the corresponding affection of the
320 Monthly Medical Report. [SEPT.
other extremity of the great alimentary lube, has for its source atmospheric moisture,
with cold. In one instance, the dysenteric symptoms were so urgent as to call for the
loss of blood from the arm ; but the remedy which the Reporter has hitherto found
efficacious is the combination of calomel with opium. Three grains of the former with
one of the latter, repeated at intervals of eight hours, have afforded the greatest relief.
Castor-oil has proved a valuable auxiliary, superior to Epsom salts.
This month has proved very fatal to consumptive patients. A high range of atmos-
pheric heat is more oppressive to them than even severe cold ; and we may readily
judge, from the facts which are now passing before our eyes, how highly injurious it
must be to send patients, in the last and confirmed stage of this disorder, to a very hot
climate; such, for instance, as that of Naples or Malta. There they sink rapidly under
the debilitating effects of excessive heat ; and their last moments are thus unassuaged
by the sympathies and solaces of surrounding relatives and friends !
GEORGE GREGORY, M.D.
8, Upper John Street, Golden Square, Aug. 21, 182T.
MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
THE wheat harvest commenced generally with this month throughout all but the
northern districts; in some parts however, suddenly and unexpectedly, as in Berks,
where perhaps this golden crop has sustained more damage than in any other districts.
The latter end of last month was so dry and scorching iu that county, though heavy
rains fell elsewhere, that there appeared a sudden and unexpected necessity for the
immediate employment of the sickle. A strong, drying, VV.N.W. wind did considerable
damage in exposed situations, to the extent, it is agreed on all hands, of full eight
bushels per acre, most of those lands having more wheat blown from the ears than
would have sufficed for seed. The forward oats, also, were considerably shaken and
damaged. Instant recourse was had to the sickle, but the fine days which succeeded,
rendered the wheat more ripe and apt to be shaken out ; and notwithstanding all pos-
sible care in binding the sheaves, a large succeeding portion of wheat has been shaken
out, and numbers of ears broken off. Happily, such loss has occurred in very few
places. As far as can be yet determined, wheat on all good lands is heavy enough to
stamp the crop an average one throughout. It is nevertheless not sufficiently prolific
to signalize the year in which it occurs. As far as we have either seen or heard, there
is not that profusion of ponderous, nodding, and highly-filled ears, which usually dis-
tinguishes the great wheat year in our reckoing. We have not yet found a wheat
ear containing eighty to ninety odd kernels, such as we have both formerly seen and
grown.
The present harvest will produce a q. s. of smutty and discoloured wheat, the pro-
duce equally of steeped and unsteeped seed; a consideration which we humbly sub-
mit to a writer some years since in the Farmers' Magazine of Scotland, (if happily
now living) who pronounced with the utmost gravity, that " It was equally disgraceful
to a farmer to grow smutty wheat, as to be personally afflicted with a certain disease."
Barley is generally deemed the largest crop, and beyond an average. Oats have been
much improved by the late rains, and in certain fortunate districts will approach an
average. Pulse will be generally defective in the pod, but the quality good. Hops
will be three parts of a full crop. Turnips the same. Mangold wurtzel abundant,
and good. That roof of scarcity, so decried and ridiculed in its early day, is now
universally and duly appreciated by the farmers, and has certainly proved the best
preventive of scarcity of any article of the same kind ever introduced into this coun-
try ; due thanks and honour to Sir Mordaunt Martin, the wuzzelly-fuzzelly knight of
Long1 Melford, Suffolk— so the honourable baronet, within our recollection, was styled
at market dinners. This root, however (of which Sir Mordaunt was the earliest and
most sanguine experimenter), it must be acknowledged, as a cattle food, is greatly
inferior in quality to carrots, Swedish turnips, and even to our English turnips, on real
turnip soils. The chief merits of mangold wurtzel are its great productiveness, its
success on inferior soils, even on clays ; and the resistance which its substantial and
hardy leaves offer to the amber louse, parent of the fly. It is however dangerous food
to cattle in the autumn, and previously to its sweat, or being freed from its superfluous
and unwholesome juices.
Hay is fine in quality, but defective in weight of crop. The rains have been gene-
rally insufficient, and it is now too late to think of a crop of after-grass. Large
breadths of failing oats were fed off with sheep, and the land sown with rape and
turnips for winter food j but great difficulties must yet be expected in feeding live
1827.] Monthly Agricultural Report. 327
stock. Vetches are expected to be a good crop. It seems a general fruit season. It
scarcely needs repetition, that all fat stock finds a ready sale and good price, with the
reverse of (he picture for lean stores, though sheep are said to have somewhat advanced,
and pig-stock sell readily and well. The dull and plentiful season for horses is at hand,
but the young and good seem to command a price at all seasons. It should be univer-
sally known that Mr. Coke, of Holkham, uses ox-teams with his horses ; an example well
worthy to be followed in those counties, where that most profitable practice is neg-
lected through mere prejudice and want of experience. On that topic reference may
advantageously be had to "The General Treatise on Cattle, the Ox, the Sheep, and
the Swine." Farmers complain — let them then search out every mode of profitable re-
trenchment-, and it is submitted to them, whether a recourse to certain of those crops
beneficially cultivated by their fathers, in turn with corn crops, might not suit the
present posture of their affairs.
It is observed universally, that "farmers were never more ready for harvest," and
thus far, it appears, there never was a more quick and favourable harvest. The fal-
lows, too, are in great forwardness (indeed upon lands where there ought to be no
fallows) and much manuring has been done. It is to be regretted, however, that foul
tilths are too general, and an immense breadth of land, perhaps in every county, is
wasted in growing weeds instead of corn. Ghosts, which so opportunely appeared in
former days, have unfortunately cut our acquaintance in these latter, now that the
appearance of old Jethro Tull is so much wanted j but however grave he might look
in viewing our luxuriant crops of couch, and lock, and thistle, and charlock, et id genus
omne, his reverend phiz would surely relax into a smile, at the felicitous idea of laying
salt, by hand, upon the heads, not the tails, of thistles!
In the north of Scotland, reports of their crops are most favourable, indeed more so
than on their best soils, whence the accounts of the wheat crop are not so flattering.
They write of "a tulip-root disease" in oats, of which we in the south would thank
them for a description. The wheat crop in Ireland, and upon the continent generally,
is said to be abundant; the result to this country we shall without much doubt have an
opportunity to witness, in the course of the ensuing year. Much is said in the tone
of complaint, of the immense import of oats 3 but were they not wanted, they could not
be imported.
Smithfield.—Eeef, 4s. to 5s. — Mutton, 3s. lOd. to 4s. lOd. — Veal, 5s. to 5s. 8d.—
Pork, 4s. 4d. to 5s. 8d. —Lamb, 4s. 6d. to 5s. 2d. — Raw fat, 2s. «5d.
Corn Exchange.—- Wheat, <50s. to 68s. — Barley, 28s. to 36s. — Oats, 19s. to 40s.—
Bread, 9|d. the 4 Ib. loaf. — Hay, 80s. to 120s. — Clover ditto, 90s. to 150s. — Straw,
36s. to 48s.
Coals in the Pool, 29s. 6d. to 39s. per chaldron ; about J2s. addition for cartage, &c.
Middlesex, Aug. 27, 1827.
MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.
Sugars. — Since our last Report, the Sugar market has been daily advancing in prices. —
Low Browns, 63s. to 64s. ; and finer qualities in proportion. The sales have been very
extensive — as much as that 7000 hgds. have been sold in the course of four days— and the
stock on hand greatly reduced. Refined Sugars are in such great demand, that there is not
at present a sufficient quantity in the market for the consumption ; and the price advanced
full 2s. per cent, since our last Report.
Coffee. — The quantity or St. Domingo Coffee lately brought forward for sale has been
very extensive. Jamaica Triage, 39s. to 50s. in bond ; good, 46s. to 50s.; fine, <50s. to 52s.
Cotton.— The Cotton market, both here and at Liverpool, remains very dull. — Common
West-India, 6d. to 7£d.per Ib.; Smyrna, 8d. to 9id. ; New Orleans, 6£d. to 8^L ; Demarara,
7d. to 16d.
Rum.— The Government contract of 100,000 gallons has nearly cleared the market of
this description of Leward Island, which sells at 2s.2d. to 2s. 3d. per gallon.
Brandy and Hollands.— Little has been done in either, and the prices uncertain, and in
little or no demand.
Flax, Hemp, and Tallow.— The latter article has fallen in price, owing to the expecta-
tion of the arriv-al of large quantities exported from Russia, which have been purchased there
at favourable prices ; and there is no alteration in the prices of Flax and Hemp.
Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 4. — Rotterdam, 12,4. — Hamburgh,
37. 1.— Altona, 37. 8.— Paris, 25. 80.— Bordeaux, 25. 80.— Frankfort on the Main,
328
Monthly Commercial Report.
[SEPT.
154. —Vienna, 10. 8.— Trieste, 10.9. — Madrid, 34. — Cadiz, 34.— Barcelona, 33.—
Bilboa, 34$.— Seville, 34.— Gibraltar (hard dollar), 45.— Naples, 38.— Palermo, 115 per
oz. — Lisbon, 40. — Oporto, 40|. — Bahia, 41. — Dublin, !£.— Cork, 1*.
Portugal Gold in Coin, 0. — Bullion per Oz. — Foreign Gold in bars, £3. 17s. 6d. — New
Doubloons, £0, Os.— New-Dollars, 4s. 9|d.— Silver in bars, standard 0.
Premiums on Shares and Canafs, and Joint-Stock Companies, at the Office of WOLFE,
BnoTHERS, 23, Change 4 '.ley, Cornhill.— Birmingham CANAL, 305^.— Coventry. 12601.—
Ellesmere and Chester, 107/. — Grand Junction, 307/. — Kennet and Avon, 30/. 10*.— Leeds
and Liverpool, 390/.— Oxford, 730f.— Regent's, 30/. ]0,s.— Trent and Mersey, 1,700^.
— Warwick and Birmingham, 290/. — London DOCKS, 87/. Os. — West-India, 205/. Os. —
East London WATBR WORKS, 122/. — Grand Junction, 64|Z. — West Middlesex, 68/. —
Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE. — 1 dis. — Globe 15J|/. — Guardian, 21£/. ~
Hope, 51. — Imperial Fire, 951. — GAS-LIOHT, Westmin. Chartered Company, 591. — City
Gas-Light Company, 167iJ. — British, 14 dis.— Leeds, 195/.
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 23d of July
and the 21s# of August 1827 / extracted from the London Gazette.
BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.
Corbyn, J. Tokenhouse-yard, Lothbury, mastcr«
mariner
Corticld, C. W. Norwich, carrier
Edwards, C. Cambridge, money-scrivener
Franks, K. Portsea, glass-dealer
Hiibbard, E. and W. H. Alexander, Norwich,
manufacturers
Robertson, A. White Horse-terrace, Stepney,
baker
BANKRUPTCIES. [This Month 82.]
Solicitors' JVames are in Brackets.
Andrews, J. Swindon, Wiltshire, mercer. [Meg-
frison and Co., Gray's-inn ; Crowley, Swindon
Allen, W. London-road, Surrey, dealer. [Vincent,
Clifford'sinn"
Bell, T. Liverpool, grocer. [Willett, Essex-street,
Strand ; Parkinson and Co., Liverpool
Barnes, T. Wittersham, Kent, linen-draper. [Egan
and Co., Essex-street, Strand
Bryce, D. Liverpool, cabinet-maker. [Finlow,
Liverpool ; Chester, Staple-inn
Britton.T. Pensfold, Somersetshire, dealer. [Hicks
and Co., Bartlett's-buildings, Holborn ; Greville,
Bristol
Barrett, H. Gloucester, musical instrument seller.
[Watson and Co., Falcon-square
Booth, W. Duke-street, Manchester-square, book-
seller. [Suttcliffe, New Bridge-street, Black-
f ri ars
Brown, G. Banbury, Oxfordshire, miller. [Aplin,
B anbury
Brown, S. Old-street, straw-bonnet-manufacturer.
[Willis, Sloane-square, Chelsea
Boyce, G. P. Princes-street, Haymarker, stove-
maker. [Goren and Co., Orchard-street, Port-
man-square
Beardmore, W. Levenslmlme, Lancashire, malt-
dealer, [Milne and Co., Temple ; Pickford,
Manchester
Bent, R. Lucas-street, Commercial-road, master-
mariner. [Tilliard, Old Jewry
Chisholm, J. late of Harwich, chemist. [Crouch,
Union-court, Broad-street
Croft, G. Oxford-street, mercer. [Crowden and
Co., Lothbury
Courtney, J. Bristol, banker. [Cooke and Son and
Haberneld, Bristol; Clarke and Co., Chancery-
lane
Cropley, E. Frith-street, Soho, merchant. [May-
hew, Chancery-lane
Coupland, W. T. Liverpool, factor. [Arlington
and Co., Bedford-row ; Radcliffe and Co., Liver-
pool
Clarke, W. Northampton, innkeeper. [Jeyes,
Chancery-lane; Jeyes, Northampton
Carpenter, W. Broad -street, Bloomsburv, book-
seller. [Suttcliffe, Bridge-street, Black'friars
Chieslie, R, I. Green-street, Grosvenor-square,
milliner. [Goren and Co., Orchard-street, Port-
mati-square
Child, D. Beauvoir-place, Kingsland-road, piano-
forte-maker. [Phipps, Basinghall -street
Chittenden, I. senior, Chittenden, I. junior, Hay's-
wharf, Hay's-lane, Southwark, hop-merchants.
[Thompson and Co , King's Arms-yard, Cole-
man-street
D'Oyle, N. L. Vauxhalt Bridge-road, painter.
[Finch. Dean-street, Soho
Davison, J. W. Crown-street, Westminster, flint-
merchar:t. [Bowden, Cloak-lane
Dugdall, J. Portsmouth, coach-proprietor. [Wat-
son and Co., Falcon-square
Davies, J. Lower Brook-street, Grosvenor-square,
upholsterer. [Sweet and Co., Basinghall-street
Denny, J. T. George-street, Baker-street, Mary-
le-bonne, victualler. [Ellison and Co., Lincoln's-
inn-fields
Darby, W. A. Edgeware-road, builder. [Allen
and Co. .Carlisle-street, Soho
Downer, W. Leadenhall-market, poulterer. [Har-
rison and Co., Southampton-buildings^ Chancery-
lane
Ellman, W. Lambeth, miller. [Lewis, Crutched-
friars
Elliott, C. Brighton, grocer. [Frampton and Co.,
New-inn ; Colbatch, Brighton
Franks, K. Portsea, glass-dealer. [Norton, White-
cross-street
Fornachon, L.V. Manchester, merchant. [Hurd
and Co.. Temple ; Higson and Co., Manchester
Graves, I. Upper Crown-street, Westminster, dealer
in pictures. [Clutton and Co., High-street,
Southwark
Gibbs, C. late of Cumberland-garden*, Vauxhall,
tavern-keeper. [Boren, Pinner's-hall,01d Broad-
street
Harrison. H. Lower Peover-cottage, Cheshire,
merchant. [Davenport, Liverpool; Chester,
Staple-inn
Harris, T. and I. Fairman, Watling-street, ware-
housemen. [Turner, Basing-lane, Bread-street
Horner, M. Cottingley, Yorkshire, fell-monger.
[Willett, Essex-street, Strand; Parkinson and
Co., Liverpool
Hcnnell, F. Potton, Bedfordshire, linen-draper.
[Green and Co., Sarnbrook-couit, Basinghall-
street
Horsfield, P. Manchester, dealer. [Ainsworth and
Co., Manchester ; Milner and Co., Temple
Harvey, J. Penryn, Cornwall, tanner. [Brooking
and Co., Lombard-street, London ; Elworlhy,
Devon port
Howe, S. Devonport, currier. [Walker, Exche-
quer-office, Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Blackmore, De-
vonport
Hall.W. Falmmith, tallow-chandler. [Young and
Co., St. Mildred's court, Poultry
1827.]
Bankrupts.
, N. sen. Marshfield, Gloucestershire, malt-
ster. [Adlington and Co., Bedford-row; Bat-
chellor, Bath
Joseph, A. Compton-street, Brunswick -square,
merchant. [Watson and Co., Falcon-square
Jones, E. Alston, Warwickshire, builder. [Tookc
and Co., Gray's-iun ; Unett and Co., Birming-
ham
Jordan, F. Angel-court, Throgmorton-strect, mer-
chant. [Bowden and Co., Aldermanbury
Lacon, T. H. and T. A. Dale, Liverpool, iron-
founders. [Adlington and Co., Bedford-row ;
Lacon, Liverpool
Letts, G. Nine- elms, Battersea, barge -owner.
[Vanducon and Co., Bush-lane, Cannon-street
Laight, R. Worcester, coal-merchant. [Platt,
New Boswell-court ; Wilson, Worcester
Lever, B. Woolwich, linen-draper. [Kurd and
Co., King's Bench-walk, Temple
Linton, T. Crowle, Lincolnshire, ironmonger.
[Pearson, Crowle ; Lever, Gray's-inn-square
Moseley, W. Manchester, grocer. [Wheeler and
Co., John-street, Bedford-row; Harding, Man-
Chester
Marden, 11. London, merchant. [Barendale and
Co , King's Arms-yard, Coleman-street
Neupcrt, G. J. Pall-Mail East, tailor. [Surman,
Lincoln's-inn
Perkins, H. Cheapside, warehouseman. [Abbott,
Roll's-yard, Chancery-lane
Priestly, R. High Holborn, bookseller. [Hopkin-
son, Red-lion-square
Phillips, J. and W. Gray, Platt-terrace, Somers-
town, plasterers. [Willliams, Bond-court, Wai-
brook
Paine, T. Weston-street, Hackney, carpenter.
[Shaw, Fenchurch-street
Pilbrow, T. Exeter, music-seller. [Brutterton and
Co., Old Bond-street, Brutterton, Exeter
Percival, W. Leicester, grocer. [Robinson, Lei-
cester ; Emly, Essex-court, Temple
Roberts, J. Manchester, common-brewer. [Beaston,
Manchester ; Cuvelje, Staple-inn
Richards, C. Manchester, cotton-spinner, [Hamp-
son, Manchester ; Ellis and Co., Chancery-lane
Robinson, I. Calversike-hill, Yorkshire, worsted-
mannfacturer. [Constable and Co., Symond's-
inn ; Dawaon, Keighley.
Sudell, H. Woodfold-park, Mellon, Lancashire,
merchant. [Milne and Co., Temple ; Neville
and Co., Blackburn
Sheppard, M. H. Wilsden-cottage, Harrow-road,
surgeon. [Templar and Noy, Great Tower-
street
Sherratt, J. Prescot, Lancashire, money-scrivener.
[Avison, Liverpool ; Adlington and Co., Bedford-
row
Smart, C. Chalford, Gloucestershire, baker. [Dax
and Co., Holborn-court, Gray's-inn ; Stone, Tet-
bury
Sarell, R. D. Bideford, Devonshire, victualler.
[Darke, Red-lion-square ; Benson, Exeter
Thompson, H. Manchester, merchant. [Dax and
Co., Holborn-court, Gray's-inn ; Gardener, Man-
chester
Talbot, J. and H. Francis, Threadneedle-street,
brokers. [Humphries and Co., Serle - street,
Lincoln's-inn.
Tumley, R. H. Lad-lane, Manchester, woollen-
warehouseman. [Winter and Co., Bedford-row
Underwood, J. S.Woolwich, Kent, linen draper.
[Green and Co., Sambrook-court, Basinghall-
street
Window, I. Craig's-court, Charing-cross, agent.
[King and Co., Gray's-inn-square
West, J. L. Albermarle-street, Piccadilly, coal-
merchant. [Smith, New Clement's-inu-cham-
bers. Picket-street, Strand
Whittenbury, J. Manchester, cotton-spinner. [Hurd
and Co., Temple ; Higson and Co., Manchester
Winder, T. Lancaster, licensed post -master.
[Holme and Co., New-inn 5 Thompson and Co.,
Lancaster
Williams, R. Newtown, Montgomeryshire, nur-
seryman. [Yates.Vyrnwy bank, near Oswestry;
White, Lincoln's-inn
Walker, W. London, hop merchant. [Bodenham,
Furnival's-inn
Warwick, C. Kennington-lane, Lambeth, braid-
manufacturer. [Gregory, Clement's-inn
Whitham, C. Sheffield, saw-manufacturer, f Tat-
tershall, New-inn ; Palfreyman, Sheffield.
ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.
Rev. R. Grenside, to the Rectory of Crathorne,
Yorkshire.— Rev. T. Wise, to the Rectory of Bar-
ley, Herts.— Rev. C. G. R. Festing, to the Vicar-
age of St. Paul, Cornwall.— Rev. J. Pike, to the
Vicarage of Uphaven, Wilts.— Rev. W.Ward, to
be Chaplain to Viscount Goderich. — Rev. T. Sta-
cey, to be Chaplain to the Earl of Dunraven. —
Rev. R. Remington, to be Chaplain and Vicar of
the Collegiate Church, Manchester.— Rev. E. Mel-
lish, installed Dean of Hereford.— Rev. L. Clarke,
collated to the Archdeaconry of Sarum, and to the
Prebend of Minor Pars Allan's. — Rev. Dr. Irvine,
to the Living of Chatham.— R,ev. M. Davy, to the
Rectory of Cottenham, Cambridge.— The Hon. and
Rev. H. Stanhope, to the Rectory of Gawsworth,
Cheshire.— Very Rev. Dr. W. Landon, to the
Vicarage of Branscombe, Devon. — Rev. B. G.
Bridges, to the Rectory of Orlingbury, Northamp-
ton.—Hon. and Rev. E. A. Bagot, to the Deanery
of Canterbury.— Rev. T. Tuston, installed Pre-
bendary of Hador-with-Walton, 5n Lincoln Cathe-
dral.—Rev. J. W. Harding, to the Vicarage of Sul-
grove, Northampton.— Rev. H. Barber, to the Rec-
tory of Stretham, Isle of Ely, and to the Rectory
of Little Stukeley, Huntingdon.— Rev. H. Evans,
to the Perpetual Curacy of Bylaugh, Norfolk.—
Rev. F. D. Perkina, to the Vicarage of Down Ha-
therley, Gloucester.— Rev. W. H. Roberts, to be
Chaplain to H.R.H. the Duke of Clarence.— Rev.
T. Westcombe, to the Vicarage of Letambe Regis,
Berks.— Rev. H. W. Barnard, to be Canon Resi-
dentiary of Wells Cathedral.— Rev. J. Griffith, to
the Vicarage of Llangunner, Carmarthen. — Rev.
W. Henderson, to the Pastoral Charge of St. Paul's
Chapel, Edinburgh.— Rev. C. Haycock, to the Rec-
tory of Withcott, and Perpetual Curacy of Owston,
Leicester. — Rev. S. Cooper, to the Rectory of
Wood Walton, Huntingdon.— Rev. H. J. Bell, to
the Vicarage of Wickham Market, Suffolk.
POLITICAL APPOINTMENTS.
The Duke of Portland, President of the Council
—Lord W. H. C. Bentinck, and J. C. Herries,
esq., Privy Councillors.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 21.
The Duke of Wellington is appointed Com-
mander-in-Chief.
2 U
[ 330 J [SEPT.
INCIDENTS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS, TN AND NEAR LONDON, ETC.
CHRONOLOGY.
J«1y 24.— H.R.H. the Lord High Admiral, after
a minute inspection of Plymouth, Stc., arrived at
Milford, and visited Pembroke Dock, &c. He
was accompanied by H. R. H. the Duchess of Cla-
rence.
29 and 30.— One of the most tremendous thunder
storms ever remembered occurred in various parts
of the country. At Kettering, the lightning con-
sumed three houses.
August 1.— The Bill for limiting the power of
arrest came into operation, by which no person
owing less than .£20 can be arrested.
4.— The Sublime Porte has officially declared to
the ministers of the different powers of Europe,
that it will not suffer any interference between it
and the Greeks, and that " there remains no
ground for discussion on these affairs ;" concluding
with " health and peace to him who followeth the
paths of rectitude ! ! !"
9.— H.R.H. the Lord High Admiral honoured
the admirals, captains, and commanders of the
Royal Navy, at Portsmouth, by dining with them,
before he completed his tour of inspection.
— A Russian fleet arrived at Spithead ; it con-
sists of 16 sail, under the command of Admiral
Sineavin.
10. — The Russian corvette Krotky, commanded
by Baron Wrangel, arrived at the Motherbank
from a voyage round the world.
11. — Petition presented to His Majesty from the
Assembly of Jamaica, in behalf of "the calum-
niated, oppressed, and impoverished people whom
they represent."
13.— By order of the Lord High Admiral, the
schoolmasters in H.M.'s Navy are to wear the uni-
form of gunners, boatswains, and carpenters, with-
out swords.
21. — Four sail of the line, four frigates, and a
corvette, of the Russian fleet, sailed from Ports-
mouth for the Mediterranean, under the command
of Rear-Admiral Count Hayden.
— The Recorder made his report to His Ma-
jesty in council, of 17 prisoners capitally convicted
at the last Old Bailey Sessions, when they were all
respited but one, who was ordered for execution
Aug. 27.
— The Parliament prorogued to October 25.
MARRIAGES.
At Mary-le-bone, W. Ramsdcn, esq., son of Sir
I. Ramsden, hart., to Lady A. Paulet, daughter of
the Marquis of Winchester. — The Rev. J. W.Cun-
ningham, vicor of Harrow, to Mary, eldest daugh-
ter of the late General Sir H. Calvert, hart.— At
Mary-le-bone, R. H. Close, esq , to Caroline So-
phia, niece to Sir J. H. Palmer, hart.— G. C.Nor-
ton, esq.,M.P., to Caroline, second daughter to the
late T. Sheridan, esq. — At Lambeth, F. J. Perce-
val, esq., second son of the late Right Hon. S. Per-
ceval, to Miss M. Barker.— At St. George's, Hano-
ver-square, F. L. Holyoake, esq., to Miss E. M.
Payne. — At Hammersmith, Sir J. Chetwode, bart.,
to Miss E. Bristow. — At Lewisham, Lieutenant-
Col. P. Dumas, to Miss M. Smith.— At Mary-le-
bone, R. Dashwood, esq., to Henrietta Mary An-
nette, daughter of Major Eyre. — T. Melrose, esq.,
to Miss Macnaughten. — Captain T. P. Vandeleur,
to Mary, youngest daughter of Sir Fitzwilliam
Harrington, bart. — At Rickmansworth, C. P.
Meyer, esq , to Miss Walton.
DEATHS.
At Earl Fortescue's, Grosvenor-sqware, Susan,
Viscountess Ebrington.—Tn the Temple, 71, F. B.
Reaston, esq.— At Chiswick, the Duke of Devon-
shire's, the Right Hon. George Canning. — In
Brunswick-square, 74, Catherine, widow of the late
A. Burnley, esq., and mother-in-law of J. Hume,
esq., M.P.— At Cheshunt, Elizabeth, wife of W.
Harrison, esq., attorney-general to the Duchy of
Lancaster. — In Jefferys'-squarp, €9, W. May, esq.,
consul-general to the King of the Netherlands.— In
Abingdon-street, 76, G. Reddle, esq., surveyor-
general examiner of the excise. — At Deptford, 80,
W. Payne, esq. — At Hampton Court Palace, Miss
Barbara St. John — At Clarence-terrace, Mari-
anne, eldest daughter of G. Townsend, esq, — At
Yardley, Rev. W. Parslow, 35 years vicar of that
parish..— Mrs. Russel, of Roundcroft. — In Hert-
ford-street, 78, John, Earl of Stradbroke.— 68, Mr.
W- Blake, engraver.
, MARRIAGES ABROAD.
At the British Ambassador's Chapel, Paris, Count
Victor de Jocqueville, Lieutenant-Colonel in the
French Army, to Miss Anne Tulloch.— At the Bri-
tish Chapel, Leghorn, the Rev.. E. Ward, to Miss
Emma Crump. — At Paris, G.W.Prescott, esq., eldest
son of Sir G. B. Prescott, bart, to Emily Maria,
daughter qf Colonel Symcs.
DEATHS ABROAD.
At Havre, 75, A. Lindegren, esq.— At Rome, the
Chevalier Italinski, minister plenipotentiary from
the Emperor of Russia to the Pope. — At Munich,
92, Count de Preysing, councillor of state.- -At St.
Zanbre, near Roehelle, where he had been rector
from the year lS16,the Rev. P. Iloyer, formerly of
Ashbourn, DerbysVre.— On his passage from In-
dia, Sir H. Giffard, bart, chief justice of Ceylon.—
At Paris, J. T. Bryett, esq.— At Barbadoes, the
infant son of the Bishop of Barbadoes. — At St.
Maloes, Mr. Denis Dightort, military painter to
His Majesty.
MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES;
THB MARRIAGE; ANO DEATHS.
XORTHUMBERLAND AMD DURHAM.
The famous fishing station at Wick is likely soon
to be rivalled by another now forming upon the
coast of Northumberland. The fishermen of Bead-
1827.]
Yorkshire, Stafford, and Salop.
nel and Noith Sundcr'and have discovered Hint the
adjoining sea offers the most inexhaustible re-
sources for supporting an extensive fishery ; and
persons of capital and enterprize are now erecting
convenient buildings for curing fish. &c. This
establishment must rapidly augment the wealth
and population of this district.
A stem of oats was plucked in a field belonging
to Mr. Crass, of West Bolden, a few day ago,
which contained no less than 689 grains. The
head measured in length two feet three inches.
An extraordinary crim. con. case has been de-
cided by the Sheriff's Court, at Durham, pursuant
to a writ of inquiry from the Court of King's
Bench, where the defendant had suffered judg-
inentto go by default; the plaintiff, a wooden-
legged shoemaker, and the defendant, a blind tid-
dler, both belonging to Shields. The damages
were laid at .£500, and the jury awarded one
farthing!
At Durham Assizes, 3 culprits were condemned
to death, 2 transported, and C imprisoned.
At Newcastle Assizes, one recorded for death,
one transported, and one imprisoned.
At the Northumberland Assizes, one recorded
for death, and one imprisoned. Mr. Baron Hul-
lock complimented the county on its scantiness of
crime, as highly creditable to its people and po-
lice.
Married.'] At Durham, J. S. Green, esq., to
Miss D. Lambton ; H. Cattley, «sq., to Miss S. T.
Warner. — At Hexhaoi, Mr. Thompson, to Miss
Whitfield.— Mr. J. T. Carr, of Newcastle, to Miss
Sophia Balleney.— At Clifton-hall, J. M. Hog, esq.
to Helen, daughter of Sir A. C. M. Gibson, hart.
— At Bernard-castle, Dr. Macklin, to the Hon.
Miss.;jessop«— At Temple • Sowerby, the Rev. H.
Brown, to Miss Bazruom. — W. C. Tvevelyan, esq.,
to Miss Tait. — At Stairidrop, G. Hodgson, a sigh-
ing swain of 80, to Elizabeth Dunn, a blooming
lass of 28.— At West Bolden, J. Yellowley.esq., to
Miss Elizabeth Stewart.
Died.'] P. Jackson, esq., of Rainten-hall, Dur-
ham.— At bunderland, 85, Mrs. Middleton.— At
Barningham, 78, Mr. M.Newby ; he presided over
the school there for upwards of half a century. —
At Kisliopweannouth, 89, Mrs. Richardson, relict
of the late T. Richardson, esq.— 83, Mrs. Paxton.
— At Lilburn-towcr, H. Collingwood,esq.
YORKSHIRE.
The Yorkshire Philosophical Society have given
notice for plans for the immediate erection of a
museum.
The new Cliff Bridge, at Scarborough, was open-
ed lately with great pomp and ceremony, the arch-
bishop of York joining the procession, with a highly
respectable assemblage of ladies and gentlemen,
in the following order :— The labourers employed
in their work, with their various utensils ; the
children of the Amicable Society Schools ; band of
musicians j ladies guarded on each side by gentle-
men with white wands ; the clergy ; the archbishop,
supported by the bailiffs and town-clerk in their
robes: the projector; and the members of the com-
mittee, proprietors, &c. Upwards of 10,000 spec-
tators were present.
At a numerous vestry-meeting lately held at
Leeds, it was resolved, "That it is inexpedient and
unjust to impose a rate upon the parishioners of
Leeds for the repairing, or for defraying any other
expense connected with the three new churches
recently built in this parish by His Majesty's Com-
misbioners."
At the recent assizes at York, 2.5 prisoners re-
ceived sentence of death, 4 were transported, and
8 ordered to be imprisoned.
The manfaetures of the West Riding have at-
tained a steady and prosperous condition in the
woollen cloth, the worsted stuff, linen, and cotton
branches ; and the abundant harvest seems likely
to secure a good home tratle, while the prospects
from North and South America are of the most
favourable kind.
Married.] AtPontefract, W. G.Taylor, esq.,
to Miss Sophia Shaw.— At Leeds, P. Larid, esq.,
re-married Miss Felicie Mesmer, of Dresden, hav-
ing been previously married at Dresden ; F. Shep-
pard, esq., to Miss E. H. Peat.— At Scarborough,
F. Jansen, esq., to Miss S. Tindall.— At Humble-
ton, Rev. I. Dixon, to C. Helen, third daughter ef
Sir W. Bagshawe.— At Scruton, H. R. Glaister,
esq., to Miss Newsham. — At Knaresborough, W.
Garnett, esq., to Miss Achewyde. — At York, J.
Blanchard, esq., to Miss Richardson.— At Brid-
lington, A. Contes, esq., to Miss Jefferson.— At
Pontefract, the Rev. C. Smith, to Miss Truman.—
At Welmsley, the Rev. R. D. Pape,to MissHugifl.—
AtSutton,the Rev. J. Watson, to Miss Alden.— At
Sheffield, L. Smith, to Miss Shore.
Died.'] 86, J. Lacy, esq., of Larpool-hall.— At
York, Caroline Julia, the white negress. — At Hud-
dlestone, the second son of J. K. Watson, esq., of
Hull; he was drowned in endeavouring to save a
little dog,— At Ryther, A. Holmes, esq.— At Hcak^
ston, E. Carter, esq. — At Guisboro',Mrs. Clarke
relict of H. Clarke,, esq.— At Richmond, J. Foss,
esq. — At Lutton, near Hull, J.Norman Crosse,
esq. — At Hull, Huddleston, second son of J.
R. Watson, esq.— At Henley, near Wawn, Mrs.
Manby.— At Hull, Miss Jane Carlill.— At Watb,
W. D. Wadel esq.— At Leeds, M. Temple, esq.
STAFFORD AND SALOP.
At the assizes held at Stafford, 20 prisoners were
sentenced to death, 4 for transportation, and 20
imprisoned for various periods.
At the same assizes, an action was brought for
a libel against the Wolverhampton Chronicle,
and the jury very properly awarded one farthing
damages. This is the fifth action of a similar na-
ture—and for which the whole five have, for their
fame, been allowed three farthings, so intent the
juries have at length become to protect printers
and publishers from wanton prosecutions. " The
greater the truth the greater the libel," seems to
be gone out of fashion.
A meeting, numerously and respectably attended',
was held recently at Bridgenoith, to take into
consideration the state of the salmon fishery in the
Severn : when after a luminous speech from Mr.
Whitmore, M,P. for Bridgenorth, it was unani-
mously agreed to form a committee of 40 gentle-
men, whose object should be to watch this ques-
tion, and to disseminate information upon the sub-
ject, and to petition Parliament for a Bill for its
protection. — " In order to give an idea of the prolific
powers of the salmon, I will merely state that," said
Mr. Whitmore, " arithmetically speaking (without
estimating accidents, I mean, of the effects of sea-
sons), 12 salmon would produce as many fry as,
when full grown, would supply the London mar-
ket with all the salmon exported annually from
Scotland— the great source of its supply. 184,000
salmon are sent to London from Scotland upon an
average in a year ; and 12 spawners, as I have
said, would furnish this supply, if there were no
contingencies. That there aiv contingencies every
one knows ; but making due allowance for them,
ft is not improbable that 100 or 200 mother fish
2 U 2
332
Provincial Occurrences : Cheshire, Lancashire, fyc. [SEPT.
would sufflco for this largo export, If the law
were Axed on more judicious principles, and duly
executed.
At the Shrewsbury Assizes, 9 culprits were re-
corded for death, 7 were transported, and a few
imprisoned. The grand jury prepared and passed
a petition to the House of Commons, '• for the more
effectual protection to the breed of salmon."
Married.] P. Wynn, csq., of Crickett.to Mary
Eliza, only daughter of E. Dickcn, esq., of Plass
Thomas.— At Litchfield, Mr. Shelton, 84, to Mrs.
Mansell, 76 ; this is the bridegroom's third visit to
Hymen's temple ; his first wife died about two
months since, aged 102.— At Cannock, W. Palling,
esq., to Miss Wright.— At Eccleshall, G. Grey, esq.,
eldest son of the Hon. Sir G. Grey, bart, to Anna
Sophia Ryder, eldest daughter of the Lord Bishop
of Lichtield and Coventry.
Died.] 92, T. Gabriel, formerly huntsman at
Aston-hall, near Oswestry.— At Tunstall-hall, 83,
Rev. P. S. Broughton, rector of East Bridgford,
which living he and his three predecessors enjoyed
for little short of 200 years, averaging nearly half
a century each.
CHESHIRE.
At the annual sermon in behalf of the Church
Sunday School, at Congleton, the collection amount-
ed to .£58. 3s. — being .£22. more than last year.
The amount of deposits from Nov. 20. 1826, to
July 30, 1827, of the Stockport Savings* Bank, is
.£4,916. Is. 7d. the sum withdrawn .£2,035. 17s. 9d.
making the increase .£2,880. 3s. !0d.. and 1/2 new
accounts have been opened. Total amount of cash
in the bank and treasury, .£11,843. 9s. 9d.
Married.] At Walton, J. F. Hindle, to Miss
.Lodge.— At Darley-dale, B. Michaelis, esq., to
Miss Anne Gisborne.— At Bolsover, Mr. Carter, to
Miss Hancock.
Died.] At Birkenhead, W. Walley, esq., of the
Royal Welsh Fusilcers.— At Neston, 71, Rev. T.
Ward, vice-dean and prebendary of Chester Ca-
thedral.—At Bolsover, 85, Mrs. Fidler.— At Hollo-
way, 67, Mr. Wass.
LANCASHIRE AND LINCOLNSHIRE.
Amongst the felons sentenced to transportation
for life, at the late Preston sessions, there is a boy
only teven years of age I He began his thieving
career at the age of four, and has regularly con-
tinued to the present time; first at Blackburn, then
at Manchester, then again at Blackburn; his last
theft was in the House of Correction, at Preston,
from his fellow prisoners !
The first stone has been recently laid "at Tyl-
.desley, for the St. George's National and Sunday
School ; the usual ceremonies were observed on the
occasion ; and the building is to correspond with
the new parliamentary church, and is to aocomo-
date 500 scholars.
At Lincoln Assizes, 3 prisoners had sentence of
death recorded against them ; the deputy post-
master of Grantham was ordered to be imprisoned
seven months for altering the postage of letters
for his own advantage ; and £130. were given as
damages to a person who suffered by the explosion
of the Graham steam-packet, in her passage from
Gainsborough to Hull.
We are happy to state that another advance
upon calicoes has taken place in our markets,
which, when added to the previous advances which
have from time to time been obtained, makes the
rise of that description of cloth full 25 per cent,
above the lowest quotation at which they were sold
during the late depression. The stocks of calicoes
have not been eo low, we believe, for gome years
as they are at the present moment. There has
not however been much done in yarn for ex-
portation. The demand for that article has
indeed been limited for some time past in the
continental markets; but there has been an
increasing demand for India, especially for
the finer yarns. We understand that the de-
mand from the continent also has lately been for
finer numbers than formerly. We are happy to
add that the wages of weaving are now sufficient
to enable the weavers to earn, by industry, a com-
fortable livelihood, having risen, in some instances,
as much as 125 per cent.
Married.] At Bury, Mr. Shearson, toMiss Ann
Kay ; and Mr. Sherwin, to Miss Pollett— At Man-
chester, Mr. Glover, to Miss Birch ; Mr. Fallows,
to Miss E. Harrop.— At Shipley, the Rev.W. P.
Allen, to Miss Judith Denney.
Died.] 72, E. Rigby, esq., of Castle-park, and
magistrate for Lancashire.— At Huddersfield, Mr.
J. Horsfall.— 76, Mr. W. Cooke, of Denton.— At
Manchester, 68, Agnes, relict of Captain F. A.
Wynne ; 68, Mrs. Bagshaw.
DERBY AND NOTTINGHAM.
At the assizes at Nottingham, 9 received sentence
of death, 5 were ordered for transportation, and
several to be imprisoned.
The expenditure for the last year of the
town and county of Nottingham, amounted to
.£7,918. 4s. 6|d. There is a charge in the account
of .£1,160. 7s. Id. for costs of prosecutions, and
another of .£498. 15s. for constables at the elec-
tion!
Married.] At Derby, the Rev. J. P. Mosley
(son of the late Sir J. P. Mosley, bart,) to Mrs. F.
Pole.— At Newark, Mr. Deakin to Miss M. Mar-
tin.
Died.] At Sudbury-hall, 61, the Right Hon.
Lady Vernon, sister-in-law to the Archbishop of
York.— At Ashbourn, 79, Mrs- Nicholson.— At
North Muskham, 70, R. Welby, esq.— At Newark,
81, Mrs. N orris.— At Watton, 81, Mr. Tunnicliff.—
At Shottle, 98, Mr. J. Janney.— At Mickleover, the
Hon. Mrs. F. Curzon.— At Mansfield, Mrs. Billings,
Mrs. Chambers, and Mrs. Hutchinson. — At Bas-
ford, 72, Mrs. Farrands.
LEICESTER AND RDTLAND.
At the assizes for Rutland, there were only two
prisoners for trial, and one civil suit. The cul-
prits received sentence of death, and the action at
law was arbitrated. — At Leicester, 9 received sen-
tence of death, and 5 were transported.
Married.] At Loughborough, Mr. Polkey, to
Mrs. Underbill. — Mr. Newland, to Mrs. Blower.
Died.] At Old Dalby-hall, the Hon. Mrs. Bo-
water, eldest daughter and co-heiress of the late
Lord Feversham. — At Leicester, 64. Mrs. Harris.
WARWICK AND NORTHAMPTON.
The Dean and Chapter of Peterborough Cathe-
dral having lately made their utmost exertions in
repairing the cathedral, and in restoring the archi-
tectural ornaments of the exterior, solicit the in-
habitants of the diocese for subscriptions to remedy
the deplorable defects of the interior— .£5,000 will
be wanted. The Dean and Chapter have voted
.£1,000 towards it, being the largest sum their
means will allow ; they have also, to their honour
be it said, added .£1,050 by their personal sub-
scriptions.
At Warwick assizes, 10 prisoners received sen-
tence of death, 12 transported, and several impri-
soned for various periods.
1827.] Worcester, Hereford, Gloucester, Monmouth, fyc. 333
At Northampton Assizes, 5 received sentence of
death, 6 were transported, and 10 imprisoned.
An address, signed by 2,000 of the most respect-
able inhabitants of Birmingham has been pre-
sented to Mr. Peel, " for his exertions in consoli-
dating the Criminal Laws, and his inflexible ad-
herence to the Protestant Church." An address
also from the mayor and inhabitants of Northamp-
ton has been presented to him. •
The new church of St. Peter, in Birmingham,
was consecrated by the bishop of the diocese,
August 10 ; the procession to the church was in
great ceremony ; and after the service a collection,
amounting to .£70. 16s. 4$d. was made towards
erecting an organ. The building is in the Grecian
style, and contains 1,900 sittings— 1,380 being for
the poor ; the interior is chaste and beautiful. Its
total cost is .£13,087. 12s. 3d.
Married.] At Foleshill, Mr. Beale, to Miss
Burton.— W. E. Spencer, esq., to Miss Mary Ren-
nie, of Long Itchington.
Died.] At Stratford-upon-Avon, Mrs. Thomp-
son.—At Aynho, Emma, daughter of W. R. Cart-
wright, esq., M.P., Northampton.— At Ecton, 77,
S. Isted, esq.— At Birmingham, the Rev. G. Hoi-
brook.
WORCESTER AND HEREFORD.
Sentence of death was recorded against 10
prisoners at Worcester Assizes, 6 were transported,
and 8 imprisoned. — At Hereford Assizes, 7 were
condemned to death, 8 transported, and 3 im-
prisoned.
The Worcestershire Friendly Institution have
just made their annual report, in which they press
the utility and importance of the institution which
contemplates the general well-doing and happi-
ness of mankind.
Died.] At Leominster, 73, Capt. G. Dennis. —
Mr. Ridgway, of Hereford.
GLOUCESTER AND MONMOUTH.
Married.'] Mr. W. A. Williams, of Monmouth,
to Miss Williams, of Langibby-castle.
Died.] At Bentham, 67, A. Bubb, esq.— At
Cirencester, 81, J, Ellis, esq.- 81, Mr. T. Gardner,
of the Horsepools.— At Tewkesbury, Mrs. Chand-
ler.— Mrs. Hall, of Trevrorgan, Monmouth.
BEDFORD, BUCKS, BERKS, AND ESSEX.
There were only 10 prisoners for trial at the
Bedford Assizes, one of whom was sentenced to
death, two transported, and two imprisoned.
The Buckingham Assizes had also few for trial ;
3 were condemned for death, and 4 transported.
Of the latter, 3 were concerned in a robbery, in
which 2 were transported for 7 years, whilst the
third, hitherto a respectable tradesman, was sen-
tenced to 14 years for having bought the stolen
goods from the others.
At Essex Assizes 15 prisoners received sentence
of death.
Died] At Burghfield, the Rev. M. Robinson,
rector, and nephew of Lord Rokeby.— At Leighton
Bussard, 87, Mrs. Tilcox.— At White Waltham,
Colonel Thcarney, magistrate for Berks, and a
descendant of the Duke of Chandos. — At Martens-
Hern, 90, J. Maslin ; he served in the nary during
the reigns of George II. and Ilf., and was at the
tnking of Quebec, and helped to carry Gen. Wolfe
olf the Held of battle.
KENT AND SURREY.
A very destructive fire has taken place at Sheer-
ness ; it consumed as many as forty houses before
it could be got under, and although they were
chiefly wood, the loss of property was immense.
At the Surrey Assizes, two young men were sen-
tenced to 7 years transportation, for causing the
death of Mr. Dunn, by furiously driving against
his chaise ; and another person was also sentenced
to the same punishment for driving carelessly a
waggon over a child and thereby killing him.
Married.] At Dodington, Sir J. Croft, bart., to
Miss A. Knox.— At Herne. T. E. Scott, esq.. to
Mary, eldest daughter of Lieutenant-Col. Wil-
liamson.
Died.] At Tunbridge Wells, Lady Henrietta
Neville, only daughter of the Earl of Aberi-avenny.
At Ripple, the Rev. R. Mesham.
OXFORDSHIRE.
At the azzizes at Oxford an action was brought
by the mayor and corporation, to recover from Mr.
Farraday a compensation in damages for trading
within the limits of the city of Oxford, he being dis-
qualified from so doing, not being a freeman ; when
the jury delivered their verdict as follows :— " We
find that Oxford is a city from time immemorial,
and that it has had citizens from time immemo-
rial; we find, also, on the custom, for the plain-
tiffs/1 This decision was received in the hall with
shouts of applause.
Married.] At Ilmington, Mr. Tompkins to Miss
Potter. -Rev. W. Copley, of Oxford, to Mrs. E.
Hewlett.
Died.] At Oxford, 73, Mr. C. Haddon.
NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK.
At the Suffolk- Assizes, 17 prisoners received sen-
tence of death, 1 transported, and 6 imprisoned. —
At Norwich, 16 recorded for death, 3 transported,
several imprisoned ; 15 rioters found guilty, but
bound over to receive judgment when called upon.
The expenses of the Norfolk and Norwich Hospi-
tal last year amounted to .£4,169. Os. 4d.
Married.] At Thorpe, H. D. Goring, esq.»
eldest son of Sir C. F. Goring, bart., to Augusta,
sixth daughter of Lieut.-Col. Harvey ; and Capt.
T. Blackiston, fourth son of the late Sir M. Black-
iston, bart., to Harriet, fourth daughter of Lieut.-
Col. Harvey.
Died.] Rear-Admiral W. Carthew, many years
a magistrate for Suffolk.— 63, A G. Mackay, esq.,
of Bagthorpe-hall.— At Hethersett. 74, Mr. T.
Smith.— At Wramplingham, Mr. C. Fisher. — At
Sudbury, Mr. Young.— At Harpley, T. Herring,
esq. — At Yarmouth, 77, Mr. W. Norfor. — Near
Welney, Mrs.W. Cox; Mr. W. Cox, junior, her
nephew; Mrs. Isaac Cox; and her daughter M.
Cox, all in the space of two months. — At Quidden-
ham, at her uncle's the Earl of Albemarle, Mrs.
W. Wakefield, of a broken heart in consequence of
the imprisonment of her husband, who joined in
the infamous abduction of Miss Turner. She was
the only daughter of Sir J. Sidney, bart., of Pem-
hust-place, Kent.
CAMBRIDGE AND HUNTINGDON.
The first stone of a new chapel of ease has been
recently laid at Wisbeach ; it will contain accom-
modation for about 1000 persons.
The expenditure for the county of Huntingdon
last year amounted to £9,501. 9s. 10£d.— .£6,000
of which was paid towards building the new
prison.
At the Huntingdon Assizes, death was recorded
against 3 prisoners, one of whom was for the atro-
cious murder of the Rev. J. Watcrhouse, ofStuke-
ley, aged 79; and the principal witness (king's
evidence) was afterwards tried and transported
for a felony.
At the Isle of Ely Assizes few prisoners, and 110
capital punishment.
334
Provincial Occurrences: Hants, Sussex, Dorset, $c. [SEPT.
Died.'] At Bottislmm, 77, B. Rider, esq.— At
March, 81, Mrs. Morgan; and her daughter, Mrs.
Jones.
HANTS AND SUSSEX.
At the Hants Sessions, it was stated by Sir T.
Baring, that the expenses of last year had been
.£3,000. less than those of the preceding year ;
and that .£8,000 of the county debt had been liqui-
dated.
Married.'] At Southampton, T. S. Warner, esq.,
to Miss H. Hennessay.— At Brighton, G. Hilhouse,
esq., to Miss A. Barclay.
Died.'] At Brighton, the lady of M. Ricardo,
esq.,— At Worthing, 87, the Right Rev. S. Good-
enough, bishop of Carlisle.
DORSET AND WILTS.
At Salisbury Assizes, 8 prisoners received sen-
tence of death, 12 transported, and 18 imprisoned.
Chief Justice Best addressed the grand jury on his
conviction of the melancholy fact of crime and vice
being so much increased in this country.—" I an*
afraid," said he, " that they aie not now that pea-
santry which were formerly called their country's
pride ;" and then alluded to the necessity of allow-
ing the inferior orders of society such wages as
they can decently subsist on without parish al-
lowance. " There can no greater curse befal a
country," said his lordship, "than that it should
be reduced to a state in which the virtue of the
peasantry is undermined by the destruction of that
self-esteem, and that honest, industrious, manly
pride, which makes a peasant prefer his own exer-
tions to any other mode of obtaining a subsist-
ence. Unless such are his feelings, the country
which he inhabits can never become, or never re-
main, a great country. Gentlemen, the greatness
of the country does not consist in the extent of its
empire, nor even in the knowledge and publicity of
useful and ornamental arts. Such things may be
among the proofs of its greatness, but they are not
its cause, nor by them alone can a nation always
hope to remain great. A country may truly be
said to be great, when the mass of the people are
in the enjoyment of comfortable and easy cir-
cumttances — a state in which alone they catt al-
ways be expected to be virtuous ; and he is the
greatest benefactor who lends his aid to introduce
such a state among them." — Chief Justice Best
gave public notice on trial for furious driving of
stage coaches — that in every future case, in which
a conviction followed a charge of furious driving,
he would, beyond all doubt, transport the offender
for life. — The grand jury requested his lordship to
print his charge, to which he acquiesced.
Married.] W. Hallett, junior, esq., of Philliots,
to Miss Kadclyff •. — At Dovvnton, Ti. Brooncker,
esq., to Miss M. Shuckburgh.
Died.] At Warminster, 78, H. Wansey, esq.,
F.S.A. ; he had devoted his attention and time in
collecting materials for the History and Topography
of Warminster, lor the magnificent work on the
county of Wilts, of Avhich Sir R. C. Hoare is the
director.— 88, J. Wickens, esq., of Mapperton.— At
Stinsford, 8.0, Right Hon. Susan O'Brien, sister
to the Earl of Holiest er.— At Downtou, 92, Mr.
Huxhtim.
DEVONSHIRE AND SOMERSETSHIRE.
The imposing structure which Mr. Beckford has
erected on the brow of Lansdown, is now com-
pleted, as far as regards the masonry work. The
building is square, to an altitude of 130 feet from
the foundation ; it then assumes an octagonal
form, for 12 feet more ; and this is crowned by 12
feet of octagonal v. ood work, of a lantern shape,
which will be protected by an iron pillar at each
angle, and th"se pillars will be gilt. This will
constitute the apex of the tower, the summit of
which presents to the eye of the spectator the
meander ings of the Severn, the immense tack of
Salisbury Plain, and even Mr. Bcekl'ord's former
residence, Fonthill.
At the Devonshire Assizes, 12 prisoners were
recorded for death, 3 transported, and 15 imprisoned
for various periods.
A meeting has been held at the Palace, Wells,
the Bishop of Bath and Wells in the chair, for
establishing a friendly Society, to be called " The
East Somerset Friendly Society," when a commit-
tee was appointed to prepare rules and regulations
for that purpose.
At Somerset Assizes, 27 prisoners were sentenced
to death, 21 were transported, and 16 imprisoned
for various periods. Chief Justice Best charged
the grand j ury at considerable length, in which he
very strenuously alluded to the pad state of the
poor, respecting their wages, the Game Laws, and
the battus of the modern feudals ; the dreadful
increase of crime in the county ; modern educa-
tion; boxing; the absolute necessity of obliging
people to go to their respective places of worship
on a Sunday, &c. &c.
Married.'] At Burnham, G. P. Dawson, esq.,
to Miss Dodd. — At Sturminster, Newton-castle,
S. W. Long, esq., to Miss A. Bird.— At Tor, W. T.
Lear, esq., to Miss E. Templer. — Rev. H. Taylor,
rector of South Poole and West Oswell, to Mari-
anne Hallifax, third daughter of the late Bishop
of St. Asapli.
Died.'] At Plymouth, 67, Lieut. Dennis Lahitf r
53 of which were spent in the service of his coun-
try in various parts of the world ; he was the first
person who instructed Cobbett in his drill (55th
regt.) in North America. — At Bath, Mary, relict of
the Hon. D. Anstruther.— At Exmouth, 96, Mr.
T. El?on.— At Endicott, Cadbury, 69, Mr. J. Tur-
ner, an experienced agriculturist ; not only De-
vonshire, but all the western counties, have con-
siderably benefited by his spirited exertions in
producing some of the largest and most extraor-
dinary sheep ever bred in this kingdom.— At York-
souse, Bath, J. Buller, esq., of Downes; he repi'e-
hented Exeter in four parliaments.
CORNWALL.
At the assizes held at Bodmin, 5 prisoners re-
ceived sentence of transportation, and six impri-
soned. Chief Justice Best, after remarking on
two or three other cases in the calendar, made
some striking observations on the state of the la-
bouring people of Cornwall. — " I am gratified to
learn," said his lordship, " that the rate of wages
in your county is not pressed down to the extreme
point at which it is possible the labourer can exist.
The best and wisest economy is to reward the la-
bourer, that, by the exercise of a due industry, he
may not only be enabled to provide the necessaries
of the day as it passes, but to make some provision
for old age and infirmities." The learned judge
then eulogized the existence of friendly societies,
as tending1, under proper regulations, to the most
beneficial result?. His lordship then adverted to
several points in the Criminal Law, as altered by
Mr. Peel.
The Looe and Polperro driving boats have taken
a considerable quantity of fish, some of them as
many as 6,000 pilchards on a night. The driving
louts belonging to St. Ivcs have even been more for-
1827.]
Wales, Scotland, and Ireland.
335
tunate : some of them took as many as 40,000 pil-
chards in one night. There were landed one
morning from the St. Ives' boats about 200 hogs-
heads of fish. It is several years since pilchards
have appeared so early in St.lves' Bay ; it is stated
that great shoals of fish have been seen to the
eastward, ; and it is fully expected that should the
weather prove moderately favourable, a consider-
able quantity will be secured during the ensuing
spring tides ; the pilchards already taken are ex-
ceedingly fine.
Married.'] At St. Germans, W. Porter, esq., to
Miss Humbly.
Died.'] At Falmouth, 72, J. Harris, esq.— At
Bodmin, 61, Mrs. Commins. — At Truro, 87, Mrs.
Taunton.—At St. Neot, Capt. Sibley.
WALES.
The Goliah, an 84 gun ship, was launched at
Pembroke Dock, July 23. In consequence of
II. R. H. the Duchess of Clarence being present
(accompanying the Lord High Admiral) the name
was changed, and christened by Her Royal High-
ness " The Clarence." Upwards of 20,000 persons
were present.
It appears by the last report of the expenditure
for the jear ending June 1, 1827, that the " Swan-
sea Infirmary for warm and cold sea-water bath-
ing, and for the relief of the sick and lame poor,
from every part ef the kingdom," have relieved
upwards of 10,000 patients since its establish-
ment, and that its expenses of last year were
.£623. 11s. O^d.
At the annual meeting of the " Glamorganshire
General Agricultural Society," prizes were award-
ed to two labourers for having brought up their
families without parish aid — one had 11, the other
6 children. Prizes were likewise awarded to seve-
ral for length of service — 3 for 14 years — 2 for 20
—1 for 29, and one for 49 years !
Married.] Rev. V. W. O. Jones, of Nerqui3
(Flint) to Mis Anne Elizabeth Ward.— At Lam-
Shey, near Pembroke, W. E. Parry, esq., to Miss
ohnson. — At Llanelly, Rev. E Morris, to Mrs.
Williams.— At Swansea, Rev. H. S. Pocklington,
to Miss A. G. Smyth, only daughter of the late
Major-Gen. Smyth, Lieut. -Gov. of New Bruns-
wick.— At Lampeter, J. H. Thomas, esq., to Jane
Isabella, third daughter of Sir G. G. Williams,
bart., of Llwynywormwood. — At Carmarthen, C.
Smallridge, esq., to Miss Thomas.
Died.] At Williamgfield (Carmarthen;, 81, R.
Price, esq., formerly major in the 56th regt, ; he
was at the storming of the Havannah, 1762 ; and
at Gibraltar (1/83) during its siege; he was also
not an unsuccessful wooer of the muses. — At Car-
narvon^. Evans, esq., deputy prothonotary for the
North Wales circuit.— At Carew Parsonage, Pem-
broke, 66, W. Francis, esq.
SCOTLAND.
The Commissioners for the Caledonian Canal
have published their annual report. The rate of
duty was doubled two years ago, but there has
not been a proportional increase of the produce.
It is found that ship-masters will rather encounter
the storms of Cape Wrath, than pay 2s. 7d. per
ton for a passage tl r >ugh the canal. The money
expended on the works is, .£973,2/1., and as much
is required to complete them as will make the
amount up to a million. The dues have yielded
rather less than .£3,000 per annum, while the
annual charge for management and keeping the
canal iu order exceeds .£4,000!!!
There Is at present a very great demand at
Glasgow for weavers of every description, and,
in consequence the carriers to different places
around that town feel the difference materially.
Some of them who, during the late dulness, found
one cart more than sufficient, now can scarcely
carry the work required with two, and double the
quantity of money continues to be sent to the
agents in the different towns and villages.
The herring fishing in Lochfine, this season, has
been all along full of promise. Fishers who had
given up the trade for some years back, on ac-
count of the difficulty of keeping a wife and family
at all respectable upon hope and potatoes, have
this year fitted up their old boats, purchased new
nets, and are getting on wonderfully, although a
little behind hand at first.
Married.'] At Edinburgh, the Right Hon. D.
Boyle, Lord Justice Clerk, to Miss C. C. Smythe,
daughter of the Hon. D. Smythe. — J. Ramsay,
esq., of Barra, Aberdeen, to Mrs. F. G. Campbell,
daughter of General Patrick Duff.
Died] At Woodside, Roxburghshire, 94, Lady
Diana Scott, widow of W. Scott, esq., of Harden,
and daughter of the late Earl of Marchmont. —
Dr. J. Millar; he superintended the new edition
of the Encyclopedia Britannica, and designed and
edited the Encyclopedia Edensis.— At Edinburgh,
107, J. McDonald, (father to the pipe-maker to the
Highland Society of London) ; he retained pos-
session of all his faculties to his dissolution. He
was the identical person that met Flora Mac-
donald and the Pretender, Prince Charles Stuart,
in their great distress, in the Highlands, as two
ladies, and conducted them to the " Virgin Well"
to assuage their parched thirst, and afterwards
escorted them to a gentleman's house where they
received protection, and he to his surprise and
admiration discovered who they were ; on which
he ever after used to dilate with enthusiastic satis-
faction and delight.— At Edinburgh, the Rev. Sir
Henry Moncrief Wellwood, bart.
The following extract from a Scotch paper will
at once prove the necessity of something being
done for the relief of the unfortunate Poor of this
very unfortunate country: — " The emigration of
the poor destitute and miserable inhabitants of
Ireland into this quarter of the country still con-
tinues without abatement. On Sunday morning
two steam-boats brought over about 150 each;
and it is ascertained, that during the last week
about 1,800 persons of this description were added
to the population of this city and neighbourhood.
They are all, or very nearly all, mere labourers
of the very lowest class, and profess to have come
over in search of employment in cutting down
the harvest. When informed that there will be
no harvest-work in this quarter for several
weeks, and that there are already more than a
sufficiency of hands for this sort of employment,
many of them expressed a determination to find
their way to the northern counties of England,
in expectation of the harvest being earlier begun
there. They say that they have no fear of get-
ting work from the farmers, as they will work
for whatever wages are offered them, and that
such is the state of misery that they were in at
home, that they cannot be worse go where they
will. It is pretty well ascertained that, during
the last six weeks, the number of labourers who
have arrived from Ireland is about 12,000."— Glas-
gow Chron.
[ 336 ]
DAILY PRICES OF STOCKS,
From the 2Qth of July to the 25th of August 1827.
Bank
Stock.
3 Pr. Ct.
Red.
3 Pr. Ct. 3£Pr.Ct.
Consols.
Consols
3£Pr.Ct.N4Pr.C,
Red. I Ann.
Long
Annuities.
India
Stock.
India
Bonds.
Exch.
Hills.
Consols
for Ace.
An:;
211 212
2l7
212 213i
214
216 217
215 216;
214i215i
214J
213
212
214* i
214 |
214
215|
215
216 £
2J6£
214 215
215J
8!)
94*
94
89
88
101
100$ 1
102*
96* 101
94jf
93i~94JlOOJ |
20 1-16
19 15-16 20
915-16201-16
20
20 3-16 5-16
20 1-16 i
20 1-16 3-16
192 20
19 15-16 £
19 13-16 15-16
19 15-16
20 1-16
20 1-16 £
20 3-16 |
20 3-16 5-16
20£ 5-16
20 3-16 i
20 1-16
20 1-16
1915-16201-16
19 15-16 20
253
253*
258
263
259 260
256
256
259 200
8789p
88 89p
8890p
9091p
9194p
9495p
92p
87p
8/88p
87 88 p
89p
9091p
9293p
93p
9294p
92 93p
93 94 p
9294p
94p
5558p
56 58p
5759p
5860p
6061p
6062p
01 62p
5961p
6061p
5761p
5759p
5758p
57 58 p
57-59p
5860p
5859p
5860p
58 60 p
5960p
59 6] p
61 62p
6062p
5760p
5/59p
— 88 90p 56 58p
87|
E, EYTON, Stock Broker, 2, Corrihill and Lombard Street.
MONTHLY METEOROLOGICAL REPORT,
From July 20th to 10th August inclusive.
By WILLIAM HARRIS and Co.. 50, High Holborn.
o
bo
Therm.
Barometer.
De Luc's
Hygro.
Winds.
Atmospheric Variations.
3
C5
e
J
M
9A.M.
10P.M.
ri
-
9 A. M.
10 P. M.
9AM.
2P.M.
10 P.M.
*3
I
i
O5
rt
E
§
OS
o
20
60
67
55
29 63
29 72
83
72
W
W
Clo.
Fair
Fine
21
62
70
52
29 81
29 93
78
70
WNW
WSW
_
__
22
64
64
57
29 91
29 86
75
92
ssw
SSW
__
Rain
Rain
23
19
66
74
64
29 88
29 96
93
88
ssw
ssw
Rain
Clo.
Fine
24
66
73
62
29 96
29 91
92
88
wsw
sw
Clo.
25
66
74
56
29 85
29 90
90
82
wsw
sw
_
Rain
26
28
64
73
60
29 83
29 78
78
97
sw
sw
—
Rain
27
64
76
67
29 77
29 97
78
85
NNW
sw
Fair
Fair
Fine
23
70
78
64
30 08
30 09
88
77
W
WNW
_
Fine
_
29
76
84
67
29 99
29 87
82
85
SE
E
- —
—
—
30
74
79
56
29 67
29 95
77
72
W
WNW
_
—
—
31
o
64
73
61
30 11
30 11
78
68
W
NW
—
—
—
1
65
75
60
30 04
29 93
75
70
sw
NW
_
_
_
2
64
80
65
29 81
29 66
75
72
SSK
SW
—
—
3
26
67
75
60
29 65
29 55
80
82
SW
sw
_
Fair
Rain
4
10
64
73
61
29 54
29 76
84
76
sw
W
Clo.
Rain
Clo.
5
69
73
55
29 94
30 16
72
88
WNW
NE
—
Fair
Rain
g
57
68
53
30 16
30 20
90
86
NE
E
Rain
—
Fine
7
o
60
69
52
30 18
30 10
77
72
ESE
E
Fair
Fine
—
8
x^/
57
72
55
30 03
29 95
77
78
ENE
E
—
—
—
9
62
70
50
29 90
29 80
82
76
NE
SW
. —
—
Fair
10
53
73
56
29 56
29 54
86
71
SW
W
Clo.
_
11
32
60
69
55
29 48
29 50
74
80
WSW
W
_
Rain
12
61
68
52
29 57
29 77
82
67
NW
NW
—
Fair
Fine
13
59
67
60
29 79
29 69
75
88
W
WSW
_
Clo.
Rain
14
o
65
7o
63
29 66
29 35
93
88
W
SW
_
Fair
Fair
15
66
72
59
29 27
29 31
81
78
W
SSW
—
—
Clo.
1C
34
62
69
56
29 31
29 45
88
93
E
E
—
Rain
_
17
62
69
57
29 63
29 81
88
92
E
ENE
—
—
_
18
61
69
55
29 86
29 91
92
85
ENE
ENE
—
Fair
_
19
62
6*
55
29 87
29 92
74
82
ENE
ENE
Fair
— •
~~~
The qnant:* f Rain fallen in the month of July was one inch and 18-100ths.
THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOL. IV.] OCTOBER, 1827. [No. 22.
THE NEWSPAPER PRESS OF IRELAND.
A VAST improvement has taken place in the press of Ireland within the
last thirty years. Before the union with Great Britain, there were but two
daily (morning) journals in the metropolis of the sister kingdom: at present,
there are four; and, until very lately, there were so many as six. In the
memorable year of 1798, there was but one evening paper in Dublin: now
there are four or five. Weekly journals are, in Ireland, the offspring of
the last eight or nine years ; yet there are, at present, five published every
Saturday in the city of Dublin.
In the provinces, the spread of intelligence has been as wide as within
the city. Formerly, a provincial paper in Ireland was a kind of nine days'
wonder : now, the " brethren of the broad sheet" have spread their light
wings, and flown all through the country.
Nor is the writing in Irish papers, or the general matter, of the same
character as it was a few years ago. In the best days of the Irish parlia-
ment, there was not a competent reporter in the city of Dublin ; and the
few hasty sketches of the debates of that period were taken by Sir Henry
Cavendish, a member of the hon. house, for the satisfaction of the treasury
bench. Sir Henry was what, in parliamentary parlance, is called an
excellent hack, or servant of all work. It is recorded that his avarice was
equal to his memory ; and the wits of the day used to say that he was
a capital hand at taking notes. After Sir Henry's death, his place was
sought to be supplied by a regular reporter; but this person made sad work
of it, as will appear from the following anecdote. At the period alluded
to, Hussey Burgh (afterwards chancellor) was attorney-general. He was
one of the most eloquent and persuasive persons that ever sat in a popular
assembly — if we are to credit the vague and uncertain text of tradition, or
the more certain though not less flattering description of his powers
recorded in a popular novel of that day — " Ned Evans."" It will be
readily believed, that to such an advocate was frequently allotted the
no very easy task of defending the measures of an administration as cor-
rupt as it was imbecile. On one of these occasions, Burgh was arguing a
point of constitutional law, and, to enforce his view, quoted the opinion —
after a suitable panegyric — -of an eminent authority — Sergeant Maynard.
The paper of the next day appeared ; and, after recapitulating the heads
of the hon. member's speech, the reporter proceeded as follows : — " Here
the hon. member became so eloquent and impassioned, that we found it
impossible to follow him. He, however, most completely refuted the
M. M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22. 2
338 The Newspaper Press of Ireland. fOci'.
arguments urged by the gentlemen on the other side of the house, and
quoted the opinion of an eminent ' sergeant-major,1 in support of his
view of the subject !"
This was certainly the pis oiler ; but many instances of blundering
equally exemplary might be adduced, if it were to any useful purpose.
Suffice it, however, to state, that so incompetent were the " gentlemen of
the press" in these days found, that whenever any question of moment was
under discussion, and the government wished to preserve a record of tho
debate, a note-taker from London was despatched across the channel for
the purpose. Mr. Woodfall (of wonderful memory) reported the debate
on Mr. Secretary Orde's commercial propositions; and a Mr. Clarke (who
is still living) was employed by Mr. Pitt to record the debate on the
Union. On ordinary occasions, however, when a speech appeared in the
papers a degree superior to the professional reports, in point of style and
arrangement, it was always concluded that the note of it was furnished by
the speaker himself; and, indeed, several members of the Irish parliament —
among others, Mr. Wm. Smith (now a Baron of the Exchequer in Ire-
land), Mr. C. K. Bushe, (now Chief Justice of the King's Bench), and
occasionally Mr. Grattan and Mr. Curran — furnished reports of their own
speeches. In the observations that I have made respecting the general
incompetency of the reporters of these days, I would not be understood to
include all the class ; for I am aware that there were two or three of these
men of superior endowments. One of the persons thus honourably excepted
(Mr. Peter Finnerty) transferred himself to the English press ; and. after a
life of singular vicissitude and toil, he died as he had lived, fixed in those
principles of which in early life he had been the martyr. Mr. Finnerty
was, in truth, a man of the most vigorous intellect and the strongest sense.
His mind was at once logical, acute, and discriminating ; but his feelings
and his passions were untamed ; and he was but too often the victim of
the one, and the slave of the others. His stock of acquired knowledge was
but small, yet it was select ; and he was better acquainted with great prin-
ciples, than familiar with facts. He was not of the Scotch utility school,
nor did he make his mind the storehouse of fanciful theories, or of the
exploded lumber of literature. Neither was he a mere Irishman — all fancy
and fury, " signifying nothing ;" but all that was best in the Irish an*d
English character he combined. He was strong without being dull, and
fanciful without being weak ; copious without redundancy, and argumen-
tative without being scholastic. But all these attributes were " dashed
and brewed" with the waywardness of a will which was sometimes wild,
oftener capricious, and almost always arbitrary ; and the sway of passions,
whose imperfect mastery he had suffered to grow, even in mature age, to
absolute dominion. Hence his follies and his faults, by which a " noble
mind was here o'erthrown."
Another of the gentlemen to whom I alluded is now a distinguished
member of the Irish bar, one of his Majesty's council at law, and lately
elected a member of parliament. In power of mind, he is altogether
inferior to the late Mr. Finnerty ; but the application of the one was sot-
tied — that of the other, desultory. Mr. Finnerty was prodigal ; his rival
was prudent. The one will die in ermine ; the other has already died
in- .
But I am wandering. The daily paper at this epoch the most in the
confidence of the patriots of the time was the Freeman s Journal. This
paper was originally instituted by Dr. Lucas, a celebrated member of the
Irish parliament, who, having served his country faithfully, died, leaving
1827.] The Newspaper Press of Ireland. 339
her no other legacy than an orphaned and unprovided daughter. The
corporation of Dublin, of which Lucas was the guiding spirit, perpetuated
the recollection of the man by a statue raised to his memory in the Royal
Exchange (" inane munus'}-, but his daughter they left to starve, though
they " pressed proudly to the funeral array" of the lather. From Dr. Lucas
the Freeman's Journal fell into the hands of a person named Higgins, but
better known in Ireland by the appellation of the 44 sham 'Squire." Of this
singular individual some account may not be amiss. Higgins was the son
of the most illustrious shoe-black of his time ; whose " cirage," in the
immediate vicinity of the University and Parliament House, oftentimes
reflected a lustre on the members of both. The occupation of our young
hero while yet in his teens was two-fold. When no pump invitedhis peer-
less polish, he became, like Shakspeare, a holder of horses ; and I have
been told by an ancient member of the Imperial Parliament (who has
lately gone to reside at Boulogne, and who is no longer member for Gal-
way), that he excited an inconceivable interest among the equestrian
members of both houses. But Higgins was much too shrewd a person to
continue long in this degrading avocation ; and he gladly accepted the
proposal of a certain notorious attorney, who was smitten with the
boy's smartness, to become an inmate of his office. While in this employ,
Higgins recommended himself to the good graces of his master by the per-
formance of the most menial offices. Our solicitor, though by no means
scrupulous as to the length of a bill of costs, was, nevertheless, a rigid
Catholic ; and much of the property of that rising class of religionists
passed through his hands. Presently, Higgins was a devotee ; and it is
even recorded that he became the most relentless mass-goer of his day.
The priests poured forth his praises, and the laity took them on trust.
Such, however, is the odour of a good reputation, that it was whispered
Higgins was rich, because the clergy said he deserved to be so; and all
the " stout grocers" and " strong merchants" vouchsafed him their daugh-
ters to wive. From one of this class he selected a companion; but she
soon became the victim of his ill-treatment, and, fortunately for herself,
was hurried to a premature grave. With this lady's fortune he purchased
the Freeman's Journal, and soon after became a person of some conse-
quence.
From Higgins, the Freeman came into the hands of Mr. Philip Whit-
field Harvey, its late proprietor, who rendered it one of the most (if not
the most) popular papers in Dublin. This journal was, from 1806 till 1812
or 1813, what the Morning Chronicle was in London during the lifetime
of the late Mr. Perry. It was exclusively the Whig organ — moderate in
its tone, but firm in its principles. During the viceroyalty of the Duke of
Richmond, the sittings of the Catholic Board, and the prosecution of the
Catholic delegates under the Convention Act, the Freeman was distin-
guished by the earliest intelligence, the most copious reports, and the most
consistent and constitutional articles. Even now it must be admitted
that the journal alluded to is the most popular of the Irish morning papers.
Although its leading articles display no depth of political research, or dis-
close no views new to the political economist, yet the absence of all poli-
tical and religious animosity, its perfect tolerance, and freedom from per-
sonality, secure to it the support of all that is moderate among the Catholics
and respectable among the Protestants. The Freeman is a mesne between
the Evening Mail and the Morning Register. It abhors the Protestantism
of the one, and rejects the Popery of the other. It is not the journal of
2 X '2
340 The Newspaper Press of Ireland. [Ocr.
Sir Harcourt Loes, or Mr. CVConnell — but the journal of the public. Its
distinguishing features are its moderation and its general decorum.
In the years 1823-24-25, there were some literary and political articles
in the Freeman's Journal which were highly creditable to the character
of the Irish press; but, since the commencement of the present year
(1827), its " leaders" have been distinguished by the worst imitation of
the worst style of Grattan. The articles of which I speak have all the
involution of phrase whicb so felicitously distinguished that renowned man,
without any of the depth of thought or solidity of reasoning which he
uniformly disclosed. Besides, they appear written at random, and with-
out any apparent purpose.
The next paper to which I shall draw the attention of the reader is the
Dublin Morning Register. This is the journal of Mr. O'Connell and
the Catholic Association. It has not been (I believe) more than three
years in existence ; yet has its progress to full maturity been completed
within so singularly short a period. Much of the success of the Register
is doubtless owing to the high excitation of political feeling, of the inten-
sity of which its conductors availed themselves ; but more of that success
may be attributed to its positive merits as the organ of a party. The
Register was certainly the first, and, for a time, the only paper which
made the attempt to introduce the English system of reporting into Ire-
land— and, I must say, with complete success. In the year 1823, frequent
complaints were made by the public of the bald and meagre reports of
public meetings, and particularly of the meetings of the Catholic assem-
blies, which appeared in the Irish journals. Indeed there was one journal
(the Dublin Morning Post} which excluded all Catholic reports from
its columns. To meet this evil, as well as to arouse the country into a
participation and concert with the leaders of the Association in town, the
Morning Register was started ; and it has well and truly performed its
purpose. Its reports were not less ample than accurate ; and if its leading
articles were not always strictly in accordance with the most fastidious
taste, they were always pregnant with a large cargo of Irish indignation
and truly Popish feeling. True, the epithets of " Purple Goulbourn,"
and " Orange ruffianism," and " Piirson Darby Graham," sound some-
what queer in this Christian country ; but in Ireland these things are no
way amiss ; and they had their effect — for there was not a Catholic cler-
gyman, from Doctor Doyle down to Father O'Mulligane, the curate of
Shanagolden, who did not take in the paper.
The next of the Irish morning papers to which I shall call the attention
of the reader, will be the Morning Post. This journal has been in
being about twelve or fourteen years, and was originated in consequence
of the cessation of what were tlien called the " day-notes." These day-
notes were nothing more nor less than fifty or sixty small slips of paper, on
which were printed all the mercantile advertisements for a week to come.
This is now the practice in Paris, the petites affiches of which city are
similar to what the Dublin " day-notes" were. It was discovered, how-
ever, at Dublin that the more convenient practice would be to print these
notes on one large sheet of paper ; and when this undertaking was achieved,
it was conceived that some portion of this sheet might be devoted to news.
Hence the origin of the Morning Post, which, though it has always borne
the character of a mercantile paper, and been patronized by the advertise-
ments of the commercial world, has nevertheless, on many occasions,
assumed a bold political tone ; and, indeed, the leadership of a particular,
though not very numerous party in Ireland — I mean the Radicals. The
1827.] The Newspaper Press of Ireland. 341
articles which have appeared in the Morning Post have been more dis-
tinguished by nerve and brevity than by elegance ; and they certainly
deserve all the praise and gain which consistency can confer on public
writings. On many topics merely local, and in the discussion of which
local interests alone were involved, the Morning Post has been perhaps
the most useful print in Dublin ; and we need but refer to its files to find
the many vigorous and successful exertions it has made against the abuses
of the toll-system, and the grand array of corporate exactions. Of late,
however, I believe the Morning Post has not been so popular, or had so
large a sale, chiefly in consequence of its very determined hostility to a
certain popular Catholic leader : but, in truth, I am bound to record that
its devotion to the cause of civil and religious liberty in the abstract is very
apparent; and I do not know whether even now it does not sell as many
numbers as any other morning paper.
Saunders's News Letter is the last of the Dublin morning papers, and
the least worthy of note. In many respects it resembles that very washer-
woman-like journal, the London Morning Herald. Like the Herald,
Saunders affects to have no political opinions, and to be quite neutral ;
but, like the Herald too, it is always to be found advocating every
measure opposed to freedom and liberality ; and it is the chosen champion
of Orangeism, Protestant ascendancy, and the Dublin corporation. Never-
theless, Saunders drives a profitable trade. There never is an original
article in his columns ; but they abound with advertisements : and there is
not a cadet,* from Connaught to Cape Clear, who does not pay his 5s. 5d.
for an affiche, containing all the many mental as well as bodily qualifica-
tions of the advertiser. These, with the array of horses and carriages to
be sold, houses to be let, and matters lost and found, vouchsafe unto the
proprietor, in all their various alternations, an abundant quantity of meat,
drink, and raiment ; and Mr. Potts is, in consequence, ' « a man well to do
in the world."
Among the three-day journals, the Dublin Evening Post takes the first
rank; and I doubt if there be many journals in the great metropolis better
conducted. The Post is a paper received with traditionary reverence by
the liberal gentry and substantial yeomen throughout Ireland ; and it must
be confessed that its character for honesty, ability, and devotion to its party
remain unquestioned, as indeed they are unquestionable. In the stormiest
periods of Irish history, the Post was under the direction of Father Taafe,
the author of a History of Ireland, a man of unquestioned patriotism, and
— what was considered as valuable in those days — " most potent in pot-
ting." But, however settled were the political sentiments of Taafe, his
religious opinions appear to have been worn loosely ; for, whether from
necessity or caprice, he abandoned the profession of the Catholic religion,
and became a parson, with the appendages of £4.0 per annum in money,
and a sum untold of obloquy and disgrace. The public affection, which
had so fondly lingered over even the errors of the priest, became diverted
from the apostate ; and he was now assailed with as much ignominy as he
had been formerly caressed with gross and deluding flattery. The shock
was too much to bear. Taafe sought consolation in the fascination of the
wine-cup, but found it only in death. The conduct of the Dublin Even-
ing Post now devolved on its printer, the celebrated John Magee, of whom
so many anecdotes are related in Sir Jonah Harrington's Memoirs of his
Own Times. Magee was full of shrewdness and eccentricity ; and, com-
* A cant term for a servant out of place.
342 The Newspaper Press of Ireland. [OcT,
ing from Belfast — at this period the focus of republicanism — his political
opinions were above suspicion, He was, however, a martyr to his fidelity ;
for he underwent many prosecutions, instituted by the government ; and,
what was still worse, he had to meet the devil in his own court ; — for
John Scott, Lord Clonmel, was at this period Chief Justice of the King's
Bench. Many " keen encounters of the tongue" took place between Lord
Clonmel and Magee on these occasions, in which the latter was usually
the victor. In addressing the court in his own defence, Magee had occa-
sion to allude to some public character, who was belter known by a
familiar designation. The official gravity of Clonmel was all agog ; and
he, with bilious asperity, reproved the printer, by saying, ** Mr. Magee,
we allow no nicknames in this court." — " Very well, John Scott !" was
the reply.
After the death of John Magee the elder, the Evening Post became the
property of John Magee, his son, whose fidelity to his principles and his
party were but ill -requited. To the memory of this interesting and
amiable young man, who perished prematurely from an illness contracted
during a long imprisonment for a libel on the Duke of Richmond, a deep
debt of gratitude is due by the Catholics of Ireland. During the sittings
of the old Catholic Board — pending the trials of the delegates, when a
journalist had nothing to hope from an ill-compacted party, and every thing
to fear from a vindictive and incapable government — the Evening Post
spoke to the sense and passions of the people with an energy and eloquence
worthy more durable record than the unpermanent and fleeting columns
01 the most popular print. But it was not alone by eloquence or passion
that its articles were distinguished. There ran through them a strong cur-
rent of common sense — a depth of thought and profundity of acquirement,
relieved by a rich vein of wit and satire, of which latter weapon the author
proved himself to have the entire mastery.
I am happy to have it in my power to state, that those talents which, at
the period I allude to, secured to the Evening Post the greatest circula-
tion of any paper in Ireland, still continue to guide it, without the compro-
mise of any principle, or the forfeiture of a single friend. Even while I
write, the editor labours as Mr. Conway in the Catholic Association, and
as " Monsieur le Redacteur" at No. 11, Trinity-street. In both capacities,
he has rendered the most eminent services to the Catholic cause; and were
I asked to point out a man who knows best the temper of the Irish mind,
the resources of the soil, the capability of the population, the grievances of
the country, and the remedies to be applied for its salvation, I would
unhesitatingly point to Mr. Conway. Let me not be understood, however,
as meaning to convey that the knowledge of Mr. Conway is merely local ;
I am aware it is very various, and not less profound ; and he is perhaps the
only editor in Ireland who can discuss, with a ready pen and with easy
freedom, the complex questions of the currency, the corn laws, and all the
details embraced under the head of political economy.
The evening paper the next in circulation to the Evening Post is the
Evening Mail. This journal has only been established about four years ;
yet has it, from a strange concurrence of circumstances, risen to maturity
in a time incredibly short. When Lord Wellesley came to Ireland, and
Mr. Plunkett was appointed attorney-general, the Ascendancy-men and
the Orange-faction began to take the alarm, and to withdraw their support
from the Patriot, heretofore the Protestant paper, and now the supporter
of Lord Wellesley's government In order the more successfully to accom-
plish these designs, the editor of the Patriot was spirited away ; and,
1 827.] The Newspaper Press of Ireland. 343
being a needy person, was induced, by the prospect of greater gain, and
a promise of a share in the Mail, to undertake the conduct of the new
paper. The government was libelled, collectively and individually, in the
most gross arid shameless fashion — the private history of individuals was set
in detail before the public — domestic intercourse invaded — and no tie held
sacred which binds man to man, or society together. Tbis was the system
patronised by the Orangemen of Ireland and the dignitaries of the church
by law established. To the church and the public functionaries, the Mail
is indebted for success. The poor parson contributed the efforts of his
pen, the rector his subscription, and the bishop his patronage. The
Customs and Excise, the Ordnance and Castle, the police and constabu-
lary, were ail put under contribution ; and where the individuals could
singly not afford to take the paper, clubs were instituted for the purpose
of nourishing discontent against the government, and a salutary hatred of
popery, the priests, and the Catholic Association. It is a singular coinci-
dence, however, that almost all the diatribes against the Catholic religion
were written by persons of that persuasion, or who had formerly belonged
to it; and that the editor of the obnoxious journal was himself a Papist!
Although I differ altogether from the Mail in principle, and abhor the
practices it has pursued, yet justice obliges me to confess that many of the
articles which have appeared in it were written with spirit and gaiety;
and it appears very thoroughly to understand the business of dramatic
criticism. It is, however, more than hinted at Dublin, that the light
articles to which I have made allusion are the productions of a gentleman
holding a high official situation, and receiving a salary of £2,000 per
annum from the public purse. Persons not ill-informed add further, that
the person at the head of the Irish government is well aware of this
fact.
The Patriot, the organ of the government, is but the wreck of what it
once was. Those causes which have contributed to the success of the
Mail, have tended to the downfall of the Patriot. All its Protestant
readers ceased to subscribe when it became the organ of Lord Wellesley's
sentiments. But, in truth, independently of this, the Patriot is a dull
paper, and has never recovered the loss which it sustained in the death of
Mr. Comerford (a gentleman of the bar), who was formerly the editor.
Mr. Comerford was a person possessed of rare endowments from nature,
improved and matured by cultivation. In early life he had been educated
in France, and took the highest honours at the Sorbonne. But the Revo-
lution, which changed so many other things, operated powerfully to thwart
Mr. Coraerford's original design of entering the Catholic church. He
returned to his native land, and renounced Popery for a wig and gown ;
for, in these days, a Catholic could not be called to the bar. His success,
however, was not commensurate with his expectations, or indeed his
deserts ; and he was forced to recur to literature for a livelihood. Hence
his connexion with the Patriot, whose columns had been for years adorned
with the graceful effusions of his pen. Yet, although Mr. Comerford was
in comparative affluence, he was, notwithstanding, an unhappy man, and
entertained a presentiment, which threw a shade over the sunshine of his
gayest hours — that his end would be unbidden and melancholy. This
fancy, alas ! was too fatally verified by the fact ; and the vulgar and
superstitious, who are the most numerous in every country, did not fail to
attribute the fulfilment of the unhappy man's prophecy concerning himself
to a just judgment for the abandonment of his early faith. I remember to
344 The Newspaper Pr'fss of Ireland. [OcT.
have seen Comerford the morning before his death— it was a Saturday ;
and there is a mournful preciousness about the recollection which makes
me recur to it with a sigh. His manner was hurried, and there appeared
to me something wild and supernatural in his air. " I have had a dream
last night," said he, " of the most extraordinary nature, and the memory
of which agitates me even now. I dreamt that I fell into the water,
and swam till I reached the bank ; when the moon, which hitherto had
been hid, was unveiled, and disclosed to my view alongside the bank, on
which I was ineffectually clambering, a coffin — on the plate of which my
name was wril." As he concluded these words, J could hardly suppress
laughter ; but I saw that what I thought a vision had indelibly impressed
itself on his mind, and 1 went my way. The next morning I walked on
the Royal Canal, when the first object I beheld was — Comerford a corpse !
On the Saturday evening he had dined with Mr. Frederick Edward Jones,
the then patentee of the theatre royal, and sat late. The night was dark
and rainy ; and, in crossing a small bridge over the canal, he slipped his
footing and fell in. He must have swam a long way; for his body was
found nearly a quarter of a mile lower down, with his fists firmly clutched
in the bank, in the act of clambering up ; but the edges were steep and
slippery3 and his struggles were in vain. With him perished a brilliant
genius, and a memory of almost incredible retention. He spoke French
with the idiom arid purity of a native, and could repeat verbatim some of
the speeches of Mirabeau, Robespierre, Danton, and Marat, which he had
heard in early youth. With him, too, vanished the literary reputation of
the Patriot, which now drags out a miserable existence by the aid of
proclamation-money and government advertisements.
The Irishman, a paper lately established, is conducted on popular prin-
ciples. Though its reputation for honesty cannot be questioned, yet its
style is verbose and declamatory, and reminds one of Cicero's description
of Asiatic eloquence.
The story of the other three-day and weekly papers in Dublin may be
briefly told. The Correspondent delights in sesquipedalian syllables, and may
be read, for aught I know to the contrary, in many lunatic asylums : I know
it is read nowhere else. The Weekly Freeman and the Weekly Register are
transcripts of the morning papers whose names they bear; and they have a
very extensive circulation in the provinces. Suffice it to despatch the
Warder by saying, that Sir Harcourt Lees — Parson, Baronet, and Fox-
hunter — writes in it sundry articles, which would entitle him to high consider-
ation in Bedlam or Swift's. Many of the provincial papers are respectable.
Among others, I would mention the Cork Southern Reporter, the Leinster
Journal, the Carlow Post, the Connaught Journal, and the Northern
Whig: the last mentioned is the organ of the dissenters of the north, and
is ably and temperately conducted. The journal of George Faulkener,
the friend of Swift, and Dublin alderman, has lately perished.
I have now exceeded my space, and given, I hope, a not unfaithful —
I am sure a very unprejudiced — account of the Press of Ireland.
Unquestionably it has much improved of late years; but still, when com-
pared with " the brethren of the broad sheet"* in this our isle of Britain,
there is much room for improvement. But the German proverb tells us,
" Der zeit bringt rosen ;" and why should not time also, the greatest
innovator (as Lord Bacon says), bring improvement to the Press of
Ireland? I shall next month take a glance at the " Literature of Ire-
land."
1827.] [ 315 ]
LAUDES CAKBONA1UUM,
OR THE PRAISES OF COALHEAVERS.
IT lias been an opinion common to the philosophers and moralists of all
nations, ancient and modern, and of every age, past and present, that the
world is too much guided in forming its notions by the mere appearances of
things. Complaints so long continued, and testimonies so invariably con-
current, would be worthy of the highest consideration (especially when
the respectability of those who prefer the accusation is considered), even if
our own experience did not at once constrain us to admit the truth of the
charge : with this farther concession — that, as society moves on in the
career of luxury and refinement, the disguises of pretence must still become
more numerous, and the artifices of fraud less easy of detection. The
amount of benefit conferred on the species by' those who have made the
aforesaid exposition — followed up, as it has generally been, by their admo-
nitory counsels — it may not be easy to calculate, nor have I now either
leisure or inclination to inquire ; but I think I may safely assume in brief,
that often has the beacon of their advice warned from the quicksands of
fudge, or the rocks of humbug, and thereby prevented the bark of many an
honest man's fair fortunes from suffering total shipwreck. Having said
enough in the way of genen 'izing, I now proceed to the illustration which,
particular examples bring.
" As chaste as the moon" was, till the other day, the very expressed
image of purity ; but, thanks to my Lord Byron, the saying is now, by his
great authority, battered down, and the supposition involved in the com-
parison scouted by all ; the proofs he brought forward to shew that Luna
is the most rakish of all planets, having settled that point in every reasonable
man's mind for ever. " As gentle as a pigeon" — " as meek as a dove"- —
" as constant as a turtle" — are household words, and convey so many
undisputed propositions: yet, if they are true, or at all applicable to the
creature they pretend to describe, then say I, " Abel killed Cain" — so
diametrically opposed are they to fact ; and the honour has -been reserved
for me of proclaiming in the face of the world (what seems hitherto to have
escaped the notice of every one else), that doves are, of all God's crea-
tures, the most quarrelsome — the most coxcombically vain in their deport-
ment— the most capricious and inconstant in their salacity ! Of all the
feathered knaves that wing the sky or cleave the air, your pigeon is
the most eminent ; he is absolutely an unprincipled, good-for-nothing,
thievish rake. But the matter I have more immediately at heart to bring
forward in judgment against the public, is its continued and unaccountable
blindness to the great and manifold merits of COALHEAVERS ; and my
present essay will, I trust, be found to contain a complete and satisfactory
(though succinct) summary of their virtues, as regards manners, habits^
and deportment — ending with a touch at their peculiar opinions. Thus
will I endeavour " to shame the rogues."
It was on a fine evening in the middle of last summer, that I, an incor-
rigible street-walker, was passing through that region of the eity of West-
minster that lies between the Adelphi and Whitehall, and had come pretty
near to Hungerford Market, when I saw suddenly before me a moving
group of rather an unusual aspect. There was a goodly number of people
close together, and a man's head and shoulders rising high over all. On a
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22. 2 Y
346 Laudes Carbonarium, or [OcT.
nearer view, I found they were principally Coalheavers, two of whom
carried the man aforesaid upon their shoulders, sitting astride a pole.
Much ungratified curiosity seemed to be excited in the neighbourhood by
the presence of this phenomenon; and, as a matter of course, the " ears
of the houses" within view (so Shylock called his casements) were all
thrown wide open to catch information. For a moment T supposed that
this uneasy exaltation of the chosen individual above his fellows might be
the reward of merit, and that " thus was it always done to those whom
[Coalheavers] delight to honour." So pursuing this idea, my imagination
Hew back on rapid pinions to the heroic ages when warriors were wont to
exalt and bear on their shields him they chose for chieftain or for king ! But,
upon inquiry, I found myself quite out in this conjecture, and all my fine
speculations sent to the dogs. — " This here wagabone," said my kind
-respondent, "* * * * * *."— [The gist of what he did say
was this — that the pot-girl of the public-house having loved a young com-
rade " too fondly and too well," had become — as the overseers of the
parish thought pot-girls ought not to become.]* — " And so we're making
un ride the stake, just to mend his manners summat: that's all, Sir."
• — " Here then," thought I, as the current of my thoughts ran with velo-
city in another channel — " here is the homage that humble, untaught
nature pays to virtue ! Till now I had always believed that, in the com-
merce of the sexes, equity had no place, and rectitude was banished from
the earth ; that through all ranks, in all situations, man was permitted to
exult in the ruin of woman; that the seducer invariably had a triumph
awarded him for his iniquity, and that his victim had, in no instance, the
poor consolation of knowing that the world censured his fickleness or his
falsehood. I lifted up my hands in an ecstacy, and fervently thanked
Heaven that I had at last met with men in whose hearts the feelings of
natural justice found an abode ; men, who could not look tamely on and
see, without practical reprobation, the tender blossom fall withered at their
feet ; or press to their hearts him whose pestilential breath had blighted it
in its freshness ! Virtue (thought I, in continuation — for I now felt the
sentimental furor strong upon me) — virtue, driven from the palace of the
proud, has indeed taken refuge in the dwellings of the lowly. I will go
even now, and make myself acquainted with these unsophisticated men,
and refresh all my better feelings by a closer scrutiny of their character."
— All this while the penitent sat unmoved, a tobacco-pipe in his mouth,
and seemingly altogether unconscious of the intense interest his appearance
had excited in my anxious bosom.
Each member of the procession had in his hand a pot of porter; and as
it moved on in slow progression, at intervals the grateful beverage was
handed by several to the delinquent, " for grief (they said) was dry."
And I could not help remarking herein the operation of that humane and
wise principle which all judicious legislators so much recommend, though
marvellously seldom able to reduce to practice — viz. that mercy should
always temper the awards of justice ; and that punishment ought to be
corrective, but not vindictive. In a word, I followed those sooty objects
of my rising esteem, and soon arrived at the public-house called the
Northumberland Arms, situate at the bottom of Northumberland-street;
which is, I understand, a kind of head-quarters or try sting-place for all
* I beg pardon of my worthy friend who so kindly let me into the secret, for thus play-
ing the scholiast on his rather licentious text.
J 827.] the Praises of Coalheavcrs. 34 7
those who heave coal. I entered, and following the sound of trampling feet
along an unlighted passage, found myself in a large apartment; wherein,
having groped my way to a corner, under a large-faced antique clock, there
J determined to sit for the remainder of the evening, and make observa-
tions.
A London tap-room is, not unfrequently, in one sense, like to the Temple
of Knowledge — in that all is dark when you first enter ; and it is only by
a diligent use of the faculties, and after a lapse of time, that you begin to
arrive at discoveries. Being Monday night, a period when the week is
yet young, and while the pecuniary stream has not as yet ebbed very low
in the pockets of the industrious, the place was quite full; and I had! good
reason to congratulate myself on the possession of the convenient nook
which fortune had taken care to leave unoccupied for my convenience. As
soon as the converse became general, it ran most on the example they had
just been making ; and bets were freely offered and taken on all sides> as
to the probabilities of Ben's (the culprit) making an honest woman of
ruined Sukey, the ex-Hebe of the place. Ben's looks were much conr-
sulted on this head, and many indirect suggestions were pointed his way ;
but he, to use the expressive language of vulgarity, " cocked his eye,"
looked knowing, and smoked a quiet pipe, but said nothing. Much
animated conversation ensued, and that not a little miscellaneous. Politics,
trade, the corn-laws, with " the cursed dear loaf" in front, were some of
the topics handled in a manner wonderously original. Many a piquant
observation was sported on these knotty points ; but as I have made a vow
with myself not to publish any thing that can any way tend to the discredit
of my proteges, I say no more.
Presently, one man expressed a common sensation by saying he was wery
peckish, and called for a rump-steak with a lordly air. I took particular
notice of this individual ; for he seemed to be the acknowledged wit of the
house ; and, certainly, he was a great wag in his way. He experienced
much success in his endeavours to raise laughter, and seemed to have as
absolute a power of relaxing the jaws of his auditors into the broadest of
grins, as the sun has in distending the shells of oysters. But it is with
sorrow I say it, that his jokes were too racy, and do not admit of insertion
here: tender stomachs must be fed with babes' nurture. There he sat,
however, like Apollo, shooting his rays on all sides — between his steak and
his pot — turning from the one to the other, as a man passes from his mis-
tress to his friend, the perfect picture of happiness. " Why am I not
(thought I, as I looked on, almost ready to burst with envy) — why am I
not, ye too partial gods, a Coalheaver ?" In the course of the night, I
experienced personally that hospitality is a virtue not unknown to this
dingy community. " The barbarians" — I beg pardon of the straitlaced
for the quotation — "the barbarians," I say, " shewed me no little kind-
ness." Their politeness was not the poor sickly plant of drawing-rooms-
all leaves and no fruit; but, rooted in the rich soil of a warm heart, threw
out its vigorous shoots liberally. Many were the invitations given (for
their courtesies went straight to the mark) to "the gentleman in the corner :"
but all I wanted of them was to forget me if possible, lest my presence
might check their mirth or modify their manners, though the event
proved that any anxiety of this kind was needless. One fine fellow early
bawled out, in the pride of his heart (and he seemed to speak a general
sentiment), " 1 drink no mixed liquors, to be sure ; but I loves my girl
2 Y 2
348 Laudes Carbonarium, or [OCT.
and my friend, and I don't care a for no man !" Here I remembered
that he held the first godlike penchant, in common with the Jupiter of the
ancients, to whom libations of wine were always offered neat. Never-
theless, the first article of his creed was rather an unhandsome glance at
me, who happened to have something of that sort before me just then.
It has been remarked by sages (and I believe them for once in a
way), that when a man cannot contain himself for joy, the turbulent jubi-
lance of his heart does naturally break forth in song. A grim associate
accordingly soon called out for one : each and all echoed the cry, " a song,
a song!" one adding, by way of rider, " and let's have a jolly coalbox
to it!" Incontinent, a question arose in my mind whether a toper's song
be really worth any thing without a chorus. I have often noticed its bliss-
ful effects in increasing good humour, and how mightily it favours the
honest endeavours of the singer to please his hearers ; for who can help
applauding a chaunt, in the hubbub of which his own lungs have been so
powerfully exerted ? But before I could settle the question aye or no,
enter the spouse of one of my consociates — an actual Coalheaveress —
on an errand. Here was an opportunity for display of gallantry, and it
was not lost. Their attentions were all on the alert in a moment. One
poured out cordial gin for her; another made room, and insisted she should
sit down ; others filled both her hands with pewters of beer — till she was
distracted with choices. She stood for one delicious moment, in pleased
bewilderment and happy hesitation — as inactive, for the time, as the ass of
the logicians between his two bundles of hay.
This interruption in the flow of affairs once past, " the fun grew fast
and furious." The first call was answered by my friend the wag; and
his song was something about crossing " the wide ocean for to chase the
buffalo." One reason why I have remembered the burden of it possibly
is, because I thought at the time the idea expressed somewhat of the least
patriotic; but the song that succeeded made an ample amends, by its
redeeming anti-Gallican qualities. The latter was sung by a thick-set,
brawny, husky-voiced, under-sized man, who looked as if he had been
newly dug out of the bowels of the earth, and who performed the promise
of Bottom to the very letter. " I will roar you as gently as any sucking-
dove." The chorus is all I can recollect ; it ran tk somehow so :" —
" For no rebel Frenchmen, sans-culottes,
Or sons of tyrants bold,
Shall conquer the English, Irish, or Scots,
Or land upon our co — o — oast,
Or land upon our coast."
A petty spirit of criticism might point out a slight dissociation of rhyme
from reason in this nervous lyric ; but as it was given with befitting spirit,
this trifling flaw was no ways perceptible at the time. " The harmony"
— I use the established erroneous phrase — went on unceasingly ; and muchp
very much hot breath was turned into good melody; insomuch that 1
began to quake for my character at my lodgings ; and as a good name is
better than riches, I determined to seize the first opportunity that offered of
slipping away unperceived — not knowing but that the ceremony of taking
leave here might be as tiresome as an ambassador's at court ; and 1 had,
moreover, now seen enough of the real nature of these excellent people to
establish favourable ideas of them in ray heart of hearts firmly and for
ever. I could not miss observing that the landlord of the house was the
1827.1 the Praises of Coalheavers. 349
common butt for the company to launch their bolts at ; but his good
humour or his cunning turned off every shaft innocuous. So long as he
had plenty of orders for liquor, he seemed to mind their rough jests not a
fig. At last, indeed, being vigorously pressed on all sides, his temper
did give way for a moment, but he quickly gathering his wits about him
again, with the policy of an old campaigner, diverted the attention of the
enemy with a story. One man having quoted against him the common
reproach of tapsters — that of using grooved chalk, so as to mark a double
tale against their customers — " Now you mention chalk," said he, " I'll
tell you how I got done the other day." And here he treated us to a
rigmarolish story about a certain gentleman in his neighbourhood, who
having permitted some bricklayers to run up a beer score at his house, the
debtor would not pay till he had inspected the original account; and that
this last having been set down on the window -shutter of the tap-room, he
was unreasonable enough to desire to retain it, that he might fix it on his file
along with other small matters. " And so, gemmen," concluded the
landlord, " I was reg'larly queered out o' my wm&ow-dlin&ers."
A cachinnatory explosion, which convinced me that till now I had
never rightly known what the common phrase, a horse laugh meant, fol-
lowed the recital of this abominable lie, under cover of which sly Boniface
retreated; and, I thinking it a good chance for me, followed his example.
Before I quit this part of ray subject, it may be as well to mention (as it
involves a point of character, and coupled with other traits, goes to point
the fallacy of Burke's assertion about the non-existence of a chivalric spirit
among the moderns, at least in so far as regards these knights of the black
diamond), that two several quarrels arose in the course of the evening —
for, after all, coalheavers are in the main frail men. Yet their differences
were only the natural result of the workings of " humours which some-
times have their hour with every man," as Shakspeare very rightly
observes : these were settled in the true Old English way ; there was no
riot, no brawling; the parties, with their seconds, kindly bade the com-
pany good bye for a moment, each posited his tobacco-pipe upon the table,
so as in some sort to represent his person, ad interim ; and there were
fought two fistic duels in the back-yard, with every circumstance of
equity and scrupulous regularity of form. On their return, the visages of
the heroes seemed a little worse for the rencounter; but the owners of
them the best friends in the world ; being fairly beaten into a loving ten-
derness and regard for each other, the general comfort was scarcely dis-
turbed for a moment, and it was evident such things were common.
" So gallant in love, and so dauntless in war,
Was ever true knight like the brave Coalheawzr ?"
I now mean to digress a little. It has long been a cherished opinion of
mine, that the English character has in our times undergone a total
change. The sturdy independence of mind, and straightforwardness of
manners, shadowed forth in the image of John Bull, are now almost
extinct ; that gruff, but honest and warm-hearted, personage is now our
" virtual" and not our actual representative; in dress and deportment all
is changed : all ape the gentleman; and a second and third hand politeness
takes placa of the ancient English plain dealing. There is at this day
fin the metropolis at least) no genuine English people ; yet, as most rules
have their exceptions, I mean to say that the coalheavers alone have
maintained their integrity amid the prevailing degeneracy.
350 Lttudes Carbonarium, or ' [OcT.
Although in this age of all but universal hypocrisy and make believe,
every man has at least two fashions of one countenance ; it is in dress
principally that most men are most unlike themselves. But the Coal-
heaver always sticks close to the attire of his station ; he alone wears the
consistent and befitting garb of his forefathers; he alone has not discarded
" the napless vesture of humility," to follow the always expensive, and
often absurd fashions of his superiors. All ungalled of him is each cour-
tier's heel or great man's kibe. Yet, is not even his every day clothing
unseemly, or his aspect unprepossessing. He casts as broad and proper a
shadow in the sun as any other man. Black he is, indeed, but comely,
like the daughters of Jerusalem. To begin with the hat which he has
honoured with a preference — what are your operas or your fire-shovels
beside it ? they must instantly (on a fair comparison) sink many degrees
below zero in the scale of contempt. In a word, I would make bold to
assert that it unites in perfection the two grand requisites of a head
covering, beauty and comfort. Gentlemen may smile at this if they will,
and take exceptions to my taste ; but, I ask, does the modern round hat,
whatever the insignificant variations of its form, possess either quality ?
No, not a jot of it. One would think, by our pertinacious adherence to
the headach-giving, circular conformation, that we wished to shew our
anger at the Almighty for not shaping our caputs like cylinders. In fine,
though the parson's and the quaker's hat has each its several merits, com-
mend me to the fan-tailed shallow. The flap part attached to the cap
seems, at first sight, as to use, supernecessary, although so ornamental
withal. It no doubt (as its name, indeed, indicates) had its origin in gal-
lantry, and was invented in the Age of Fans, for the purpose of cooling
their mistresses' bosoms, heated — as they would necessarily be — at fair
time, by their gravel-grinding walks, under a fervid sun, to the elegant
revels of West-end, of Greenwich, or of Tothill-fields. Breeches, rejected
by common consent of young and old alike, cling to the legs of the Coal-
heaver with an abiding fondness, as to the last place of refuge ; and, on
gala-days, a dandy might die of envy to mark the splendour of those
nether integuments — which he has not soul enough to dare to wear — of
brilliant eye-arresting blue, or glowing scarlet plush, glittering in the sun's
rays, giving and taking glory ! But enough of the dress of these select
" True-born Englishmen — for right glad I am to state that there are
but two Scotch Coalheavers on the whole river, and no Irish : I beg
leave to return to the more important consideration of their manners.
Most people you meet in your walks in the common thoroughfare of
London, glide, shuffle, or crawl onward, as if they conscientiously thought
they had no manner of right to tread the earth but on sufferance. Not so
our Coal heaver. Mark how erect he walks ! how firm a keel he presents
to the vainly breasting human tide that comes rolling on with a shew of
opposition to his onward course ! It is he, and he only, who preserves, in
his gait and in his air, the self-sustained and conscious dignity of the first-
created man. Surrounded by an inferior creation, he gives the wall to
none. That pliancy of temper, which is wont to make itself known by
the waiving a point or renouncing a principle for others' advantage, in him
has no place : he either knows it not, or else considers it a poor, mean-
spirited, creeping baseness, altogether unworthy of his imitation, arid best
befitted with ineffable contempt. He neither dreads the contact of the
baker — the Scylla of the metropolitan peripatetic ; nor yet shuns the dire
1827.J the Praises of Coalheavers. 351
collision of the chimney-sweep — his Charybdis. Try to pass him as he
walks leisurely on, making the solid earth ring with his bold tread ; and
you will experience more difficulties in the attempt than did that famous
admiral, Bartholomew Diaz, when he first doubled the Cape of Storms.
Or let us suppose, that haply you allow your frail carcass to go full drive
against his sturdiness ; when lo ! — in beautiful illustration of those doctrines
in projectiles, that relate to the concussion of moving bodies — you fly off
at an angle " right slick" into the middle of the carriage-way ; whence
a question of some interest presently arises, whether you will please to
be run over by a short or a long stage. — But to return. Who hesitates to
make way for a Coalheaver ? As for their drays — as consecutive a species
of vehicles as a body can be stopped by — every one knows they make way
for themselves.
In conclusion, I would fain say something informing respecting the reli-
gious opinions of Coalheavers. And as these our modern English nigri
fratres do, by a rather curious coincidence, abound in the district that
owes its name (Blackfriars*) to rank Papists, its former possessors, it was
much to be feared that the mantle of their erroneous belief also might have
descended upon the shoulders of those who followed them in possession ;
yet, so far as my information thereon goes, I can declare with safety that
these our much-respected " black brethren" all are good men and true ;
consequently, undoubting sons of mother church. Your Coalheaver is, in
fact, no schismatic : his soul at least is as yet untainted with the plague-
spot of dissent — that prevailing pest. He plods on quietly, in blissful
security of never wandering in the mazy paths of theological deviation —
as not well knowing how to set about it.f
To sum up all, I DO REALLY LOVE AND RESPECT COALHEAVERS ; and
if the judicious acknowledge that I have evinced myself an efficient instru-
ment (though unworthy) of shewing forth their praises, I shall be blest
indeed. CAROLUS COMMA.
* The sweet smelling neighbourhood —
Where loving Fleta finds her long sought Thames,
And pours her filthy dark contrasting wave;
So moves an endured blackguard in good company,
True to himself, in dirty colours shown.
• I one Sunday met a party of my favourites in St. Paul's Cathedral. They seemed to
view with becoming respect and even awe that splendid place — the proud fountain head
as it were of the hierarcbial grandeur of Protestantism ; and they listened to and observed,
with apparently profound attention, the operation of that rather popish-looking piece of
sacred machinery — cathedral service. Yet I must confess my favourable opinion of their
grave looks was rather staggered by overhearing afterwards one of them say to his neigh-
bour, casting a look all round the while, — " My eyes, Tom, what lots o» coals this here
place would hold." Perhaps the observation was meant in honour.
[ 352 ] [OCT.
OUll DAILY PATHS.
Nought shall prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. — WORDSWORTH.
THERE'S Beauty all around our paths, if but our watchful eyes
Can trace it 'midst familiar things, and through their lowly guise ;
We may find it where a hedgerow showers its blossoms o'er our way,
Or a cottage-window sparkles forth in the last red light of day.
We may find it where a spring shines clear, beneath an aged tree,
\Vith the foxglove o'er the water's glass borne downwards by the bee;
Or where a swift and sunny gleam on the birchen-stems is thrown,
As a soft wind playing parts the leaves, in copses green and lone.
We may find it in the winter boughs, as they cross the cold blue sky,
While soft on icy pool and stream their pencilled shadows lie,
When we look upon their tracery, by the fairy frost-work bound,
Whence the flitting redbreast shakes a shower of crystals to the ground.
Yes! Beauty dwells in all our paths — but Sorrow too is there ;
How oft some cloud within us dims the bright still summer air !
When we carry our sick hearts abroad amidst the joyous things
That through the leafy places glance on many-coloured wings.
With shadows from the past we fill the happy woodland shades,
And a mournful memory of the dead is with us in the glades ;
And our dream-like fancies lend the wind an echo's plaintive tone,
Of voices, and of melodies, and of silvery laughter gone.
But are we free to do ev'n thus — to wander as we will —
Bearing sad visions through the grove, and o'er the breezy hill ?
No ! in our daily paths lie cares, that oft-times bind us fast,
While from their narrow round we see the golden day fleet past.
They hold us from the woodlark's haunts and the violet-dingles back,
And from all the lovely sounds and gleams in the shining river's track ;
They bar us from our heritage of spring-time hope and mirth,
And weigh our burdened spirits down with the cumbering dust of earth.
Yet should this be ? Too much, too soon, despondingly we yield !
A better lesson we are taught by the lilies of the field !
A sweeter by the birds of heaven — which tell us, in their flight,
Of One that through the desert air for ever guides them right !
Shall not this knowledge calm our hearts, and bid vain conflicts cease ?
— Aye, when they commune with themselves in holy hours of peace,
And feel that by the lights and clouds through which our pathway lies,
By the Beauty and the Grief alike, we are training for the skies!
F. H.
J827.] [ 353 ]
•
PUBLIC CHAR
EUTIES.
IN our May number we inserted an epitome of the Charities in trust
with the Mercers' Company of London ; and, in July, those of the Haber-
dashers. At present, we have not the means of proceeding with the rest
of the City Companies. The Commissioners for Inquiry into the State of
Public Charities have themselves been guided by no discoverable order ;
and we follow that of the indefatigable cornpresser of tbeir reports, to
whom we have before acknowledged ourselves so much indebted — an
acknowledgment which we feel it incumbent upon us here to repeat.
The Charities of the City of BRISTOL will occupy the present paper ; and
of these, those which are under the management of the corporation will of
course take the precedence. They consist of Landed Estates, Money
Legacies, and Loans.
I. LANDED ESTATES.
QUEEN ELIZABETH'S HOSPITAL — Instituted in 1586, byJohnCarr, a
gentleman of Bristol, for bringing up poor children and orphans of the city,
and the manor of Congresbury, in the same manner as the hospital of
Christ Church in London. They are clothed like the boys of Christ
Church, but are taught only reading, writing, and arithmetic. Considerable
estates have since been added by several benevolent individuals, which have
brought up the average income to 239 1/. 6s. 4|<£, independently of occa-
sional falls of timber. There are now thirty-eight boys, for whose support
the master is allowed 201. a head, which amounts to 760/; the incidental
charges swell to at least as much more; and the remaining sum of TOO/, or
800/. goes, it seems, towards liquidating a debt due to the corporation. This
debt — how originating it does not appear — stood, in 1819, at the enormous
amount of 46,669/. 6s. 3^d. ; from which, however, the Commissioners
deducted 15,523/. 14*., as illegally charged for compound interest. The
incumbrance, therefore, now stands at 28,9707. 8s. Q\d. The Commis-
sioners speak favourably of the management; but, whatever it may be
now, with such ample funds it must, at some time or other, have been bad
enough. An income of 239 II. in effect supports only thirty-eight boys, at
201. a head.
The FREE GRAMMAR-SCHOOL, — which owes its origin to Robert
Thorne, who, in 1532, left 1000/. to be employed by his executors " as
might seem best for his soul," without specifically directing the establish-
ment of a grammar-school ; but, in consequence of this bequest, the corpo-
ration, by letters patent of Henry VJ II., were empowered to establish a
grammar-school, and receive for its support the houses and lands appertain-
ing to the dissolved hospital of St. Bartholomew ; that is, the corporation,
for this 1,000/., purchased the hospital lands of Henry. By the founda-
tion-deed, the school was stated to be for the better education and bringing
up of children and others, who will resort thither to the honour of God
and the advancement of the city. School education, in those days, meant
Greek and Latin, doubtless ; but, in this case, there was no specification
of Greek and Latin ; and, therefore, the governors are surely at liberty to
interpret the words in favour of whatever instruction shall seem most ser-
viceable to the " advancement of the city," which, though it be not Greek
and Latin, may be equally to the "glory of God," and, it may be hoped,
equally for the " good of the founder's soul." Now, what is the state of
M.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 22. 2 Z
354 Public Chanties. [OcT.
things with this foundation ? The endowments consist of 590 acres of
arable, meadow, pasture, and wood, besides messuages. By some strange
oversight, the value is not recorded by the Commissioners ; but the rents of
lands — some of them in the very heart of Bristol — must be something con-
siderable. The number of boys actually educated is FOUR or FIVE — not
more than ten for many years ; and each of these, too, pay to the master
51. 1 (Xs. per annum. What becomes of the income then ? The master and
the usher have each 8U/. ; but what becomes of the rest? No answer.
But how is it, in so populous a place as Bristol, there are not more than
four or five scholars ? The masters reply to the Commissioners is — " I
must teach nothing but Greek and Latin ; and the Bristolians will have
nothing to do with either." Then why do not the corporation bestir them-
selves, and open a school to teach what they wish and will learn ? The
corporation prefer, we suppose, pocketing the rents. The blame is wholly
with them : the masters — as all masters will — get as much as they can,
and work as little as they may.
RED MAIDS' SCHOOL, 1627. — Alderman John Whitson instituted this
school for the maintenance of a matron and forty girls, to be taught to
read and sew, and do such work as the mayor's wife and matron approve.
The girls, now forty-one, are apprenticed to the matron for eight or ten
years, who receives 12/. a year each with them for board and clothing,
except some few articles furnished by the trustees, and the children's earn-
ings, amounting usually to 100/. The girls are clothed in red cloth. The
same Alderman John Whitson appropriated other sums : — 20,9. for twenty
poor married women lying in child-bed, and 20,9. for the distributor — no
person to have the benefit of this gift more than three times ; 8/. 1@*. 6d.
and three bushels and a half of wheat for the master of RedclifF school ;
] 2/. for the poor of Newland and Clowenholl, in Gloucestershire ; 20s. for
the poor of Burnett, in Somersetshire; [01. to the schoolmaster of New-
land ; 2/. for repairs of St. Nicholas1 Church, and I/, for two sermons; and
500/. for loans to the freemen of the city. With the exception of the last,
all these donations are yearly payments, charged on the real estate of the
alderman. Two-thirds of the residue were to be applied to such good uses
in the city as the mayor and aldermen should approve ; the other third to
be given to his relations. The portion left to the disposal of the corpora-
tion is chiefly appropriated to the augmentation of the charities of the
testator. The estate produces 1,828/. 15s. 3^. The average payments
amount to 1,368£ 4s. \d., leaving a balance of 46 II. Us. 2%d. not con-
sumed on these charities. The kind-hearted man — for such he must
have been — directed that the surplus profits should be employed in portion-
ing the girls brought up in the Red Maids' School ; but the careful Mal-
thusians of Bristol have, in their wisdom, thought proper utterly to disre-
gard the founder's wishes in this respect What becomes of the surplus ?
Is it better disposed of ?
COLSTON'S FREE-SCHOOL. — In 1798, Edward Colston, of London, by
indenture granted certain manors, lands, and messuages for the support of
a school established by him in St. Augustin's Back. The nomination to
vacancies was given to the company of merchant adventurers and his exe-
cutors ; and, after the death of his executors, half to the merchants, and
half to persons named by himself. This circumstance seemed to the cautious
Commissioners to take the case out of their hands. The establishment is a
very important one, and apparently well conducted. What the revenue may
1827.] Public Charities. 355
be is of course unknown. One hundred boys are boarded, clothed, and
educated. Chatterton was brought up in this school. It is classed by the
Commissioners under the corporation trusts ; but it does not appear that
they have any thing to do with it.
TEMPLE STRKET SCHOOL. — The same munificent Edward Colston left
the only funds by which this drooping school is supported. Till 1711 it
was maintained solely by voluntary subscription, when Mr. Colston erected
the present school and dwelling-house, and endowed it with an annuity of
80/., charged on the manor of Toomer, in the parish of Hensbridge, in
Somersetshire. This sum was then found sufficient for clothing and edu-
cating forty boys ; and even now thirty are clothed and instructed, with a
balance of 31. 13s. Gd. still remaining. Let the efforts of the City grammar-
school be compared with this. There, with an endowment of 590 acres of
land, four boys, sometimes five, are educated, at least with the additional
payment, on the part of the parents, of 51. 10s. each: here thirty boys are
educated and also clothed for less than 80/. Surely the corporation might
turn over some of the enormous surplus to the Temple-street school, and at
least keep up Mr. Colston's number of forty.
TEMPLE SCHOOL FOR GIRLS. — This school was instituted about a cen-
tury ago, and was supported by voluntary contributions till 1798, when the
ample amount of the funds, from donations and legacies, rendered farther
subscriptions unnecessary. By subsequent gifts, the funds have been
increased to 1,750£., five per cents.; and a legacy of 100/. still remained
to be paid. In J 797, an old house and a piece of freehold ground were
purchased. The house was pulled down, and the present school built on
the site of it. Forty girls are entirely clothed and educated.
TRINITY HOSPITAL. — This is a very ancient institution, the origin of
which is involved in obscurity. The corporation are in possession of a
charter believed to be of Henry V. ; but the words are too much obliterated
to determine which Henry. It appears to recite a previous grant by the
predecessor of the reigning sovereign, to one John Barnstaple, empowering
him to erect, in the suburbs of Bristol, a perpetual hospital, and the
grantees to take the profits of lands and other possessions to them and
their successors for ever. A regular series of conveyances brings the pro-
perty to the corporation. Considerable additions have been made to the
funds ; the total income of which now amounts to 789/. ids. %d. Ten
men and thirty-six women receive each five shillings a week, making 598/. :
the average expenditure is 6471. 4*. 7d. The hospital consists of twa
buildings on the north and south side of the old market place.
FOSTER'S ALMSHOUSE, founded 1492. — John Foster, a merchant of
Bristol, directed his executor to find a priest daily to sing in the chapel of
his almshouse in Stepe-street, for twelve years, for his soul and the souls of
his family ; and distribute 2*. 2d. for forty years after his decease among-
the poor of the said almshouse. The lands vested in feoffees for the
endowment consist of several houses in the city, the rent of which, together
with some fee-farm rents, now amount to 333/. 1 6y. 4d. The alrashouse
consists of fourteen apartments, each of which, we suppose, is occupied ;
and each occupant has 4*. a week, and half a ton of coals at Christmas,
with 4*. extra at Christmas, and 5*. at Easter and Whitsuntide, divided
among them. The bailiff of the corporation inspects the institution, and
has fifty guineas per annum — nearly one-sixth of the whole establish-
ment.
2 Z 2
3oG Public Charities. [OcT.
TEMPLE HOSPITAL, — founded in 1613 by Thomas White, doctor of
divinity, and incorporated under the name of the Ancient Brothers and
Sisters of the Temple Hospital of Bristowe. The property left for the sup-
port of the charity consists of houses in London and Bristol, the annual
rent of which is now 609/. 18s. The building has forty-eight apartments ;
each person has two. The sum allowed each person is not specified ; but
between 4001. and 500/. is stated to be expended on the hospital ; leaving
a considerable balance, and one that will be very much augmented, when
the new rents come in, in favour of the foundation.
The same Dr. White left in trust to the corporation four houses in
Gray's-inn-lane, London, then held at a rent of 40/., for the following
annual payments : — 40s. to the poorest persons in the gaol of Newgate,
Bristol ; 20*. for a sermon on the festival of St. John the Baptist, at the
Cross in the parish of Temple : I O/. for four sermons by the minister of St.
Warborough's ; the same by the minister of All Saints ; 51. for one sermon
by the minister of Temple church ; 6/. to the poor of Temple Hospital,
for the increase of their alms ; 40s. towards the expense of the annual
dinners of the governors, " whereby the diet of the poor people there that
day might be amended;" and the remaining 4/. for any necessary expenses
of the said hospital. The rent of the premises has increased, and the dis-
posal of the surplus is now under consideration.
SIGN COLLEGE, LONDON.— The same Dr, White, in 1622, left 3000/.
" for the buying of a fair house and backside, fit to make a college for a
corporation for all the ministers, parsons, vicars, lecturers, and curates
within London and the suburbs;''" also for an ALMSHOUSB adjoining, subject
to the same regulations as the Temple Hospital of Bristol, for ten men and
ten women ; the governors of which almshouse are to be the president, the
two deans, and four senior ministers of the college. For the support of
the college and almshouse, Dr. White left 160/. out of his real estate — 120/.
for the almshouse. The occupants were to be taken, six out of St. Dun-
stan's in the West, two out of St. Gregory, four out of Bristol, and the
rest out of the company of Merchant Tailors, London. The corporation
of Bristol accordingly appoint four, who are allowed by the governors of
Sion College to be out-pensioners. At present they all receive 8/. a year
each : the sum varies with the funds of Sion College, an account of which
will hereafter be given.
The same Dr. White left 100/. a year for the repair of the highways
within five miles of Bristol, and for the highways most used leading to
Bath and Oxford; and in case this expenditure should become unnecessary,
301. were to be lent for two years to each of two poor tradesmen ; and 10/.
given to each of four poor maidens of honest fame, as marriage portions.
This 100/. a year was provided for by the Bradley and Hockley estate iu
Essex, the rents of which were so divided between Sion College and the
corporation of Bristol as to give the latter seven-tenths; two-sevenths of
which were appropriated to Temple Hospital. The produce of the road
estate has been, upon an average of some years (to 1821), 479/. 2s. ; and
as the turnpike-acts rendered the appropriation of the money to the roads
unnecessary, a surplus accumulated to the amount of 3,395/, 14s. 2d.,
which, by the Chancery, was directed to be expended chiefly in building
additional almshouses. The future disposal of this 479/. 2s. is to be, for
repairing roads (notwithstanding the turnpike-acts !), 100/. ; for loans and
gifts, 100/. ; for eight additional almsfolk, J62/., for an additional shilling
1827.] Public Chanties. 357
a week to the whole thirty-two — leaving thus a surplus of 33/. 18*. ; and
not one thought for the poor maidens of honest fame and their marriage
portions. This is the second instance of a disposition on the part of the
Bristol corporation to repress matrimony- — among the poor.
CHARITY to Twenty-four Corporations in T&ngland. — This was the
singular gift of 2,000/., by Sir Thomas White, to the corporation of Bris-
tol, to be laid out in land, on condition of lending 50/. each to two persons
for ten years — of employing 200/. in the purchase and sale of corn to poor
people, without profit — and of paying, from the year 1577, 104/. to. twenty-
four corporations, in rotation, annually for ever. The rental in 1821
amounted to 197/. 3s. 3%d. ; and attempts have been made by the corpo-
rations to force an augmentation, but the Chancery decided against them.
These corporations were directed, by Sir Thomas White, to lend 25/. to
each of four persons for ten years, and take the remaining 4/. for their trou-
ble. The corporations are York, Canterbury, Reading, Merchant
Tailors' Company, Gloucester, Worcester, Exeter, Salisbury, West
Chester, Norwich, Southampton. Lincoln, Winchester, Oxford, Hereford
East, Cambridge, Shrewsbury, Lynn, Bath, Derby, Ipswich, Colchester,
Newcastle. Canterbury received it in 1821. Whether these corporations
fulfil the intention of the donor, falls not within the Commissioners' juris-
diction, because the College of St. John, Oxford (of which Sir Thomas
White was the founder), and the corporation of Bristol, each does or should
nominate an honest and discreet person to ride to and view the said corpo-
rations, and inquire into the execution of the trusts confided to them — who
are, therefore, Special Visitors.
KITCHEN'S CHARITIES, 1594. — Alderman Robert Kitchen left, by
will, his house in Small-street, Bristol, and a part of his personalty, for the
relief of the poor of Bristol, and of the town of Kendal, in the county of
Westmoreland* 1000/. was in consequence paid to the corporation by the
executors ; they stipulating for a rent-charge of 32,1. on the city lands, in
lieu of 600/. out of the l,000/. Of this 32/., was to be given 26/. in
weekly payments of 10s. to a poor householder of one of the seventeen
parishes in rotation for ever, and the remaining six to poor kindred of the
testator. The other 400/. was to be lent gratis to freemen in small sums,
which will come among the Loan-money Charities of the corporation.
The houses now standing on the site of the alderman's premises (called
New Market Estate) produce 501. Us. 6d., of which 40/. 15*. is stated
to be distributed in charity. Considerable irregularity appears to have.
taken place with respect to this property ; but the Commissioners are of
opinion the corporation have, one way or other, more than fulfilled the
charitable purposes of the donor. They recommend, however, the corpor
ration to carry the rents and profits of the New Market Estate in future to
the account of Alderman Kitchen's Charities — that is, to observe the direc-
tions of the giver.
OLD MARKET and TEMPLE ALMSHOUSES, 1679. — Alderman Steevens
left lands and houses in Breachyate, Wick and Abson, Gloucestershire, for
the building and support of two almshouses. One has sixteen rooms, the
other twelve, now given wholly to women. The rents, in I82J, amounted
to 73 II. 2s. The 28 occupants of the rooms have each 6*. a week, and
occasionally coals ; and the same sum is given to thirteen out- pensioners.
The funds are wholly spent on the purposes of the institution. The expen-
diture, in 1821, was 696/., including 60/. for repairs.
358 PMc Chanties. [OcT.
WHITE'S CHARITIES.' — Thomas White, in the reign of Henry VIII.
left certain lands, tenements, and rents for the payment of 4*. a month to
each of five hospitals : 20s. annually towards the maintenance of the con-
victs of St. John's and Allhallows ; 1 /. I s. 8d. to the prisoners in Newgate ;
and 6** 8d. to St. Ewan's parish : these together came to 1 1 /. 1 8s. Sd.
The income from the property — on a part of which stands the county
house of correction, and for which compensation was made to the charity —
now amounts to 42/. 14*. 8d. No account is given of the disposal of the
balance.
SPENCER'S MESSUAGE. — William Spencer, in 1494, left a messuage in
Bristol, then let at 4/. a year, for " pious uses ;" namely, sermons, ringing
church-hell, and spreading Redcliff church with rushes. II. 13*. 4d. is still
paid for the sermons and rushes at Whitsuntide; hut no account is given
of the present value of the property. There are too many hiatuses of this
kind in the reports.
BROWN'S GIFT, 1629. — Humphry Brown left his estate, in the parish of
Filton, in Gloucestershire, to provide for four sermons in St.|Warborough's
church oh the days in which he came into this " vale of misery" and quit-
ted it, and those of his baptism and marriage ; for a lecture every Sunday
in the same church or St. Nicholas's; for a sermon in each of the churches
of Westbury-upon-Trim, and Acton ; and 40*. to the poor of each of these
latter parishes on the day of the sermon. The sermons and lectures are
still preached, and the money distributed to the poor of Acton and West-
bury. But, again, the Commissioners have forgotten to stale the value of the
Filton estate, nor do they tell what sums are paid. They might as well,
almost, have left the thing alone.
LADY ROGERS gave 20/. to the corporation, to provide a sermon at St.
Thomas's, for which 20s. is annually paid.
WILLIAM GIBBS likewise, in 1602, left 101, for a sermon at the Church
of the Gaunts. This is now called the Mayor's Chapel, and the whole
expense of providing church-service is defrayed by the corporation.
CHESTER ESTATE. — This was a grant in the reign of Elizabeth, by
Alderman Chester, of certain premises in the parish of St. James, on con-
dition of the corporation paying 71. 1 6s. to the poor of St. John ; 4*. to
the almsfolk of St. James's Back; and 40*. for the maintenance of the
House of Correction. The corporation are in possession of two houses let
on a lease for ninety-nine years, determinable upon their lives, at a
reserved rent of 6/. They have also a fee-farm rent of 20*.
BAGOD'S CHARITY. — In the 9tb of Henry VII., John Bagod granted
the corporation four messuages in Grope-lane, on condition of their distri-
buting 3*. Id. in bread to the poor prisoners in Newgate. The corporation
hold many houses on this spot, now called Nelson-street ; but they are
unable to distinguish Bagod's property. They expend not less than 1000/
a year for the benefit of the prisoners in Newgate ; and the bread-bills
atone amount to 400/. for some years past. Bagod's is mixed up with the
rest.
II. We come now to the MONEY LEGACIES.
JACKSON'S CHARITY, 1658.— There is some doubt whether the original
bequest was one or three hundred pounds. The sum of ten guineas, how-
ever, is paid to the overseers of five parishes in Bristol — for the relief of the
poor, we hope, and not of the poor-rates.
PRISON CHARITIES.— Peter Matthew left 100/. ; Sir John Young, 20/. ;
1827.] Public Charities. 359
and Mrs. M. Brown, 10/., for employing the prisoners in Bridewell. This
prison is wholly supported by the corporation, at an expense of not less than
500/. Thomas Finnes also left 100/. for setting the poor to work — whe-
ther in prison or not, does not appear.
MERLOTT'S CHARITY for BLIND PERSONS. — Alderman Merlott, in
1784, Ieft3,000/. on the death of his wife, which happened in 1800, to be
vested in government securities, and the income to be applied, as far as it
would go, to the relief of blind persons, in sums of 10L each, subject to the
same regulations as a similar charity instituted in London by the Rev. Mr.
Hetherington. To this sum was added 4,000/., by a Miss Elizabeth Mer-
lott, probably the daughter of the founder ; and 3,333/. 6s. Sd. three per
cents, by Richard Reynolds. The whole amount of stock belonging to
the charity in 1821 was 15,152/. 17*. \d., producing a dividend of
454/. 1 1*. $d. Forty-three blind people receive 10/. each. Persons in any
part of England are eligible : preference is given to the most aged.
Mrs. MARY ANN PELOQUIN'S CHARITY. — This lady, in J778, left
19,000/. to be vested in government securities, or in the chamber of Bristol,
under the security of the city seal, at not less than three per cent., on con-
dition that the corporation should pay the interest of 300/. — to the rector of
St. Stephen, 5/. ; the curate, 2/. ; and the remainder, be it what it might,
to the clerk and sexton for attendance on St. Stephen's Day ; the interest
of 15,200/. to thirty-eight men and thirty-eight women, all free of the city,
housekeepers, and not receiving parochial relief — that is, 61. each, while
the interest is three per cent. ; the interest of 2,500/. to poor lying-in
women, wives of freemen, 30s. each ; and the interest of the remaining
J,000/., in equal shares, to twenty single or widowed women and ten men
of St. Stephen's, not receiving parish relief. The corporation expend 570/.
in the manner directed ; but they have at no time, since 1778, be the gene-
ral rate of interest what it might, ever dreamt of giving more than three
per cent. We shall presently find the Commissioners recommending
another company, in a similar case, to allow four instead of three per cent. ;
and they might have done the same here.
Miss ELIZABETH LUDLOW also, in 1812, left 1,000/., three per cents.,
the dividends to be distributed among five poor widows, who had been the
wives or were the daughters of freemen, on the nomination of the mayor
and aldermen. This also is done.
Mr. SAMUEL GIST, in 1815, left 10,000/. three per cents., to be applied
to the support of six men and six women, — to pay 51. to each of them on
St.Thomas's Day, — to maintain six boys and six girls in Queen Elizabeth's
Hospital, — and to provide apprentice-fees of 10/. for the boys. No girls it
seems could be received in Queen Elizabeth's Hospital ; and application
was accordingly made to the Chancery, where poor Mr. Gist's wishes
were treated with very little ceremony. The Chancellor finally directed,
that three boys should be placed in the hospital at 30/. each,— "-three girls
in the Red Maids' School at 241., — that three poor men should receive
6s. a week, and three poor women 5s. These sums together amount to
253/. [6s. We should like to know why 30/. is paid for the boys at
Queen Elizabeth's, while 20/. only is paid for the rest ; and why 24/. is
thought necessary for the girls, when the other Red Maids require only
Mrs. THURSTIN, in 1778, left 300/. in trust, the interest of which was
to be paid to lying-in women, 20s. each. This produces 12/., and is duly
distributed according to the directions of the donor.
Public Charities. f OCT.
THOMAS BOBBINS, in 1619, left 100/. on condition that \l JOs. bo
paid to the poor of St. Thomas on St. Thomas's Day ; and 10*. for a
sermon on the same day. 51. is accordingly paid to the churchwardens.
NEWGATE CHARITY. — Matthew Havyland, alderman of Bristol, left
80/., the interest of which to be paid for the preaching of twelve sermons
in Newgate. His executor also gave 201., the interest of which was to Lie
distributed among the prisoners. George White left JOO/. in like manner,
for their relief.
GEORGE HARRINGTON, in 1637, covenanted with the corporation, in con-
sideration of540/., to pay to himself 311. for life; and after his death
267. to a poor householder, being a freeman, and 20s. to the clerk for his
trouble.
THOMASINE HARRINGTON, the widow of George Harrington, gave 521.,
to pay to the churchwardens of RedclirT one shilling a week, for bread
to be brought to Redcliff Church, and there distributed; — 52/. on the
same condition, for the poor of St. Michael ; — and double that sum for
St. James's.
ALDERMAN LONG, in 1739, gave 100/., and the corporation pay 61. a
year, to the parish of St. Stephen.
JOHN PEARCE, in 1663, left 201 for a sermon on the 5th of No-
vember, in St. James's Church. The sermon is still preached, and 20s.
paid for it.
EDWARD Cox, in 1622, left 200/., the interest to be employed in "ap-
prenticing poor boys, and relieving decayed handicraft men, and such like
uses'" — the parish of St. Philip to be mainly respected. Accordingly 8/.
are paid annually to the churchwardens of St. Philip, and H. each to St.
James's and RedclirT.
Among several almshouses are distributed 30s. as the gift of " one PAR-
SON POWELL;" and 16s., in like manner, on account of the gift of
SILK. The commencement of these gifts appears not to be known.
Dr. CHARLES SLOPER, chancellor of the diocese of Bristol, left, in 1727,
a house in the College Green, which was sold by the corporation, and the
proceeds afterwards invested in a rent-charge, to which a small allowance
has since been added by the corporation, making the whole 20/. 8s. 9d.
This annuity accumulates for three years, and is then laid out in the pur-
chase of large bibles for the poor.
Alderman HUMPHREY HOOK gave the sum of 680/., on condition that
4s. for coals, and 4s. for bread, be paid weekly to the poor of St, Stephen's,
and the remainder of the interest to go to Queen Elizabeth's Hospital.
20/. 6s. is annually paid to the churchwardens ; but nothing is said in the
reports of any surplus for the hospital.
III. In addition to these land and money charities, no less than fourteen
individuals, at different periods, some very remote, have bequeathed dif-
ferent sums for LOANS — a considerable part without, and the rest at a low
interest. The corporation consider themselves liable for 5,567/. 18s. 4d.
Of this large sum, 1,888/. is outstanding in LOANS ; 1 551. invested in the
three per cents, for a reserve against losses ; 1,412/. is in the chamberlain's
hands unapplied, and always to be had by proper applicants ; and for the
remainder the corporation have executed bonds under the city-seal. No-
body it seems cares about sums of 1 01. 20/. &c. ; but for sums of 601. and
upwards there would ' be great demand. An application to Chancery is
talked of for discretionary powers.
Numerous as are the charities we have already particularized, belonging
1 827 . J Public Charities. 30 I
to the corporation of the city of Bristol, there are many others under the
management of other public bodies. The principal of these is the Society
of Merchant Adventurers.
MERCHANTS' ALMSHOUSE, in King Street — formerly called St. Cle-
ment's Alrnshouse, — which seems to have been founded in the reign of
Edward VI. Lands and money have been granted by several individuals,
particularly Mr. Colston, down to Mrs. Mary Ann Peloquin, whose liberal
bequests we have already commemorated. The buildings consist at
present of thirty-one rooms, which are occupied by nineteen men and
twelve women — each receiving 3s. a week, except the chief brother, who
has 5s., and all some articles of clothing. The expenditure, exclusively
of repairs, on an average of nine years is 310/. ; but the permanent income
appears to be only 188/. 13-9. 8d. The deficiency is made up by the
society's general funds. Connected with this institution, there are also
eighteen other rooms, called 'perquisite' rooms, at present occupied by
twelve men and six women, to whom small, very small, payments are occa-
sionally made.
COLSTON'S ALMSHOUSE, instituted in 1696, for twelve men and twelve
women, by Edward Colston, founder of the free-school, and a most muni-
ficent benefactor to the city. In addition to the lands and rents with
which Mr. Colston endowed his institution, the late Mr. Hart Davis gave
a piece of land in Westbury-upon-Trim, now a nursery -ground, which
brings up the whole annual income to 297/. \6s. 6d. The expenditure,
however, in J820, was 415/. 6*. 2d. ; — the deficiency is supplied from the
surplus income arising from Mr. Colston's gift for specific purposes to the
Merchants' Almshouse. Of the almsfolk, twenty-three receive each 4*. a
week, and the chief brother 7*. They must all be free of the city, and
members of the Church of England. 40/. is paid to a chaplain for read-
ing prayers.
MERCHANTS' HALL SCHOOL, King Street. — This school appears to have
been instituted for the purpose of teaching ten boys the art of navigation.
Some time in the last century, the funds, amounting to 460/., were made
over to the Merchants' Society, on condition that they should find a person,
well skilled in navigation, 'capable of instructing twenty boys, and pay
him 207. a year. The school now consists of forty, and the master has
SQL All above 20/., which the society covenanted to pay, is to be con-
sidered a contribution of their own, and entirely voluntary. The master
is not bound to teach navigation to more than ten, nor do the society
supply instruments, charts, and navigation books for more than that num-
ber. There is no restriction as to the age of admission.
BRIDGE ON THE AVON.— Mr. William Vicks, in 1753, left 1,000/., to
accumulate till it amounted to 10,000/., for the building of a bridge on
the Avon — he having understood a bridge might be built for less than that
sum. The merchants accepted the trust, and allowed three per cent.
In October 1821, the principal and interest of this sum amounted to
4,139/. 9*. Sd. The society, however, having from the year J782
actually been paying four per cent, for money borrowed, the Com-
missioners considered them as taking an unfair advantage, and recom-
mended an advance of interest at least from the year 1782. They, in
consequence, reconsidered the case, and finally agreed to credit the trust
with the sum of 6,074/. 17s, 5d. — calculating at four per cent. The
Commissioners are thus doing some good, besides the communication of
facts. When the accumulations reach the sum of 10,000/., if a-bridge
M.M. Neiv Series,— VOL. IV. No. 22. 3 A
.362 Public Charities. [OcT.
be thought undesirable (as it will undoubtedly prove to be irn practicable —
building, and particularly bridges, is one thing in our days, and was
another in Mr. Vicks's), the donor directs 4,000/. to be employed in loans,
and (>,000/. for the founding of an hospital for illegitimate children.
ELEANOR HAMMOND, in ]774, left to the society 200/. for shoes to the
women of St James's parish, and also 400/. to be given to twenty-four
widows of the same parish — reckoning the interest at three per cent
These charities are distributed on All Saints' Day.
ALICE COLE left in the hands of trustees, for charitable uses, the two
rectories of Worle and Kewstoke, in Somersetshire. The last conveyance
was made in 1787 to three persons, one of whom is dead, the second in a
state of incapacity, and the third has never acted, and seems not discover-
able. The property is therefore in danger of being lost. The tithes are
let at 124/., and the holders hesitate to pay. There are 2,350/. in the
three per cents. ; and two houses, purchased from savings, in St. James's
Back — making the whole income 21 61. 10s. Of this income, 41. are
paid to each of four hospitals; 12/. 13s. 4<£, a fee farm rent, to the
crown ; a chief rent of 21. \7s. to the chamber of Bristol; and the secre-
tary takes 3/. 3s. No one apparently has authority to act but the secre-
tary, and his authority must be very questionable. The trustees some
years ago contemplated a school, and actually built a house for a man
and woman to teach children in, on a piece of ground given them by the
city. Somebody should stir in this ; it seems a very fit occasion for the
corporation to do so. The Commissioners class this charity among those
which are under the management of the merchants ; but how they are
connected with it does not at all appear.
Charities in the Parish of St. Mary Redcliff.
FRY'S MERCY HOUSE, situated in Colston's Parade — for the mainte-
nance of eight poor women. The present value of the endowment is
49/. 10s. Id. Expenditure 5\l. Is. Id. The women have 2s. 6d. a
week. But, by a recent bequest, another sixpence is added to the
allowance.
PILE STREET SCHOOL, for clothing and educating forty boys of this
parish and St. Thomas's. The income of the charity is I73/. ; about
110/. of which depends on annual subscriptions. The expenditure is 55/.
for the master; about 651. for clothing, and 23/. for coals, books, &c.,
which, with repairs, bring it up to 150/. or 160/. It is under the control
of the vicar and twelve parishioners, and sixteen of St. Thomas's.
ALMSHOUSE OF REDCLIFFE HILL. — A very ancient institution origi-
nating with William Cannynge, in 1448, who founded two chantries in
Redcliff Church, for two priests to sing at the altar, — for two annual
obits, — 'and moreover to distribute certain monies yearly for ever to the
relief of the poor. The lands belonging to the chantries were of the annual
value of 34 /. 19s. 4^., out of which 26/. 8s. was given to the poor — pro-
bably to the alms-people. Upon the seizure of the chantries this payment
of course ceased. There are still fourteen alms-people occupying the
rooms as paupers ; the whole surviving funds appear to be 1 6/. paid by
the corporation to the vestry of Redcliff. They participate slightly in
the general charities of the parish. The same imperfect account must be
given of the TEMPLE-GATE Almshouse, which consists of eleven rooms,
occupied by the same number of paupers, and no better endowed than the
other.
QUEE.V ELIZABETH'S FREE GRAMMAR AND WRITING SCHOOL, was
1827.] Public Charities'. 363
instituted in the thirteenth of her reign, under the management of twelve
governors, with power to choose their successors, and have a common seal.
Annuities of 2J/. 2*. 6<£, and accumulations to the amount of'89/..ls. 3d.
constitute the present funds. There are no scholars at all. The Commis-'
sioners are at a loss to account for thi«, because the school was destined
for writing as well as grammar, and English has been supcradded. It
must be, in their opinion, for want of being sufficiently promulgated.
There are doubtless better reasons. What has become of the governors
and their common seal?
To this parish belong miscellaneous bequests from forty or fifty indivi-
duals, amounting to 2,337/. Ids. -6d., the income of which is 93/. 14s. 1 id.
—to particularize is impracticable — to which must be added rent-charges
of about 30/. Of these sums 751. 10s. is distributed in money at Christ-
mas; 36/. 9s. Sd. in bread ; SI. in clothing; 2/. 8s. A.d, to the minister;
20s. to ringers; and 12*.' Id. to the sexton — generally according to the
will of the donors.
To these funds must still be added what are called the Church and
Pipe Lands, for the reparation of the church — declared to be " one of the
most famous, absolute fairest, and goodliest parish churches in England" —
and the public pipe or conduit. The average value is as much as
1,03 1/. 17s. 6d. ; and the whole is actually expended in repairs — in the
church service, on the pipe, in some gifts to the poor, and now and then
a little feasting ; but all is moderate, compared with London doings. In
1820, nearly 2,000/. was expended on the church, and a considerable sum
wasted in mourning decorations on royal funerals. The entire control of'
these large estates is in the minister and the vestry.
Parish of St. Thomas. , _ , , ,.:}
BURTON'S ALMSHOUSE, said to have been founded in 1292; .and cer-
tainly in Elizabeth's reign it is spoken .of as having existed beyond the
memory of man* The income is derived from the benefactions of indi-
viduals, some of a very ancient date— and amounts at, present to 481. 6s. Sd.
The alms-people are sixteen old women of the parish.
THE MARKET.— This was granted by Elizabeth to aid the parish in
supporting the almshouse and aqueduct. The markets have long been let,
and produce an income of 170/., which is blended with the general funds of
the parish, from which the repairs of Burton's almshouse are defrayed,
and the weekly allowance of 8s. supplied. The feoffees are expressly
restrained from letting the markets; but interest tramples down all
scruples.
CHURCH LANDS. — The origin of these lands is no longer traceable ; but,
by a trust-deed, dated in the 44th of Elizabeth, it. appears certain lands,
messuages, and premises, were granted to the vicar and fourteen others of
the parish, for the maintenance of God's divine service, repairing the
church, &c. The present rents and average fines amount to 300/. The
expenditure for the last ten years (1821) has averaged 420/. 16s. 9d.
MISCELLANEOUS CHARITIES. — The total of money-legacies received by
the vestry of this parish from 1567 to 1805 is 1,519/. ; and rent-charges
and annuities chiefly payable out of houses in the city are 50/. 5s. 6d.
This is spent mainly in distributions of bread — at least 105/. 12s. 6d. out
of'll2/. 8s.
Pan's/I of Temple.
Here are nearly fifty small benefactions, some few in land, some in
rent-charges, but the greater part in money, producing together to the
3 A 2
364 Public Charities. [OCT.
parish an income of upwards of 1 50/., destined for the most part to be
expended in bread, sometimes on sermons, and sometimes in distributions
of small sums on certain days. Generally the sums are fixed ; and are
disposed of according to the directions of the donors. Here and there
those directions are neglected, but in no important instances ; and in two
or three cases, where the Commissioners have observed deviations,
they have made representations, and promises have been given of stricter
observance. But there are two others, of more importance, which require
specification.
ST. PAUL'S FAIR. — This is held, by charter, in this parish on the first of
March and seven succeeding days. Tolls are taken, and the profits, after
20s. paid to the corporation, go to the maintenance of the poor, and the
repair of the conduits. The average profits for ten years are 70/. 1 5s. 5%d. ;
and the average expenditure on the conduits 63/. 14s. 5%d. ; the balance
does not merge in the poor rates, but is distributed on the recommendation
of the vestry.
CHURCH LANDS. — The oldest deed of feoffment is of the reign of
Edward IV. The lands were given for the maintenance and repairing of
the parish church, the relief of the poor, and other good uses within the
parish, with the consent of the vestrymen, or the most of them, and not
otherwise. The rent of these estates amounts to 5571. Is. Sd. The
expenses of the churchwardens for some years past considerably exceed
the funds ; but the deficiencies will by and by be met by fines, &c. The
following is the average annual expenditure for ten years to Easter 1820
of all the rents and revenues under the controul of the vestry : —
In charities, including allowance in bread, money, gifts for ser- £. s. d.
mons,&c 132 4 0
On account of the income of St. Paul's Fair, for rent and repair
of water pipes, gifts to poor, and ROYALTY EXPENSES 103 7 0
Repairs of church and church-yard 325 12 3 £
Service of church, viz. vicar for prayers, organist, clerk, sexton,
ringers, and incidental expences 172 6 6
MAKING RATES, surveying, law expenses, printing, receiver of
rents, &c 52 14 3
Sundry expenses, including church-clerk's account, sealing,
DINNER EXPENSES of perambulations, DRESSING THE
CHURCH IN MOURNING, WATERLOO subscription, and inci-
dental expenses 75 6 7
£861 10 71
In this statement we have marked by large letters certain expenses for
which we cannot conceive the trustees have an atom of authority, and
some of which rather outstep the bounds of decency, so long as there is one
miserable object within their reach. From the profits of the fair and the
church lands, it will be observed, surely with some surprise, how very
little the poor are benefited.
Bristol is rich in charitable endowments — we have still some to enume-
rate, particularly
OLD BACHELORS AND MAIDS' ALMSHOUSE, instituted by Mrs. Sarah
Ridley, 1 726, for five old bachelors and five old maids, " who are not,
nor ever have been Roman Catholics, or inclinable to be such, and never
received alms." This lady left 2,200/. ; and subsequent benefactions by
others, particularly one of 1000/. by John Joacham, in 1768, have
augmented the funds. The stock is vested in Bank and South Sea Annui-
1827.] Public Chanties. 365
tics ; and the dividends amount to 1 55/. To the ten maids and bachelors
4*. 6d. a week each is given, which comes to 1.J7/. ; the elder brother
receives 25*. a year more than the rest ; and 1 4/. is distributed at Christ-
mas among the poor — leaving thus about 22/. for repairs, &c.
ALMSHOUSE IN MILK STREET. — Mrs. Elizabeth Blanchard also left
six houses for this endowment in favour of three old maids of the baptist
meeting, now held in King Street, and . two from the country. The
deacons of the chapel act as trustees, though no regular appointment was
ever made. The annual income is now 95/. Five women reside in the
almshouse, and one at Sodbury, receiving each 2*. 6d. a week,. and the
five in the almshouse 10* 6d. each at Christmas. The expenditure
amounts to 44 /. ; but the houses have lately undergone thorough repair,
and one rebuilt, which will exhaust a balance of 200/. in hand, and the
surplus income for some time.
SCHOOL AND ALMSHOUSE BELONGING TO PROTESTANT DISSENTERS,
in Lewins Mead — The school and almshouse consist of a large stone
building fronting the street called Stoke's-croft, instituted in 1726.
Four thousand pounds, though not all paid, were subscribed originally
for the building and endowment. The funds were, however, from time
to time augmented, and now produce a dividend of 283/. 17*. 4d. The
school and almshouse accounts are separately kept. In the almshouso
there are eleven women and one man, each receiving 12*. 1 1 d. a month —
the man something more. In the school, thirty boys are instructed in
reading, writing, and arithmetic — books and stationery found by the
trustees. The master has 120/. Prayers morning and evening. In
1794, Dr. John Wright left 700/. three per cents., for different purposes
connected with the interests of the congregation — all carried into effect
according to the donor's wishes.
THE INFIRMARY. — The income of this institution arising from volun-
tary subscription, exceeding that which results from the permanent pro-
perty— precluded the Commissioners from entering into any inquiry as to
the management.
ELBRIDGE'S SCHOOL. — This school was instituted, in 1738, by John
Elbridge, who left 3,000/. for its maintenance. It is in the parish of St.
Michael's, and the rector has the entire management. It is now
confined to girls, and twenty-four are clothed and educated. The income,
arising from South Sea Annuities, amounts to 78£ 8*. 6d. The property
has manifestly not been well taken care of — and money has been lost for
want of due control.
REYNOLDS'S CHARITY, 1809. — Richard Reynolds, of Bristol, left lands
in Wales, now producing 240Z. a year, for the benefit of all, or one, or
fnore of seven institutions supported by voluntary subscriptions — the Bristol
Infirmary — Bristol Samaritan Society — Strangers' Friend Society —Asylum
for Orphan Girls — Society for discharging Small Debts — Bristol Dispen-
sary— and Bristol Female Misericordia. The property, and the disposal
of it, are placed under eleven trustees— the donor expressly excluding the
clergy, lawyers, and medical men, and any president, treasurer, or person
holding office of profit in the institutions to be benefited by his property.
These institutions are well supported by voluntary subscription— and
therefore Mr. Reynolds's charity is considered to be taken out of the
jurisdiction of the Commissioners.
WESLEYAN GIRLS' SCHOOL, for the benefit of the members assembling
at Ebenezer Chapel, Old King Street.— The founder left 700/., but con-
366 Public Charities. [Oct.
cealed his name. Thirty girls are clothed and educated. Contrast this
with Elbridge's school in the parish of St. Michael's.
CORPORATION OF THE POOR. — The poor of Bristol, by several Acts of
Parliament, are entrusted to the management of a select body. To this
body divers gifts and bequests have been made in general terms for the
use of the poor — but some for specific purposes. 25/. by Samuel Wallis,
for a sermon on the day on which the officers are elected ; — an estate by
John Knight, producing, in 1809, 130/. a year, for the employment of
boys and girls at the Mint Workhouse, thereby qualifying them for
obtaining a living when they attain maturity ; 50/. by the "Bishop of Bris-
tol ( 1 708) for bibles, to be given to children when apprenticed ; and 50/.
to the infirmary, which is supported out of the general funds of the cor-
poration.
ALMSHOUSE BELONGING TO THE MERCHANT TAILORS SOCIETY OP
BRISTOL. — The charter of this society is of the reign of Richard II. The
tailors of Bristol successfully resisted some claims of privilege about fifty
years ago, and since that period, to be a member of the society has ceased
to be an object of interest or of ambition. The consequence of which
is, that one Isaac Amos has come to be the only survivor — himself
the sole and whole corporation. The estates belonging to the society,
—if society it can be called — are considerable ; the reserved rents
amounting to 55Z., and most of them on leases of ninety-nine years ; and
from other sources there is an income of about 15/. The almshouse is a
very handsome and capacious building; and 661. 18s. was, in 1821, paid
to the poor then residing in it. legally, perhaps, the property has
already escheated, or certainly will do so, on the death of Mr. Isaac Amos.
The account of this property given by the Commissioners is very meagre
and unsatisfactory. Nor have they entirely completed their reports for
the city and county of Bristol.
MIDNIGHT.
WAKE, my love ! the moon is up ;
Wake, my love, and speed away ;
Now the monk doth leave his cup,
Lingering through his cloisters gray :
While the solemn, silver knell,
Rolling from the chapel-tower,
Singeth " Midnight " in its swell. —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
" 'Tis the Midnight !" sighs the wind ;
« 'Tis the Midnight !" shines the moon
" 'Tis the Midnight!" owlet blind
From the tree doth wake his tune :
Every star in yonder skies
Striketh " Midnight " from his tower ;
" Midnight !" every blossom sighs. —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
1827.] Midnight. 307
Lady, art thou to be sought
By the Christian warrior's fame ?
In the land of lands I've fought,
Through the flood and through the flame ;
Stood by lion Richard's side;
Bore with him the iron shower,
Till the sands in blood were dyed. —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
Lady, can thy heart be won
By the song and by the string ?
From the Danube to the Rhone,
J have played to prince and king ;
Raised the lids of many an eye
Beaming on the Troubadour;
Won from queenly lips the sigh. —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
By thy window stands a steed,
Never nobler felt the rein ; j
Never Turkman shot the reed
Swifter o'er the desert plain :
On his brow a bridal band,
On his back a bridal dower,
Waiting for my lady's hand. —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
O'er the hills our way we'll wind,
Down beside the valley tree,
In best true love's chains entwined,
Still the freest of the free :
Free to rove through hill and glen,
Where no sullen kinsmen lour,
What have we to do with men ? —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
What to love on lordly halls,
Covered with the weeds of care,
Where the foot on velvet falls,
Where* the bosom throbs despair? .
What are all the gilded things
Round the sleepless couch of power,
To one wave of Love's white wings? —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour !
When the storm is on the sky,
We will scorn it in our dell ;
When the tempest-cloud doth fly,
We will bid it sweet farewell ;
Gazing from our mountain-brow,
As on valley, stream, and bower,
Spans the purple-tinted bow. —
Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour HEBMEI.
i
.[ 368 ]
THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE HASSAN:
AN ORIENTAL TALE.
THE Island of Savages resounded with shouts of joy ; and the frightful
rocks with which it is surrounded re-echoed the noise of the warlike
instruments and cries of these barbarians. The sea, which broke with vio-
lence against the rocks, mingled its roarings with these strange noises, and
augmented the horrors of the scene. These monsters, who took delight in
murdering all the unfortunate wretches who were cast on their coast by the
fury of the elements, were now assembled to choose a king. Already
streams of human blood had flowed around the altars of their gods ; the
shore was wet with it ; and the bodies of these unfortunate victims were
heaped up on a pile, ready to be reduced to ashes; — already had the
savages began to dance around the pile — when they perceived the wreck of
a vessel. Broken masts, sails, and cordage were all driving about at the
mercy of the waves. They perceived also at a distance several unfortunate
creatures, who were endeavouring by swimming to gain the island. The
hope of deliverance reanimated their efforts, already nearly exhausted by
long struggling. Alas ! they sought their fate in landing on this unfriendly
shore : and their lot, which appeared to snatch them from the waves in
safety, only prepared for them on this fatal shore a death a thousand times
more dreadful.
No sooner had they gained a landing than they were seized by the
savages, who bound them, and dragged them to the altars of their deities.
There they were put to death ; and their foaming blood was caught in
cups, which these barbarians drank in honour of their gods. They only
spared one of these strangers, whose beauty, gracefulness, and youth would
have moved to pity any but this savage race, nourished upon blood and
carnage. His figure, above the common height, was noble and command-
ing ; long flaxen locks of great beauty hung in large ringlets over his
shoulders ; his face shining with a soft majesty ; his eyes were black, and
sparkling with fire ; and a certain je ne sais quoi, more seducing even
than beauty, rendered him the most amiable of mortals. He was destined
by these barbarians to serve as a feast for the king whose lot it would fall
to be chosen.
Their manner of electing a king was not less cruel than the rest of their
customs. They chose six of the most considerable and renowned for their
cruelty; and the one of these six who pierced with an arrow the heart of
the widow or nearest relation of the departed king, was elected as his suc-
cessor. Already they had bound their queen to a rock, and five of these
savages had struck their arrows in various parts of her body ; when the
sixth, advancing to the barrier, drew his bow. The arrow flew through the
air, and pierced the heart of this unfortunate princess. The air was rent
with acclamations. All the people prostrated themselves at the feet of the
new king, and they bore him triumphant round the island. The women
and their daughters, their hair dishevelled, and a poniard in their hands,
marched the first : their chaunt resembled the cries of furious Bacchanals.
The old men, bending under the weight of their crimes, as much as from
years, followed with a more leisurely step ; and the king, surrounded by
the youth of the island, closed the procession. The stranger who had
been respited, seized with horror, followed with his eyes this horrid solem-
nity. Two savages held him chained, and led him along like a young
victim that is brought to the altar.
After having made the circuit of the island, these people at length made
1 827.] The Adventures of Prince Hassan. 369
B. stop in the midst of a grove, which was the place appropriated for their
festivities. Thousands of savages were stretched on the turf, and large
bowls full of blood were ranged at equal distances : the most exquisite
wines, even nectar itself, was not so delicious to them as this beverage.
The newly-elected king was placed on a throne covered with lions' skins;
and, to commence the feast, he had seized the young stranger, and with a
dagger he was prepared to pierce his throat — when, all on a sudden, the
dagger fell from his hand, and the king fell dead at his feet. The people,
surprised, turned their eyes with astonishment on the unknown ; but all
the barbarians experienced the same fate, and fell weltering in the blood
which flowed from the vases which they had overturned in expiring.
It is impossible to describe the astonishment of the young man, at the
sight of a whole people, whom an invisible hand had exterminated in a
moment. These barbarians were extended on the earth, with all the hor-
rors of death depicted on their countenances : their eyes, turned towards
heaven, seemed to accuse the gods of their deaths ; their open mouths
seemed to blaspheme them ; and their arms, that the coldness of death had
stiffened and held stretched out, seemed yet to menace them.
The unknown then, quickly arming himself from the spoils of the king,
and passing through the midst of the dead bodies, plunged into the forest.
He gained a rock, from whence issued a spring of water, which, falling
from rock to rock, augmented by its noise the horrors of this desert. There
the stranger, reflecting on his misfortunes, abandoned himself to despair.
He could not reflect without shuddering on all he had suffered since he
had departed from the Isle of Brilliants, where his father reigned as sove-
reign. Rocks of crystals and emeralds formed the boundaries; the hills
were sprinkled with precious stones; the trees were loaded with fruit, the
colour of rubies ; and the superb towers of diamonds which formed the gates
of the capital city, dazzled the eyes. It was an entire year since he had
quitted it, and had been wandering on the seas. All that had befallen him
appeared before him at that moment. Ho could not refrain from tears when
lie reflected that he was for ever separated from the king his father.
He recollected at length that the king, at parting, had given him a little
box, which he charged him not to open till a year after his departure.
The time having now expired, the prince opened it, and found a paper,
which he read with eagerness. It was in the handwriting of the king ;
and it was in these terms that tho unfortunate father informed him of the
cause of his misfortunes : —
" I wish in vain, my dear son, to hide from you the evils that threaten
" you. The gods are my witnesses of all that I have done to assuage their
" wrath ; but the fairy Noirjabarbe, enemy of this island, destined you
" to the most cruel trials from your birth. Why did she not deprive you
" of life ? I should then have been more easy, and it would have been a
" lesser pain to me! That cruel fairy arrived in my kingdom at a time
" when the other fairies came to bestow on you all the gifts necessary to
tl you an accomplished prince. They wished by these presents to prevent
" the fairy Noirjabarbe from hurting you. But what will not cruelty and
" barbarity imagine to be revenged. Tho fairy, not being able to deprive
" you of the gifts the others had bestowed, wished to render you tho
" horror of the universe, and condemned you to kill on the spot all those
" who looked at you after you had attained the age of twenty years.
M. M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22. 3 B
370 The Adventures of Prince Hassan. [OcT.
<; Judge of my grief when she pronounced these terrible words ! T did all
" in my power to prevent it ; but it was of no avail : she even forbad me to
mention it to any person but yourself, and that not before your twentieth
year; hoping that myself and all my subjects would become victims,
and that you would become our executioner. Alas ! I offered her my
own life : she was insensible to my tears, and vanished in the midst of
a black whirlwind of flame, bitumen, and pitch. You know the cares
I have taken in your infancy ; you know the tears you have cost me —
fatal price of my tenderness ! I shall never see you more ; and already
you have made a fatal trial of the ills to which the fairy Noirjabarbe has
condemned you! Seek out a desert, my son, where you can spare the
" lives of mortals, by hiding yourself for ever from their eyes ; and ever
" remember your unhappy father."
Hardly Lad the young prince (who was named Prince Hassan) finished
reading, when his eyes were full of tears. " Ah, ye gods I" cried he,
" how have I merited so cruel a fate ! what place, sufficiently desert, shall
I find on the face of the earth to hide me from the eyes of mortal men !
Happy yet in my griefs, that my lot has placed me on this barbarous
shore, and that these monsters have been the first victims that I have
Immolated." This unfortunate prince now arose, and left the forest. He
found himself at one of the gates of the city of these savages, built in a
valley surrounded by high mountains covered with wood. A torrent which
precipitated itself from the top of the rocks with a horrible noise, separated
the city into two parts. The houses were low, all stained with blood, and
almost covered with dead bodies and limbs : the air of this island had the
property of preserving the bodies, so that they never corrupted. The prince
was shocked at so horrible a spectacle. He left the place, • and consoled
himself under his misfortunes, that he had purged nature of such cruel
monsters. He resolved to remain on the island, and to live on the fruits
that the earth produced. He chose for his retreat a cave hollowed out of
a rock, from whence he could behold the sea. The horror of finding himself
quite alone on these unknown shores was a little alleviated by the necessity
he was placed in of living away from the human race. The cruel fate
which the fairy Noirjabarde had destined him from his birth, had banished
him for ever from the commerce of men. He had already made a sorrow-
ful experiment ; and his solitude was the less afflicting, when he thought
that at least his sight was fatal to no one.
He was consoled in his griefs by the pleasure of a quiet and tranquil
life, if Love had not aided the cruel fairy to distress him — but he loved.
Devoured in secret by an increasing flame, he sighed night and day ; and,
to add to his sorrow, he did not even know the name of the person he
loved : he only possessed her portrait. Occupied without ceasing with the
pleasure of gazing on it, it augmented every moment his passion and his
regret. " I love," said he. " Love has inflicted on me his most violent
displeasure. I do not know whom I love ; and I can never hope to see
her whom my sight would deprive of life. My sight, so fatal to all mor-
tals, would destroy her whom I adore ! Oh, ye gods ! to what a cruel
punishment have you condemned me !" Such were the reflections of this
unhappy prince.
Very often he went to walk in an island planted with oranges, which
nearly joined the one he inhabited. One day he fell asleep there, and
1 827.] The Adventures of Prince Hassan. 37 1
was awakened by the awful claps of a thunder-storm. Already the sea
was rising; a land-wind was dashing it against the shores, and every thing
announced an approaching storm. Prince Hassan thought, nevertheless,
he should be enabled to regain his island. He got into his canoe, and had
nearly landed, when a violent gust of wind drove him out to sea. The
tempest increased every minute ; and his canoe, which was only the trunk
of a tree hollowed out, was soon driven far away. He waited for death
with tranquillity, not expecting to escape it — when his vessel struck against
a rock and overset. He swam fora long while; but night coming on,
new dangers arose. He knew not which way he was going, and feared
he might be leaving the shore, instead of nearing it. He still kept swim-
ming, and was almost exhausted, when he perceived an iron ring, which
was fastened to a tower : he seized hold of it, and held by it, resolved to
wait till day broke, that he might make for the nearest shore. He was
complaining of his destiny, which persecuted him with such cruelty, when
he heard a voice which said to him, ** Unhappy stranger, that the sea and
winds have thrown on these shores, cease to lament your lot! Alas ! why
cannot you end my woes, as I can your sorrows, in saving your life ?
Take hold of this cord ; the gods have not yet ordained you to die." The
prince hesitated for some time. He reproached himself with risking the
life of the person who saved his ; but his strength was so overcome that he
could not remain where he was without risk of perishing. The darkness
emboldened him : he seized hold of the cord, and ascended the tower,
when he found himself in a chamber ; but the darkness was such that he
could distinguish nothing. He resolved to throw himself into the sea as
soon as dawn appeared, and to make for the nearest island — not wishing to
deprive of life a person who had extricated him from such imminent peril.
" What do I not owe you ?" said he to his deliverer ; *c and how can I
make you any recompence for your goodness ? But what can an unhappy
prince, whom the destinies persecute, do ? Your pity in saving my life
may subject me to new perils, which death would have freed me from.
Let me not, however, remain ignorant of the name of the place where the
waves and wind have driven me." — "It is near the Island of Night, where my
father is king," replied the unknown voice. "This tower is called the Tower
of Darkness ; it was built by the hands of a fairy. Never do the rays of the
sun, or the pale beams of the moon, enlighten it : an eternal obscurity sur-
rounds it, and the nearest objects cannot be distinguished." This discourse
consoled Prince Hassan. He no longer feared that his sight would cause
the death .of this princess, as death was only occasioned by seeing him.
The profound and eternal darkness which surrounded this tower reassured
him. " But to what climate do you owe your birth ?" continued the prin-
cess; u and how happens it that the tempest has cast you on this shore?
Do not refuse me the recital of your adventures." After several sighs,
occasioned by the recollection of his misfortunes, the prince commenced his
history in the following terms :—
" I was born on the Island of Brilliants ; and my father, 5/110 had
reigned there for a long time, beheld with grief the sterility of the queen,
my mother. At length she became pregnant. Several fairies assisted at
my birth, and presented me with all the virtues that a prince could desire.
My father, to pay them proper respect, had prepared for them a magnificent
repast in the saloon of the palace. Already the feast had commenced —
3 B 2
372 The Adventures of Prince Hassan. [~OcT,
when, on a sudden, the air was obscured ; a black vapour spread itself
around the saloon, and my father perceived himself lifted up by an invisible
hand. All the fairies immediately knew that it must be the fairy Noirja-
barbe who had played this prank ; but they had no power over her : they
only feared for my father, knowing the cruelty of that fairy. He returned
some time afterwards, but so afflicted and so sad, that he was not like the
same person. The fairies were very anxious to know what Noirjabarbc
had said to him : he dared not or could not reply to them ; grief had taken
possession of him; he shed a torrent of tears. The fairy Noirjabarbe had
forbidden him, under pain of the most terrible punishment, to relate to any
other than to me, what she had said to him.
" My father had me educated with all possible care ; but that which is a
pleasure to other parents increased his grief. He beheld with sorrow my
advancing years. The more I improved by the education he gave me, the
more he lamented, and the more I cost him in tears. At length I was now
arrived in my nineteenth year, when one day he led me to the sea-side.
He kept a profound silence ; I followed him trembling : he had never before
appeared to me so overcome. He stopped by the side of a wood, and
embraced me tenderly. ' Fly, my son !' he said; ' fly this unhappy land,
to which you owe your birth ! The time is come when we must separate,
J have concealed your departure from my people : it would have been
opposed, and they would perhaps have perished in wishing to save you. Go
then, my son ! You will find, on the other side of this wood, a vessel which
I have equipped expressly. I must not appear before the crew who are to
accompany you; my grief would probably make them suspect something.
Hasten your departure, and go where the winds may conduct you. Above
all things, my son,* continued he, ' do not open this box till an entire year
after you hare quitted this unhappy shore/ He said all this, still holding
me in his embrace, and bathing me with his tears. I was so overcome
that I had scarce power left to throw myself on his neck, and say. ' What
have I to fear? Can it cost me more than life ? No, no, my father! if
I must die, let me at least die in your embraces.' — { Fly !' said he ; ' and,
obedient to the prayers of your father, hasten from this place !' He forced
himself away from me, and buried himself in the woods. I remained
immoveable, and was unable to move a step to follow him. I soon came
to myself; but I searched in vain for him in the wood ; 1 never saw him
more. I found the vessel which had been prepared for me. They only
waited for me : they had been informed that 1 was going to the Fortunate
Islands, which are not very far distant from the Isle of Brilliants.
" I now embarked, after having prayed the gods to preserve my father's
life. We steered for those islands; when, on a sudden, the wind changed,
and drove us towards an island, where we were obliged to anchor. We
landed to repair our vessel which the storm had damaged. I walked into the
interior of the island, which appeared an enchanting retreat. No rocks
defended the coast ; it presented an even surface, where you breathed an
air >L ft and agreeable. Alleys of orange-trees, planted in all directions,
conducte-i to the city, which you perceived from the shore. Fine corals
were in the centre of each walk ; and borders of anemones, ranunculuses,
jonquils, and tulips were planted on each bank.
" I kept advancing, when I perceived a man at a distance, who was
coming towards me, whose dress much surprised me. I joined him. A
long robe, open before, and reaching to the ground, covered a vest of the
1 827J The Adventures of Prince Hassan. 373
richest manufacture : the sleeves were very full. His head was covered
with a cap ornamented with precious stones. He carried a book in one
hand, and in the other a golden wand. He stopped on seeing me, and,
after having regarded me for some time, he thus spoke : — ' Young stranger,
whom the tempest has driven on our coast, follow me, and profit by the
short time you will remain on this island.' I perceived myself, at these
words, drawn on, as it were, in spite of myself. I followed him. He
proceeded to that side of the city which was seen at the end of the alley.
During our walk, he acquainted me with their customs and manner of
living. ' This island,' said he, ' where every thing the most rare in nature
is collected, is the Island of White Magic. The number of the inhabitants
is fixed. There is no jealousy among us: our power is equal. We live
together as friends, as neither envy nor interest can trouble us. We are all
of the same age, and we all die on the same day. We do not keep here
our wives, and we never have but one son. At the age of twenty-five, we
marry such of the princesses of the earth as we most desire. Genii, whom
we have at our service, bring us their portraits, and we each make choice
of one. They lie-in on the same day of a son, whom they bring up with
them till the age of twenty -five — for then we are fifty ; and as that age
is no longer proper for pleasure, it is at that period we all die. We sum-
mon our wives and sons to this island, and, after giving to the latter our
books and wands, we are enclosed in our tombs, together with our wives,
whose affection for us carries them with us to the Black Empire. It is
to-day that we must die. Soon this heaven, that sun, will disappear
from my eyes ; I shall be plunged into eternal night, and shall cease to
exist.'
"We had arrived at the city when he ceased speaking; it was all
built of marble, and of most magnificent architecture. He shewed me
every part of it, and afterwards led me to an eminence, from whence I
had a view of the whole island. There, after having embraced me, ' I
wish,' said he, ' to shew you, by means of my art, a part of what will
befal you. Happy if that may preserve you from the dangers that
threaten you !' He then made a circle with his wand, and placed me in
the middle. He opened his book, and waved his wand three times. At
the third time I perceived a black vapour arise all around me. As it
increased, I could not see : the heavens were hidden from my eyes — the
earth disappeared ; and when this .vapour vanished, I was surprised to see
nothing of the magician who accompanied me, nor the hill upon which I
was standing, nor the island ; in short, nothing I had before observed.
I found myself in a vessel which was tossed about by a tempest ; and after
having been struck several times by the sea, it was driven on some rocks.
I was swallowed up by the waves. Here I beheld horrible monsters, who
disappeared from my sight, leaving in my arms a princess of unequalled
beauty. Fear had deprived her countenance of its beautiful bloom, and
her eyes hardly bore the light ; but her colour returned when she saw
me. I have never seen any thing so beautiful. It seemed to me as if she
thanked me for having restored her to life ; but she was torn away from
me at that moment by a monster of most terrible figure. I tried to snatch
her from his claws — when again every thing vanished from my eyes. The
vapour, which had hitherto surrounded me, disappeared gradually. I
perceived myself standing on the hill, by the side of the magician. I
regretted that I was not for a longer space under such a delusion, The
374 The Adventures of Prince Hassan. [OcT.
delightful recollection of so charming a princess occupied me entirely : I
would have wished the enchantment to have endured for ever. Love had
already taken possession of my heart. I still cherish those features which,
since that time, have caused my greatest sorrows. I remained immove-
able. I endeavoured to retrace those charming features which had just
disappeared. Alas! love had already painted them on my soul. I
demanded of the magician, as a favour, to tell me if this charming prin-
cess was only an illusion ; or if it were possible that the gods themselves
had created a mortal who would deprive them of the honours which are
only due to the divinity. He replied to me in these terms : — * The object
who has raised such a flame in your heart, at the mere sight of her por-
trait, reigns on the borders of the seas ; but you are not fated to behold
her, except at the foot of your tomb.' — * Will the gods prolong for many
years my life ?' cried I. ' Why will they not shorten it, that my shade
may enjoy the pleasure of seeing so charming an object? Of what value
to me is life, if I retain it only on condition of never beholding her I
adore ?' This growing passion so confused me, that I had not perceived
the magician quit me, and advance towards a grove, whither I followed
him. It was a forest of myrtles, whose sweet perfume was diffused to the
skies. All the alleys were of the same width, and were in every respect
similar. Between each myrtle was a tomb of black marble, ornamented
with magnificent statues of white marble. c This,' said the magician, ' is
the sepulchre of my ancestors. There are as many tombs in each alloy as
there are persons ; therefore each generation reckons by alleys and ranges
of tombs.' I traversed the alleys where had been interred the first magi-
cians. The profound silence which reigned in these groves — these myrtles,
which were never agitated by the slightest breeze — these tombs, ranged at
equal distances — inspired me with a holy fear. We arrived at an alley
where the tombs were uncovered. I demanded of the magician the reason.
He informed me that they were intended for him and his friends, and that,
in a short time, I should see the island repeopled.
" At that moment I heard a terrible noise. The heavens were darkened
—-the thunders rattled in the air — the earth shook under my feet ; but all
these signs gradually subsided, and daylight returned by degrees. I
beheld the air filled with an infinite number of cars, which descended in the
alley where I was standing. From each of these cars alighted a prin-
cess, holding a young man by the hand. They all advanced towards the
magicians, who were seated by the side of their tombs. They embraced,
and after having delivered their books and their wands to their sons (for
these princesses were their spouses), each one entered his tomb, accompa-
nied by his wife ; and instantly all the tombs closed over them. The son
of the magician who had taken me under his protection advanced to me,
and said, that I could remain no longer in the island — that profane eyes
could not behold the mysteries which they were about to celebrate to the
shades of their fathers — and I must therefore depart. He embraced me,
and gave me, at parting, the portrait of the princess that I had seen at the
bottom of the sea. I recognized the features which I had there beheld,
and my wound re-opened at this fatal sight. Charmed with a gift so pre-
cious, I returned to the coast, my eyes still fixed on the portrait. I
embarked. Ever occupied in admiring it, I could do nothing but adore
it. I kissed it a thousand times a day ; and I resolved to search the uni-
verse over to discover the original. We had departed eight days, when a
1827.] The Adventures of Prince Hassan. 375
new tempest drove us from our course. Our vessel, broken by the waves,
sunk ; and we endeavoured to save our lives by swimming; towards an
island we perceived at a distance. But oh, ye gods ! rather a thousand
times we had all been swallowed up, than to land on that fatal shore ! All
my companions were butchered by the savages who inhabit that shore. I
saw their biood caught in bowls, to serve as a repast for these barbarians :
myself they reserved as a feast for their king. Already were all the people
assembled in a grove destined for their festivities ; already their king, with
his arm raised, a poniard in his hand, was about to stab me, when suddenly
he fell dead at my feet. The savages regarded this prodigy with astonish-
ment; but they all experienced the same fate : I saw them all expire on
the spot. I armed myself with speed, fearing I might be pursued by
others, and hid myself in the forest. There, reflecting on my misfortunes>
I recollected a box which my father had charged me not to open till a year
after my departure. I reckoned the time, and finding that the year had
that day expired, 1 opened it."
The princess of the Island of Night, hearing the noise of drums, fifes,
and trumpets, interrupted Prince Hassan. " Sensible of your misfortunes,"
said she, " I wait with impatience the end of your tale. But the king, my
father, whose barge I hear dashing through the waves, obliges me to post-
pone it for the present. Enter, prince, into this cabinet ; and allow me to
flatter myself that, as soon as the king shall depart, you will not refuse me
the detail of a fate I feel so inclined to pity/' The princess advanced on
the esplanade of the Dark Tower to her father. " Come, my daughter,"
said he, " your misfortunes are ended. The gods, whom I consult daily,
have at length declared that there is nothing farther to fear. Come, and
embrace a father, who has wished for this moment so long."
The princess descended into the barge to her father : they tenderly
embraced, but without seeing each other ; for an eternal darkness reigned
around the tower. They then proceeded towards the island, to the noise
of instruments, and acclamations of the people, who lined the shore, and
made the air resound with their songs and rejoicing. The princess would
rather have remained a little longer, to hear the rest of the adventures of
Prince Hassan : but there were no means of discovering it to her father —
for the oracle had threatened the most terrible punishment if ever she
received any one in the tower. She landed on the Island of Night. Her
eyes, for the first time, beheld the light. Large and magnificent vases of
bronze, filled with a liquid that burned for ever without being consumed,
lighted up the shores of this island : they were placed upon lofty columns
of marble, at equal distances, and quite round the island. Without these
fires, an eternal obscurity reigned. The princess was conducted to the city
by an avenue of pines, whose branches were hung with the same kind of
lamps, which never were extinguished. She arrived at the gate, which
was lighted up in the same manner, and entered her father's palace, which
was of the finest architecture in the world. Large vases of fire were placed
on the roof of the palace, which entirely illuminated it : the same with
respect to the gardens, where they burned continually. They led the prin-
cess up a terrace which was near the palace, from whence you might behold
the whole island. The art of the fairy Protectrice of this kingdom had,
by these lamps, corrected the defects of nature, which had refused the gift
of the sun to this island.
376 The Adventures of Prince Hassan. [OcT.
The princess was astonished to behold so grand a city, and one built so
magnificently. The walls were distinguished, by which it was surrounded,
by the lamps. Every tree in the country was lighted up the same : the hills
and groves appeared like brilliant stars, whose soft light did not offend the
eyes. This sight astonished the princess ; but her heart was not at ease.
The idea of Prince Hassan was continually before her ; she was quite dis-
tressed not to have heard the end of his adventures. Although she had not
seen him, she could not but be interested for him. She imagined that a
prince, on whom the fairies had bestowed such gifts, must be amiable: she
wished much to see him. Alas ! doubtless, that desire would have been
diminished, had she been aware of the risk she ran, and that the sight of
him would have cost her dear. She did not know how to break it to her
father, in order that she might return to the Dark Tower. And then of
what use would have been this voyage, as it was absolutely forbidden to
take a light outside the island ?
Walking one day in a grove which was at the bottom of her father s
garden, she was reflecting on what Prince Hassan had related, and how she
had been destined by a fairy to pass her solitary life in the Dark Tower,
until a terrible monster, whose aspect killed whoever looked at it, should
come to her deliverance. She could not but think that the prince was her
liberator. Her father, who consulted the destinies every day, to know the
time when his daughter's perils should be at an end, did not understand,
more than herself, what the fairy meant by a monster who killed all that
looked at it ; but, notwithstanding, the oracle had proclaimed that the time
had arrived. It was this which alarmed her so much. " What!" said she,
*' is this prince — whom 1 figure to myself as so amiable — is he the monster
J am threatened with? Why do I wish to see him ? Can I doubt the
fact, since the oracle has said so ?" It was thus she tormented herself;
and she had almost given up the wish to return to the Dark Tower, when
she found herself at the entrance of a temple: it was dedicated to Mor-
pheus. A magnificent portico conducted to a vestibule of marble and
porphyry : from thence you entered the temple. The most delicious per-
fumes were for ever burning before the statue of the god, who appeared at
the upper end, seated, and resting on one arm. Banks of turf, intermingled
with beautiful flowers, invited repose. Poppies, the only gifts offered to
this deity, covered a table which was in the middle of the temple. It was
only necessary to offer them up, when you perceived a soft languor creep
over you, which it was impossible to resist. You yielded insensibly to
sleep, which closed your eyelids ; and then whatever you most wished to
know appeared in a dream. The princess presented the poppies; and, at
the instant, perceiving her knees to tremble under her, she lay down on a
bed of turf sprinkled with violets, and fell asleep, hoping to behold Prince
Hassan.
Scarcely had the god of sleep closed her eyes, when the prince appeared
before her. Her surprise to see him so different from a monster was so
great, that she awoke. — " Oh, ye gods !" cried she, " can a mortal appear
so amiable ?" She wished to sleep again, and offered anew poppies to
Morpheus. But in vain; that favour is granted but only once : it was
useless. Morpheus, insensible to her intreaties, dozed even at hearing them.
She left the temple, burning with a desire to sec the prince.
.. JLove had now entered her breast ; she was no longer mistress of herself ;
she thought of nothing but the prince; she followed no certain path, but
1 S27.J T&c Adceniures of Prince Hassan. 377
wandered at hazard. She found herself, without thinking, on the sea-shore,
and at the very spot where she left the bark which had brought her from
the Dark Tower. Her first movement was to embark, and go to invite
the prince to come to the court of the king her father. She entered the
boat, and following a cable, which was fastened from the shore to the
tower, she soon arrived at it. She then heard the voice of the prince, who
was complaining aloud of what he had suffered for love. " What injury
has love done you ?" replied the princess. ** I am come to hear the rest of
your adventures. Relate them, 1 pray you. The winds and sea are calm
and still ; as if, like me, they listened to your misfortunes."
The prince was charmed at her return ; for the idea had struck him
that she might be the same princess the magician had shewn him. He
thus continued his story : — " I was seated on a rock, when, with trembling
hands, I opened the box my father had given me. I there found a paper,
where 1 read these cruel words which my father had written." — [The
jprince then repeated to her what was written in the letter. He informed
her of the cruel penalty that the fairy Noirjabarbe, to be revenged on his
father, had imposed on him, and that he was fated to kill all who regarded
him.J — " I cannot express my ideas on reading this paper. My first
impulse was to precipitate myself from the rock, where 1 was sitting, into
the waves. But, alas \ to add to my woes, an invisible hand retained
nae^ and I perceived that I was constrained to live. I was no longer asto-
nished that the savages had fallen victims on beholding me : I even thanked
the gods for having made me the instrument of purging the earth of such
inhuman monsters. I wandered all over the island, which I found full of
horrors, I chose for my abode a grotto, formed out of a rock ; there I
lived on the wild beasts I killed in the chase, and the fish I caught. I
rambled along the shore. The only moments of pleasure I enjoyed were
in contemplating the portrait, which I admired more every time I looked
at it. I frequently passed over to a neighbouring island, planted with
oranges. I lay down one day to sleep there : a tempest arose during my
slumbers. I had the imprudence to endeavour to gain the other island.
The wind, which increased every moment, blew me away out to sea ; and
I was cast against this tower, where you saved my life."
" Ah, prince !" cried the princess, " I can then never behold you with-
out Us costing me my life !" — " I would willingly resign mine, for the pri-
vilege of seeing you for a moment," replied the prince. " The charming
remembrance of her whom I beheld at the bottom of the sea is graven on
my heart too deeply ever to be effaced by time. I love her, and a certain
presentiment assures me that you are that lovely personage. Oh ! ye gods,
to what punishment am I condemned? I love, and I cannot see her
whom I love, without depriving her of life !"•— " You are not the only one
to complain in t\us world," said the princess ; " and not to know whom
you love is not so tormenting as to know, and to love, without being able
to see the pbject." These words were an enigma to the prince : he could
not penetrate the thoughts of the princess; and the words which had
escaped her appeared to him to have been spoken at random. He entreated
her to inform him the reason why she had passed her life in that tower.
The princess told him that a fairy, the Protectrice of her father's island,
had been summoned at her birth; and, having predicted that she was
menaced by some dreadful misfortune, she had ordered her to dwell in that
tower, until the monster, who killed all on beholding him, should como
MM. New Serbs.— VOL. IV. No. 22. 3C
378 The Adventures of Prince Hassan. [OcT.
to deliver her. The princess did not confess her curiosity, which caused her
to go to the temple of Morpheus ; and, fearing to betray her secrets, she
quitted the island.
The princess explained to her father what the fairy meant by a man ster
who killed by being looked on, and related to him the history of Prince
Hassan. The king, affected by the misfortunes of that unfortunate prince,
caused to be taken to the Dark Tower every thing that he could require
to make life agreeable. He frequently went there to entertain him, accom-
panied by his daughter ; and they both endeavoured to alleviate the rigours
of his prison. But, alas ! in endeavouring to contribute to his ease, she
lost her own. She loved with a violence that she could not restrain ; she
hid herself in the depths of the forests, to tell it to the echoes. Her words
were broken, and, at times, were without meaning ; her eyes had lost their
brilliancy ; her complexion had lost its fine transparency ; her beauty was
nearly effaced : scarcely could they trace in her the likeness of her former
self. She could no longer resist : it was absolutely necessary that she must
confess her love to her conqueror.
She embarked for the Dark Tower : her heart beat violently as she
approached it. She had no sooner arrived than she called on Prince Has-
san. That prince, who had always replied to the slightest signal, now
appeared not. The princess trembled. She called him several times, but
in vain. As the tower could not be ascended without a ladder, she returned
to her island, and sent one of her slaves to fetch one. She went back to the
tower, and ascended herself, as she knew every part of it. Alas ! she did
not search long. Scarce was she mounted on the balcony, when she struck
something with her feet. She felt it, and found it was a body without
motion, and colder than marble. She doubted not it was the prince. — " Oh,
ye gods, my love is dead!" screamed she. A torrent of tears came to her
relief, and her sighs deprived her of words. It at length became necessary
to tear herself away from the corpse, which she caused to be brought
away by her slaves, and erected a magnificent tomb, in the midst of a
grove of cypresses, on the sea-side. Then she caused a funeral pile of
cedar-wood to be made, where the body was consumed. She herself col-
lected the ashes, which she put into an urn made out of a single emerald.
This urn was inclosed in the tomb. The tomb was of black marble —
four bronze statues ornamented the four corners — and on the front was
engraven these words :
" Here lies the unfortunate Prince Hassan !"
It was at the foot of this tomb that the princess passed every moment that
she could steal away from court. She no longer feared to avow her love
for Prince Hassan; she made the echoes resound with it; she told it to
the brooks and fountains ; her sighs and lamentations broke the silence of
the groves ; she thought he was no more. Useless tears ! superfluous sighs!
The prince still lived. Some pirates, who had heard that the king of the
Island of Night had shut up his daughter in a tower built in the middle of
the sea, attracted by the hopes of a considerable ransom, had come to carry
her off; but, instead of the princess, they had found Prince Hassan, who,
in spite of his resistance, had been compelled to yield to the efforts and
numbers of these barbarians. He had strangled the' first who had attacked
him ; but, having all closed on him, they seized him, and bound him to the
mast of their vessel, and made sail. It was thus he was constrained to
1827.] The Adventures of Prince Hassan. 379
quit a place where ho had so often enjoyed the conversation of the prin-
cess. ,
These- pirates did not go long unpunished for their villainy ; for scarcely
had they passed the dark zone which surrounded the Island of Night, but,
at the first rays of light, they fell dead at the sight of Prince Hassan. That
prince was much to be pitied. He was bound to the ship's mast, and in
danger of perishing of hunger, it not being possible for him to be rescued by
any mortal ; for whoever saw him must die immediately. The winds and
waves drove the ship at their pleasure. At length it struck on a bank of
sand, and stuck fast. He then expected nothing but death. The thoughts
of the princess still occupied him, notwithstanding the impending fate-
which he perceived approaching. Already was he so oppressed with lan-
guor, that his sight failed him, his weakness increased, and he remained
motionless. This swoon lasted for a long time. At length he came to him-
self; but what was his surprise, on his revival, to find himself in a meadow !
He was yet so feeble that he had not strength to rise. He was endeavour-
ing in vain to make out by what means he had been conveyed thither,
when he perceived a female approaching him, carrying a basket of fruit.
She came near him, and thus addressed him : — " Endeavour, unfortunate
prince, to prolong your days, which the gods protect, in spite of the cruelty
of the fairy Noirjabarbe." At that hated name, Prince Hassan thought he
should have relapsed into his former state of weakness : but the unknown
continued her discourse. — " I am a fairy," said she ; " and 1 dwell on a
rock near where your vessel ran ashore. I saw you from the top of the
rock, where I was walking that day, and, having pitied the state in which
you were, I released you, and brought you here. My art has acquainted
me with all your trouble : I know your most secret thoughts ; I know you
love a princess, whom the fates forbid you seeing, for fear of depriving her
of life : but t also know that a day will arrive when your griefs will have
an end." This hope reanimated the strength of Prince Hassan. He arose,
and threw himself at the feet of his benefactress. — " Rise, prince," said
she ; " you cannot remain here longer than one day." The fairy then
conducted him to the rock, near which his vessel had run aground. — " I
cannot," said she, "free you from the charm which the fairy Noirjabarbe
has imposed on you; but this wand, which I will give you, will free you
from many evils you would endure without it. It has the power of putting
to sleep those on whom you wish it to operate. You have but to turn it
three time?, and sleep will immediately close the eyes of those you wish to
affect; and turning it back again, they will awaken as quickly. By this
means your appearance, so fatal to all mortals, will cease to be so, when
you wish it — as they only perish who see you. But this is not all. This
vessel, in which you have been wrecked, obedient to your orders, will con-
duct you to any place you wish to go to. Go, prince ! faithful to your
vows, remember that the god of love will never abandon those who are
truly attached to his service."
As Prince Hassan thought of nothing but the princess of the Island of
Night, he ordered his vessel to bear him to the Dark Tower, where, in
spite of the eternal darkness which surrounded it, he would at least have
the pleasure of conversing with the princess. He landed at the tower, and,
casting himself into the sea, swam to a grove which was on the sea-shore of
the Island of Night. He wandered from thicket to thicket, till he came
to a place where he perceived a tomb, oia which he read the following
inscription :
3 C 2
380 TJie Adventures of Prince Hassan.
" Here lies the unfortunate Prince Hassan V
He did not know what to think of this, and was in a profound reverie,
when ho heard a noise, which made him conceal himself where he could
not be seen. The noise increased, till he saw the car, wherein was the
princess, approaching. He recognized her as the same person represented
in his picture. She alighted, and approaching the tomb, she embraced it,
and bathed it with her tears. The prince attributed to his absence the
idea she had formed of his death. Hid from all view, his joy was extreme
to find so exact a resemblance in her to his picture. He recollected what
the magician had told him — that he should never see the princess but at
the foot of his tomb. Not only did he see her, but he was persuaded she
loved him. He never felt so severely the penalty the fairy had inflicted
on him ; he would willingly have thrown himself at her feet, if the peril to
which he would have exposed her had not prevented him ; he scarce dared
breathe; he feared the least noiso would cause her to look round. What a
situation for a lover! — to see her he loved — to see what he had so long
sought — and to tremble for fear of being observed — what a trial ! He knew
not how to announce to her his return. Her grief increased his own. He
saw her drowned in tears, and not able to tear herself from the tomb. At
length he recollected the enchanted wand the fairy had given him : he pro-
fited by the opportunity of putting the princess to sleep, and then wrote the
following line on the tomb :
" Go to the Dark Tower, and you will there find an end to your griefs I'1
The prince was charmed with such an opportunity of contemplating the
beauty of the princess; but he trembled, as he had not yet made a trial of
the virtue of his wand. He, therefore, quitted her, after having put an end
to her enchantment ; and, regaining the shore, he returned to the tower,
agitated with the most lively sensations.
Hardly had Aurora began to enlighten the rest of the universe, when
the princess left her palace, and returned to the tomb of the prince. She
there read what he had written. Her heart expanded with joy when she
found herself so near a termination of her sorrows. She flew to the sea-
side, embarked, and arrived at the foot of the Dark Tower. Prince Hassan
heard with joy the dashing of the waves against her boat, as it approached
nearer and nearer. They had a most tender meeting. She avowed her
passion, and expressed to him the grief she felt at supposing him dead. On
his part, he told her how he had been carried away by the pirates, being
obliged to yield to numbers, after having killed the first who- attacked him,
and whom she had honoured with so splendid a funeral. He recounted
the risk he ran of perishing with hunger while he was bound to the mast,,
and how a fairy had extricated him from so perilous a situation. This
recital rendered him still more dear to the princess. It was on her account
he had run such risks. Could she repay him otherwise than by all the
tenderness of which her heart was capable? They swore an eternal
fidelity, and separated. The princess tore herself away at this period, and
returned to her palace, rejoiced at having regained her lover.
Not a day passed that she did not go to the Dark Tower. They were
as happy in each other's society as possible ; they loved with an equal ten-
derness ; they passed the whole day in conversing. The hopes that the
fairy had given the prince, that his troubles would have an end some day,
lessened, in some degree, the cruel chagrin of not being able to see each
1 827.] The Adventures of Prince HasHan. 38 1
other : but fate, jealous of the happiness of mankind, will not let them
remain long so, and they had to experience greater evils.
Not far from the Island of Night was another island, where reigned the
son of the fairy Noirjabarbe : he was a thousand times more wicked than
his mother ; he was a monster ; he was a dwarf, with a hump before, and
another behind, which rendered him still more deformed. His eyes were
small, sunken, and bordered with red; his nose was flat; his red hair
covered his forehead, which was full of pimples ; his large mouth discovered
his black teeth ; his legs were crooked ; and his heart was a thousand
times more frightful than his person. One day, passing through the air,
in a car drawn by dragons, he beheld the princess of the Isle of Night, as
she was walking in the palace gardens. He was struck with her beauty,
and instantly demanded her hand in marriage. Her unhappy father,
dreading the fury and anger of so wicked a prince, sacrificed his daughter
to the interest of his people. He knew the power of the fairy Noirjabarbe's-
son ; and he was aware that he would have destroyed the whole island, if
he had refused him his daughter.
This unfortunate princess was, therefore, delivered up to the monster,
who carried her off to his palace. Never was a princess so much to be
pitied. She had not even time to acquaint her lover. It is not possible to-
express her despair. Tho inquietude of Prince Hassan was not less. He
could not suspect her of inconstancy, but did not know what to think of her
long absence. Death would have been more welcome than the state of
suspense he was in ; but how much more would he have suffered if he had
known the real state of the case.
The princess was confined under a hundred locks, and guarded night and
day by her husband, in a palace, the walls of which were of brass. This
monster never quitted her but to go into a cabinet, which was near the
chamber where she was confined. It was either in this cabinet, or with
the princess, that he passed night and day. There were no windows in
this palace. It was lighted up by a single lamp, to which the prince
fairy had given the powerto traverse the air, and to light up whatever place
he commanded. The princess passed the nights and days in tears ; and,
as Prince Hassan possessed her heart, she could not but feel for his anxiety
at her long absence. But what could she do to put an end to it ? Her
cruel husband never quitted her. One night, when he appeared to sleep
sounder than usual, curiosity induced the princess to enter the cabinet
where her husband passed so much of his time, and to see what it con-
tained. For that puqiose, she took the key from his side ; and, rising
without noise, ordered the lamp to shew her light. She quitted the
chamber, opened the door of the cabinet, where she saw nothing but a
table, on which was a book, and all round it an infinite number of phials.
She took up one to read the label : it contained a liquid, one drop of which
applied to the eyes caused sleep for a hundred years. She took this phial,
and stepping on tiptoe, and holding her breath, she approached her hus-
band's bed. The time was too precious to think of drawing the cork : she
broke the bottle over his face, and put him to sleep, not only for a hundred
years, but a hundred millions. Being now mistress in the palace, she
returned to the cabinet : she opened the book, and there read that these
phials contained the spells which the fairy Noirjabarbe and her wicked son
had cast over the greater part of the princes and princesses in the universe ;
and so long as they were riot broken, the charm remained. She searched
for that of her lover, arid found it ; and, charmed at the idea of releasing
382 The Adventures of Prince Hassan. [Ocx.
him she loved, she quitted the palace, after having broken all the phials
in the cabinet except one, which contained a liquid that restored life, but,
at the same time, with gentle and tractable manners. She gained the sea-
shore, and from thence proceeded to the Dark Tower. She dared not
return to the king her father, for she feared his anger. Her love attracted
her towards her lover.
How great was the joy of this unhappy prince when he heard her voice!
She made him descend into her bark. After having told him all that had
happened, she broke the phial which contained the spell that had been cast
over him ; and, letting the boat drive at random, they were soon far away
from the Dark Tower. Already they perceived the rays of the sun ; and,
charmed at the pleasure of seeing each other, they let their bark drive with-
out any attempt at directing it, till it struck on a rock, and went to pieces.
The prince took hold of the princess, and swimming with one hand, and
supporting her with the other, he gained the coast, which he recollected as
the Isle of Savages, where he had been before wrecked by a storm. They
found it deserted. He shewed the princess the inhabitants who had
perished on looking at him. He took pity on them, and proposed to the
princess to restore them to life by means of the liquid which she had in the
phial, and which had that power. She consented. They then applied
it to all the dead bodies, and reanimated them ; but they had lost all their
former ferocity, and received the prince arid princess unanimously as their
sovereigns. From that time this island, which had been an island of hor-
rors, became at once civilized, and was named ever after the Fortunate
Island.
THE TRAVELLER'S ORACLE.
" Baked be ye pies to coals! Burn, roast meat, burn!
Boil o'er, ye pots : ye spits, forget to turn!
Cinderella's death 1" &c. M. LEWIS.
THE late author of " The Traveller's Oracle" was our valued friend.
When he lived, his claret and his conversation oftentimes contributed
to our happiness ; — his pen, on more than one occasion, to our Mis-
cellany. But he is dead; and his jokes and his cutlets — and both
were a la minute — shall delight us no more. It is thus, as we advance in
life, that our intimates drop — as an over-roasted fowl may drop from the
spit — off beside us ; but cannot — like the fresh fowl that succeeds that
over-roasted fowl upon the spit — be replaced ! A void is in our heart — as
well as in our stomach — since the author of the work before us died ; and, regu-
larly as we miss the once regularly recurring invitation for — " Five minutes
before five on Wednesday" — we sigh, and say — to the looking-glass and
Ihe card-racks — te Where is our friend!" He had the pleasantest
humour — he whom we loved — at squeezing a lemon ; the most mathema-
tical candour in dividing the fins of a turbot! The most dexterous master
of legerdemain could not have outdone him in snuffing a candle; and we
never recollect to have seen him angry but once in our lives — and that was
when a monster, at a tavern-dinner, cut a haunch of venison the wrong way !
But he is gone! Dead! Mori! as the French say — which, as George Col man
* The Traveller's Oracle: or, Maxims lor Locomotion. By the late W. Kitchiner,
M. D. 2 vols. Colburn.
1S27.] The Travellers Oracle. 383
observes, moans *' no more!" He who was never late in all his life, is
now " the late' Dr. Kitchiner ! It may be asked — with these feelings pre-
sent to our minds — " whether it is possible for us fairly to review our late
friend's book ?" — " Most possible I" is our answer. Criticism — as he himself
said, over and over again, at his own table — " Criticism, Sir, is not a pastime :
it is a verdict on oath : the man who does it is (morally) sworn to perform
his duty! There is but one character on earth, Sir." he would add,
"that I detest; and that is the man who praises, indiscriminately, every
dish that is set before him. Once I find a fellow do that at my table, am',
if he were my brother, I never ask him to dinner again !" Therefore it is
with the confidence that his very ghost — (wre see it now — shrouded in a
damask table-cloth !) — will rejoice in our impartiality, that we sit down to
comment upon the posthumous counsels of our whilom associate; — coun-
sels which his modesty has designated only as " Maxims for Locomotion,"
but which, in truth, are pandects for man's guidance almost in every
emergency to which nature can be subject. Fortunately, as the chance
falls with us, in the midst of his eccentricity, the good sense of the doc-
tor has left us sufficient to laud ; while very little, indeed, presents itself
which we can differ from, and nothing at all to discommend.
In discussing a book dedicated to the use of travellers, it may well be
expected that our first notice will touch some point connected with a jour-
ney; and, in fact, Dr. Kitchiner sets out in his work — beginning, as
an instructor should do, ab initio — with a list of the materiel, or " neT
cessaries," with which the voyager, by land or sea, should be provided.
We shall ourselves, however, pass over this list, not because it is not excel-
lent, but because it will be obvious that its utility or inapplicability must
depend almost entirely upon the means and circumstances of the party who
is to proceed with it ; and begin our notice with some portion of those
directions which will be available to all classes ; — as, for example, the
argument instructing us — " How to eat and drink upon a Journey:"—-
" People are apt to imagine, that they may indulge a little more in high Living
when on a Journey : — Travelling itself acts as a stimulus ; therefore, less Nourish-
ment is required than in a state of Rest : what you might not consider Intempe-
rance at home, may occasion violent Irritation, fatal Inflammations, &c. in
situations where you are least able to obtain Medical Assistance.
" During a Journey, endeavour to have your Meals at the hours you have been
accustomed, — a change in the Time of taking Food, is as likely to affront your
Stomach, as a change in the Quality or the Quantity of what is taken.
" Innkeepers generally ask their Guests, " what they would please to have for
Dinner?5' The best Answer you can make to this, is the Question, " What have
you got in your Larder?" to which, beg leave to pay a visit.
" Be cautious how you order Sea Pish in an Inland tewn ; and there is a silly
custom prevails of keeping Fresh water Fish, such as Carp, Eels, and other Fresh
water Fish, in Tubs and Cisterns, till they are very unfit for the Mouth."
" Choose such Foods as you have found that your Stomach can digest easily —
Nutritive, but not of a Heating nature, and so plainly dressed, that they cannot be
adulterated : the Safest Foods are Eggs, plain boiled or roasted Meat, and Fruit :
— touch not any or those Queer Compounds commonly ycleped Ragouts, Made
Dishes, Puddings, Piest &c.
" Above all, be on your guard against Soup and Wine.— Instead of Wine, it
will often be better to drink water, with the addition of one-eighth part of Brandy,
which Travellers may carry with them.—" The Oracle" declares, that if " a Man
is not a very fastidious Epicure, he need never fear Hunger or Languor, when he
can get good Bread and Water — i. c. provided he carry with him a Brunswick
Sausage and a Bottle of Brandy/'
381 TJie Traveller's Oracle. [Ocx.
" Never give any Order for Wine to Waiters,— go to the Master or Mistress of
the Inn, and request them to oblige you with the best Wine, &c. that they have ;
and beg of them to recommend whether it shall be Sherry, Madeira, &c. — telling
them that you are perfunctory about the Name and the Age of the Wine, and
particular only about the QUALITY of it.
" There are many particulars as to Meat, Drink, Exercise, Sleep, Cold, Heat,
&c. which people soon find out from their own Observations, which they will
generally find their best Guide. " There is perhaps no article of our usual Diet,
however Insignificant, or however Important, which has not been at one time
highly extolled, and at another extremely abused, by those who have published
Books on Diet, who, wedded to their own whimsies, and estimating the Strength
of other Men's Stomachs by the Weakness of their Own, have, as the fit took
""era, attributed " all the Evils flesh is heir to," to eating either too much or too
little— Salt,— Sugar,— Spice,— Bread,— Butter,— Pastry,— Poultry,— Pork,— Veal,
— Beef, — Lamb, and indeed all Meats, excepting Mutton, have been alternately
prescribed and proscribed. A prudent Traveller will cautiously abstain from every
thing that his own Experience has taught him is apt to produce Indigestion."
The whole matter delivered here is orthodox ; especially the advice as
to considering " what you are likely to get." when you arrive at a strange
inn, rather than " what you would like to have." There can be.no doubt
that the best order — whenever you do not feel quite confident of your
ground — is — (delivered to the master of the house in person) — " Send me up
what you can recommend." No man can be expected to acknowledge
that any thing that he has to sell is bad ; but he may be disposed to treat
you fairly if you relieve him from the dilemma of such a confession ; which
you do — and compliment him into the bargain — by desiring that he will
send you up what he pleases. For wine — at an inn of respectability — you
must call for it ; but recollect that there the obligation ceases. " Live, and
let live," should be every liberal man's motto : therefore, according to the
dictum of a writer of great experience in these matters, " Let your hosts
live by ordering the liquor, and live yourself by forbearing to drink it."——
N. B, If you are economically disposed, you may as well, on such an
occasion, order the cheaper description of wine ; as the name will make
no difference in the bin that it comes from, and it makes some difference
in the bill. If you are a wine drinker, and must perforce — no matter at
what hazards — swallow something for your comfort, — recollect that port
wine may be rendered drinkable by mulling, which, in its raw state,
would have been impracticable altogether.
The next chapter is — " Of a Traveller's Appearance;" and the author
sets out with the following sentence : —
"Wear a plain Dress; — upon no account display any Ring, Watch, Trinkets,
&c. nor assume any Airs of Consequence."
Here we don't quite agree with our excellent friend. He does not mean,
by this caution, as to assumption of " consequence" — u Don't make an ass
of yourself;" or, " give yourself the airs of a lord, or a swindler ;" but —
" Be retiring, and quiet generally in your demands and your deportment."'
Now we are not quite sure that, in a strange vicinity, this policy — though
excellent where a man is resident — may not be carried too far. He who
makes himself of no importance, will be apt sometimes to be made of no
importance by other people. We should say — " Exact calmly, but most
rigidly, every respect and attention which is your due : he who passes over
a mistake to-day will infallibly have to make some arrangement or other
with a negligence to-morrow." That which immediately follows this
passage, however, is worthy of the strictest attention :—
1827.] The Travellers Oracle. 385
" Be Liberal. — The advantages of a Reputation for Generosity which a person
easily acquires, and the many petty annoyances he entirely avoids, by the annual
disbursement of Five pounds worth of Shillings and Half Crowns, will produce
him five times as much Satisfaction as he can obtain by spending that sum in any
other way — it does not depend so much upon a man's general Expense, as it does
upon his giving handsomely where it is proper to give at all — he who gives Two
Shillings is called Mean, while he who gives Half a Crown is considered Generous j
so that the difference of these two opposite characters depends upon Sixpence.
" He shall not be accused of Prodigality, in whose accounts not a more extra-
vagant charge appears than such a sum set down annually for " Good Humour."
" Those who Travel for Pleasure must not disquiet their minds with the cares
of too great Economy, or, instead of the Pleasure, they will find nothing but
Vexation. To Travel agreeably, one must spend freely: 'tis the way to be
respected by every Body, and to gain Admittance Everywhere. Since 'tis but once
in your Life that you undertake such a Thing, 'tis not worth while to be anxious
about saving a few Pounds."
Where you are to sleep on the road—
" The Earlier you arrive, and the Earlier after your arrival you apply, the bet-
ter the chance you have of getting a Good Bed : this done, order your Luggage
to your Room : — A Travelling Bag, or a " Sac de nuit" in addition to your Trunk,
is very necessary — it should be large enough to contain one or two changes of
Linen — a Night Shirt — Shaving apparatus-comb, clothes, tooth, and hair brushes.
If you travel by Diligence, some of which stop during the Night, the Travelling
Bag is a great luxury, as it is not always convenient to be continually unpacking
a Portmanteau. Take care to see your Sheets are well aired, and that you can
fasten your Room at Night : — in the morning, when you are to set off again, see
your Luggage stowed safely as before.
" In Lonesome places, where an accident may oblige you to rest, if you carry
Fire Arms, it may be well to let the Landlord see (as it were accidentally) that you
are well Armed. " Mr. La Combe, in his Picture of London, advises those who
do not wish to be robbed, to carry a Brace of Blunderbusses, and to put the muzzle
of one out of each Window, so as to be seen by the Robbers ! M '
" However well made your Pistols, however carefully you have chosen your
Flint, and however dry your Powder, look to their Priming and touch-hole every
Night : — if you have reason to think that they may be required for actual service,
fire them off, clean them out, and reload them ; but never use these deathful
Instruments merely to save a little Money, and no prudent Traveller will carry
much : — if your Pistol takes effect you may preserve your property, but it is a
melancholy price you pay for it, if it costs the Life of a fellow Creature ; and if it
misses fire, you will most likely not only be Robbed, but Murdered !"
It will be advisable also for the traveller, " as well as the priming," to
examine, from time to time, the " loading" of his pistols, and make sure
that it is safe. A friend of our' s, riding alone on the frontiers of Spain,
was stopped, in open day, once by three robbers; at one of whom he fired
in a manner to bruler le cervelle, according to the French idiom — the
pistol being within three feet of the enemy's head. To his great surprise,'
the man stood unhurt ! And— the fleetriess of his horse extricating him
(with a bullet through the cape of his cloak) from the scrape — during a
two hours' ride to his quarters, he came to the conclusion— for to miss his
aim at such a distance appeared impossible — that his servant must have put
powder into his pistols only in loading them, and been privy to the attack.
On reaching home, however, fortunately the suspected domestic was absent ;
and our friend proceeded to put up and attend to his horse himself; when,
as he took off , the saddle, and turned it up on the ground (" crutches not
being, in that part of the world, invented), the ball that had missed the-
head of the robber fell out of the holster-pipe !
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV, No, 22. 3 D
3S6 The Traveller's Oracle. [Ocr.
" Never stir \vithout Paper, Pen, and Ink, and a Note Book in your Pocket-
Notes made with Pencils are easily obliterated by the motion of Travelling.
" Commit to Paper whatever you See, Hear, or Read, that is remarkable, with
your sensations on observing it ; — do this upon the Spot, if possible, at the moment
it first strikes ; at all events, do not delay it beyond the first convenient oppor-
tunity."
This is a very admirable rule ; and, by attending to it, a traveller may
bring home a tour with him — or, what amounts to the same thing, the
heads of chapters which should fill it — without ever feeling the trou-
ble of composition as lie goes along. Short notes are sufficient ; and,
indeed, perhaps the best; because, if you lose your pocket-book, the con-
tents are then (according to the formula of advertisement in such cases)
"of no use to any but the owner.'' We recollect seeing a chapter of
twenty pages upon the town of Chelmsford once written, in the course of
a " tour," by a traveller ; for which the only words taken in his note-
book had been — "Fleas" — "a cheating landlady" — and "a large church."
Beds : —
" As Travellers never can be sure that those who have slept in the Beds before
them, were not afflicted with some contagious disease, whenever they can, they
should carry their own sheets with them."
The same caution is said to be necessary with respect to shaving-tackle ;
as the doctor assures us — and " doctors" should know — that " a man
might get his death by being cut with a razor which had shaved a diseased
person !"
" The safety of your Bed Room Door should always be carefully examined ; and
in-case of Bolts not being at hand, it will be useful to hinder entrance into the
Room, by putting a Table and Chair upon it against the Door ; such precautions
are, however, less necessary in England than they are on the Continent, where it
is advisable to choose a Room with Two Beds, and to let your Servant sleep in the
Room, and to burn a light all Night : — when you enter the room to go to rest, take
a peep behind and under the Beds, Closets, &c. and all places where concealment is
possible.
" I read the above to an old Traveller, who told me, that when travelling in
Italy, about thirty-five years ago, he always adopted this plan; and that on one
occasion, at a poor solitary Inn, he could not obtain a double Bedded Room, and
\vas told that his attendant must sleep in another part of the House — observing
that there was no fastening to the Bed Room Door, and apprehending some bad
intention, he placed a Bureau against it, and thereon set a Basin and Ewer, in such a
position as to easily rattle, so that on being shook they instantly became " molto
agitato," and seemed to say, "Don't ye — Don't ye— P II tell if You do"
In proceeding from town to town, we are cautioned that —
" Trunks, &c. should not be fastened behind Carriages, unless with Chains ;
except Servants ride behind and attend to them."
Perhaps it would be an improvement to this suggestion, in the last case,
if the servants were to be chained too.
In the chapter upon " General Travelling," the author differs entirely
from Shenstone, Johnson, and various other authorities, who have pro-
nounced " a tavern chair to be the throne of earthly felicity." The
" welcome" at an inn none can dispute ; but as to the felicity, we are dis-
posed to be of the same opinion with our friend. " Felicity" is a word
necessarily of comparison or reference ; and we suspect that those persons
who are violently delighted with inns will commonly be found to be in
that station of life which admits of but little luxury — and perhaps not of
very perfect convenience — in their own dwellings. There are not ten Jnns
1827. 1 The Traveller 'A- Oracle. 38 Z
throughout England in which a man of moderate fortune will find himself
served as he may be in his own house. In fact, it can hardly be other-
wise. Some people are accustomed io complain of tavern charges ; but
the cost of doing things really well (where a trader looks to realize a com-
petent interest upon his capital) would be enormous. Say that a man
who kept a line inn was entitled to gain twenty per cent, on his capital, —
and thirty is not at all too much, looking to his risk, — what price ought
wine to be sold at, whch has been lying five years (for age and improve-
ment) in his cellar ?
" Never ask another person the motive of his travelling, the time he intends to
continue in a place, &c.
" When you go out of an Inn, ride slow for half a Mile, and then you will
perceive if any one passes you ; and if he eyes you too much, be assured he's not
right; then either go back or stay for less suspected Company; but it is your*
Business to be cautious of them too. Ride at some little Distance, if a single
Man forces himself into your Company, notwithstanding the above-mentioned
Cautions, tell him you heard of a Hue and Cry after a Highwayman in the last
Town you came through ; observe his Countenance."
This chastisement to gossips may be beneficially considered by other
persons besides travellers. There is not so offensive a rogue on earth as he
who cannot be alone ; and, even when he jumps out of bed in a morning,
runs into his neighbour's room before he can put on his breeches. The
only chance is to affront such people at once — and have it over ; a course
painful to the benevolent mind, but necessary.
The several chapters of the work dedicated to the management of horses
and carriages, do great credit to the sagacity and knowledge of the author,
both as regards the rules which he lays down for the purchase and pecu-
niary arrangement, and those which concern the guidance and bodily
management of such properties. The suggestions addressed to the keepers
of horses, touching 'Marge stalls," — "easy fitting harness" (this should
especially be attended to in those parts of the furniture connected with the
head), and the necessity for keeping the padding of saddles dry upon a
journey, and the stable always clear from every kind of litter and impu-
rity, are worthy of a veterinary surgeon of dragoons. Stables at new inns
in the country will almost always be found built with stalls so wretch-
edly 'narrow, that a horse accustomed to better residence refuses to lie
down in them. There is always a serious danger, too, that your horse
may injure himself — perhaps irreparably — in having "- his head brought
round," as the grooms call it, in such miserable cribs. For carriage keep-
ing— as well for the horses as the vehicle — our author patronizes "job-
bing." Men, however, who can afford to be particular about their cat-
tle, and are fond of personally attending to such details, will reject this
system. A man who is disposed to treat his horse kindly, too, generally
likes him to be his oivn. The doctor, however, shall speak for himself
upon the subject ; for he does speak on it at much length, and " scholarly
arid wisely :"—
*' It is a very frequent, and a very just complaint, that the Expense of a Carnage
is not so much its First Cost, as the charge of Keeping it in Repair. Many are
deterred from indulging themselves therewith, from a consciousness that they are
so utterly unacquainted with the management thereof, they are apprehensive the
uncertainty of the Expense, and the trouble of attending it, will produce Anxiety,
which will more than counterbalance the comfort to be derived from it.
" Few machines vary more in quality than Carriages, the charge for them varies
as much; — the best advice that can be offered to the Reader is, to "Deal with a
Tradesman of Fair Character, and established circumstances. — Such a person has
every inducement to charge reasonably, and has too much at stake, to forfeit,
3 D 2
388 The Traveller's Oracle. [OcT.
by any silly Imposition, the Credit that he has been years in establishing by care-
ful integrity.
" Of Chariots, that appear to be equally handsome to a common Eye, which
has not been taught to look minutely into the several parts of their machinery ;
One may be cheap at 250/., and Another may be dear at 200/. : notwithstanding,
the Vender of the latter may get more Profit than the Builder of the former.
" The faculty of Counting, too frequently, masters all the other Faculties, and is
the grand source of deception which Speculating Shopkeepers are ever ready to
take advantage of; for catching the majority of Customers, Cheapness is the
surest bait in the world, — how many more people can count the difference
between 20 and 25, than can judge of the Quality of the article they are about
to buy ?
" Be not so perfunctory as to permit your Coachman to order what he pleases.
If you send a Carriage to be repaired, with the usual Message, " To do any little
jobs that are wanted," you will most likely not have a little to pay.
" When any Repair is required, desire your Coachman to tell you ; examine it
with your own Eyes, and with your own hand write the order to the Coachmaker,
&c. for every thing that is wanted ; and warn him you will not pay for any Jobs,
&c. not so ordered, and desire him to keep such Orders, and return them to you
when he brings his Bill, that you may see it tallies therewith, and you may keep a
little Book yourself, into which you may copy such Orders.
" Persons who order Carriages, are frequently disappointed in the convenience
and appearance of them, from not giving Directions in terms sufficiently explicit;
— when those who buy Carriages make any such a mistake, it is said, that those
who sell are not always remarkably anxious to rectify it, unless at the expense of
the proprietor.
" An Acquaintance of the Editor's, ordered that the interior of a New Chariot
should be arranged exactly like his former Carriage : — .when it was finished, he
found that there were several very disorderly deviations from the old plan, which
were extremely disagreeable to him : — the Builder said, civilly enough, that he
was exceedingly sorry, and would soon set it all right — which he did ; but pre-
sented a Bill of Ten pounds for mending these mistakes, which having arisen
entirely from his own Inattention to the fitting up of the Old Carriage, his Cus-
tomer successfully resisted the payment of, having been prudent enough to have
the Agreement for building the Carriage, worded, " That it should be finished in
all respects to his entire satisfaction, by a certain Time, for a certain Sum."
Tables follow, given at considerable length, of the cost at which all
descriptions of carriages can be built and maintained (or jobbed) ; with
calculations as to the expense of keeping horses ; their wear and tear, with
wages of servants, &c. &c., — well suited to shew a man who has made
a stroke in the stocks how he should go about to commence gentleman ;
and all done with an evident personal knowledge of the matter on which
the writer treats.
Of the purchase of horses, as well as carriages, the author speaks like a
man who has kept them : —
" I would not recommend a Carriage Horse to be less than Seven years old,
especially if to be driven in Crowded Streets; — Horses that have not been taught
how to behave in such situations, are extremely awkward and unmanageable, and
often occasion Accidents.
" If you keep Horses for useful purposes, you must not be too nice about either
their Colour, or the condition of their Coats.
" The ordinary Town Carriage Work can be done just as well by a Pair of
Horses, which may be had for 70/. or 80/. as with those that cost three times that
Sum ; indeed it will most likely be done better. If you have Horses worth an
hundred pounds a piece, you will be afraid of using them when you most want
them, i. e. in Cold and Wet Weather, for fear of their catching Cold and break-
ing their Coats, &c. Moreover, the Elegance of an Equipage, in the Eyes of
most people, depends more upon the Carriage, Harness, and Liveries, than
J827.] The Traveller's 'Oracle. 389
upon the Horses:— all can judge of the former, but. few of the latter; and,
provided they are the same Size and of the same Colour, the Million will be
satisfied."
As times go, they must be small horses, and not very strong ones, which
can be bought for 80/. a pair ; but horses at 120/. will be good enough
for ordinary purposes. In a large establishment, however, it is often eco-
nomy to keep perhaps a greater number of horses than are absolutely
wanted ; so that you can have a certain number for show occasions,
and a number also for rough duties.
" Horses in Pairs are sometimes worth double what they are singly — and Horse-
dealers do not like to buy any but of the most common Colours, i. e. Bays and
Browns ; because of the ease in matching them. Horses of extraordinary Colours
may be purchased at a proportionably cheap rate, unless they are in Pairs, and
happen to be an extraordinary good match, when they will sometimes bring an
extravagant price.
" An Ancient Equestrian gives the following advice : —
" ' If you have occasion to match your Horse, do not let the Dealer know you are
seeking for a Match Horse, or he will demand a higher price; nor do not send
your servant to select for you.'
" If you will be contented with the useful Qualities of your Horses, i. e. their
Strength and Speed, and are not too nice about their matching in Colour, you
may be provided with capital horses, at half the cost of those who are particular
about their Colour; and moreover, you may easily choose such as will do double
the service."
On this subject of colour, it may be recommended to those who want
horses for hard work, and in uncertain weather, always to choose greys.
Grey horses — especially ;the dark grey — if their figures are bold, and their
condition good, look excellently well, although their coats are not glossy.
Brown, and still more especially black, look shabby, unless they are very
fine indeed. There are no journey-horses — for appearance — equal to
greys ; and don't have them trimmed too close about the heels : they look
none the better for it, and work the worse.
" To Job Horses, is particularly recommended to persons who are ambitious of
having an elegant Equipage ;— a pair of fine Horses that match exactly are always
expensive to purchase ; and if one of them dies, it is sometimes, to a private
Gentleman, extremely difficult to find a fellow to it.
" Horses cannot work equally, nor at ease to themselves, if they are not nearly
of the same Size, of the same Temper, and have the same Strength, and have
the same Pace, and Step well together.
" A Hackneyman or Horsedealer, who is in an extensive way of business, has
so many opportunities of seeing Horses, that he can match a Horse with much less
Expense, and more exactly, than any Gentleman or any Groom may hope to do :
therefore, those who are particular aoout the match of their Horses, will find it
not merely more expensive, but much more troublesome, to Buy than it is to
Job.
"Job Masters, in general, Sell, as well as Let Horses;— therefore, stipulate in
your Agreement, that you shall be supplied with various Horses till you are
suited to your satisfaction ; and then, that neither of them shall be changed with-
out your consent : — for this, a Hackneyman may demand, and deserves, a little
larger price ; but it is Money paid for the purchase of Comfort, — is the only way
to be well served, and prevents all disputes. If you do not make such an Agree-
ment, and your Hackneyman happens to be offered a good price for one of your
Horses, he may take it ; and Your's, like many other Carriages in London, will
be little better than a Break : — nothing is more disagreeable, nay, dangerous, than
to be continually drawn by strange Horses."
390 The Travellers Oracle. [OcT.
There is no much better method of buying carriage or gig horses than
to have them on a job for a time first. It may cost a little more money ;
but it is a cheap expense in the end : you lose more by having to resell one
horse, alter having bought him, than it would cost you, by jobbing, to try
half a dozen. The ordinary horse-dealers' "trial" — a trial of a few hours,
or even of a day — is worth nothing: you can neither judge of the temper
of a horse, of his bottom, nor — of what is of still more consequence — his
feeding and his health. It is no pleasant thing to have paid a hundred
guineas for a horse who behaved excellently well on trial in Hyde Park,
and, the first time that you drive him forty miles on end, see him smell to
his corn, and turn away from it, at the end of the journey.
The chapter upon the Construction of a Carriage, with the dangers of
trying such appliances second-hand, ought to be read by every man who
keeps even a buggy ; but its length compels us to refer our readers for it
entirely to the volume. The travellers in stage-coaches, however, as well as
those who use their own vehicles, are held worthy of our author's care ; and
rules are given, with great care and consideration, for their guidance.
" Secure a Place a Day or two before you set off; in which case, if you are at
the Inn at the Time appointed, and the Coachman is gone before, you may take
a Post Chaise and go after him, and the Proprietors must pay the Expense of
your Ride.
" It is necessary to be at the place in due Time; for, as the saying is, " Time
and Tide," and it may be added, " Stage Coaches, stay for no man." — As Clocks
vary, you will do wisely to be there full Five minutes before what you believe to be
true Time.
" If the Coach sets off very early, order the Watchman to call at your house
half an hour before you wish to have your breakfast : — if you wish to ride to the
Inn the evening before, give the Waterman at the Coach Stand next your House
a Shilling for his trouble, and desire him to provide you a Hackney Coach, which
order to come half-an-hour before the time you wish to start, that in case of a
Coach not coming, you may have time to walk there.
" On your arrival at the Coach Office, give your Trunks, &c. in charge to the
Coachman, and see them placed safely where they may not be rubbed, &c. — In
long Journeys, the Horses are not only changed, but the Coach also, when the
wary traveller will see his Luggage taken out of the one, and safely stowed in the
other Coach.
"Persons have their choice of Places in the order that they get into the Coach
first, a Place so taken remaining with the Possessor the whole of the Journey.
" People are generally anxious to secure Front Places, either because they
cannot ride backwards ; but if they travel at Night, the Wind and Rain, while
sitting in front, will beat into their faces, the only remedy for which is to draw
up the Glasses (a privilege vested by travelling etiquette in the occupiers of those
places), and thus must they sit the remainder of the Night in an Atmosphere too
impure for any Gentleman who has not previously served an apprenticeship in
the exhausted receiver of an Air Pump.
" When persons travel in a Stage Coach, Time is often idly wasted : and just
\vhen the Passengers are set down to enjoy a comfortable repast, Notice is giveji
that the Coach is going to start. To prevent this evil, previously inquire of the
Guard or Coachman how Long the Coach is allowed to stop, and regulate matters
accordingly.
" * If the Driver of a Stage Coach quit his Horses or the Box until a proper
person can be procured to hold them, or permit any other person, without con-
sent of the Proprietor, or against the consent of the Passengers, to Drive the
same, he is subject to a penalty of not less than 10*. nor more than £5.'
" ' By stat. 50 Geo. III. c. 48. § 12. in case the driver or guard of any such
Coach or other Carriage shall use abusive or insulting language to any passengers,
or shall insist on or exact more than the sum to which he is legally entitled, then
and in every such case the driver or guard (as the case may be) so offending, and
1827.] The Travellers Oracle. 39 1
being convicted thereof by his own confession, or the oath or oaths of one or
more credible witness or witnesses, before any justice, &c. shall forfeit and pay
a sum not less than 5*. nor more than 4.0s. for every such offence."
It would not be at all a bad plan, it strikes us, for a man to have these
penal acts copied out (the doctor gives a great many more of them in other
parts of the work), and so carry them about with him, to be shewn
always to guards arid coachmen at the commencement of every journey.
The arts of hiring and managing servants are treated of with the author's
usual particularity and good sense; as well as the advantage of having
your stables attached to your house ; so that you can, at all times, enter
them when you are least expected. It will be very well, too, we may add,
to make use — habitually — of this power. Servants, in many cases, do not
like it : no matter; there are abundance abroad: — get those who do.
Never permit yourself to be regarded as an intruder in any part of your
own domains ; and accustom your domestics to pursue their avocations
under your eye: those who don't like this are hot such as you need bo
much distressed at losing.
In the circumstance of livery, our author's taste is grave : —
" < Costly thy Habit as thy Purse
Can buy, but not expressed in fancy,
Rich not gaudy : for the Apparel oft proclaims
The Man.' Shakspeare.
" We recommend a Blue, Brown, Drab, or Green Livery, the whole of the
same Colour. To have a Coat of one Colour, and lined with another, a Waist-
coat of another, and the other Clothes of another Colour, claims the Poet's cen-
sure— it is " Gaudy " — unless for a full Dress Livery on a Gala Day."
We are not quite sure about this ; a good share of the " outward and
visible sign" of servitude rather tends perhaps sometimes to keep the bearer
in proper remembrance of his condition. We have known very judicious
persons who have thought that a footman should always look as much like
a jack-pudding as possible. If you are a humourist, there is a comic-
ality in giving a man a livery that does not fit him.
In many passages, servants are schooled and instructed as to their duties.
Not in the usual ironical and contradictory style — as, " always to lean as
li^ht as possible when they rub a table, and as ,hard when they clean
a window" — " never to wake in a morning without being called : if their
masters cannot wake, how should they ?" &c. &c. — but always with a due
effect of gravity and good sense. As for example — touching the shutting
of a coach door : —
" Never permit officious Strangers to shut your Carriage Door ; in order to
save their own time and trouble, and to accomplish this at once, some idle and
ignorant people will bang it so furiously, one almost fancies that they are trying
to upset the Carriage, the pannels of which are frequently injured by such rude
violence; therefore, desire your Coachman to be on the watch, and the moment
he sees any one prepare to touch your Door, to say loudly and imperatively
« Doitt meddle w'.th the Door P "
A well-trained coach-dog, by the way, might be taught to seize any per-
son whom he saw meditating such an act as this.
Page 82, the author notices a peculiar grievance to which those who
have equipages are subject, and shews the means of remedying it: —
<( Do not permit Strangers to place themselves behind your^ Carriage at any time,
or under any pretence whatever. There are innumerable instances of Carriages
having been disabled from proceeding, and Travellers robbed and finished, by
392 The. Traveller^ Oracle. [OcT.
allowing such accommodation. The Collectors of Check Braces, and Footmen's
Holders, assume all kind of Characters, and are so expert, that they will take
these articles oft' in half the time that your Coachman can put them on ; and will
rob you of what you cannot replace for a Pound, though they cannot sell them
for a Shilling.
•' Therefore, Spikes are indispensable when you have not a Footman ; other-
wise, you will be perpetually loaded with idle people, i. e. unless you think that
two or three outside passengers are ornamental or convenient, or you like to
have your Carriage continually surrounded by Crowds of Children, incessantly
screaming, « Cut ! Cut behind !' "
An excellent mode to abate this nuisance, when you go to a race, a fight,
or other place of public diversion, is to have your hind standards fresh
painted about ten minutes before you set out. If it be a backney coach,
use coal-tar.
To intruders, however, upon his peace, of whatever character, the doctnr
shews no mercy; arid, in particular, chastises that most indefensible cus-
tom of carpenters, masons, and others getting up to work at six o'clock in
the morning. One of the most beneficial acts of the legislature, he affirms,
would be to abolish by law, that —
" Vulgar and Barbarous Custom which prevails among common Workmen,
when they first come to work in the Morning, to make as much Noise as they
possibly can; thus, if you live near any Manufactory, &c., or if a house is building
or repairing near you — from Six in the Morning till half-past, they will raise such
a horrible din of Hammering, &c., that all within Ear shot of them are presently
awoke ; and indeed they seem to do it for that sole purpose ; for the following
hours they are often quiet enough."
It appears, too, that there is a double villainy premeditated in this prac-
tice : —
** Those who are so outrageously active so early in the day are technically
termed Powters, i. e. such extraordinary industry being very often a mere
manoeuvre to deceive their Neighbours, which they artfully affect to gain Credit,
and which, like setting up a shewy Shop Front, is one of the usual tokens of ap-
proaching Bankruptcy."
The animals who are given to early rising come, as well as their masters,
within the scope of our author's malediction : —
" Fowls, Parrots, Dogs, or any other of those Beasts or Birds, which (because
they make most Noise) are vulgarly called Dumb Animals, bleating, barking, bel-
lowing, in the Front Area or back Garden of a House, &c., are an offence against
the Public Peace — are an Indictable Nuisance ; and on the complaint of a Neigh-
bouring Housekeeper, are as cognizable by Constables, Street Keepers, Watch-
men, &c. surely as justly as the Owners of such Animals would be, were they to
hoot and bellow there, — for which they would, in the first instance, be taken to a
Watchhouse, and in the second Indicted and fined or sent to the Tread Mill.
" QY. What difference does it make whether the Peace is broken, and Sleep
destroyed, by an " Animal plumis, vel implumis et bpes" i. e. whether it wears
ready-made Clothes, or employs a Tailor ? Surely it will not be allowed in this
Age of Refinement, that the former is entitled to more consideration than the
latter.
" They manage these things better in France. All Dogs, Fowls, &c. found in
the Streets of Paris, are finished forthwith by the Gens d'Armes"
The above were to have been part of the provisions of a " Sleep Act," of which
Dr. Kitchiner's premature death has unfortunately deprived us. The prin-
ciple, however, upon which it was to have proceeded is preserved in the
present book — to wit, " That nothing of any value was ever done after
eleven o'clock at night !"
1827.J The Travellers Oracle. 393
The treatise on '< Lending your Carriage," is obviously from the pen of
a man hackneyed in the ways of the world : —
" As soon as you set up a Carnage, lots of Idle and Impertinent People, and all
the various branches of * the Skin-Flints^ and * the Save-Alls,' are up early on
the alert, setting all kinds of Traps to ride at your cost.
" Caution those Friends to whom you may give such accommodation, not to
mention it : if they trot about, telling every one that they and you know, that
* Mr. Bencvolus was so good as to lend us his Carriage, and we had such a nice
ride all round here and there, and, &c.'
" If any of the numerous members of the ' Free and Eavyf or ' the Save-All"*
families, who happen to have the slightest acquaintance with you, hear that you
have given this accommodation to some very old and excellent Friend, who may
have honestly earned every attention that you can possibly offer : — I should not
wonder, if they were to Whisper to one another, * Oh, oh ! is it so ? — well, — I
'have really a vast respect for Mr. B. — hav'nt you? And if he is so exceedingly
fond of Lending his Leathern convenience, don't you think that we ought to do
him the favour to Borrow it? — it will be so exceedingly convenient when we go
to our Uncle Make feasts— for we can't hire a Glass Coach to take us Ten miles
and back under Thirty Shillings, you know!'
" If yov have any regard for Punctuality y take care who you carry with you,
especially when going out to Dinner !
" If you undertake to carry people to one place, some unreasonable selfish
beings are, not seldom, so pleased at an opportunity of shewing oiF * en carrosse,'
that they will plague you with perpetual solicitations to stop at almost every Door
they pass; — Aye, and act as if they fancied that they were jumping in c an Errand
Cart.' Tell such Free and Easy folks very plainly, that you must be at a, certain
Place at a certain Time, and have not a moment to spare.
" If you have any Mercy for your Horses, lend them not to others, unless you
limit the Time they are to be out, and the Distance and Pace they are to go ; say
not exceeding ten Miles."
On the whole, our readers, we think, will find it safer never to lend
at all.
As you do not lend your carriage yourself, it is not worth while to allow
your coachman to lend it for you. And there are a set of impudent people
about town who would hire a gentleman's carriage at night in the street —
if they met with it — as soon as a hackney-coach. If ever you detect a
gentleman in such a situation as this, it will become your duty to give him
in charge to a watchman immediately. It will also be no. moral sin if you
make his head (for a limited time) the pillow of your cudgel. For your
coachman, send him about his business next morning ; and — whenever you
find it necessary to discharge a servant — let the one who succeeds him know
the crime for which he suffered.
" Desire your Coachman never to dispute with, or return any uncivil language
to any Coachman, Carman, &c. : if your Carriage is obstructed or offended by
any disorderly persons, take out your Pocket Book, and let them see you are
setting down their Number, and then coolly tell them you will summon them if
they do not immediately clear the way.
" By the 1st Geo. I. c. 57, f th-ivers of Hackney Coaches are to give way to
Gentlemen's Carriages, under a penalty of 10*.' "
We pray Heaven this act be not repealed !
Again : —
" If curious Children ask 'Whose Carriage is this?' tell your Coachman to
Stare full in their face, and Say Nothing: if they have the Impudence to repeat
the Question, he may reply, f it belongs to Mr. PRY/ If equivocation be ever
allowable, it is to such Impertinents."
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22. 3 E
394 The Traveller's Oracle. [O T.
Or he may call out to the footman—" Tom ! has Towzer been fed this
morning ?"
Tom.-— " No."
Coachman. — " Then bring him here, and let him breakfast upon these
children !"
The presence of a large dog keeps off intrusion a good deal : and, if he
won't bite, have him muzzled, that he may look as if he would.
Moreover, it must be taken care that those do not offend themselves who
are to reprehend offence in others : —
" If any of your Coachman's own acquaintance speak to him while he is either
driving or waiting for You, he must answer them only by a civil movement of
his Head or Whip hand. Nothing is more disrespectful and disorderly than Gos-
siping while on Duty.*'
We might go on into far greater length — for the whole matter of the
book is eccentric and interesting; but our limits warn us to draw to a con-
clusion. The work before us, we may repeat, is one which does credit
both to the heart and to the head of the writer ; for, with abundant per-
ception of that which is economical, and a becoming aversion to being
imposed upon, there is nothing like an oppressive or parsimonious spirit dis-
played in any page of it, from the beginning to the end. On the whole, it
is a book which will be generally read, and deserves to be so ; no less for
the whim and eccentricity with which it is written, than for the knowledge
of almost innumerable things in which many men are interested, with
which it abounds. As a code for our guidance in the little affairs and
details of life, it becomes, perhaps, the fairest and truest index to what was
the state of the author's own opinion and feeling upon such subjects. And
the result (as regards that point) which we should deduce is — that he pos-
sessed penetration enough to detect the little faults which every man must
have to allege against his fellow- creatures, in this world; with sufficient
prudence, as well as bon-homme, to induce him to pardon or make the best
of them.
TO A LADY.
" Sing thou of me P Sweet lady, dare
I listen to that dangerous prayer?
Can I of thee sing coldly ?
My tongue's root very near, indeed,
Is to my heart, and it will plead
That poor heart's cause too boldly.
" Sing thou of me!" Apelles' doom
Will sure be mine, who dared presume
Campaspe to pourtray ;
The form to which he task'd his art
Stole from his tablet to his heart,
And reft his peace away.
« Sing thou of me ! " Yes ; I must bow
To thy decrees as fate's— yet thou
Wear not Ithuriel's frown,
If, while my obedient lips essay
A theme so soul- entrancing, they
Should come too near thy own. H. N.
J82T.J [ 395 ]
NOTES FOIl THE MONTH.
THE political arrangements, of the last month, are important rather in
that which they are likely to lead to, than from any results which have
yet arisen out of them. The new government is completely formed ; and
a strong earnest of its stability is, that some of its most vehement oppo-
nents, find so little chance of overturning it as Whig, that they have
turned round and are assuring the world that it is Tory! This is whim-
sical ; but if such a reading gratifies the feelings of any party, there can
be no objection to its being adopted. The fact is, that the government is
composed of the moderate men of both sides ; and whether it be called
" Whig" or " Tory," will make little difference, so long as it acts upon
that policy which those of the late ministers who were esteemed Tories
by preference, resisted. As the list stands — except that it wants shining
talent — it stands well ; and shining talent (combined with political know-
ledge and fitness) is not to be found on either side the House. The Marquis
of Lansdown, as Home Secretary, is pledged to the support of Catholic
Emancipation ; a measure, the success of which aljne, we take to be of
the most vital importance to this country. Mr. Huskisson will not forget
that he was the founder of the system of open trade ; although his imme-
diate office is that of Secretary for the Colonies. Mr. Herries, the Chancel-
lor of the Exchequer, is said to hold rather strait-laced opinions ; but his
place is not one of patronage ; and, without any offence to his preten-
sions, his political consequence is not at present enough to make his opi-
nions a matter of much importance. And the Duke of Wellington is
again commander in- chief ; which — no matter what his political opinions
are — we rejoice to see him, and he well deserves to be. It will be a cir-
cumstance of some regret in the country, that to the names above-men-
tioned (joined to that of Lord Goderich), Mr. Peel's name cannot be
added. We do not despair, however, of seeing it in that position yet.
Mr. Peel wants but a very short step to acquiescence in the principles,
upon which the present Ministry (as it is understood) are to proceed ; and
that step, we are inclined to hope, reflection and increasing experience will
induce him before long to take. He must feel, that, whatever difference
may exist upon some peculiar questions, he possesses in the main (inde-
pendent of all " party,") in a very eminent degree, the confidence of the
country; and that it is his duty, if he can do so without an absolute
compromise of principle, to give that country the benefit of his services.
His steady temper and consideration will also find no difficulty in discri-
minating between those wild innovations, which a few talking people may
have vapoured about, but which no influential party can ever have thought
to realize, and those more gradual changes which an altering condition of
society, in every country, must from time to time demand ; and which in
England, up to a certain (and not to a very limited) point, no man than
himself has been more forward in promoting. The secondary appointments
of Government have been given chiefly to people at present very little
known ; and might, we think, in one or two instances, have been bestowed
more advantageously. If the object in such nominations.be to initiate
men of talent and station into the duties of office, it seems to be a very
great mistake, that Lord Althorpe should be suffered to remain without
employment — if he would accept it. Mr. Brougham has as yet received
nothing; it is said, because (with very excellent taste and judgment)
he will take no appointment that is not connected with his profession.
3 E 2
306 Notes for the Month. £OcT.
The learned gentleman evinces as much sound sense in this resolution, as
he is in the habit, on all occasions, of displaying shining talent : with
his faculties — which make the highest grades of honourable success certain
— it would be ill calculation for him to take up the trade (always ques-
tionable), of a politician. Sir James Scarlett will probably have the first
vacant judgeship, and make way for Mr. Brougham in his present post of
attorney-general.
One of the first contemplated measures of the new ministry, is said
to be a plan, by Lord Lansdown, for reforming our metropolitan police.
This, at least, is the report ; whether founded in fact, or born of com-
mercial indignation for the burglaries lately committed in Bread-street,
we do not pretend to determine. Whichever way the fact may be, how-
ever, attempts at improvement can do no mischief, and can scarcely avoid
producing, in detail, some advantage; but we are not disposed to be
sanguine as to any very material change, so far as the abatement of crime
is concerned, to be effected by the uoble Marquis's exertions. There are
but two courses, in the way of police arrangement or criminal legislation,
which we can take to check the quantity of crime currently existing in the
country ; and it is hardly possible to take a step in either of them without
doing that which is open to objection. An increased severity in punishing
offence cannot be the remedy which is proposed : that course would be no
less in the teeth of the spirit of the new government, than contrary to the
general opinions of society. And for the system of prevention — the advan-
tage of that engine has long been understood ; but it is impossible to take
any material steps in the employment of it, without trespassing to exactly
the same extent upon the liberties of the subject : the freedom which we
lose is of more value than the security which we gain, The fact is, that the
very constitution of society in a country like England, leads inevitably to
the creation of offences against property — and those are the only offences
which increase with us — in a very wide and extended degree. Indepen-
dently of those crimes which arise out of the want of employment or of
food, the very abundance of riches that exists in the country, and the
absolutely vital necessity which is felt (and inculcated) for possessing them,
must have the effect of making some men knaves, while it renders so
many productively stirring and industrious. " Affaires, embarras, servi-
tudes, projets" says a French writer ; " tout cela se lit sur tons les
visages. Dans y,ne societe de vingt personnes, DIX-HUIT s'occupent des
moyens $ avoir de I'argent, et QUINZE N'EN TROUVERONT POINT!"
This is but a fair description of the state of society in England ; and where
so many men are bent upon gaining one object, there will always be a
proportion who will attempt to gain it in an illegal way.
The Times of the 25th ultimo— it is going rather far back for a notice,
but we want to say a word upon the subject — throws out a hint to the
" nepotism" of English bishops, in an account of church employments held
by one family only — a father and two sons — no fewer than eight appoint-
ments— to the annual amount of 26,000/. ! The paragraph concludes with
an intimation, that " the clergy in general of the country are deeply dis-
gusted at these arrangements." What cause the " clergy" may have for
disgust, we shall not stop to inquire ; because a fact of more extended
importance is most certain — that the public has deep cause for disgust at
the general disposition of church property in this country. It is not
enough that the most extravagantly enormous revenues arc raised every
year from the people, to support a list of superior church dignitarif-
1 827.] Notes for the Month. 397
who actually perform no duty for these sums, even in the way of their
calling ; but the persons whom these well-paid sinecurists hire to execute
their sacred office, are so wretchedly remunerated for their work, that they
are compelled literally to become beggars for private bounty, and cap for
a douceur at the end of their task, like postilions or mail coachmen. We
have nothing to do here with the abstract question of the degradation or
non-degradation of poverty; an immense sum is levied, for the mainte-
nance of a certain class of public functionaries ; and the least that we
are entitled to expect is to see those functionaries credit the country by
presenting the style and habits of respectability. Men whose livelihood is
gained by the daily soliciting of gratuities (according to the opinions and
feelings that prevail in England) do not do so. It is offensive — we might
almost say disgusting — to see in a wealthy and populous London parish —
a parish which pays perhaps to its resident clergy an income of four or
five thousand pounds a-year — the officiating minister of that parish, after
delivering a solemn exhortation from the pulpit to fifteen hundred, or two
thousand persons, lay his sacred garments (and tone) briskly aside, and
bow, as he receives the church dues after the performance of a wedding
or a christening — *' For so much" — (whatever are the regular fees) — " I
am accountable to Dr. (So-and-So) the rector : any thing you please
to give me over that sum, I am allowed to keep for myself!" It
has been said, that a religion — like every other institution in which mortals
have concern — has but its day and its termination : and perhaps the con-
dition of any system must be something advanced, under which such ad-
vertisements as that in a Gloucestershire paper that lies before us at this
moment — " To be sold, the nex* presentation to a living of 800/. a-year;
in a good sporting neighbourhood" — may be found twice a week in half the
newspapers in England. But this practice of clergymen asking alms in the
church is too disgraceful, where a liberal and large allowance (as far as the
public is concerned) is already made. We have no intention, by these
remarks, to wound the feelings of individuals. On the contrary, we en-
tertain no doubt that the parties whose conduct we complain of, are the
sufferers under a bad system, rather than the offenders. But still the
system is disgraceful, and ought to be altered. It may be difficult for
any church establishment to secure the consistent private conduct of all
its members ; but it is scandalous that a church, endowed as that of Eng-
land is, should leave them without the means (in public) of maintaining
a deportment of independence and respectability.
Letters from Cheltenham state, that " Mr. Terry (late of Covent Garden)
who is the manager of the theatre there, takes his benefit this evening.
Colonel Berkeley performs on the occasion, and is to wear a dress which
has cost seven hundred guineas. The character which the noble amateur
enacts is his favourite one of " Richard Coeur de Lion" ! /
Fowling Extraordinary ! — " The Duke of St. Albans," an Evening
Paper says, " intends to commence the shooting season in good earnest.
His Grace has ordered fifty canisters of gunpowder ; sixteen bags of
shot ; and two double-barrelled guns, with gold touch-holes, and armorial
bearings /" Devant tant de belles choses, les perdrix se prosternent ! —
or ought to do. But we are surprised it has never occurred to his Grace,
since his marriage, or to other persons of his rank, to shoot with gold
shot!
" It is said that Sir James Mackintosh has sold his History of England
398 Notes for the Month. [Ocx.
(now finished) to Messrs. Longman, for six thousand guineas'." — Globe.
It may be said: and, if it were sworn, we would not believe it.
The wretched egg-shell style of building houses, which modern foppery and
parsimony has introduced among us of late years, in London, is extending
itself, it appears, to America. In the course of the last week (at home), a
large portion of new brick work, belonging to some of the rascally edifices
that are running up about Spa Fields, came down upon the labourers who
were building it ! the case not having gone on to the proper time for
crushing future hirers, or inhabitants : and the New York Advertiser
describes the falling down, in that city, of " one of those miserable shells
which modern meanness has substituted for substantial edifices," just as
the workmen were putting the last touch to it, — " finishing slating the
roof!" One man was killed on this occasion, and five seriously injured.
A considerable crowd, however, collected, who looked sharp for the
speculator; and it is supposed that (although they did not find him)
the " demonstration " exhibited will not be without its general effect.
The American Paper very justly (as it seems to us) observes, that the
safety of all classes of the community, calls for a penal, law upon this sub-
ject ; and that persons employed upon such houses are exposed even to more
danger than those who become resident in them. " Our firemen" the
Editor says, in particular, " who are daring enough upon firm and well
built edifices, will be justified if they leave such traps as these to their fate."
The indifference, however, to personal danger which is displayed by labour-
ers of almost every class (unless it be some danger that certainly and presently
exhibits itself), would be matter of surprise, were its manifestation less
incessant. It is scarcely three months past since all the science of London,
and Paris was rampant about the new " Disinfecting Agents " discovered
—the liqueurs Labarraque ; the operation of which was so rapid and
powerful, that accidents from putridity or unwholesome air were to be
considered at an end : the most poisonous common sewer, or vault, or
drain, was cured instantaneously by their exhibition ! The experiments
made on some of the Paris " Egouts " surprised all Europe ; and it was
under calculation how much it would cost to keep the streets of Edin-
burgh sweet by the year — beginning at five o'clock in the morning ; as
well as whether it might not be possible (now they have got a " Con-
stitutional" government) to do something for Lisbon. Now the use
to which we turn discoveries like this, is curiously exemplified by
the papers of to-day (August 5th). Tho Globe quotes from a weekly
paper, the Gazette of Health, a recipe for a cheaper <; disinfecting liquor "
than those " advertised for purchase" (those of Labarraque) — a mixture
of oxymuriatic acid, with nitric acid and water, instead of the choluret
of soda, or choluret of lime : so that it appears the advantage of em-
ploying these safeguards is not at all lost sight of or forgotten. We then
come to the Morning Journals, which contain, first, a notice, headed —
" Dreadful Accident from Foul Air," taken from the Journal des Debats ;
from which it appears that seven persons have just been destroyed in
emptying a sewer under the House of Correction at Riom : this is in the
country where the discovery originally came from. And, secondly, an
account, that at the soap manufactory of Messrs. Crossfield and Fell, in
Warrington, — " Three men who were engaged in stirring a boiler, into
which vitriol had been poured to bleach the soap, fell down in consequence
of the emitted stench ; and, before assistance could be had, the contents
1827.J Notes for the Mont/i. 399
of the copper boiled over upon them," by which horrible death, two died :
this is in the country where twenty pamphlets upon the discovery have
been written.
, Royal Bon Mot.- — " During the time that his late Majesty George the
Third was indisposed at Windsor, it was frequently his custom to play a
game at cards. On one occasion, while playing with Dr. , one of his
physicians, at picquet, the doctor was about to lay down bis hand, saying,
as he wanted but twelve of being out, he had won the game ; for (added
he), " I have a quatorze of tens." The King bid him keep his cards.
" Tens" were good for nothing just then. " For," said his Majesty,
looking significantly at Dr. , and laying down four Knaves — " here
are my four physicians !" — Examiner. The late King — rest his soul !—
was a heavy joker ; but surely he never could have volunteered a niaiserie
like this ! The Examiner does not like kings, and must have invented it.
The Thedtre Odeon has opened, with its English company, at Paris,
during the last month ; and the opinions of the French critics upon the
merits of our actors and drama, recal to us a theory which we took the
liberty to hazard, a short lime since, touching the entire incompetency of
the people of one country ever to judge (with real accuracy) upon the
dramatic representations of another. The English performers who have
most delighted the Parisians, are those whom we either never hear of, or
consider perfectly detestable, in London. A Miss Smithson, who used to
play minor characters, at Drury Lane Theatre, is ravishing all Paris, in
Ophelia, and Juliet. Mr. Power, who (though an extremely good actor
in low Irish characters) is literally horrible when he attempts any thing
iu the way of a gentleman, the French journals pronounce to have
been admirable, in Sir Lucius O' Trigger, — " an actor, possessing great
intelligence, with remarkable correctness !" while Listen is described in
Acres, as " a mannerist, whose voice is sluggish, and whose jerking
pronunciation too often degenerates into huskiness — these defects being the
more to be regretted, as he appears to have passed the age when they
might be remedied!" Eventually the writer admits that Liston is
" amusing, and likely to be a useful member of the company;" but
he evidently rates him low ; for the tone changes directly he comes
to discuss the merits of Mr. Abbott — who is said to have " a noble
appearance, and to wear the military costume with great advantage !"
Poor Mr. Abbott ! A " Mr. Chippendale" too — who he is we have not
an idea — is mixed up with the grandees — (" Liston, Abbott, Chippindale,
and Power") — as one of the genuine stars from the London boards, who
have already appeared at the Odeon ; and great commendation is bestowed
upon a " Mrs. Vaughan," for her performance of — the Queen, in Hamlet !
As for Miss Smithson, the journalist, if we recollect right, draws a parallel
between her and Mademoiselle Mars'."
The fact is, as we some time back asserted, that there can be very little
perception, in any country, of the merits of a foreign performance. Humor-
ous, or what is called " broad" comedy, must, nineteen twentieths of it be
local ; and the nicer circumstances which go to the composition of accom-
plished acting, even in genteel comedy, and in tragedy, have quite as
much reference to an ideal standard of manners, &c. maintained in the
country to which the performer belongs, as to any principles existing in
nature. It is true that we can make a rough estimate; an English actor
totally destitute of manner and deportment, who attempted to act the
heroes of Congreve and Farquhar, would be detected, perhaps, in Paris :
400 Notes, for the Month. [Ocr.
but such a degree of vulgarity and destitution of those qualities as would
hopelessly shut out an actor from that caste of characters in a London
theatre, 8 French audience would not be in the slightest degree sensible
of. In fact, the native of any country, who looks at a foreign actor,
stands — giving him every allowance for qualification — in the position of
a man not conversant with painting, who looks at a picture : he finds
out the excellencies, if there are any, but he passes over all the blots.
Nine times in ten there is a great deal that such a spectator feels he does
not quite understand ; he has never a very entire confidence in any portion
of his judgment, and the more ability he has, the more afraid he is of
making a mistake ; and a whole crowd of faults will pass over unquestioned,
under the single shade of some supposed taste or habit te peculiar to the
country to which the actor belongs" — to his being " out of his element
before a foreign audience" — entitled to " allowance under such circum-
stances," &c. &c.
The value of this last admission, in dramatic affairs, is prodigious : actors
are constantly applauded very highly — and by discerning persons — at Minor
theatres (where this " consideration" is extended), who fail entirely when
they come to the ordeal of a full audience in a national theatre. The great
mass of people, however, who attend (and up to a certain point must
decide upon) the merit of foreign performances in every country, by no
means possess the most elementary qualifications for criticism in such a
situation. The English who attend the theatres in France, and who
frequent the little French theatre, in London, do not, one in ten of them
—even those who read French, and even speak it intelligibly — understand
one word in six that they hear uttered ! and the French confess, without
hesitation, that they are in the same difficulty with respect to us. We
always hear the " Mon Dieu !" and they always catch the " God damn !"
but of every sentence, amounting in length to thirty words, the last two and
twenty (even where the speaker means to be particularly intelligible) are
invariably lost. The French Globe, which contains the most sensible
notice of our Anglo Parisian exhibitions, describes Mr. Abbott, as being
" what the English call a nice gentleman"
The non-payment of the Dividend upon the " Mexican Bonds," this
1st of October, of which due notice has been given on the Stock Exchange,
and at which Cobbett last week (Saturday the 22d Sept.) is quite rampant
with delight, falls rather unluckily as to time, for a u Letter upon the
Affairs of Greece," that has appeared in most of the daily papers, in
which the unhappy position of that interesting country is very ably
described, and a sort of suggestion thrown out, that something in the way
of a " further loan" from England might be very sovereign in the removal
of its difficulties. The argument used (for Greece) on this occasion, is inge-
nious ; it amounts shortly to this — that England having already lent a great
deal of money to Greece, which (as matters stand) is in a fairway of being
lost, the best thing that we can do will be to lend a little more. But still —
though no doubt there is a great deal in this — it has not entirely the effect
of satisfying our scruples. We fully agree that all the money which has
been sent to Greece— -(we beg pardon, we should say, all that has been
paid by individuals in England, on account of the Greek loan) — is irre-
coverably gone ; but we are rather afraid that the most prudent course will
still be — to let it go, and say no more about it. Our loss being made the
measure by which we are to lend, is pleasant as a hypothesis ; but, as there
can hardly be a doubt that every fresh loan would, under such circum-
1827.] Notes for the Month. 401
stances, increase the expediency of our farther advancing, there is no saying
— as long as we have a penny left in the country — where such a principle
might stop. To speak seriously, with every wish for the success of Greece,
and even for the interests of those whose views are to be advanced by
her success, we cannot recommend to our countrymen to advance that
object by the loan of another sixpence. Were they inclined to give
any thing, it may be another matter : because then we know what we are
about. Though even then a difficulty might arise in the manner of
bestowing the bounty ; for the wants, throughout Greece, seem to be so
general, that there is considerable danger that the first Greek who got hold
of the money, would — as chanty begins at home — conceive he could not
better fulfil the donors' intention than by letting it end there, and applying
that which had fallen in his way to the relief of himself. At all events,
however, we take it to be a matter beyond doubt, that a further Greek loan
would be a project too desperate — even for the jobbers of the Stock Market.
The intrinsic value of the securities already existing, is not — with any
reference to the chance of payment by Greece — five pounds in the hundred ;
we should say scarcely as many shillings. Besides, the people of England
have not so soon forgotten the transactions connected with the last loan:
at least we hope they have not. If they have, let them look to the papers
and periodicals of six months back, and refresh their memories. " Greece"
is coming again rather too soon.
A View to Essentials —
" No Venus of stone, but of good flesh and bone." — Old Song.
The Place of St. Mark at Venice, which is the great focus of gaiety and
luxury (the Palais Royal) of the city, was, prior to the overthrow of the
French regime under Bonaparte, a good deal inhabited, as well as prome-
naded, &c., by females of a doubtful reputation. On the restoration of
the Bourbon dynasty, the Austrian government becoming ascendant, found
this state of things objectionable ; and in a general reform of the police of
Venice, purified the Place of St. Mark, by turning out all the ladies. The
inhabitants, however — as it is dangerous attacking men upon their foibles — »
were highly indignant at this interference ; and the purification was not
pardoned, although, under the same authority, the famous Horses of
Lysippus, the pride of the city, were restored. The horses came in, and the
ladies were sent out (by way of soothing the feelings of the lower orders),
on the same day : but this device did not at all satisfy any class of the
Venetians ; who walked about, murmuring — Bella cosa ! Guarde i suoi
cavalli, e ci lascia le nostre vacche ! — French Globe.
Perverseness of Foreigners. — 4< What a rum language they talk in this
place!" said an English sailor the other day to his companion, who arrived
a few days later than the speaker himself had done at Rochefort — " Why,
they call a cabbage, a shoe (choux) !" " They are a d — d set!" was the
reply, " why can't they call it a cabbage!'"
The Globe (English) of yesterday evening, in its leading article, attacks
the system of " holding parties to bail " for slight or ordinary offences at
Police Offices ; and complains that the effect of this practice — as great
numbers of persons cannot find bail — is frequently to inflict an imprison-
ment of six weeks upon a man before trial, whose sentence by the Court
will not exceed a trifling fine, or an imprisonment of a few days, after it,
or who may possibly be acquitted. The writer goes on by suggesting the
superior advantage of allowing persons under such accusations to go at
M'M NewSeries—VoL. IV. No. 22. 3 F
402 Notes for the Month. [OcT.
large; inasmuch as the greater part of them would probably come
forward at the time of trial ; and if any failed, it would be a slighter evil
to incur the trouble of apprehending such again, than it is at present to
retain numbers of persons needlessly and unjustifiably in confinement.
We should have no objection to the enforcement of such a prison regula-
tion as should ensure the separation of all offenders committed for civil
misdemeanours, from those in custody for larceny or felony ; but we
certainly cannot agree with the Globe that the practice of holding to
bail, or committing in default of bail, for such offences, should be aban-
doned. We think that the practice does a great deal of good; and modi-
fied as it is by the magistrates to circumstances, very little, if any, mischief.
The chief parties concerned in the question are the poorer classes ; and
the bail which is demanded in their cases is very low. The sureties (unless
in atrocious cases, where u notice" is directed to be given,) are never very
closely examined; the amount seldom exceeds £20.; and, in trifling or
vexatious charges, the magistrate takes the recognizance of the party accused,
which costs him half-a-crown or three-and-sixpence. Now, decidedly, it
seems to us that a vast deal of mischief is prevented by this simple process.
If six Jews happen to quarrel (which does happen about five times a
week), because they live in one house, or in one court, in Petticoat-lane,
if it were not for the power of the magistrate to confine the original offender,
or demand sureties from him, such a contest might continue, either until one
half of the disputants were killed, or the first day of the Quarter Sessions
came — there would be no natural or official termination to it. The impri-
sonment, or holding to sureties, of a man who has been guilty of
rioting, or of assaulting his neighbours, abates the nuisance : it either
puts the offender under restraint, or removes him from the scene of
action. If such a man be liberated without conditions, he returns to
the place, and to the parties, in which or against whom his offence has
been committed ; and in a temper which almost certainly leads to its
repetition. Sheen, the murderer, was no sooner discharged from custody,
in consequence of the error in his indictment, than he conducted himself
in such a manner in the house where he resided, that a proceeding, the
effect of which was (almost illegally) to deprive him of his liberty, was
found necessary, and resorted to.
In fact, the abandonment of this custom would render the appeal to a
Police Office — which now terminates a dispute effectively — of no force or
value whatever. Jt may occasionally happen that a man, after suffering
imprisonment for three weeks or a month, is acquitted of the offence
charged against him; but this is a casualty to which the law — not as
regards misdemeanours only, but transportable or capital crimes also — is
subject; men are very often acquitted on charges of felony, after having
been several months in prison : but no one believes, therefore, that it
would be right to allow murderers and burglars to go at large, upon their
parole, from the time of their apprehension to the day of trial! The
necessity under which the proteges of the Globe labour, of being sent
to prison, or of finding bail for a misdemeanor, that journal seems to
forget is a part of the punishment imposed for their offence ! just as
completely in practice, and universal understanding, a part of their
punishment, though not yet sanctioned by the sentence of any court, as
the being locked up all night in the watch-house (although discharged,
perhaps, with merely a reprimand by the magistrates, next morning), is a
known and understood part of the penalty of a man's being found intoxi-
1 827. ] Notes for the Month. 403
cated and riotous in the street. And the extent of the sentence pronounced
upon their conviction very often in words refers to, and is regulated by,
that very fact — " The Court takes into its consideration the time that
the prisoner has already been confined, and orders" — so and so. Whether
it be worth while to diminish the penalty which attaches to the com-
mission of the kind of offences under discussion — and which, even with
the consequences at present known to follow upon them, occupy two-
thirds of the time of our police magistrates — may possibly be a question
(though we do not well see how) for consideration. But certainly, if any
species of penalty is to be inflicted, that punishment should seem to be
the most useful and effective, which at once stops the continuance of
the offence — by either laying under securities — or separating — the con-
tending parties. In the greater number of instances, however, as the law
stands, the bail demanded, after a short delay, is found. And this
changes the lesson given into a fine, instead of a certain number of days'
imprisonment. The expense of the recognizances, in one shape or other
to the party accused, being ton or a dozen shillings ; and the bail itself, in
almost all cases among the lower classes, (at a fixed per centage on the
amount) paid for.
" The following pithy placard" (the Comber says) " has lately been
twice stuck up at Madrid, where it has created a considerable sensation
from the crowds assembled to read it." — " The French in the Ebro ; the
English in the Tagus ; the Liberals at the devil; and down with the
King !" The writer, whoever he may be, certainly seems to be on very
charitable terms with all parties.
The winter theatres are both about to commence their season ; and
have advertised, against each other, the dramatic force that they set out
with. Covent Garden is very strong indeed in actors ; Kean, Charles
Kemble, and Young, are engaged in tragedy ; and Wrench is to supply
the place of Jones, in comedy. We should very much like to see Cole-
ridge's tragedy — Remorse, revived, with the aid of this company, at
Covent Garden. The acting of Rae and Elliston gave the play no
chance of even reasonable success, when it was produced ; and it would
hardly be possible to find a tragedy containing two characters at the same
time, so equal and so well suited to the powers of Young and Kean, as
the two brothers in Remorse — Don Alvar, and Don Ordonio. Drury
Lane puts its trust rather in opera and farce ; and brings forth the strong
attraction (combined) of Braham and Miss Paton, Liston, Jones, and
Mathews. Madame Vestris, however, who is the best actress in England,
is engaged at Covent Garden. Mr. Macready is the tragedian. A sou
of Mr. Kean's, is also to appear : about whom, by the way, no more such
very direct puffs, as one or two that wo could point out, should appear,
or the young man's fair chance of reception will be weakened. Consider-
ing the great practice that people have, puffing really is not near so well
done as it ought to be. It strikes us, we must do a little in that way —
just to set an example to those who manage it so clumsily — ourselves.
It will be a singular occurrence, rather, if Kean's son should prove a con-
siderable actor; for the talent of the stage has seldom been hereditary.
The children of many obscure performers have become eminent: but
there are very few instances in which the descendant of a considerable
actor or actress has been distinguished. To take instances within recent
recollection, or of the present day, for example — Mr. Elliston has a son
upon the stage: with none of *the striking talent of the father. Mr.
3 F 2
404 Notes for the Month. [OcT.
Henry Siddons, the son of Mrs. Siddons, was a very bad actor indeed.
Lewis had two sons upon the stage ; neither of them of any value.
Mr. Dowton has two sons (or had) in the same situation. And Mrs;
Glover's two daughters will never rise above low mediocrity. On the
other hand, Mr. Macready and Mr. Wallack, are both the sons of very
low actors ; and the late John Bannister and Mr. Tokely were similarly
descended. Almost the only modern instance of the immediate descen-
dant of a valuable performer turning out well, was in the case of Mrs.
Jordan's daughter, Mrs. Alsop ; who was very nearly as good an actress
as her mother. Mr. Kean, junior, is stated to be very young : this is not
in favour of his present excellence. We doubt if there is an instance
on record of a very young man being a considerable actor. Both houses,
however, advertise strong companies — whether they can afford to bring
them into play, is another matter.
Navigation in the Air. — We noticed a short time since in the scientific
department of our Magazine, the project of a gentleman of the name of
Pocock, a schoolmaster of Bristol, for propelling a species of wheel car-
riage by means of the power of kites. An experiment made with this
char-volant, some months back, near Windsor, in which it overtook and
outstripped the carriage of the Duke of Gloucester (his Highness chancing
to be travelling the same way) was noticed, at the time, by several London
and provincial papers ; and Mr. Pocock has now published a quarto book
in explanation of his invention, interspersed with plates — some exhibiting
men flying in the air at the tails of kites — others, ships at sea and stranded,
sending messengers to shore by them — others still, carriages drawn over
hill and dale by them, which horsemen riding venire a terre, as the French
describe it, are unable to overtake ; — altogether a work as wild and eccen-
tric as some persons will consider the discovery itself.
The objects — that is to say, the more important objects — to which Mr.
Pocock finds his invention particularly applicable, are three in number: the
propelling of ships in calm weather at sea ; the drawing of carriages by
land ; and the elevating of individuals to enormous heights in the air, for
the purposes of observation, escalade of fortresses, crossing of rivers, or
any other acts for which such an exalted location may be considered avail-
able. All these works, he assures the public, have been EXPERIMENTALLY
ACCOMPLISHED by the Kites ; and although the author himself admits
that some of his accounts have been thought a little strange by people not
habitually incredulous, yet there is considerable curiosity in the steps by
which his invention has been brought to its present state, as well as
approved truth in many of the results which he describes to have been
obtained from it.
Mr. Pocock informs us that having, when a boy, conceived some notions
of the probability of making the drawing power of a kite applicable to
useful purposes in life, it became an object with him, of course, in the
first place, to try to what extent the force of the engine in question could
be carried. With this view, he conceived the idea of procuring two paper
.kites : and flying up the first until it would carry no more string, he
then tied the end of the first kite string, to the back of the second kite ;
and letting that up with its own length of cordage, he soon discovered that
by adding kite after kite in this manner, an almost indefinite extent of
power and elevation might be obtained. Encouraged by having fixed this
principle, he proceeded in his labours ; making a variety of improvements
almost immediately in the construction and management of his kites :
1827.] Notes for the Month. 405
such as building them jointed, in order that when of a large size they
should be more portable ; covering them with linen instead of paper, that
they might be proof against the weather; and, particularly, furnishing
them with three cords (independent of the main, or drawing string) called
brace lines, the effect of which was to regulate their power when elevated,
and to direct their course, without being left entirely at the discretion of
the wind, through the atmosphere : until, at length, having further con-
structed a carriage peculiarly adapted to the application of his new im-
pulse, he arrived so far at success as to be able upon ordinary roads to
perform journies at the rate of twenty miles an hour; and to outstrip, as
has already been stated, on one occasion, the carriage of the Duke of
Gloucester, with his Royal Highness's postilions (as he says) putting their
horses to the gallop.
For a full account of several strange matters that occurred in the course
of the inventor's experiments, our readers must consult the book itself i
but the practicability of impelling a carriage along a common road by the
aid of kites certainly seems established beyond all doubt. On one trial (on
the 8th of January in the present year), the projector performed a mile of
ground over a very heavy road, in two minutes and three quarters ; and
on the same day several other miles in three minutes each. This was
done between Bristol and Marlborough. At another time, he says he beat
a London stage-coach, in a distance of ten miles, by no less than twenty*
five minutes. Moreover, as, although by the assistance of the brace lines,
his kites work perfectly well with a side wind, it is yet impossible for them
to work against the wind, and consequently not easy for a traveller to go
a journey with them, and come back (the wind remaining in the same
quarter) in the same day — to obviate every difficulty, the inventor has
added a platform to the back of his Kite-carriage, upon which a pair of
horses are carried along with the traveller ! remaining at all times fresh
and in order, ready to be harnessed and set to work, in case the wind
should fall, or veer round, or any other accident should make the ministry
of such animals necessary ! — These are the sort of speculations that every
now and then make Mr. Pocock's narrative a little staggering.
The power of a kite twelve feet high, with a wind blowing at the rate
of twenty miles an hour, is as much, our author says, as a man of mo-
derate strength can stand against. Larger kites of course would have their
power in proportion.
Beyond drawing carriages [By the way, how admirably these engines
would do to tow canal boats ?], Mr. Pocock, as we have already observed,
looks that his kites shall be useful in propelling ships in calm weather. This
expectation is founded upon the folio wing fact: — Experiments have shewn,
he says, that when a dead calm exists upon the level or surface of the sea—-
at the height of 150 feet in the air, a current of wind is often running at
the rate of sixteen miles an hour. By elevating his kite in due time, the
voyager would have the advantage of this breeze, while those ships un-
provided would lie like logs upon the water, with their sails flapping.
In cases of shipwreck, upon a lee-shore, nothing of course would be
more easy than to send a rope or a grappling iron to the top of a cliff by
the same sort of conveyance : but " should it be deemed more expedient
at once to send a person on shore, he may be borne" (the author says)
" above the bursting billows, and alight, like a messenger of good from the
flood," upon the cliff or beach, as the case may be! In fact, he adds, if it
so happened that female passengers or children were in the vessel so situated
4 06 Notes for the Mon th. [O CT.
— " what mode could be so desirable as to swing them securely in a ham-
mock or cot, and thus transport them above the foaming billows, and land
them dryshod on the shore?" And again, " these kites having power to
elevate one in the air," might be of the highest use in military service : as
from such " flying observations, all the movements and manoeuvres of an
army might be distinctly marked."
As this particular portion of Mr. Pocock's plan is the most curious and
surprising, we regret that he has not been more careful in communicating
the details of his experiments with respect to it. He pledges himself, in
distinct terms, that the thing — that sort of elevation — has been done ; and
that his <k daughter, who earnestly claimed from him the daring honour,
was the first Aeropleust." Still this is all the account we have of what has
been effected in the way of actual ascension into the air, while the notices
of experiments upon terra firma are given with the greatest possible am-
plitude and particularity : — which is rather unlucky.
For the present, however — certainly regretting the absence of information
upon this material point, and also that his work generally is written in a
style which makes it difficult to distinguish sometimes whether he is in jest
or earnest — we must leave Mr. Pocock and his invention; not at all pre-
judicing our right to return to the discussion of his operations hereafter. As
the thing stands, what has been done is very amusing, and displays great
ingenuity ; but we rather doubt the possibility of applying the power to
any purposes beyond those of diversion. When the public, however, shall
be possessed of more ample details as to the extent and result of Miss
Pocock's, or any body else's " Aeropleustic " elevation, we shall then
be better qualified to offer an opinion upon the probable eventual success
of the author's project.
The efforts at change and improvement, are various and manifold, which
are anticipated from the exertions of the new ministers, and especially
from the presence of Lord Lansdown at the head of the Home Depart-
ment : there is one great and necessary work which we hope the noble
Marquis will not overlook — especially as it was most zealously laboured
at by his predecessor in office — we mean some alteration in the detes-
table system of the Game laws. It is sufficient to read the grand jury
charges of almost all the judges upon the late circuit, to see that some
modification of the existing law every day becomes more necessary : and
that the land-owners are now enjoying the right of crowding our gaols
with prisoners, for depredations upon property, so situated and circum-
stanced by their own wilful insolence and obstinacy, that the law — were
that property any other than what it is — would refuse altogether to notice
or protect it. The Game laws of England — by some strange anomaly
that it is difficult to understand the toleration of — instead of having
amended and improved with the general increased freedom and informa-
tion of the times, have been for years (practically) retrograding in spirit,
and exhibiting, from day to day, a more atrocious disregard for the morals
and security of the community. For every ten poachers that existed
twenty years ago, the system since pursued by the land-owners them-
selves has raised up fifty. At a period when the daily increasing popula-
tion and cultivation of the country pointed out every day what must be
the increased difficulty of securing any property in it which was not accu-
rately guarded, or at least ascertained and defined — this is the time that
they have chosen for setting up their at best dull and unsportsmanlike
system of " preserves," and " battues ;" for collecting together upon
1827.] Notes for the Month. 407
given points, vast quantities of a species of property as to which no visible
ownership does or can exist ; which is placed under no visible fence or
protection ; and which (from the state of the law, which the claimants
of it themselves have made, and refuse to alter with respect to it)
the very moment it is stolen, their fellow-citizens — although of the
highest respectability — feel not the slightest hesitation to buy !
Now we venture to affirm that there is no property, except Game, which
the law would consent to protect under such circumstances. And we are per-
fectly confident — -the thing cannot be tried, but all analogy we think will
lead our readers to the same conclusion — that no London or Westminster
jury would — if the case were before them to-morrow — consent to transport
a man for poaching. One of the first feelings of the law of England — we
hear it expressed from the Bench in criminal cases twice a week — is, that
a man is not entitled, by a careless disposition of his goods, to lead those
who may be distressed into temptation. He who has property, must put a
reasonable guard upon it, or the law will not interfere to guard it for him.
What Judge, we ask, is there, if a Baronet thought fit to leave his
silver spoons in his unenclosed grounds all night — and cause the fact that
they were left there to be publicly known — what Judge is there, although
the owner's property in the spoons, and his right to place them there, would
be perfectly undoubted, that would consent to transport a starving plough-
man for having stolen them ? And yet the silver spoons, upon every
principle, would be a more justifiable property for the owner to expose than
the pheasants; because stolen silver spoons are not an article of general
commerce ; not an article in which the wealthiest and most influential
persons in the community openly and habitually deal ; nor is theft (according
to a law which the owner himself has made and insists upon maintaining) the
only medium through which silver spoons— although every body has them,
and is known to have them — can come into the possession of the great mass
of the community.
We do not dream of throwing open — to all mankind — the property in
game ; we are disposed to leave the privileged classes much ; but they
must not be allowed, in the plenitude of their power, to run in the very
teeth of common decency and of the first interests of the public. It
would seem to be scarcely conceivable indeed, looked at it in the abstract,
how there can be two opinions about the existence of a state of law, under
which A, we will say a clergyman in London openly and unhesitatingly
purchases the property of C, a squire in Gloucestershire, which B, a
labourer, living near C's estate, is tried and transported at the assizes
of the county, for having stolen 1 Every bodyknows that all the wealthy
people in London buy game. Every body knows that all the poulterers
in London sell it. Every body knows that all the stage-coach and mail"
coach people — all the higglers and carriers that go through the country —
regularly, and almost as their chief article of trade, carry and deal in it.
And all this mass of dealing must be tainted with theft — must be carrried
on in direct violation of the law — to gratify the coxcombry of a few
individuals! one half of whom, after all, are absolutely traitors to their
own covenant; for — it matters little whether they are paid in meal or
malt, in money or in service — after their pride has led them to denounce
and prohibit the sale of game, their necessities — the offspring of that same
pride — induce them to sell -it. If all this did no mischief, it would be suf-
ficient to speculate upon and to smile at it; but that a large class of the
people should become the sacrifices of such a system, is a state of things
408 Notes for the Mouth. [OcT.
which sense and freedom repudiate ; and which public patience will not
tolerate much longer.
The accounts in the Scottish papers, of the Emigration of our Irish
brethren, continue as alarming as ever. Steam-packet after steam-packet
arrives at the quay of Glasgow; and, like the report upon the "out-
ward walls" of Macbeth's castle, — as fast as each new bailment appears
in sight, — " the cry" upon the JBroomielaw, " is still — They come !"
What is to be done in case Mr. Pocoek's scheme for kite conveyance
succeeds, we are at a loss to imagine. The linen too, to make the kites,
the staple of their own manufacture ? Certainly, unless Irishmen gene-
rally^ found in England are declared contraband, we may look, every
time a wind blows from* the westward, to have the sky literally darkened
with their coming sails between Holy head and Dublin. This will be
" carrying into effect the policy of the union of the two countries" (without
the trouble of a motion from Mr. Maurice Fitzgerald) with a vengeance.
The approaching commencement of the winter performances at Drury-
lane Theatre, has re-opened the dispute between Mr. Price and the
renters, as to the right of the latter to "take places" upon the force of their
" privilege of admission." The custom, as our readers will be aware, has
been — on particular occasions, when very full audiences are expected — to
refuse to " keep" or secure places for any applicant, who does not, by
purchasing a ticket for the night, at the time of his application, give secu-
rity to the house that he really intends to occupy them. The renters' claim
is, that their nightly " admission of right" is entitled to be held equivalent
in value to any nightly ticket, purchased, and that they have a general right
to every privilege which the present payment of admission money can secure;
and this right, the present manager thinks proper to deny. The quarrel is a
difficult one to adjust, and one which it would have been better never to have
made public ; because now, however it may be settled, we are afraid the
renters must be losers. Their right to every privilege which ready money
payment could afford them, is as clear in law as it is in reason and equity ;
and no court could entertain a doubt, we apprehend, upon the question for
a moment; but Mr. Price nonsuits our legal mediation, for he says — You
(the renters) are J400 in number; if you insist upon your right to secure
places, you can more than fill all the places in which people choose to sit
in the boxes of the theatre : and, if you do this, you lose your dividend —
for no manager can pay the rent. The case, thus, whichever way it is
arranged, is a difficult one : for the annual sale of their " right of admis-
sion" forms as much a part of the renters' gain as their annual dividend
— and, perhaps, may be considered the more certain gain of the two.
Now, if they insist upon their right, Mr. Price threatens to diminish the
interest on their capital; for, he says, he cannot, at the present rent, keep
open the theatre : and, if they give their right up, then their admission
privilege becomes a deteriorated property, which will sell annually in the
market for so much the less. The poor renters thus stand in a predica-
ment directly the reverse of that of Macheath between his wives ; for
either horn of (he dilemma seems almost equally sure to impale them. As
the proyerb, however, in all cases of doubt, particularly directs our atten-
tion to the bird in hand, we should hardly recommend them to wave the
privilege of their free tickets.
1827.] I 409 ]
MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.
Classical Manual, or a Mythological,
Historical, and Geographical Commen-
tary on Pope's Homer and Dryden's
Virgil; 1827. — Though full of conflicting
statements and positive blunders, Lem-
priere's Classical Dictionary has got full
possession of the schools, and must keep
it, till something equally copious, and
really superior in accuracy and composi-
tion, shall supersede it. When we first
took up ihe volume before us, we had a
vague hope of meeting with something
calculated to expel for ever a book that
had affronted us almost every time we cast
an eye upon it. In this we were disap-
pointed. This Classical Manual, indeed,
makes no explicit pretension to occupy so
large a space ; but a very full and careful
index at the end, with not less than 10,000
names, is pointed out in the preface as sup.
plying whatever convenience might have
been derived if the work had assumed the
form and plan ofaClassical Dictionary. And
unquestionably some such view influenced
the writer in the construction of several
of the articles, which go infinitely beyond
the necessities of the object for which they
were professedly compiled — to say nothing
of an additional thirty or forty pages of
divinities, for which no crevice or corner
could be found in the body of the com-
mentary.
The professed object of the book is to
illustrate Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, and
Virgil's JUneid, or rather Pope and Dry-
den's translations— but the long lists of
appellatives for the Dii Majores — 400 at
least for Jupiter, and 200 a piece for
Apollo, Minerva, and Diana, are surely
not demanded for the illustration of Ho",
mer and Virgil, much less for Pope and
Dryden's — travesties — translations we
mean — sed semper hie crramus. There
are multitudes of mythological points also
to which Homer and Virgil make no allu-
sions, and descriptions of other matters,
with which they have as little to do ; but
•which would be all extremely useful, wel-
come, and appropriate in a Classical Dic-
tionary.
We are taking a carping tone, without
however at all meaning to find fault with
the intrinsic execution of the work, which
is unexceptionable, and more than unex-
ceptionable—it is positively good. The'
volume contains whatever the illustration'
of Homer and Virgil requires, and a great
deal more; but it does not contain wh:it'
would be requisite for the competent il-
lustration of other poets, which, though
not equally popular, are yet frequently
read. So much valuable labour has been
spent upon what is more than imperative
for the immediate purpose, that we regret
MM. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22.
a little more was not taken to make it
more extensively and generally useful —
and particularly to qualify it for super-
seding the ill-written, though it must be
allowed, not unuseful, and at present even
indispensable book, to which we before
alluded, and of which we can scarcely
speak with temper.
Books again of this kind, which are
adapted to the explanation of particular
writers, are not calculated for schools,
which must have something more compre-
hensive and embracing. Unluckily, most
parents grudge the expense of books, and
imagine the master or mistress is thinking
of nothing but gain ; and here is a book
to illustrate Homer and Virgil, as expen-
sive as Lempriere, which is amply sufh%
cient for all the authors that are ever
glanced at schools. We heartily wish the
very competent compiler would throw the
materials into the requisite form. All that
is still wanted, will consist chiefly of his-
torical characters, which the specimens in
the present work prove would be sketched
with force and vivacity. Such a per-
formance would well repay all the labour.
The demand for such a book is immense ;
for even Lempriere has run through at
least twenty editions.
Particular instances of imitation on the
part of Virgil are here and there pointed
out 5 and something more mig'ht be done
to mark the changes in. mythology be-
tween the days of Homer and Virgil. The
mythology of Hades, for instance, became
very different. Of Charon and his boat
Homer knew nothing. Virgil is nothing
but an imitator — a close one of Homer as
to the management of his narrative, and
the complexion of his tale , but closer still
probably of some whose works are lost ;
for he is no more to be considered as the
inventor of those parts where he differs
from Homer, than Homer is himself to be
deemed the originator of his deities. He
has nothing of the inventor about him.
Even for much of his language, and the
very cadence of his verse, he is indebted
to Lucretius.
So far as Virgil and Homer are con-
cerned, the commentary is very complete.
There will be no occasion for reference to
any body's antiquities, Greek or Roman.
More learning, perhaps, is occasionally
shewn than can be useful. Triton, ac-
cording to somebody's supposition, it is
stated, is derivable from Tirit-on, tower
of the sun, — which surely is only calcu-
lated to make confusion worse confound-
ed ; for no allusion whatever, either in Ho-
mer or Virgil, nor any where else, of which
we have a recollection, is there of any
connexion of the marine Triton with the
3 G
410
Monthly Review of Literature,
[OcT.
burning sun. The resemblance between
the words Triton and Tirit-on is probably
a mere accidental coincidence.
TheScaean Gate (144) is derived, cor-
rectly enough, from the word " left-hand"
— what we should however call, with re-
ference to Greek superstition, the w<?.y<-
gate — a better term than the Greek one,
because the sense is not affected by change
of position.
The impurities of mythology are care-
fully swept away, even to a degree of
fastidiousness. The Amazons, for in-
stance, are every where represented as
amputating or compressing the right
breast, to enable them to draw the bow
with more facility. The very name may
seem to be derived from the custom — at
least no better etymology perhaps can be
suggested Now this, in a very particular
description of the appearances of these
martial ladies, is studiously emitted.
In many places, we observe, things are
brought together very usefully, and very
accurately. The succession of the kings
of Argos and of Athens. The emblems of
the muses. The variety of dances, to
which such frequent allusions occur in the
classics, &c. &c.
The volume, though it will not get into
schools, male or female, perhaps, will yet
be acceptable in domestic education. It
will quickly, we hope, be found in every
governesses apartment, in every family in
the country — where it will be really use-
ful, and for which it is best calculated.
It has our hearty commendation ; and we
hope before long, under another shape, to
see it making Lempriere fly before it.
Elizabeth Evanshaw, 3 vols. I2mo. ;
1827. — This is a continuation of a story
entitled "Truth," which appeared some
time ago, without exciting any attention
among novel readers, though even as a
novel it was not without considerable at-
tractions. The design of the author, as
he himself says, has been pretty generally
misapprehended ; — that design was not to
defend deism, but deists — a very intelli-
gible distinction ; — his view was not to
inculcate a system of unorihodox theo-
logy, but to demonstrate the cruelty of
confounding opinion with principle — sup-
posing opinion to mean what does not, and
principle what does influence the conduct
— by exhibiting the hardships to which a
person, even in this land of boasted tole-
ration, may be exposed by entertaining
deistical notions, though coupled with
conduct the most exemplary, principles
the most equitable, and sentiments the
most honourable and humane — hardships
not arising from the operation of the
laws, but the blind prejudices of peo-
pie, which, however, those laws have fos-
tered.
Christianity depends iu our days solely
upon evidence, historical and documen-
tary, the effect of which is not, and in the
common experience of mankind, cannot be
on all minds precisely the same. Some
are incapable of weighing it, and must
take it upon trust ; others are prepos-
sessed and will not examine ; while others
examine and believe; and some few come
to conclusions different from their fellows.
But whether the impression be the result
of habit, faith, or examination, it is equally,
in effect and in influence, conviction; and
so long as a person acts upon such con-
viction he acts honestly, and never can
believe himself justly culpable. We have
no manner of doubt there are deists upon
calm and unbiassed examination — who
have no desire whatever, we mean, to be
relieved from the restraints which reve-
lation is supposed peculiarly to lay upon
the indulgence of passion — and what right
have we to question their sincerity, or at-
tribute to them desires which they dis-
avow ? Nay, it will be said, but what se-
curity have we for one who does not be-
lieve in revelation, and therefore in re-
sponsibility— for he denies, or at least
does not know, that there is a day of judg-
ment? It might be replied —the love of
credit, of respectability — reverence for the
moral approbation of the world — self-
approval — sympathy — honour. Oh, but
what security is this compared with what
we have from the fears of those who dread
the punishment of hell? To this also it
might somewhat triumphantly be replied
—what security have we that those who
call themselves Christians, really believe,
and are influenced by the dread of these
punishments? Is it enough to profess
such belief? Shall we place an absolute
reliance on such profession, especially
when such profession seems to entitle
to confidence? This would surely be a
little too precipitate. Profession and prac-
tice must concur to secure our confi-
dence. If we see a person who professes
belief in Christianity, shaping his con-
duct in all the relations of life accord-
ingly— regulating his passions, control-
ing his sentiments — neither selfish nor
intolerant, but kind and unpresuming —
unconvicted of wrong, and unsuspected
of wishing it — then we have grounds for
security. But when we find with multi-
tudes the profession of religion coupled
with feelings, and impelled by views,
which that very religion condemns, and
shewing itself mainly in cavilling and
carping at others — in taking unbelief as
evidence of profligacy, and asserting self-
superiority without giving an atom of
proof, — all confidence in the supposed
security is lost; and we have no more
grounds for reliance than we have in one
who disclaims revelation. Nay, not so
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
41J
much — for Ihe one is at least in one re-
spect honest, and the other is manifestly
hypocritical.
Intolerance, in spite of the gentle spirit
of Christianity, is diffused widely among
us ; and no wonder, for in the eyes of
teachers, it is, whatever be their declara-
tions, a virtue, and what is more, one
easily practised. The man who teaches
wishes to find docility, not opposition,
among those he teaches; and if he does
not find it, he is, naturally enough per-
haps, offended ; and if he have power will
quickly be for enforcing his instruction.
It is abominable, especially when he is
taking so much trouble, all for their bene-
fit too, not to be listened to. He not only
then wishes to inform but to control. If
he cannot himself exereise that control, he
•will seek the aid of the ruling power, and
to gain that aid, must first persuade him his
own interest is involved, and then alarm
him for his safety. This is the process of
priestcraft and bigotry. It is the interest
of society to get the instruction without
the tyranny; and therefore, while they
seriously listen, they must strenuously
labour to keep the teacher to his office.
The object of the writer — no fool at all
events — is to reclaim against this spirit of
intolerance so inculcated, and to defend
the claims of grave and reflecting deists
to the confidence of their fellow creatures
— at least to be considered as persons not
peculiarly or justly obnoxious to suspicion
and distrust — to inculcate, in short, an ex-
cellent lesson, not to judge of conduct by
opinions. It is not a book we would re-
commend to young people, because they
are in no state to judge of the question —
it is above their years, and no good is to
be done by substituting one set of preju-
dices for another; — but to others, to those
who are capable of any serious reflection,
we do recommend at least the perusal —
not stirely for the purpose of shaking their
faith in the doctrines of revelation, but to
deepen the conviction, which we hope is
fast spreading among us, that religion is
a personal concern, for which we are re-
sponsible, not to our fellows, but to our
Maker — to lead us to a little self-exami-
nation— to lesson the sense of superiority
that is so apt to swell our bosoms, — and
make us trust less to names and more to
things.
Elizabeth Evanshaw is a deist in obe-
dience to her convictions — convictions
produced on a candid spirit by abundant
reflection and research. She loses her in-
heritance by the harsh prejudices of a
Calvinist mother ; she goes a governess-
ing, and is dismissed ignomiuiously, not
because she inculcates deism — for she is
no proselyte-monger — but because whis-
pers of her principles reach her employer's
ears; she is subjected to insolent propo-
sals, because a deist cannot of course be
virtuous ; she marries, and is treated with
distrust and cruelty by her husband, not
because she performs not her duties cheer-
fully, excellently, faithfully, but because
she perseveres in her belief, and how can a
deist be honest? Her children are torn from
her; and one, inoculated with methodism,
treats her harshly and contemptuously ;
— she is entrusted with the care of the
education and fortunes of a friend's child,
and her husband swindles her out of the
property, rely ing on the merciful construc-
tion of the world — he being a Christian,
aud his wife a Deist. This perfect scoun-
drel dies, and leaves her a miserable pit-
tance, and places the children under other
guardianship. Her substantial virtues,
however, have not left her wholly without
friends ; she has a most efficient one in a
jew lady — herself exposed to the liberal
and magnanimous odium of society — and
eventually she comes into possession of
very large property. Her children, by
Ihe greedy friends of her husband, are
also speedily restored to her, and she pro-
poses with her friends, the jews, to quit
the neighbourhood of her sufferings, and
retire to Italy, far remote from her perse-
cutors, whose sentiments towards her,
however, were rapidly changing. With
8 or 10,000/. a year, exile was indeed quite
gratuitous. The possession of such cmpls
funds was a virtue of weight enough to
counterbalance Ihe villainy of infidelity.
We protest for ourselves against the
ready inferences of levity and prejudice.
We are not ourselves — if the writer is—
recommending deism; but we are strongly
inclined to sympathize with him, and think
it hard indeed, that a person who aims at
nothing but the discovery of truth, is not
allowed to give expression to that convic-
tion— unless it tally with the formularies
of the reigning party, — without being sub-
jected to illiberal construction and specu-
lative imputations. " Charity thiuketh
no evil," is the decisive, but forgotten
language of Christianity, and if the pre-
cious sentiment were suffered to sink into
our hearts, and actually exert an influence,
more g-ood will, and consequently peace
aud comfort, would be diffused over society
in REALITY, than all the appearances
which the varnish of civility and polite-
ness spread over it — only to betray.
Papistry Storrti'd^or the Din gin1 Down
o' the Cathedral; 1827. — Nothing abso-
lutely unreadable could be expected from
Mr. Tennant's pen after " Anster Fair,"
although we must confess the very title-
page of the book before us was nearly
repelling us, when we fownd it to be "ane
poem, in sax sangs — imprentit at Ediu-
brogh, be Oliver and Boyd." Ane poem
in sax sangs— all in Scotch ! Well, it
must be got through ; so here goes; and
3 G 2
412
Monthly Review of Literature,
[OCT.
down wo sat to the reading in this dogged,
necessity-driven state of mind — the very
antipodes of hope, but not perhaps the
worst preparative of pleasure ; and we
followed the dingin' down expedition with
a gradual accession of good humour, and
in the genuine no-popery spirit, till every
altar, statue, picture, relic, steeple, and
holy water to the last drop, were turned
over and over, and monks and abhots sent
scouring along for their lives to all quar-
ters of the compass, leaving, as the poet
describes them, a fragment of their holy
robes on every briar they scudded past.
In suffering ourselves to be thus allured
by the subject and incidents of the poem,
we probably but fulfil the writer's own
desire, who appears far more intent upon
a felicitous representation of disasters than
on any effect of mere phraseology. In-
deed Mr. Tennant's singular merit, in the
present general dearth of fancy, and hu-
mour, and natural expression, is a vigorous
trampling down and keeping down of the
spirit of imitation, for we cannot be so
petty as to call by that name au occasional
cadence or two, that reminds us of some-
thing elsewhere.
The Scotch, too — the first repugnance
subdued— soon becomes agreeable from
its strength, simplicity, and richness, we
may add, of expression. In Mr. Tennant's
hands it is an accession to his English
treasures (which he has proved how well
and wisely he can use) rather than a com-
plete substitution.
The object of the poem is a burlesque
description of St. Andrew's Cathedral, in
1559, by the Protestants. All intention
of mingling principles with his narrative
is very needlessly disclaimed by the poet ;
he clearly seeks only to raise a smile, while
he presents to us some of the absurd points
necessarily concomitant on enterprizes of
this kind — points kept out of sight by the
historian, and fitted only for caricature —
since, in a narrative of facts, so much of
the tragic mixes with scenes of violence,
that the ridiculous would be over-
whelmed.
A rumour of the hubbub stirring over
Fife reached Olympus, and disturbed Mi-
nerva while she was mending stockings
(blue) for her father. The dear cause of
mental regeneration is her very own. So
down goes stocking — and down goes Mi-
nerva for Fife, to blow the flame of re-
formation. She sets Momus to work in
aid of the same purpose ; and a rabble-
rout is rapidly collected, all red-hot, to
level St. Andrew's with the ground. The
holy fathers had but just heard of the up-
Btir when the dinner bell rang: —
Amid this dridder and this flurry,
St. Magdalen's big bell in a hurry
Begond to reissle hurry-scurry ;
That jowin-j angle was the ca'
Forth' abbey people, ane and a',
To congregate i" th' Fratcr-ha' :
' Twas hour o' dine o' thereabout :
Hunger was i' their wambes nae doubt,
But terrour, too, was round about ;
And terrour garr'dthem loup pell-mell
Frae senzie-house, kirk, court, and cell,
In oinne-gatherum at that bell :
As whan the bees some day in June
Strayaig frae risin' sun till noon ;
If mirky clouds in th' afternoon
Come stowfin' up the west,
Hear they but anesthe tlmnner-claps,
And in the leaves the pi outer! n'-d raps,
They gi'e their sma' wines sudden claps
And hurry hamcwarts to their scaps
For cozy scong and rest ;
Sae did that abbey people a'
Effrey't flee to the Frater-ha',
Cation, and monk, and dean, and prior,
And batie-bum, and beggin' freir,
A congregation wode wi'fear
Though fat, in dulesome dreiry choir :
The porch ne'er witness'tsic a Hither ;
They pous'd, theyjundy'd ane anither ;
Their wambes afftimes were jamm'd thegitlicr ;
MaSr space they had i' th' ha', tho' thrang i
It was a dainty room and lang ;
(I am a man of five feet three ;
'Twas twenty times the length o' me ;)
Guid hap, their dinner then was laid
Upon the tables lang and braid,
Wi' damask napery owrspread ;
And gowden trunscheors like the moon,
Wi'correspondin' fork and spoon ;
A wilderness o' meat was set ;
Sea, soil, and sky, were here a' met ;
Fish, flesh, and fowl, baith cauld and net ;
And florentines.and pies and tarts,
Rang'd here and there in sundry parts.
And sauces, soups, and grills, and creams,
Up-stowfin' to the roof their stream?,
Wi' bonnie fruitage, ripe and red,
In silverised baskets spread :
And siller jugs and stoups divine
O'malvesie and claret-wine,
Skimmering like suns in order fine :
. Temptation reel'd in tass and;.bicker,
Dancin' divinely 'mang the liquor ;
It wad a Nnzarite provokit
To break his vow and tak a bok o't,
Until his hail-life's drowth were slockit:
Had I been there that nicht.I think,
Though I'm a man o' little drink,
I wadna been sae doons per) ink,
Buttaen an over-loup for sport : —
I'd gotthePaip's indulgence for't.
Whan they were a' forgadder't there,
Lord Prior James got on a chair,
And cry'd — " a truce to elrisch frichf,
Let's dine, my friends, and that outricht ;
Fu' stamach maks faintheart inair \vicht;
And of a' sorrows, it's confest,
A sorrow that is fu' 's aye best."
Sae down they cloytet on their seats,
And helter-skelter at the meat.? ;
As Lybian lions, that on prey
Licht, after danderin' monie a day,
llamsch skin, flesh, bane, e'n sae did they ;
1827.
Domestic and foreign.
413
As windmill blades, whan wind does happen,
Kin reeslilin' round and round, and rappin',
While, ever as the shafts gae swappin',
The grindin' graith below &acs clappin' ;
Sae quick, or rather mickle quicker,
Their ohaft-blades back and fore did bicker;
"Raith jaws, as if they vy'd thegither,
Sac quiver'd, nae man could tell whether
Gaed faster, th' upper or the nether;
Nor waur their lungs for wauchts were giftit ;
The siller stoups on heigh upliftit
Were tootitin a whip and tiftit;
Eat-weil, they say, is drink-weil's britber;
Or rather, ane may say, its mither;
But ca' it either tarie or tither,
That nicht they were leisch'd in thegither ;
Had Epicurus' sell been waitin'
Upon them as they pang'd their meat in,
He coaldna weil hae blam'd th' eatin' ;
Had Bacchus' sell been there, I'm thinkin',
For pumpin' bottles, and for skinkin',
He could ua wcil hae blam'd thedrinkin': *
Sae wliat wi' tootin', what wi' eatin',
Their hearts, whan they had got some hpat in.
Ware stapt frae dunlin', and frae beatin'.
Verbum non amplius — go to the book
itself.
A Journal of a Mission to the Indians
of the British Provinces in America, by
John West, M.A.; 1827.— Mr. West some
time ago published a journal of his travels
among' the North West American Indians
during the years 1820,-l,-2, and 3, as
chaplain to the Hudson's Bay Company,
under whose auspices he was employed in
laying the foundation, as he says, of the
North West American Mission; and on
his return was requested by the New
England Company to visit the Indians of
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, and
from thence to extend his survey to the
Mohawks on the Ouse, or Grand River,
in Upper Canada. The present publica-
tion is the journal of this tour and sur-
vey.
Mr. West has as little of the missionary
phraseology — which, to a layman's ear, is
not only uncouth but offensive and pro-
fane— as a man so employed can be ex-
pected to have. Generally the missionary
is in a state of excitation, and will not of
course talk like a sober man. He believes
himself under the guidance of the Deity
in a more than ordinary degree; he is
peculiarly and immediately engaged in the
divine service, and naturally looks for
especial protection. Unless such were the
belief or feeling of the individual, he could
never — as even Mr. West, who has very
little heat in him, does — say of himself, on
crossing the Bay of Fundy, " under a pro-
tecting Providence," he landed on such a
day. He was but one of a crew, and of
numerous passengers, who, if he were
especially protected, must all of them have
been so protected. There was nothing to
single him out as the especial object of
protection, and if so, why make use of an
expression, which implies more presump-
tion than piety, unless he beli'eve, that for
his sake, and the object of his mission, the
safety of the passengers and the crew, as
in the case of St. Paul, were distinctly
granted to him. But this is a pitch of
pretension far beyond Mr. West — he is
manifestly below the boiling point of the
missionary. The truth is, so far as we
can see — and that to us must be truth — all
men are subject to the general laws of
nature, alike, without discrimination — .
the good and the bad as we phrase it —
these la\vs of nature, with all the qualities
of all things animate and inanimate, are
the appointments of a supreme intelli-
gence; and the great consolation, to the
man of genuine piety, is, that the sun
shines and the rain falls apparently with-
out respect of persons. The very mis-
sionary, who, in terms at least, arrogates
especial distinction, does not trust toil;
but himself makes use of all his expe-
rience, and provides, as he best may,
against the perils that too probably await
his hazardous enterprise. His purpose is
well-meant and amiable ; his means are
no more than human ; his stimulus the
consciousness of faithfully executing what
he believes a duty — the admiration of the
world, or at least of his party, — and his
reward, the hope of ample recompense in.
a world to come.
That he fails nine times out of ten is
very far from being matter for wonder.
Generally zeal outruns judgment ; and
more attention is paid to dogmas than to
morals — more to inculcate creeds than to
promote civilization. He has only, he
thinks, to teach religion, and civilization
will follow. This is manifestly beginning
at the wrong end. Civilization should
pave the way for religion. The teaching
of creeds has not the remotest tendency
to promote civilization — (the wildest sa-
vages have a creed of some kind or other)
— and in point of fact never does any
good ; but so far as it is accompanied by
efforts of quite another kind.
The Indians of New Brunswick and
Nova Scotia — not probably in both pro-
vinces exceeding 3,000 — are already con-
verted ; but they are all catholics, Mr.
West says, and are entrenched within the
bigotry and dominion of the priests. Cu-
rious language this, and the proof equally
curious : —
The child of a chief died. I offered to bury the
child, as they knew me to be a priest, but they re-
fused, with the remark, that it must be buried by
their priest; and the mother of the deceased child
took the corpse upon her back, and carried it the
distance of thirty miles to the French village of
Sissahoo, where the priest resided, for burial. I
merely observed to Adelah, on this occasion, that
I supposed Indians were all of the Roman Catholic
religion; he said "yes," adding," you know in
4M
Monthly Review of Literature,
[OcT.
England, Quakers, when born, all come little Qua-
kers,— so Indians, all come little Catholics."
This4' intelligent" chief often took Mr.
West in his canoe, during1 his visit to the
tribe j and in the course of conversation,
frequently surprised him with his perti-
nent and striking remarks on the subject
of religion : —
He expressed much surprise and difficulty at Hie
many different denominations among Protestant
Christians, which he had heard of. " There," said
lie, pointing to a small cove in the bay, as he was
paddling his canoe along shore one morning, " I
saw live or six persons plunged for baptism a short
time ago." Then holding up the paddle, he added,
as the water dripped from it, "I think the great
spirit can as easily bless that small quantity for the
purpose, as he can all the water in the basin
around us.''
Now here is this poor man's brains
stuffed with the conflicting doctrines of
baptism 5 and what good does Mr. West
suppose will be done by Protestant mis-
sionaries among these Catholic Indians?
One sect will interfere with another, and
the bitterness of party and the hatreds of
theologians be substituted for the prompt-
ings of philanthropy. At the best, you
must expect to confound rather than en-
lighten.
Many of the North American Indians,
however, are much too intelligent for vul-
gar missionaries.
When a society in Scotland sent two
missionaries for propagating the gospel
to the Delaware nation of Indians, the
chiefs assembled in council, and after de-
liberating for fourteen days, sent back the
missionaries very courteously, with the
following answer: — They rejoiced ex-
ceedingly at our happiness in being thus
favoured by the great spirit, and felt very
grateful that we had condescended to re-
member our brethren in the wilderness.
But they could not help recollecting that
we had a people among us, who, because
they differed from us in colour, we had
made slaves of, and made them suffer
great hardships, and lead miserable lives.
Now they could not see any reason, if a
people being black entitled us thus to deal
W'ith them, why a red colour would not
equally justify the same treatment. They
therefore had determined to wait, to see
whether all the black people amongst us
•were made thus happy and joyful, before
they could put confidence in our pro-
mises ; for Ihey thought a people who had
suffered so mucb, and so long, by our
means, should be entitled to our first at-
tention j that, therefore, they had sent
back the two missionaries, with many
thanks, promising, that when they saw the
black people among us restored to free-
dom and happiness, they would gladly
receive our missionaries.
Here is too much plain practical sense
to be worked upon by any thing but supe-
rior example.
At New York, where Mr. West first
landed, he was surprised to hear from a
slave owner of Carolina, in plain terms,
that negro slaves had not souls like the
whites ; — and arguing with an American
against the slavery of the negroes, on the
ground that by the constitution of Ame-
rica, " all men are by nature free, equal,
and independent j" he was told that ne-
groes were not of course included in the
expression of "all men." No doubt this
is the prevailing sentiment among all who
deal with slaves, and the actual condition
of the black race is perhaps proof enough
of mental inferiority. Among the whites —
while they are among them — they must be
the hewers of wood and drawers of water.
In America there is a society for re-trans-
ferring negroes to their own country; and
really we can imagine nothing better cal-
culated to promote the happiness of the
negro, and remove temptation from the
white, than to withdraw them from the
community of the whites. Their very pre-
sence corrupts the heads and hearts of the
whites ; and their return to their own
country, with the little knowledge they
have acquired, may tend to accelerate the
course of civilization, if civilization, in
our sense of the 'term, be practicable
among them. The sources of improve-
ment must evolve, we take it, among
themselves.
To return to the Indians. Among the
Micmacs of Nova Scotia, Mr. West found
a custom of exposing an adultrcss to
shame and punishment by the whole
tribe. This offence rarely occurs j but,
formerly, he was told, they stoned the
offender to death. This mounts Mr. West
at once upon his hobby ; — for this penalty
was instituted by Moses. What then ?
Why then the North Americans are Jews.
Jpws? Yes — had not the Hebrews tribes,
and have not the Indians also? Had not
the Jewish tribes animal emblems — Dan,
a serpent — Issachar, an ass — Benjamin, a
wolf — and Judah, a lion ; and have not the
Indians, also, their wolf- tribe, bear-tribe,
buffalo-tribe? Aye, and turtle-tribe, from
which it may be concluded also, by the
way, that they are or have been aldermen.
But more than all this even. Among
pome of them, the usage of some parts of
the ceremonial law has been detected — a
separation of three moons, at the birth of
a female child, and of forty for that of a
male. To Mr. W.'s mind, these are all
proofs as strong as holy writ. The con-
clusion is irresistible. The question may
be attended with difficulties, but it is im-
possible to account for these coincidences,
these practices, on any other principle
than tbeir descent from the " ancient
people of God." "They came," it seems,
1827.]
Domestic find Foreign.
415
"over filtering's Straps, in which several
islands are situated, and through which
there is an easy passage from the north-
east of Asia, to the north-west of Ame-
rica."
On the Ouse, or Grand River, there
are about 2,000 Indians stationary. To
the Mohawks, in the year 1784, a grant of
their own land was made them, six miles
on each side the river from its source.
This has since been curtailed. When the
subject was discussed in council, one of
the chiefs said — " perhaps they wish that
we should all die — we now live like frogs,
along the banks of the river, and it may
be they wish to take all the land ; then we
shall be driven to jump in and perish."
Along this river there are it seems still
settlements to the extent of thirty or
forty miles — the Mohawks and Oneidas
are Christians; the Cayugas, Onondagas,
Senecas, and Delawares,are still heathens.
Among these, Mr. West thinks, much may
be done — missionaries are wanted — the
field is extensive, and, according to him,
the remaining four of the six nations are
all ripe and only waiting for the sickle.
Popular Lectures, by W. Lempriere,
M.D.; 18*27. — These lectures were deli-
vered by Dr. Lempriere — the very intelli-
gent author of a Tour in Morocco, many
years ago — as a member of the Isle of
Wight Philosophical Society, instituted
originally by some gentlemen of Newport,
for the purpose of illustrating the natural
history of the island. Specimens were
collected, and a museum established—a
president was appointed, assisted by two
vice-presidents, treasurer, secretary, and
curators — the full paraphernalia of mo-
dern institutions. Success expanded their
views; and they no longer confine their
researches to local investigations only, or
simply to natural history, but throw the
door open to every branch of science with-
in the compass of their members, or upon
which lecturers can be found, able and wil-
ling to assist with their knowledge and
talents.
Though surely very superfluously,
Dr. Lempriere has thought it worth while
to defend these institutions, which are
now extending through the country —
With respect to their utility (says he) we may
be permitted to remark, that as it has been deemed
of importance to bestow the light of science on the
labouring classes [the reader will observe the tone
and the sentiments they imply] — it surely is still
more essential that the middling ranks, upon whom
the welfare of society so mainly depends, should
also partake of its beneficent influence; and we
are not aware of any pursuit more calculated to
enlarge their minds, and to lay the foundation for
useful knowledge, than the contemplation of that
subject which the societies above alluded to have
principally in view — namely, the works of the
creation, the laws by which they are regulated,
and the practical applications of which they are
susceptible'.
The volume consists of six lectures ; the
first on the study of natural history and
the sciences — glancing as it goes at the
universe of knowledge — and is neither
better nor worse than scores of similar
surveys— of no manner of use but to teach
people to prate of what they do not them-
selves reflect upon, and therefore can know
nothing; — the second on vegetable phy-
siology, detailing the several parts of the
plant, and tracing the process of germi-
nation and reproduction — the writer not
pretending to discoveries, but certainly
exhibiting clearly and precisely the aims
and actual state of the science;' the third,
on zoology, of the same character with
the vegetable physiology, to which is ap-
pended Cuvier's and BlumenbactTs im-
provements, or at least modifications of
Linnseus's arrangement ; the fourth and
fifth, on animal and vegetable poisons,
which are by far the most attractive parts
of the volume — not offering still any kind
of novelty, but embracing a view of the
several classes of poisons, sufficiently full
for all popular purposes — pointing out the
modes of operation, and detailing the usual
remedies — with some horrible and appal-
ling descriptions of hydrophobia. We knew
not where to refer to any more complete
account of poisons. The last lecture is
on the human faculties, mental and cor-
poreal, which is of somewhat even a more
common-place character than the rest of
the volume.
The whole however presents a very
agreeable and readable book. The sub-
jects neither encumbered with techni-
calities, nor obscured by subtleties, are
thus made intelligible with the slightest
effort of attention to any lady or gentle-
man, not only of the Isle of Wight, before
many of whom they were preached — we
were going to say — and for the refreshing'
of whose memories they were especially
printed— but of England and Ireland to
boot. It is but fair to furnish a specimen
of the singlarly equable and transparent
style of statement. The following ac-
count of the objects of botany is worth the
attention of the ladies who nonsensically
babble about botany, and mean nothing
in the world but an artificial mode of dis-
tinguishing one flower from another : —
Botany, in the common acceptation of the term*
has been confined to a classification and arrange-
ments of vegetable productions from some distin-
guishing feature in their external formation ; and,
which, according to the system of Linnaeus, has
been derived principally, though not altogether,
from the flower; the analysis of which, with the
stem and leaf, determines the class, order, genus,
species and varie'ty, to which the plant belongs.
And as each plant, more or less, comes under ono
head or the uther, such an arrangement is easily
416
Monthly Review of Literature,
[OCT.
made of the whole as will impress on tlie memory,
by a little practice and attention, the different
classes to which nature has subjected the vege-
table kingdom ; and thus by degrees we become
acquainted with each particular vegetable.
ljut the study, however interesting and instruc-
tive in Itself, or necessary for the better compre-
hending the more intricate parts of the vegetable
kingdom, isof too limited atendencytoembracc that
enlarged view of 'the subject, which we consider
to be important in the study of botany.
It is not only the external formation and dis-
tinguishing character of plants, or a knowledge of
all their varieties, which should become the sub-
ject of philosophical interest ; but it is more par-
ticularly their internal structure — the functions
and uses of each part— their growth, maturity, de-
cay, and renovation— and the general and particu-
lar purposes for which they were created, that con-
fer dignity on the science of botany, and render it
one of the most interesting subjects to which our at-
tention can be directed. We may indeed admire
and dwell upon the beauty and endless variety
with which Providence has been pleased to adorn
this most interesting part of the creation ; and we
may find it convenient to set down in our memo-
ries the class, order, and species to which each
particular plant may belong, so that we may the
more readily recognize it when brought under our
notice ; but it is the economy and laws by which
the vegetable kingdom is regulated, and their
various operations and corresponding effects, that
render the science a matter of deep interest, or
entitle it to a place in the school of philosophy,
&c.
And, now we have begun to quote, we
may give a specimen of his philosophical
Opinions, and mode of illustration : —
Adverting again to the brute creation, there is a
train of actions peculiar to animals, which though
not powerfully bespeaking intellect, have, in our
opinion, erroneously been attributed to instinct.
Thus, when we see an animal, which has frequent-
ly been conducted to a particular spot at some
distance from home, and through intricate roads,
after a certain period of practice, of itseli find its
way back; or when we observe that animals shall
uniformly return three or four times a day at the
accustomary hours to be fed ; or, as in the case of
cows, at fixed periods to be milked ; we should not
call this instinct, but habit, from the exercise of the
memory ; — an intermediate state between instinct
and reason ; since the practice depends upon acci-
dental contingencies, in which a small proportion
of reason must be exercised, to carry them into
effect. But if, on returning home, the animal on
meeting roads of opposite directions, should stop
to look about, and hesitate, as if dubious of the
right, and then determine, as we have frequently
noticed ; this we should call reflection, and if it be
reflection, that attribute we know must emanate
exclusively from reason.
To the influence of reason, we should also attri-
bute the resentment often evinced by animals
when under ill-treatment from ourselves; the par-
tiality and affection which they display towards us
when an uniform series of kindness and preference
has been bestowed on them ; and the jealousy they
evince when that preference has been transferred
to another ; the recollection which they retain of
punishments and rewards ; and the corresponding
actions produced therefrom ; the evident influence
on many of them (but especially on the dog spe-
cies) of the passions expressed in the human coun-
tenance and voice, whether of encouragement to
approach, or threat of punishment, a command to
retire, or to move in a new direction, a dread of
their attacks, or a look of determination to resist
their threats. All these diversified effects, with a
vast variety of others that might be enumerated,
we consider to be the result of a certain portion of
reason ; since they are produced from unforeseen
excitements not connected with the animal's exist-
ence and ordinary habits, and must be preceded
by reflection, and followed by decision, before they
can be called into action.
But the poisons we again refer to as the
best parts of the book. By the way, talk-
ing of hydrophobia, an odd nation seems
floating in Dr. Lempriere's brain. Dr.
Elaine, the dog doctor, says, in all his
extensive practice he never saw a mad
dog that bad not been bitten. Therefore
he (Dr. Lempriere) is ready to conclude
there is no such thing among dogs as spon-
taneous madness. Who bit the first mad dog?
Prison Discipline Society. Seventh
Report; 1827. — Though it be very un-
usual with us to notice Society Reports,
as being in general rather calculated,
when containing matters of extraordinary
interest, for another part of our miscel-
lany, yet we are tempted to advert to the
one before us, as well for the many in-
teresting matters it concerns, as the un-
usual ability with which it is executed j
and which, unnoticed as these things
commonly are by literary journals, are in
imminent danger of escaping the know-
ledge of all except such as are personally
interested about them. The report is
valuable beyond the common value — and
that no light one — attending the accurate
returns of the state of prisons, — by its
bringing forward in a bolder tone than
before a number of matters, which have
hitherto, partly from fear of revolting
existing prejudices, and partly from a
lurking distrust of the soundness of the
propositions themselves, been kept back
— we mean the substitution of imprison-
ment for death — not in all cases, but for
numerous offences for which it is now
occasionally inflicted, — the obstructions
to the admission of bail, and the accursed
state of the debtor prisons and debtor
laws.
The report was, we were glad to observe,
noticed very generally by the daily prints;
but in most of them absurdly remarked
upon, in a tone of conclusive censure, as
being too long — too long it undoubtedly
would be, were its contents of a frivolous
cast ; but long and short are relative terms
— a page maybe too long, and a volume too
short — it is the importance of the matter
that determines the justice of a proper-
Domestic and Foreign.
1827.]
tion. Now in this respect we contend the
130 pages of the report (to say nothing of
ihe most useful appendix) contain more
valuable matter than we have for some
time seen in three times 130.
It opens with a repetition of what is
now recognized among reflectiug persons
as the true objects of punishment. This,
it may be said, is neither new nor rare ; —
no, but no harm is done—nay, great good
is done by dint of repetition — especially
where offensive prejudices still live in the
breasts of myriads. It is of importance to
go on digging round deep-rooted preju-
dices, till the tall trunk shakes, and tot-
ters to its final fall. The object of punish-
ment is not to get revenge — is not to win
satisfaction ; but to deter the ill-disposed,
and reform the offender — and thus to se-
cure society. Revenge is in terms now-
a-days disclaimed, but it has not long been
thus disclaimed ; and all our laws have
been enacted on the erroneous, or rather
guilty presumption that satifaction of jus-
tice was the object and aim of punish-
ment. What is the effect ? That punish-
ment thus measured by a false standard
bears no relation to the only justifiable
object. Therefore, though in words we
disclaim revenge, our actions proclaim it,
and execute it. Nothing short of the
highest punishment may satisfy the in-
jured individual j but if a smaller penalty
will cure the culprit, and deter those who
are likely to become culprits, or tend to do
yo ; the only justifiable object of punish-
ment is gained, and the smaller penalty
ought to be the law. While no man now
perhaps, who understands the import of
the words, will assert the necessity of the
"satisfaction of justice," or the rig-bis of
vengeance, yet from the lips of every
second man you meet with, relative to a
robber, or a forgerer, or a sheep-stealer,
and, in some places, a poacher, you will
hear the phrase, the fellow deserves to be
hanged ! What is this but the offspring of
mistaken apprehension as to the illegiti-
mate objects of punishment ?
To go through the report seriatim would
far exceed our limits; and our main pur-
pose in placing it among our literary no-
tices is rather to excite than satisfy the
curiosity of our readers respecting what
may to them seem to offer few attrac-
tions.
The committee report favourably of the
county prisons, since the operation of the
present prison-act, now four years old , —
very considerable amendments have been
made with respect to enlarging prisons
and classing prisoners ; — but nothing has
yet been done with the town and corpo-
rate prisons. There are still 160 of them
exempt from the operation of the general
act. By that act corporations were em-
powered to treat with county gaols for
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22.
4J7
the transfer of their prisoners, and recom-
mended to do so ; • but only twenty have
listened to the recommendation j and
consequently 140 remain in the old undis-
ciplined state, and they are, and always
have been, among the very worst in the
kingdom. Ireland seems to be in pretty
much the same state as England ; but
Scotland is still abominable. In the name
of common sense and common consistency,
when an act of this character is passed,
why does it not comprehend the whole
kingdom ? When shall we see the country
really " one and indivisible," and an Eng-
lishman's condition the same, whether he
live in this corner of the kingdom or the
other ? The obstructions thrown in the
way by the nonsensical articles of the
Union — the pretence for the observance of
which has long passed 'away — should be
trampled down forthwith. Have not the
Scots gained enough, and more than
enough, by the union of their beggarly
country with their wealthy neighbours,
to be allowed still to stickle for pernicious
privileges?
The attention of the committee has been
seriously turned to the increasing multi-
tudes of prisoners; and they have fear-
lessly— at least compared with former
efforts — probed the question. They attri-
bute it, and justly, not altogether to the
increased population, nor altogether to
increased depravity, but much of it to the
operation of the laws, and the administra-
tion of the laws — to the obstacles cast in
the way of bail — to the facility, nay eager-
ness, with which people are thrown into
prison— proved by the fact that one in
seven are discharged by the grand jurj",
and one in three of those who by them
are sent to trial acquitted — some few, no
doubt, from technicalities, and defective
evidence ; but the main part from inno-
cence, and a sense in the court of exces-
sive severity on the part of prosecutors.
Formerly, by the common law, all offences
were bailable ; now, none are bailable,
where the suspicion of guilt amounts to a
strong presumption.
Bail, however, was not originally regarded as a
favour, but as the just right of every subject, and
was never refused but in cases of absolute neces-
sity. The sole object to be obtained, when an in-
dividual is charged with crime, is to ensure his
appearance at the day of trial. If this can be se-
cured by any other means than by the custody of
his person, a commitment to gaol is not only un-
necessary, but being in itself an evil, is unjust. It
behoves the law, therefore, to shew a necessity for
the commitment, and not for the prisoner to prove
why he should be bailed. There are cases of daily
occurrence in which a strong presumption of guilt
exists, and when, consequently, commitment must
follow, where an absolute necessity for the com-
mitment cannot be shewn. Such are the cases
where the offence is of a light nature; ; and many
of our felonies are of this character. To a person
3 H
418
Monthly Review of Literature.
[OCT.
charged with such a crimo there is but little in-
ducement to avoid trial, and certainly not enough
to jilstify a refusal of good securities for his ap-
pearance. There are also instances where the cha-
racter of the accused, the ties of his station, the
character of his sureties, might counterbalance the
weight of evidence against him. As the law before
stood, these circumstances were allowed to ope-
rate ; and it would have been more in the true
spirit of our constitution to have increased the
liberty of the subject, even at a small hazard of the
public security, than thus to multiply the number
of commitments before trial, merely on the ground
of a supposed necessity. By admitting more libe-
rally to bail, the injury tn the individual is cer-
tainly avoided, and the public security but slightly
hazarded ; but by limiting the privilege, as it has
recently been limited, much certain evil to the
party is inflicted, while the public advantage is but
contingent, and in many cases not in any degree
endangered.
We must quote a few lines more: —
The situation of the poor, in respect to bail, is
particularly entitled to consideration. If a me-
chanic or day labourer be accused, perhaps justly,
of a petty offence, he is required to give twenty-four
hours' notice of bail. During this time he is im-
prisoned, and if after all he fail to obtain the secu-
rity of a housekeeper — an object not very easy for
a man in the humblest walks of life to accomplish
—he is fully committed, undergoes the restraint,
and is exposed to the corruption of a gaol, and on
his trial he may be fined a. few shillings and dis-
charged. The duration of this person's confine-
ment is perhaps three times longer than that to
which a judge would sentence him ; and he may
be fined a sum comparatively small, but which to
a man in his circumstances may amount to asevere
penalty. And what is the result? He has suffered
essentially in character, and lost his previous oc-
cupation ; while his wife and children have been
driv n to the workhouse, &c. Personal bail might
be taken in many instances, where the inducement
to break it is not strong, and where flight would
certainly incur the loss of character and employ-
ment, and the ruin of a family.
Another measure likely to reduce, not
the number of criminals, but the num-
ber of prisoners at one time — and it is the
real numbers that make the management
of prisoners so difficult — is more frequent
gaol deliveries — or at least at more equal
intervals. At present, except in the Home
Circuit, and the Old Bailey, gaol deliveries
occur twice a year. But the difference,
in the point \ve are looking' to, is very
great between the assizes being held ac-
curately every six -months, and as now
they are held, alternately at eight and
four months. In the home circuit, they
are held at equal intervals of four months,
and the advantage there is obvious — suffi-
ciently so, surely, now to extend a third
assize through the whole country. Here
we have said nothing of the cruelty to the
prisoner ; but that is a matter not to be
overlooked. A person may now be im-
prisoned nine months before trial, and
sometimes more. The report speaks of a
boy committed on 1 1th August, 1823, and
tried 12th August, 1824 (how he came
not to be tried at the Lent assizes does
not appear), and this for taking a hat in
the street from another boy, probably in
sport, and finally acquitted. What was
done for this injured lad? Was no com-
pensation made him — no after-care taken
of him ? None whatever ; his ruin was
completed by his residence in the prison ;
he was flung at the end of a twelve-
month on the wide world, and has since,
as might be expected, been transported
for life.
The effects also of the degrading system
of paying agricultural labourers out of the
poor-rates, in depressing the condition
and character of the poor, and driving
them to crime, are dwelt upon with great
force and feeling ; — we have no space, or
we would quote the passage. The same
•we may say of the effects of the game-
laws. 1,700 a year for the last seven
years have been committed for poaching ;
and generally one-fourth of those who fill
the county gaols are poachers. The ef-
fects of the revenue-laws, also, in gene-
rating smugglers, we have before alluded
to, but cannot afford room to supply what
is plainly a defect in the report. Neither
are we able to give an adequate impres-
sion conveyed to our own minds by the
forcible statement of the defects of our
debtor prisons — the King's Bench and the
Fleet.
The report next turns to the prisons of
our Colonies, which are abominable be-
yond al! belief. Very interesting accounts
also will be found of the gaols in the dif-
ferent countries of Europe. In the review
of Switzerland, a case of torture in the
prison of Fribourg is stated ; the com-
mittee very justly remark upon it, "that
this practice of torture, in a country like
Switzerland, is one of the most striking
proofs that was ever exhibited of the
despotic power of habit — of the blind ad-
herence of man to the practice of his an-
cestors, and of his clinging to their exam-
ple long after the injustice and impolicy
of this attachment have been clearly un-
folded, and universally acknowledged.1'
An instance is also quoted as having oc-
curred at Minden, in Westphalia — and ©ne
of the most horrible to the imagination
we ever heard of. The object of ven-
geance was not a capital offender, but a
person, who, from conscientious motives,
peculiar to the religious body of which he
was a member, had refused to serve in the
militia. He was placed in a cell, the floor
and sides of which were closely studded
with projecting spikes, or pieces of sharp-
ened iron resembling the blades of knives.
The individual remained in this state for
twenty-four hours, and the punishment
was repeated at three distinct intervals.
J827.J
Domestic and Foreign.
419
It is considered, adds the report, a rare
occurrence for a person to survive the
second infliction of this species of cruelty.
In this instance, however, the sufferer did
not perish. His property was confiscated ;
but that has been since restored, in con-
sequence of representations which have
been made from this country to the proper
authorities.
Many parts of the Continent are now
alive to the enormous evils of unregulated
prisons ; and to the Prison-discipline So-
ciety of England — or rather to the exer-
tions of two or three individuals — excel-
lent, active, indefatigable — neither known,
nor seeking to be known but to the few
around them, is to be attributed all the im-
provements that have already taken place,
and that will ultimately do so. May they
meet with their reward — they do meet
with it in the admiration and affection of
those who know their worth, and who,
while they may not be able to imitate, can
feel and appreciate their excellence.
State of Portugal. By an Eye Wit-
ness. Land. 1827. 1 vol. 8vo. — A work
better calculated to answer the end it
proposes we have not often met with than
this " Historical View of the Revolutions
of Portugal since the Close of the Penin-
sular War," &c., as the title more at length
expresses it. It is by an English officer,
who witnessed the scenes he describes,
and is qualified by seventeen or eighteen
years personal experience in the country
to offer his own views of affairs.
A clear and succinct statement of the train
of events which have led to the present state
of things in Portugal, with the honest opi-
nions of an unprejudiced observer, could
not fail of being both interesting and in-
structive ; and though we cannot enter so
warmly into the cause of the late imbecile
king as the author of the work before us
does, nor go so far as he does in our objec-
tions to the Constitution of 1820, yet we
coincide with him, as far as we are com-
petent to judge, in many things that he
recommends, and in many that he objects
to, for the future management of that
country. With narrative will be found
interspersed many characteristic anec-
dotes, and sketches of character; the con-
cluding chapters of the work contain con-
siderations on the future prospect- of Por-
tugal, and an examination of the Portu-
guese Charter of 1826, with a comparison
between it and the constitution of 1822,
and they appear to us pregnant with sound
philosophic views and reasonings on those
subjects. The Appendix contains a tran-
slation of the former very interesting do-
cument, the present charter of Don Pedro.
The following remarks from page 198 can-
not be too widely circulated, touching on
a point which the most ardent friends
of Lusitanian liberty here have been more
or less puzzled in discussing, from igno-
rance of the real state of things and par-
ties there : —
1 have been induced to make these remarks, be-
cause I know that in England a very erroneous
view is takrn of the whole subject; it is here sup-
posed that a great majority of the Portuguese na-
tion is decidedly hostile to the present charter, or
to any moderate form of government, that checks,
without rendering nugatory, the royal preroga-
tives. The fact is, certainly, that the number of
those who would from choice adopt a reasonable
and sensible constitution, like that given by Don
Pedro, is not so great as the numbers of the two
other parties combined, into which the country is
generally divided. Of these factions, one, which
has diminished to a small body, still cleaves to the
old despotic form of government, and would prefer
a king perfectly absolute, with an ascendant priest-
hood, and all the dark bigotry of former ages; the
other deserves only a return of anarchy, and of all
the licentiousness which, under the prostituted
name of liberty, was practised during the reign of
the Cortes of 1820. But these two parties, vio-
lently as they are opposed to each other, would
sooner meet on neutral ground [that of the charter
we presume to be understood] than that either
should behold the other triumphant; and the old
constitutionalists, seeing the impracticability of
restoring- their favourite system of jacobinism, and
feeling that any thing short of despotism is desir-
able, are tolerably ready to coalesce with the few
sensible men who see the superiority of the present
charter.
Stray .Leaves, including Translations
from the Lyric Poets of Germany ; 1827.
— While the British public is familiar with
the theatre, the novels and the epics of
Germany, the lighter productions of her
muse are almost unknown to them ; some
acknowledgments are therefore due to a
writer who opens a new path in the field
of literature j and although we scarcely
think the pieces which appear in this small
volume the most favourable specimens of
the minor German poets, we receive them
with pleasure as the harbingers of a more
choice and ample selection. Interspersed
with the translations are some original
pieces — a few, in the Scotch dialect, with-
out the brilliant imagination of Burns,
breathe his soothing, tender melancholy ;
but we have room only for the following, -
from Herder, by which an estimate may be
formed of the merit of the work : —
POSTHUMOUS FAME.
No charm for me hath such a fame
As braying trumpets swell ;
• Whose every echo seems to shame
The silence of the vale :
The fame that like a tempest flies
Even like that tempest quickly dies.
But well I love the modest meed
That seeks not for regard ;
The thanks that from the heart proceed—
The muse's best reward ;
The tear that starts into the eve,
Tells me that a brother's nigh!
3 H 2
420
Mouthy- Review of Lt/erafwre,
[OCT.
Not unto all hath nature given,
The aptitude to form.
As in Uie perfect mould of heaven,
A work no faults deform ;
I'lMin which, a masterpiece of art,
Posterity may ne'er depart.
Before it, see, with rapture blind,
Long after, pupils stand ;
Musing upon the mastermind
Which mov'd that mighty hand.
Their beating bosoms all the while,
Glowing as glows the artist's toil.
As sailing on the stream of time,
We pass from wave to wave,
Till safe beneath a fairer clime —
What though above our grave,
No name arrests the passer by,
Deeds are its records in the sky.
When to the universal tomb
Of nature I descend,
My dust again in fresher bloom
With future flowers to blend—
And with my thoughts refined to rise
To greater beauty iu the skies :—
O 'twill be sweet, to all well known,
To "win the praise of all,
And sweeter still — but yet unknown
From virtue ne'er to fall ;
Let goodness be my highest pride,
But modesty that goodness hide.
Such man, the creature of his God, should deem
His only proper fame ;
The substance, not the show, esteem ;
And seek no lofty name :
No boastings in his boeom dwell,
But shrink his own renown to swell.
Elements of Universal History, by G.
O. Bredow, translated from the German,
\vith Alterations and Additions ; 1827.
Treuttel and Wurtz. — The want of a com-
prehensive work which should give a ge-
neral view of the political, moral, and
intellectual advancement of mankind has
long been felt. Bossuet's Essay, though
a masterly sketch for the purpose it was
designed to fulfill, could not be employed
as an elementary book for youth, and the
professor of history in the University of
Breslaw, by supplying one which is
adapted to engage the attention of the
learner, while it may be consulted with
advantage by persons of every age, has
performed a task of great and acknow-
ledged utility. The plan which the au-
Ihor has pursued in compressing into a
brief and concise narrative the most strik-
ing features of history, and in estimating
the importance of every event according
to the influence it has had on the happi-
ness or improvement of mankind, rather
than by the degree of celebrity which it
has acquired, will be found to facilitate
the study of history, and to give a correct
view of the whole subject, and of the con-
nexion which different events have with
each other. We shall be extremely glad
if our recommendation be the means of
bringing this small volume under the eye
of persons engaged in the task of educa-
tion, and who have hitherto been obliged
to rely upon their own researches, or to
trust to ephemeral or wretched compila-
tions for the elements of universal his-
tory.
Conversations on Mythologrj, 1827. —
Elementary books are the natural offspring
of civilization. The more cultivated becomes
society, the larger is the circle of acquired
knowledge demanded at the hands of every
member of it: and ot consequence, supposing
men's faculties have always been exercised
to their full workable extent, the greater the
number of our pursuits, the less time must
we have to devote to each. Hence arises a
necessity for condensing knowledge into the
narrowest limits; and to accomplish this
condensing, the whole blended miscellany
of science and literature must first be di-
vided, or decomposed rather into its consti-
tuents, and presented to the youpg aspirant
in a number of concise and definite objects
of study. From that compound mass must
mythology, among other matters, he extract-
ed, and thus be made a distinct branch of
education. Our little girls — but few of
them at least — read not Virgil, or Ovid, or
Homer. No indelible pictures, therefore,
insensibly get stamped upon their minds of
heathen divinities, in all their native gran-
deur— iu the woods, and by the streams, on
the mountains, and near the fountains, in
shelly cars, dolphin-drawn, upon the placid
waters, or aloft pillowed on the folded
clouds. Thoroughly to read the least ob-
jectionable of the classics, Homer, or Virgil,
for instance, requires immense time ; and
all, as the sapient governess would say, just
to learn the fate of a paltry city, and a few
persons, whose whole adventures might be
expeditiously summed up in a page or two
of prose ; while the entire works of these
poets might very well be compassed in a
reasonably-sized conversation — a little gram-
mar, on English metre, giving the pupil much
more correct instruction than the study of
either Pope or Dryden, through their end-
less volumes ; and the chronological table,
moreover, containing all the names, with
their birth and death, learnt over and over
again. This analytical kind of procedure,
possesses besides, Jor the governess, an in-
calculable advantage, by affording a scale
to measure the amount of acquirement, and
mark the comparative advance of her pu-
pils ; and better than all, the ready means of
making all she infuses tell at once in the
estimation of her employers and their ac-
quaintance. In the huge volumes that fed
our forefathers' minds, she sees nothing but
superfluity ; and she knows that, if her pupils
must be made metaphysicians, political eco-
nomists, geographers, grammarians, natural-
ists, French, Italian, German-scholars, mu-
sicians, dancers, arithmeticians, geometri-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
421
cians, <fec. the old standard books, excursive
as they are, and alluding as they do to a
hundred thousand matters, not for her pur-
pose essential, must be cut down to some
amount of mental property, tangible, under-
standable, measurable, both by teacher and
pupil, and food for vanity. For that same
science or subject, so easy in the epitome, so
untroubled with difficulties, should the go-
verness ambitiously pursue it by dipping into
origftml master-minds, becomes quite ano-
ther sort of thing — perplexing, humiliating,
vague, stuffed with a million of unintelli-
gible allusions, and throwing her into an
agitation, which her pupils will be but too
apt to detect and ponder on — till the truth
flashes across their brains.
Some parents there are, and some teachers,
who would fain let nature have something to
do in the guidance of their children, but are
driven into the common vortex by prudential
considerations. For instance, your children
might benefit by your deviation from custo-
mary modes, and yet grow up ungrateful,
and thank you not at all for rendering them
singular among their cotemporaries. And
after you have, for conscience sake, gone
through your parental task, in defiance of the
triumph?, sneers, remonstrances, and hints of
chancery interference on the part of uncles,
aunts, and sisters, you may yet be reserved
to undergo the bitter vexation of seeing your
grown-up and emancipated child labouring
with all her might to become like her com-
peers, with far more zeal than you could
ever excite in your own direction.
The truth is, that those who imitate the
serpent in wisdom, regard their children as
a portion of the external world, yet living
in abeyance indeed, but hereafter to be ar-
rayed among the judges of their character
and conduct. The world will impress its
form and fashion upon those children, and
sooner or later fix upon them the character-
istics of the period in which they live too
effectually for your individual efforts to
counteract with any permanency or cer-
tainty; and you will, as parents, be judged,
not according to any exclusive system of our
own, but by the common and prevailing
sense of existing society. You must, there-
fore, in some measure, pursue your own
good by accommodating to the ways and
spirit of the day ; and if a wide extent of
superficial knowledge be in demand in your
particular station, your nursery and school-
room must not be without the books which
other nurseries and school-rooms possess.
But as to the Conversations before us, — •
which we had almost forgotten — if we can
no longer afford to gather up the subject
drop by drop, from its original springs, we
must even have recourse to them ; and these,
the work of a lady of ability and acquire-
ment, appear to us to be most unexcep-
tionable.
Hyde Nugent ; 3 vols. I2mo. 1827.— This,
for commoners, a novice might suppose, could
scarcely be a readable book. For our own
parts we get heartily weary of dukes and
marquises, aud Lord Henrys, and Lady
Georginas ; and wonder sometimes where
the de'el they all corns from, and who they
are, who suppose the conversations, and in-
trigues, and modes of life, of such persons,
can b« matters of general interest, and much
more of amusement. Or is it that nobody
reads these fashionable novels, but ihe
'order'? Not so ; it is rather the worthless
aspirings of the canaille, who resort to these
wretched sources to discover the fine words,
and fine ways, which, coupled with fine
clothes, will, they trust, confound and mingle
them with the mighty — and think they find
them;— it is these worthless aspirers who
give rise to these thronging publications. To
gratify the paltry desires of these paltry-
persons, it is that the airs, and graces, and
manners, and manoeuvres, and phrases, of no-
bility and fashion, are ferreted out by some,
and fabricated by others, or even, perhaps,
partially furnished by a few ; and are held up
to the imitation and admiration of the gaping
vulgar below. Weil; but is there any real
harm in all this ? Real harm ! Yes ; if to
generate a mass of foppery and affectation
be any harm — if to banish simplicity, and
with at all frankness and sincerity, and with
them humanity and fellow-feeling with the
poor and miserable — if this be any harm,
here is harm enough. The love of shew and
splendour thus spreads to the ruin of thou-
sands ; and real solid comfort — content at
home, and no debts abroad — sacrificed at the
shrine of caprice, frippery, and foolery. The
charm of fashionable intercourse is all in the
external glitter ; and the external glitter is
all we arc talked to about. The nearer you
approach the interior of the chateau, not only
is the dazzle the less, but the more offensive
its deformity becomes : insolence reigns
throughout. For the little to hope to asso-
ciate with the great on terms of equality and
freedom, is one of the idlest of human
thoughts. The feeling of the upper classes
in all countries — and in our's, the most aris-
tocratic country in the world, above all
others — is one of stern exclusiveness, and of
deep contempt for all below. They are con-
stantly and vigilantly on the watch to repel
the encroachment of inferiors; as the one
advances, the other recedes, — as the one
apes, the other renounces, and the strength
of the human intellect is thus spent, by the
one in pushing pretensions, and by the other
in baffling pretenders. The one \ve care not
to condemn ; but the last deserve all the
mortification they are sure to meet with.
To return to Hyde Nugent. The book
is made up completely of the gossip of draw-
ing rooms, hotels, dinners, and balls. As to
the hero, if any one has a grain of curiosity
about him — gratify it. Hyde is the son of a
man of family and fortune ; be goes to Ox-
ford, fights a duel and is expelled — prevails
upon a marquis to break the matter to the
father — falls in love with the marquis's
daughter — goes large and loose about town
422
Monthly Review of Literature.
[OCT.
— is every where introduced — and one of
every party. Notwithstanding certain warn-
ings, and his own disgusts, be frequents
Crock lord's — gels plucked, and moreover
d-eeply involved with the Jews. In the mean-
while he does not neglect the marquis's daugh-
ter. They soon come to un understanding.
He is irresistible — she is an houri. But the
consciousness of his embarrassments press
heavily upon him, and he is on the point of
taking some desperate step, when he is sum-
moned to attend a friend in a duel, who kills
his antagonist; and he and Hyde are obliged
to fly. This rescues him from his gaming
associates ; though he gets among others at
Lisbon, and narrowly escapes assassination.
On his return to England, his sister has mar-
ried a duke's eldest son, and all the family
visit the said duke's, and there also assemble
the aforesaid marquis and his beautiful
daughter.
But now comes forward more than before,
an officer of the guards — a guardsman is now
become indispensable — who is also in love
with the marquis's daughter, and being not
at all scrupulous of the means of accom-
plishing his point — a very worthless person in
short — he plays lago, and pours into the
lady's ear the tale of Hyde's gambling pro-
pensities, and his deep involvements ; and
moreover of a lady whose affections he had
wantonly won, and wantonly cut, and who
was now actually dying for him. This, how-
ever, was not all true ; the lady alluded to
was (he daughter of his father's friend and
neighbour ; she and Hj de had been brought
up together from children, and played and
romped together, and once, before Hyde went
to Oxford, he had forced from her a kiss. The
poor fond girl had treasured up the kiss, and
Hyde had thought no more of her, or of it.
She, however, pined away, and let conceal-
ment feed on her damask cheek ; and at this
time was at Brighton for change of air. She
has a brother, a lancer ; he hears, through
Hjde's precious rival, of the state of his
sister, and for the first time, of the cause.
He flies to the duke's — though deeply occu-
pied, at the moment, in seducing the affec-
tions of a married woman in Ireland, — and
calls upon Hyde to meet him forthwith.
Hyde's rival is the lancer's second. Hyde
falls ; and as he is borne bleeding to the
house, Lady Georgina, the marquis's
daughter, meets him. The shock kills her
out-right ; and the story stops. But hints
are given that he slowly recovers ; and by
.still slower degrees is brought to think of the
charming girl, who had treasured his boyish
kiss, and marries.
MONTHLY THEATRICAL REPORT.
THE signs of a London winter are be-
ginuiug to be displayed by more than
falling- leaves, lighted fires, and stage-
coaches loaded homewards. The great
theatres are opening for the season, and
Covent Garden and Drury Lane are in-
dulging themselves in threats of the won-
ders that they are to do with Tragedy,
Comedy, and Farce, before a mouth has
rolled over the brows of this play-going
generation. Drury Lane has been first in
the field ; and the transatlantic vigour has
raised a formidable force, of which this is
the muster-roll : —
" New engagements have been concluded
with the following performers : — Mr. Ma-
cready, Mr. Mathews, Mr. Jones, Miss
Paton, MissFoote, Miss Love, Miss Grant,
and Mr. Kean, jun.
Stage Manager - - - Mr. Wai lack.
Composer to the Theatre, Mr.H.R.Bishop.
Leader of the Band - Mr.T. Cooke.
LIST OF THE COMPANY.
Messrs. Braham, Browne, W. Bennett,
Bedford, Bland, Barnes— Cooper, T.Cooke
— Dowton, Darnley — Fenton — Gattie —
Harley, Hughes, Hooper, Howell, Honnor
—Jones, C. Jones — Kean, junior — Listen
— Macready, Mathews, Mude — Noble-
Powell — J. Russell — Salter, G. Smith,
Southby, Sheriff— Thompson, Tayleure —
Usher— E. Vining— Wallack, Webster,
Wakefield, Master Wieland — Youuge,
Yarnold.
Mrs. Bunn, Mrs. Bedford— Miss Carthy
— Mrs.Davison — MissFoote, Mrs Field —
Mrs. W. Geesin, Miss Grant, Miss Gould
— Mrs. C. Jones — Mrs. Knight — Miss
Love — Mrs. Noble, Miss Nicol — Mrs. Or-
ger — Miss Paton, Miss I. Paton, Miss Pin-
cott— Misses Ryalls, Smithson, E. Tree,
A. Tree — Mrs. Tennant — Miss Vincent —
Mrs. W. West.
A Corps de Ballet, under the direction
of Mr. Noble — a full Chorus, under the
superintendance of Mr. Harris."
Among these are certainly many public
favourites, yet the Company will require
some very important additions to be com-
plete. In opera, Braham and Miss Paton
are first-rate ; but something more is re-
quired, unless two singers are enough for
opera; which we are at liberty to doubt.
Why is not Sinclair engaged? a fine per-
former, a popular favourite, and whose
engagement would render the musical su-
periority of Drury Lane decisive. In tra-
gedy, the incompleteness is at least not
less obvious. Macready is to be the " be
all, and the end all," unless young Kean
should succeed, which is yet among the
most doubtful of all dubious things. Wal-
lack, a clever and showy performer in a
1827.]
Monthly Theatrical Report.
423
certain line, and Mrs. Bunn, are the whole
strength. But in this we can scarcely
attribute blame to the manager. He has
probably done his best ; the dearth of the
higher orders of dramatic ability is sin-
gular; and if England cannot produce
tragedians, the managers cannot engage
them.
But his true strength is in comedy, and
here he may congratulate himself on hav-
ing succeeded in collecting the ablest
corps that has been seen in England for
the last twenty years. Liston re-engaged,
Mathews restored to the stage, Jones won
from the enemy, form a trio which defy
all rivalry. Dowtou, Harley, Mrs. Davi-
son, Miss Foote, Miss Love, Cooper, Rus-
sel, Mrs. Orger, &c., all important, in-
crease the strength of this popular depart-
ment; and if our authors are to be iu the
good graces of Parnassus, and produce any
thing worth acting, they may be assured
that justice will be done to them on the
stage.
The note of preparation among the
authors, too, is loud. Kenny, whose
talent, like wine, improves with age, is
pronounced to be unusually prolific this
season. He is the reputed procrea'or of a
comedy in five acts, that grand difficulty
of authorship ; a difficulty which, as we
shall probably not live in the next cen-
tury, we shall not see surmounted by any
of the known play-wrights. We are not
surprised at the rareness of success in
this pursuit, when we recollect the quali-
ties essential to it. The keen observation
of life, the quick seizure of the prominent
points of character, and the skill in ex-
pression, that are the primary requisites :
in addition to these, the wit, in itself the
rarest thing in the world, the easy plea-
santry, which is scarcely attainable but by
the habits of accomplished life, and the
arrangement of all in story, so as to
produce a plot at once clear and compli-
cated, simple enough to be intelligible to
all, yet sufficiently intricate to stimulate
the curiosity of all. Even this inferior
part is so peculiar, that to make a clever
plot, it is almost absolutely necessary to
be a student of the stage; in fact, there is
scarcely an instance of decided success in
dramatic writing, when the author was
not either in personal habits of intercourse
with the theatre, or was not himself an
actor, the usual case.
Thus we have no writer of comedy at
the present day, nor perhaps would even
the favourites of our forefathers be as-
sured of popularity, if they were now to
appear for the first time. Sheridan always
excepted, whose dexterity, force, and
point, must make him popular in all ages.
But our present taste is so much purer in
language and morals, is so much fciore se-
vere in stage probabilities, and requires so
much more dramatic contrast and vigour
of character, that even the wit of Congreve,
and the subtle plots of Gibber, would run
a formidable hazard. The generation im-
mediately before, tis true, endured a vast
deal of common-place, of dramatic jargon,
and feeble and laborious jesting; but even
they merely endured it. The miscella-
neous mob of the theatres laughed and
applauded ; but the intelligent — the class
which in the days of Anne were called
critics, and who then were the represen-
tatives of public taste — yawned.
It has been alleged, that the dramatic
materiel is burnt out; that life in our
country, with its perpetual circulation of
opinions, its community of habits, and the
general spirit of imitation that pervades
an old and civilized people, has lost its
earlier peculiarities ; that in the eternal
collision, all peculiarities are rubbed
smooth, like the corner-stones of a high-
way, or the impression of a shilling; that,
in short, since the age of bag-wigs and
rolled stockings has passed away — since
the physician is no more tremendous in
curled peruke and gold headed cane— the
parson sips his punch without pudding
sleeves — the man of fashion flirts without
stiff skirts down to his toes — and the wo-
man of fashion returns his flirtation, di-
vested of hoop-petticoat, stomacher, and
periwig a foot and a half high — the world
has gone out of joint, and there is no more
variety of character than in a Lincolnshire
fen. Human kind is a dead level ; man
and woman are but so many painted pip-
kins on a mantel-piece; the furniture
of an old maid's closet, the shreds and
patches of the great workshop of Nature
retiring from business.
Can we believe all this? The bag- wig,
it is true, may make an important part of
the jEseulapius, just as the fellow of a
college would, in nine instances out often,
be a very common kind of fellow without
his square cap. But there will be quacks
and dunces in the world in plenty, even if
all wigs and caps were burned in a com-
mon conflagration. Have we not still the
usurer, the projector, the gambling man
of fashion, who lives at the rate of ten
thousand a year, without the possession of
a legitimate sixpence; the parliament
trader, the Yorkshire heir, full of empti-
ness, country coxcombry, and the money
of his grandfathers and grandmothers burn-
ing for transference to the midnight banks
of St. James's ? Have we not the insolence
of office, the prostitute placeman, the bo-
roughmongering patriot, the roarer against
abuses, while he is longing for a share in
them ? Have we not, in general society,
all the specimens of puppyism, puritan-
ism, cant, conceit, covetousness ? Have
we not the fortune-hunter, the fortune-
huntress, the mother bringing up her pro-
424
Monthly Theatrical Report.
[OcT.
geny for the market, with no more com-
punction than the dealer in sheep, and as
little delicacy as the Jew who hangs up
suits for all shapes outside his door?
Have we not the moustached guardsman,
fuller of snuff than sense, and thinking all
the world contained in the mess, the card-
club, and the billiard-table? Have we no
King's aides-de-camp, covered over with
lace and servility, no lords of. the bed-
chamber, who would lacquer shoes, or
turn shirts, or lick the dust for the honour
and profit of being menials? Have we no
women of rank proud and mean, methodis-
tical and profligate, old, with the affecta-
tions of youth, and young, with the ava-
rice, venality, and heartlessness of age ?
We need never despair of our stock, let
but the true comedian arise, and we will
furnish him with character from a treasury
as inexhaustible as the ocean.
In addition to Kenney's comedy, we are
told that he has a farce or two, in whose
success we may have hope— an opera, on
which it will behove Mr. Bishop to exert
something more than his late energies — •
and, of course, a bundle of melo-dramas.
Poole, whose seizure of the French farces
is in general so rapid, but who was super-
seded in the « Bride at Fifty" by the more
rapid grasp of Kenny (such are among
the hazards of plundering from the same
store, without confidence between the
plunderers), brings forward his transla-
tion in three acts. If he should be at a
loss for a title, we suggest that of " Ho-
nour among Thieves."
Macready is bringing with him a regu-
lar Illinois tragedy, in which all the cha-
racters are backwoodsmen ; and the interest
is to arise from the scalping an European
party, and the roasting an Indian alive.
Mr. Knowles is supposed to have three
tragedies, on the subjects of Coriolanus,
Csesar, and Antony: we suspect that these
subjects have been tolerably well handled
before ; but the genius of the author and
the actor will doubtless throw new lights
on the matter. Mr. Walker, the author of
" Wallace," is said to be busy with a sub-
ject from the history of Hayti ; and a lady
author, vibrating between Charles Kem-
ble's established charms, and fifacready's
popularity, refreshed, of course, by his
marine washings, is said to have prepared
the same tragedy for both houses : the
treatment of the story, and the nature of
the characters differing so considerably,
as to inspire the fair authoress with a
hope, and by no means an ill grounded
one, that no one will su«pect the identity.
Covent Garden is again under a single
sceptre. The republic gave way two
years ago, and Messrs. Wiliett and Forbes
are now as much extricated from the cares
of ambition as M. Tallien and the Abbe
Sieyes. Then came the triple consulate of
Messrs. Fawcett, Smart, and Kemble ; but
the actor carries the day, and Charles is
now first consul — the Napoleon of Covent
Garden. Kean, Young, and Kemble, are
more than the Percy and Douglas joined
in arms, and Victory is already fresh pain-
ting to be perched on their banners.
Shakspeare is to be revived, more Shak-
speai ian than ever ; one of his plays, so
unlike all the rest that it has not been
heard of these hundred years, but that
throws " Hamlet" and " Macbeth" into
eclipse, is to be produced; and the world
are, for the nine months ensuing, to be
held in a state of perpetual agony. Mira-
cles are expected from Kean, who has the
double stimulant of playing for fifty
pounds a night (the yearly income of a
curate !), and of playing for the remnant of
his fame, against the unnatural young
Roscius who is to tear the laurel from the
brow of the unnatural old one j Kean
against Kean, Norval against Sir Giles.
Young will be, as he always is, clear ol'all
war on the occasion — neither in dread of
parricide, nor trembling for his diadem,
but gathering money in quiet, and helping
out the deficiencies of authorship on the
stage, by tremendous blank verse of his
own.
The Haymarket closes in a few nights,
after a busy, pleasant, and, we should sup-
pose, a productive season. Poole has been
unlucky. His only French play, " Gud-
geons and Sharks," fell a victim to as
rapid an explosion of public wrath as we
can remember. It perished at a blow,
and never shewed sign of life again. His
next piece has lived only in preparation —
the failure of his former had left a gap,
which it was expedient to fill. Kenny
stepped in, with a two act farce upon the
subject, which his brother translator had
been tardily fabricating into three. The-
atres are like time and tide, and wait for
no man. The two acts in the baud were
to the manager worth two thousand in the
brain, and Kenny1!* was performed. The
title, the " Bride at Fifty," was presumed
to be a hit at Mrs. Coutts, who, it is to be
observed, is graceless enough to have no
box at this pleasantest of all theatres. If
she had, of course she would have, in deli-
cacy to her nerves, escaped the title,
which, whatever may be her passion for
titles, we should conceive not much to her
taste. We advise her Grace's securing a
box for next season. Kenny's farce is a
very spirited and amusing melange. A
coaxing, jealous, tyrannical bore of a wife;
a young husband, who marries to escape a
juil ; a dozing old squire, roaming on a ma-
trimonial expedition ; and a rattling widow
of a general, full of the brawling manners,
the bustling self-importance, and the love
of man and money, engendered between
mercenary soldiership, and the natural
1827.] Theatres.
appetite of widowhood ; make up the cha-
racters. A stupid major in love with a
stupid niece, are only drags and deterio-
ration : the wAofe, however, is lively.
Cooper, the young husband, deserves
praise for his cleverness. He is vastly
improved ; the quakerism of his tone, phy-
siognomony, and gesture, is passing away,
and, but for his extraordinary fondness for
dressing like a banker's clerk, or a foot-
man out of livery, he might pass for a very
pleasant stage gentleman. He is drunk
during three-fourths of the farce — too
long a period for the amusement of the
audience, or the probability of the play ;
but his liveliness (that we should ever live
to write the word of Cooper!) carries off
the excels, and we congratulate him on
having made an advance in his profession.
Farren is excellent in the drowsy old
owner of Poppy Hall, which he got by
nodding at an auctioneer in his sleep; a
story from Joe Miller, and whose selection
does credit to Kenny's sense of the ab-
surd. Mrs. Glover is a capital Mrs. Ge-
neral; but she talks like platoon-firing,
and at once dazzles and deafens. Her ra-
pidity is equivalent to loss of teeth ; she
mumbles the unfortunate author.
The Lyceum has reached its close.
" The Freebooters," Mathews, and Miss
Kelly as the Serjeant's wife, have sustain-
ed the popularity of this attractive the-
atre.
The dramatic world will lament to hear,
that the deputy licenser, that severe guar-
dian of the virtue of the stage, ^jr. George
Colman, jun., whose immaculate life has
long been an honour to society, and whose
scorn of sycophancy and servility will
render his name memorable among the
patriots of Great Britain, has been lately
afHicted with a series of misfortunes, in
the shape of dramas returned by the Duke
of Devonshire, in which the Duke, not
having the fear of heaven and the King
before his eyes, had actually the hardi-
hood to restore, reinstate, and reinscribe,
several atrocious and obnoxious phrases ;
such as " How do you do ? Does the King
eat his mutton roasted or boiled ? A Lord
Mayor may be a jackass for a year, and an
Alderman a jackass for life," &c., which
the purity and loyalty of the deputy li-
censer's mind could not tolerate, and had
therefore cut out. The rumour goes, that
the deputy's first idea was that of resign,
ing his situation 5 but on second thoughts,
he was content with resigning his opinion.
The obnoxious phrases were, therefore,
suffered to remain, the deputy making a
private protest that they are not his sen-
425
timents. And thus is the world to be
overrun with a deluge of interrogatory
vice, and declamatory dilapidation of the
honour of the aldermanic intellect, to the
great scandal of the nineteenth century.
George Colman, jun., is now writing his
life, in which the foregoing transaction is
to form the principal episode.
The stars of the theatrical world are
still planetary. Miss Paton, whose oxy~
mosis lately puzzled all mankind, and who,
we fear, is ill of more than a stage indis-
position, is wandering somewhere among-
the .solitudes of Brighton. Braham has
disappeared ; but as neither frost not
thaw, youth nor age, can touch his voice,
we rely upon his returning to light early
in the season. Young is on a tour to visit
the tomb of Napoleon, and is expected by
the first India arrivals. Macready is un-
discoverable, and there are some doubts of
his having been actually imported. But
he is probably gathering new conceptions
of human nature, and the capabilities of
his purse among some of the country the-
atres. Elliston is managing away at a
prodigious rate in the neighbourhood of
the King's Bench. He is understood to
have made some valuable operatic disco-
veries of old scores, probably left behind
in the habitual negligence of Mr. Dibdin.
Theatrical Biography, of all others the
most amusing, is to delight the town du-
ring the winter. Harry Harris is in his
third volume, and near (we hope not omi-
nously) his end. Michael Kelly's life is
to be succeeded by another of the same
good-humoured old martyr to love and
gout, but totally different, and much more
amusing in anecdote and private history.
Reynolds is writing his life over again ;
but, as he says with his accustomed plea-
santry, by no means with any intention to
amend it. Farley is occupied on a history
of the chief bears, dogs, elephants, and
donkeys that have performed within the
period of his management 5 with an ap-
pendix on the genius and literature essen-
tial to the author of pantomime.
The English Company under Abbott in
Paris are terrifying the French. The
Boulevards are deserted of the prome-
naders. The Opera Comique, the VarietSs,
the Porte St. Martin, are empty. The
onJy person to be seen at the opera is Lord
Fife, speculating on the figurantes. The
critical spirit of the Parisians is fine.
They consider Charles Kemble. in his for-
tunate moments, to be nearly equal to
Miss Smithson, but as to approaching
Clermont, they bid him despair !
M.M. New Scries.— VOL. IV. No. 22.
3 I
[ 426 1
PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.
[OCT.
DOMESTIC.
ROYAL SOCIETY.
June 21. — Thomas Telford, Esq. was ad-
mitted a member. A paper on the theory of
the diurnal variation of the needle, by S. H.
Christie, Esq., was concluded. A paper on
the variation of the needle, by Captain Sa-
bine, and another on a new vegetable prin-
ciple, by M. Frost, were then read, and the
society adjourned to the second Thursday in
November.
ASTRONOMICAL SOCIETY.
June 8. — Some remarks on the astrono-
mical observations of Flamstead were read
by F. Baily, Esq., who recommended more
attention to be bestowed upon a work which
Lad hitherto served as a basis for the obser-
vations of all subsequent astronomers. An
ephemeris of the positions of the four new
planets, at their ensuing oppositions, com-
puted by himself, was transmitted by Mr.
Taylor, jun., of the royal observatory. A
paper on a new period of eclipses was read,
by Mr. Utting ; and a series of observations
•were communicated from Major Hodgson : —
1 . On the transit of mercury over the sun's
disc. Nov. 4, 1822. — 2. Occultations of stars
by the moon, particularly of the pleiades,
March 17, 1823. — 3. A set of equal attitudes
for determining the time at Futty Ghur.
. — 4. Transits of moon and moon culminating
stars, at the same place. It was stated in a
letter from professor Harding, of Gottingen,
that he had discovered in Serpens a small vari-
able star, of which the period seemed about
eleven months. Results of his computations,
relative to the solar eclipse of November 28,
last, were communicated from Mr. G. Innes,
of Aberdeen. A description of an instrument,
called a tangent sextant, was given by Cap-
tain J. Ross. A method of making the ne-
cessary computations for deducing the longi-
tude from an occupation of the moon, by
Lieutenant Drinkwater of the navy, was
read — after which several optical and astro-
nomical instruments of his own construction
were exhibited to the society by professor
Amici.
FOREIGN".
INSTITUTE ACADEMY OP SCIENCE*.
June 18. — M.M. Lamarck, Bosc, and dc
Blainville, reported on the memoir by M.M.
Raspail and Robineau Desvoidi, entitled Re-
searches into the Natural History of the Al-
cyonalle of ponds — almost the last link be-
tween the vegetable and animal kingdoms.
They were requested to continue their re-
searches. M.M. Cordier and Brochant de
Villiers made a highly commendatory report
upon a geological paper of M. Bonnard.
25. M.M. Lucroix and Andreossy reported
on the work of M. Denaix, entitled an Essay
on Methodical and Comparative Geography,
of which he was encouraged to continue the
publication. M.M. Chaussier and Magendie
reported on a memoir of Dr. Roberts, rela-
tive to a woman who had a teat on her left
thigh, with which she nourished her own
child and several other infants. M. Cuvier
read a memoir on the saru of the an-
cients.—July 2. M. Gambart, of Marseilles,
announced that on June 21 , he had discovered
in one of the feet of Cassiopea, a new comet,
invisible to the naked eye. M. Pons wrote
from Florence that, on the 20th of June, he
had discovered a small comet nearly in the
same situation as the above. M. Beudant,
in the name of a commission, reported on
four mineralogical memoirs of M. Berthier,
which were ordered to be printed in the col-
lection of memoirs, by persons not members
of the academy. — 9. The same honour was
this day conferred upon a paper, entitled a
Geological Examination of the Question,
whether the Continents which we now in-
habit have been frequently overflowed by the
sea ? by M. Constant Prevost. M.M. Cuvier
and Cordier were the reporters. — 10. In the
name of a commission, M. G. Cuvier reported
on the bones collected in the grottos of Os-
selles, near Besanyon. M. Berthier was
then elected member of the section of mine-
ralogy, in the place of M. Ramond, and the
loss which the academy had sustained by the
death of M. Fresnel was announced*
VARIETIES, SCIENTIFIC AND MISCELLANEOUS.
Meteorology. — It was mentioned in ourlast
number that a spurious quadruple rainbow
had been observed in one of the islands of the
Baltic. A singular atmospheric phenomenon
was witnessed by many persons in Kent, in
August last ; it was a rainbow which, in
addition to the usual number of prismatic
colours, added to them, immediately beyond
the violet ray, a ray of green, and then ano-
ther very faint ray of violet.
Jones's Steam Engine. — The great, in-
deed it may be said, infinite utility of the
steam-engine, has given rise to innumerable
plans for its improvement : some merely
theoretical, others which have been found
adapted to practice. Of Mr. Perkins's inven-
tion we have already given an account. The
following description of a new modification
of this machine, by Mr. Jones, is extracted
from Newton's journal : — the peculiar COST*-
1827.]
Varieties*
427
struction of the boiler we noticed some time
ago — the advantage this posseses over the
common engines are — 1, its perfect safety,
which has been proved by the pressure of
steam to more than ten times its working
power — 2, its practicability — the boiler and
its engine may be constructed so as not to
exceed two cwt. to each horse power for
engines of ten-horse power and upwards —
3, the space it occupies is not more than one-
tenth of what is necessary for ordinary en-
gines— 4, the quantity of water in proportion
to a given power, is less than that required by
any other engine, in consequence of the steam,
after it is generated, being expanded, by
coming in direct contact with the flues — 5, the
saving in fuel is so considerable that the cost
in London would be less than nine pence per
day for each horse-power. — 6, the primary
cost will not be greater than that of engines
on the ordinary construction.
4rch<eology. — The Abb 6 Ambrose, who has
very recently returned to France from Ame-
rica, communicated last month to the geogra-
phical society of Paris, that, during the time
of his stay at Saint Louis, a brass coin found
in the Valley of Bones to the south-west of
the Missouri, and very far in the interior,
had been transmitted to Mr. Clarke, the gen-
tleman who, in company with Mr. Lewis,
travelled to the mouth of the Colombia. The
inhabitants say that no Eavopean had ever
been seen there. After a very careful exa-
mination, this medal was ascertained to be a
Roman one, struck during the reign of Nerva.
The same traveller adds, that in digging a
.well in Tennessee, an earthen pot was found,
containing a large quantity of gold coins,
which were unknown to the inhabitants of
that district.
Geology.— Brydone mentions an orchard
belonging to a convent near Catania, planted
upon a mass of decomposing lava, and which,
at a subsequent eruption of Mount JEtna,had
been removed some distance by a new tor-
rent of lava undermining the stone, and tran-
sporting it upon its surface. In Switzerland
several instances occur of tracts of land
sliding from their locality on a mountain's
side to the valley below. The Abbe Ambrose
states that, while traversing a part of the
great chain of the Alleghany mountains in
America, the ground on which he stood, and
to the extent of two or three acres, with the
trees growing thereon, detached itself from
the side of the mountain, and with a gentle
motion descended into the valley at its feet
—similar phenomena are frequent in this
part of the world.
Hogs. — The following facts in the natural
history of the hog are, we presume, new to
most of our readers, and are extracted from
some observations on the climate and pro-
ductions of Washington county Ohio, inserted
in Professor Silliman's valuable journal. " In
the early settlement of the county, when the
woods were full of wild plants, neat cattle
could live very comfortably the whole winter
without any assistance from man, and, at this
time, large numbers of hogs pass the winter
as independently as the deer and the bears,
subsisting on nuts and acorns. Single indi-
viduals are sometimes destroyed by the bears
and wolves, but a gang of ten or twenty
hogs are more than a match for a wolf or a
panther. An old hunter informed me that
he once saw a large panther spring from a
tree into a drove of wood hogs who were aware
of his approach, and prepared for defence ;
the moment he touched the ground the large
hogs fell upon him with their tusks, and the
weight of their bodies, and killed him and tore
him in pieces in a few minutes."
Frie's Systema Mycologicum. — The fungi
have probably received less attention than
any other part of botany. The following is
a. compendious view of a natural system of
theni, which has been published, in several
volumes, at Lund, in Germany. The whole
evolution of a fungus is determined by what
the author calls cosmica momenta, of which
there are four:— 1. Nisus reproductive, or
earth and water — 2. Air — 3. Caloric — 4.
Light. The first is the principal agent in
producing sporidia, or fruit, the first and
second in producing floccos, or elongated
fibres, on which the fruit appears; the first
and third produce the uterus, or a closed fun-
gus ; and the first and fourth the hymenium,
or an open fungus. These are the four lead-
ing characters, and the system is divided into
four classes ; a single class being composed
of those plants that exhibit one of these cha-
racters more prominent than the others. —
The names of the classes are Coniomycetes,
Hyphomycetes, Gasteromycetes, and Hyme-
nomycetes, signified by the letters C, M, U,
and H. The class C has sporidice, naked ;
M. Thallus flocose ; U. a closed fungus ; and
H an open fungus. Each class is divided
into four orders, and each order into four
genera, arising like the classes from the ac-
tions of the natural causes. The orders are
designated by the letters E, M, U, and H ;
and are the same in every class. C.E. denotes
first class, first order, and U. U. third class,
third order. If an order be divided into two
sub-orders, as the fourth order of the fourth
class, it is expressed thus:— H. HI, for the
first sub-order, and H.H2, for the second.
The genera are represented by either of these
letters, E, M, G, X, or U, according to its
habitat. E. denotes that it grows on decay-
ing plants, or on those recently dead. M.
that it grows on plants in the process of fer-
mentation. G, that it grows on the ground.
The second sub-order of the fourth class,
fourth order, stands as follows : —
Genera. Formulae.
1 . Thelaphora H. H. 2 E
2. Hydnum M
3. Polyporus ...X
4. Agaricus G
In the artificial system the orders qnd
genera are not limited to four; they are
regarded as natural families, having many
allied genera. Agaricus has three allied
3 I 3
428
Varieties.
[OCT.
genera, conthurellus, memlius, and Ichizo-
phyllum.
' New Paper.— In the last number but one
of the Builetin des Sciences, a process is
mentioned by which papjr can be made to
resist moisture : it is the invention of M.
Engel, and consists in plunging unsized
paper once or twice into a clear solution of
mastic in oil of turpentine, and drying it
afterwards by a gentle beat. The paper
pressed in this manner, without becoming
transparent, has all the properties of writing
paper, and may be employed for that pur-
pose. When laid by it is perfectly secure
from being injured by mould or millew ; and
is not likely to be destroyed by mice or in-
sects. For passports, account-books, and
registers, this paper seems well adapted.
Fossil Mastodon. — At the end 'of last year,
in repairing and cleansing the village spring
near Genesseo, Ontario County, New York,
United States, and the ditches connected with
it, which are dug in marl, that extends two
feet below the surface, it wus deemed proper
to deepen ihem, and in doing this the fossil
bones of a mastodon were found, about half-
a-mile east of the court-house at Genesseo, in
a small marsh that has some elevation above
the surrounding country. The tusks were
first seen, and then the head ; but these, as
indeed the whole skeleton, were in such a
state of almost total decomposition, as to
defy all attempts at preservation. The skele-
ton lay in the direction so frequently observed
in the remains of this animal, south-west and
north-east. The head rested upon the lower
jaw. The tusks were much decayed ; their
points were five feet apart, and measured at
least a foot from the centre. They were four
feet and two inches in length, the largest
diameter could not be ascertained on account
oftheirdecay ; but itwas preserved a conside-
rable distance, and then gradually diminished
so that at five inches from the point the diame-
ter was three inches. The laminated structure
of the tusk was rendered evident by decom-
position, which had in a measure separated
the laminae, and the whole was supposed
to be phosphate of lime. Of the two supe-
rior incisors no trace could be discovered, but
the eight under were in sight. The length
of the largest tooth was six and a quarter
inches ; of the smallest three and a half ; the
crown of the tooth was two and a half, and
the breadth of the enamel from one-eighth to
three-eighths of an inch, as was rendered visi-
ble by wearing away of the surface. The
roots were all broken and decayed ; the ani-
mal could not have been old, as eight under
teeth were found, old animals have only one
under on either side of each jaw. The pelvis
was twenty-two inches in its transverse dia-
meter, between the acetebula at the inferior
opening. The epiphyses of the larger bones,
and the patellae, were found nearly perfect,
not having suffered from decay.
Mineralogy. — In the imperial cabinet of
Vienna there is an opal 4 75 inches (Vi-
enna) in length, 2-5 inches .in thickness,
and weighing 34 ounces. It eame from
Czervenitzia, in Hungary. Half a million
of florins have been offered for it, a price
very inferior to the real value of this unique
and magnificent specimen.
An Italian Miracle. — In the mouth of
August 1819, some polenta, a sort of food
made with the flour of maize, with salt and
water, of which the Italians are very fond,
placed in a house at Padua, in the situation
usually allotted to it, was found covered with
red spots. This was thrown away, but
what was prepared for the ensuing day's con-
sumption underwent the same alteration.
Some suspicion then arose that this was the
work of the evil one ; a dignitary of the
church came to bless the interior of the
house, and the kitchen in particular where
the occurrence had taken place, bnt in vain ;
the suspected colour did not disappear. Fast-
ing and prayer were had recourse to by the
unfortunate family ; masses were celebrated
on their account ; still with equal want of
success. Up to that time the secret had been
kept, but the curiosity of neighbours at last
discovered it, and from that moment the
family were regarded with a sort of horror
and terror ; their most intimate friends even
shunned them. The magistrates of the place
charged a physician, of the name of Sette,
to investigate the facts. Public rumour be-
came more loud, and the house wherein the
phenomena had taken place, was incessantly
surrounded with curious people. The cause
of the drops of blood on the polenta was at
length denned ; — the family were eating the
old corn, which, during the famine of 1817,
they had refused to the poor, and in this way
the d ivine vengeance was now declaring itself.
Much prudence was required on the part of
Dr. Sette, for the moral contagion, now ready
to spread, was more to be feared than the
alteration of the food in a small number of
private houses. After many researches, the
physician, who was a skilful naturalist, ascer-
tained the specific character of this pheno-
menon, which was only a vegetation hitherto
unobserved, and of which the colour alone
had occasioned so much alarm.
Statistics.— On the first of January 1826,
the population of the kingdom of the Nether-
lands amounted to 6,059,506 souls, including
the inhabitants of the grand duchy of Luxem-
burg, who amounted in number to 291,759.
The births for the preceding year, in the
cities, were 68,0 11, viz. 34,967 males, 33,044
females; in the country 153,212; viz. 78,913
males, 74,^99 females ; of which numbers
the ratio is 0,943 ; the ratio of the population
to the births was consequently 27:1. The
marriages during the same year were 47,097,
whence the ratio of the population to the
marriages was 127:2. The deaths amounted
in the same year to 146,138; viz. in the
cities 25,445 males, 25,239 females ; in the
country 48,758 males, 46,496 females. The
proportion between the deaths of the two
sexes is, therefore, 0,967, and that of the
population to the deaths 41,0. During the
1827.]
Varieties.
429
year 1825 the increase of the population was
75,085 souls.
Effect of Lightning.— During a thunder
storm which took place in Holland at the
close of last year, out of a flock of 155 sheep
ia an open field, a single flash of lightning
killed sixty-five, of which the wool was
widely scattered in every direction.
Rare Insect. — A very rare insect, of which
the existence has been long doubted, and
which is found only in the most northern
countries, is met with in Livonia : it is the
furia infernalis described by Linnaeus, in the
hew memoirs of the academy of Upsal. This
insect is so small that it is difficult to dis-
tinguish it with the naked eye. In warm
weather it falls from the air upon the inha-
bitants, and the inflammation resulting from
its bite or sting will occasion death if imme-
diate remedies be not applied . During the hay
harvest, other insects, called meggar, cause
equal mischief to men and cattle. They are
of the size of a grain of sand, at sunset ap-
pearing in great quantities ; they descend in
a perpendicular line, pierce the strongest
cloth, and occasion an itching, accompanied
with pimples, which become dangerous if
scratched. They cause swelling in the throats
of the cattle which inhale them, and without
prompt assistance death ensues. They are
cured by a fumigation with linseed, which
brings on a violent cough.
Circulation of the Sap in Plants. — A
communication was made some- time since by
Professor Amici, of Modena, to the Italian
Society of Arts established in that city, that
in an aquatic plant (the chara) he had dis-
covered, by microscopic examination, a cir-
culation of the sap between the joints, which
apparently ascended in the exterior portion
of the stem of the plant, and descended in the
centre. The reality of this phenomenon
was placed beyond doubt by the very evident
passage of certain particles of one of the
currents, which, drawn by that which moved
in an opposite direction, were from time to
time carried along by it. In the month of
May last, this was demonstrated by the
learned professor himself to the Parisian
naturalists ; and during his visit to this
country, we, among many others, have wit-
nessed this phenomenon, as displayed by one
of his very perfect microscopes — the circu-
lation of the sap, which by analogy, is ex-
tended to every plant, is ascribed to the
effect of galvanic action.
Astronomy. — We suggested to our readers
some time since, a method of illuminating
the field of view of a reflecting telescope ;
the process was new, and but a small loss of
light ensued from it. The following is supe-
rior : Within the tube of the telescope, and
close to the large mirror, place a small plane
mirror at an angle of forty-five, in a line
with that by which the pencil of rays is
transmitted to the eye-piece, and inclined
in an opposite direction— no loss of light
will ensue beyond that which necessarily
takes place in the Newtonian construction,
and the rays will be transmitted in the axis
of the telescope through a perforation in
the side of the tube, opposite this second
plane mirror, to a tube inserted into which
perforation, a lantern is attached upon gim-
bals.
. Man- Eat ing- Society. — In the Fifty-
seventh number of the Quarterly Review,
appeared a false defamatory article concern-
ing America. The effects of this intem-
perate article have been rather deplorable —
it has drawn down in the last number of the
North American Review, a most severe and
annihilating reply, if we look to the appalling
facts which the ill-judged critique obliged
the American Journal to disclose, but as pre-
eminent for the conciliating truly Christian
spirit with which it is conceived, as for the
chaste eloquence and felicity with which it is
composed. This valuable paper we recom-
mend to the perusal of all honest Englishmen,
and from it make the following interesting
extract : — " There is a horrible institution
among some of the Indian tribes, which fur-
nishes a powerful illustration of their never-
tiring love of vengeance. It is called the
Man-Eating Society, and it is the duty of its
associates to devour such prisoners as are
preserved and delivered to them for that pur-
pose. The members of this society belong
to a particular family, and the dreadful inhe-
ritance descends to all the children, male and
female. Its duties cannot be dispensed with,
and the sanctions of religion are added to
the obligations of immemorial usage. The
feast is considered a solemn ceremony, at
which the whole tribe is collected as actors
or spectators. The miserable victim is fast-
ened to a stake, and burned at a slow fire,
with all the refinements of cruelty which
savage ingenuity can invent. There is a
traditionary ritual, which regulates, with re-
volting precision, the whole course of pro-
cedure at these ceremonies. The institution
has latterly declined, but we know those
who have seen and related to us the incidents
which occurred on these occasions, when
white men were sacrificed and consumed.
The chief of the family and principal mem-
bers of the society among the Miames;
whose name was White Skin, we have seen,
and with feelings of loathing, excited by a
narrative of his atrocities, amid the scenes
when they occurred. '>
[ 430 ]
WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.
[OCT.
PREPARING FOR THE PRESS.
The Winter's Wreath, or a Collection of
Contributions in Prose and Verse, will make
its appearance with the earliest of our beau-
tiful annuals. The engravings are announced
to be among the best of the kind, and its
literary pieces will be of rather a serious turn.
The profits arising from its sale are to be
appropriated to charitable purposes.
The Parliamentary Speeches of the Right
Hon. George Canning, so long announced,
and now on the eve of publication, were un-
dertaken with the sanction of Mr. Canning,
and had the signal and exclusive advantage
of his personal revision and correction up to
the period of his last illness. The publication
will contain several speeches made on im-
portant public occasions, which have never
been presented to the public in a corrected
form. The work will extend to five volumes,
the first of which will be principally occupied
with a Memoir, the materials of which will
be supplied from the most satisfactory and
authentic source of intelligence.
Circle of the Seasons and Perpetual Key
to the Calendar and Almanack ; to which are
added the Circle of the Hours of the Day and
the History of the Days of the week. Being
a compendious illustration of the Artificial
History and Natural Phenomena of each
day in the year.
The author of' Sophia de Lissau,' intends
publishing early in the ensuing year, her
long promised Narrative of the Striking
Vicissitudes un-J Peculiar Trials of the
Eventful Life of Emma de Lissau, in 2 vole,
12mo. in which will be contained much in-
formation respecting the Jews — a people
who must ever be objects of interest to the
contemplative mind. Subscribers names will
be received by her publishers.
The Swedes in Prague. An Historical
Romance, translated from the German of
Madame Pichier.
On the 1st of November, 1827, will be
published, the first part of a New General
Atlas of Fifty-one Maps, with the divisions
and boundaries carefully coloured, con-
structed entirely from new drawings, and
engraved by Sidney Hall. The work will
be complete in seventeen parts, each con-
taining three maps. A part will be published
every month, price half a guinea. The size
of each map has been fixed at twenty inches
by sixteen.
Dr. Uwins (late Medical Reporter to this
Magazine) will publish very early in the
present month a small volume on Diseases
connected with Indigestion, which will also
contain a Commentary on the principal
ailments of Children.
Sketches from Oblivion, containing
Sketches, Poems, and Tales. By Piers
Shafton, gent.
Dr. Conquest will publish early in Octo-
ber, a fourth and carefully revised edition
of his Outlines of Midwifery : and early in
the Spring, a work on the Diseases of Wo-
men and Children.
Mr. Walter C. Dendy, Surgeon to the
Royal Infirmary for Children, &c. <fec. is
preparing a Treatise on the Cutaneous Dis-
eases Incidental to Childhood ; compre-
hending their Origin, Nature, Treatment,
and Prevention.
Religion in India, a Voice directed to
Christian Churches, for Millions in the East.
Comprising, Revealed Truth estimated by
a Christian Hindoo— The Victim of Delu-
sion, a Hindoo Widow — The Ordination Ser-
vice for Isaac David, a Hindoo Evangelist —
The Plan of the Mysore Mission College—
Zion's Watchman upon her Frontiers — The
Gospel Commission, <fec. &c. is in the press.
The History of George a Green, the Pin-
dar of Wakefield, will lorm the fifth part of
Mr. W. Thorn's Early Prose Romances.
In royal 4to. Historical Tablets and Me-
dalion?, illustrative of an improved System
of Artificial Memory, for the more easy re-
membrance of remarkable Events and Dates.
Mr. John Henry Todd has announced the
Tablets may also be had, neatly executed
on Card-board, and fitted up in a handsome
box — so that a number of students miglir,
with equal convenience and economy, be
using them at the same time. Price 31. 3s.
An Introduction to the Knowledge of En-
graved British Portraits ; or, a Priced Cata-
logue of more than Three Thousand Prints,
described in Grainger's Biographical History
of England, Bromley's Catalogue of Por-
traits, <fec. By Henry Baynes, Bibliop. \\ ill
be published early in November.
Scripture Diary, or Christian Almanack :
comprising a Chronological Arrangement
of the Holy Scriptures in Daily Portions, for
reading the whole Bible within a Year; to-
gether with the Festivals of the Jews, and
some Events of Sacred History— Selections
of Ecclesiastical Literature— Notices of Bibli-
cal Publications, <fee. <fec. &o. By the
Rev. John Wbitridge. 18mo.
In November will be published the Forget
Me Not for 1828; consisting of the more
than Eighty compositions in verse and prose,
by the most popular writers of the day of
both sexes ; and the embellishments com-
prise Thirteen highly finishe 1 Engravings,
from pictures by A. Howard, R.A., H.
Thomson, R. A., R. Westnll, R.A., T. Sto-
tbard, R.A., R. Smirke, R.A., H. Corbould,
J. Martin, J. Stephanofr', S. Prout, M. W.
Sharpe, S. Owen, H. Richter, and T. Uwins,
with a beautiful embossed presentation plate.
The Chronicles of the Canongate ; con-
taining the Highland Widow, The Drovers,
and The Surgeon's Daughter, by Sir Walter
Scott, Bart, in 2 vols. Also by the same.
The Tales of a Grandfather will follow the
Chronicles.
1827.]
List of New Works.
431
Mr. Leoghegan, of Dublin, has published
a Letter to Mr. Abernethy on Ruptures, in
•which he condemns the established practice in
that complaint, and argues that it produces
the most destructive consequences.
In the press, a Poem descriptive of Hen-
ley-on -Thames and its immediate Environs.
Mr. W, C. Smith is about to publish
Rambles round Guildford, with a Topogra-
phical and Historical description of the
Town, in five monthly parts.
Professor J. G. Hugel, of the University
of Leipzig, is engaged on an English Ger-
man Dictionary, which will be comprised in
two volumes. It will contain the words in
general use in both languages as well as
technical expressions — to appear early next
spring.
Kreyssigs Livy, in 5 vols. 8vo. printed at
Leipzig, is just completed, the fifth volume
forming a Glossarium Levianum.
An English Translation of Le Code Gour-
mand, ou Manual complet de Gastronomie,
will appear this mouth.
Shortly will be published in I vol. 12mo.
The Old Irish Knight, an Historical Tale,
by the Author of a Whisper to a Newly Mar-
ried Pair, <fec. &c.
The Red Rover. By the Author of " The
Spy," " The Pilot," <fcc. 3 vols. will appear
in October.
Confessions of an Old Maid. In 3 vols.
small 8vo. in the press.
The Correspondence of Henry, Earl of
Clarendon, and Lawrence, Earl of Roches-
ter, with the Diary of Lord Clarendon, from
1687 to 1690; comprising minute particu-
lars of the Events attending the Revolution.
The greater part now first published from
the Original Manuscripts, with Notes. By
S. W. Singer, F.S.A. In 2 vols. 4to. Il-
lustrated with Portraits, copied from the
Originals, and other Engravings, will soon
be ready.
The Third Series of Sayings and Doings,
or Sketches from Life. 3 vols. post 8vo. is
nearly through the press.
Private Anecdotes of Foreign Courts. By
the Author of the Memoirs of the Princess
de Lamballe. 2 vols. 8vo. is on the eve of
publication.
Flirtation, a Novel. 3 vols. post 8vo. may
be soon expected.
The Diary of a Member in the Parlia-
ments of the Protectors, Oliver and Richard
Cromwell, from 1656 to 1659, now first pub-
lished from the original Autograph Manu-
script, in the possession of William Upcott,
of the London Institution. Interspersed
with several curious Documents and Notices,
Historical and Biographical. By John
Towell Rutt, Esq. In 4 vols. 8vo. with
Plates, is in the press.
Herbert Lacy, a Novel. By the author
of " Granby." 3 vols. is in preparation.
The Mummy, a Tale of the Twenty-
second Century. In 3 vols. will appear in a
few clays.
The History of George Godfrey. Related
by Himself. In 3 vols. post 8vo, in the
press.
LIST OF NEW WORKS.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Classical Introduction to Latin Grammar.
12mo. 2s. 6d. boards.
Goodwin's History of the Commonwealth
of England. Volume the Third. 8vo. 16s.
boards.
Twenty-six Illustrations to Walton and
Cotton's Angler. 8vo. 12s.
Outlines of a System of Surveying, for
Geographical and Military Purposes, compris-
ing the Principles on which the surface of
the Earth may be represented on Plans. By
Major T. L. Mitchell. 8vo. 5s. boards.
The Traveller's Oracle, or Maxims of Lo-
comotion, being Precepts for Promoting the
Pleasures, Hints for Preserving the Health,
and Estimates of the Expences of Persons
travelling on Foot, on Horseback, on Stages,
in Post Chaises, and in Private Carriages.
By Dr. Kitchiner. 2 vols. small 8vo. 15s.
boards.
Life of Linnaeus. 18mo. 2s. half-bound.
Rambling Notes and Reflections, suggested
during a Visit to Paris in the Winter of 1826-
7. By Sir Arthur Brooke Faulkner. 8vo.
12s. boards.
Barton's Geography of Plants. I2mo.
3s 6d. boards.
Tamlyn on Friendly Societies. 12mo. 5s.
Fosbroke's Foreign Topography. Part U
4to. 5s.
Trevanion's Influence of Apathy. 12mo.
5s.
Captain Rock's Letter to the King. 12mo.
9s. boards.
Progress of the Brosterian System, for the
Effectual Removal of Impediments in Speech,
&c. ; from which emanates an entire new-
Art of Reading and Speaking, discovered by .
J. Broster, F.A.S.E. 8vo. 2s. 6d. boards.
A Latin Grammar ; Supplementary to the
Rudiments: containing Rules in Latin Verse
for Etymology, and Prosody. By James
Melvin, A.M. 12mo. 2s. sheep.
Oxford Night-Caps ; being a Collection of
Receipts for Making various Beverages used
in the University. 18mo. 2s. 6d. sewed.
Hints for Oxford. 8vo. 3s. 6d. sewed.
King Henry VIII.'s Household Book. 8vo.
£1. Is. boards.
A Treatise on the General Principles,
Powers, and Facility of Application of the
Congreve Rocket System, as compared with
Artillery: shewing the various Applications
of this Weapon, both for Sea and Land Ser-
vice, and its different Uses in the Field and
in Sieges. Illustrated by 12 plates. By
Major-General Sir W. Congreve, Bart. 4to.
Conversations on Animal Economy. With
plates and wood-cuts. 2 vols. 12mo.
Supplement to Marshall's Naval Biogra-
phy. Part 1. 8vo. 15s. boards.
Anecdotes of Africans, 12mo. 2s. boards,
List of New Works.
432
A Practical Grammar of the Russian
Language. By James Heard.
Maxwell's Scripture History. 12mo. 6s.
half-bound.
Richard Baynes's Catalogue. Part II. 1 827.
Price Is. 6d. (gratis to those intending to
purchase) of an Extensive Collection of Books
in all departments of Literature, and in vari-
ous Languages, including the valuable Li-
brary of the late Rev. Mr. Jones of Islington,
and other Collections, comprising a very in-
teresting and popular Assemblage of Works
in Theology, Sermons, History, Mathema-
tics, Classics, Works on the Popish Contro-
versy, and other rare Articles.
Q. Horatii Flacci Opera : containing an
Ordo and Verbal Translation, interlineally
arranged ;. with Preliminary Observations il-
lustrative of the Life, writings, and versifi-
cation of Horace. By P. A. Nuttall, LL.D.,
.Editor and Translator of Juvenal's Satires,
Virgil's Bucolics, <fec. 4 vols. 12mo. 16s.
The Iliad of Homer, chiefly from the Text
ofHeyne, with English Notes: Illustrating
the Construction, the Manners and Customs,
the Mythology, and Antiquities of the Heroic
Ages, and Preliminary Observations on
Points of Classical Interest and Importance
connected with Homer and his Writings. By
the Rev. William Trollope, M.A. 2 vols.
8vo. £1. 4s. boards.
Popular Lectures on the Study of Natural
History, &c. <fec. By Wm. Lempriere, M.D.
8vo. 7s. 6d. boards.
The Miscellaneous Prose Writings of Sir
Walter Scott, Bart., now first collected in 6
vols. Svo.
NOVELS, &c.
Emir Malek, Prince of the Assassins; an
historical Novel of the Thirteenth Century.
In 3 vols.
Early Prose Romances. Edited by W. J.
Thomas. Published in Monthly Parts, price
3s. 6d.each.
Part I. Robert the Deuyll.
II. Lyie of Virgilius.
III. Thomas of Reading.
IV. Robin Hood.
POETRY.
Peter Cornclips, a Tale of Real Life ; with
other Poems and Songs. By Alexander Rod-
ger. 12mo. 5s. boards.
RELIGION, MORALS, &C.
Kelty's Religious Thoughts. 12mo. 7s.
boards.
Twigger's Illustrations of Christianity.
12mo. 4s. 6d.
Hug's Introduction to the Writings of the
New Testament. Translated from the Ger-
man, with Notes. By the Rev. Dr. Watt, of
St. John's College, Cambridge. 2 vols. Svo.
£1. 2s. boards.
A Few Hints on the Right Improvement of
the Death of Pious Ministers ; a Sermon
preached oil the Death of the Rev. 11. W.
[OCT.
Allix, B.D. By the Rev. Joseph Jones, M.A.
Svo. Is. 6d. sewed.
A Discourse occasioned by the Death of
the Right Hon. George Canning, delivered at
Southampton, on Sunday, August 12th, 1827.
By J. Buller. Svo. Is. sewed.
The Religion of Christ is the Religion of
Nature. Written in the Condemned Cells of
Newgate, by Jorgen Jorgenson, late Governor
of Iceland. Svo. 10s. 6d.
SURGERY, MEDICINE, cfec.
The Veterinary Surgeon or Farriery, taught
on a New Plan and in a Familiar Manner ;
being a Treatise on all Diseases and Acci-
dents to which the Horse is liable. Instruc-
tions to the Shoeing Smith, Farrier, and
Groom. By John Hinds, Veterinary Surgeon.
12mo. 12s. boards.
Syer's Treatise on Insanity. Svo. 12s.
boards.
Select Reports of Medical Cases, chiefly
intended to connect the Symptoms and Treat-
ment of Disease with Morbid Anatomy. By
R. Bright, M.D.F.R.S &e. Vol I. will
contain Cases illustrative of Dropsy, In-
flammation of the Lungs, Phthisis, and
Fever.
Physiological Illustrations of the Organ of
Hearing. By T. Buchanan, C. M. royal
Svo.
The Anatomy and Surgical Treatment of
Hernia. By Sir Astley Cooper. Second
Edition. By C. Aston Key, Surgeon to Guy's
Hospital, Lecturer on Surgery, &c. 1 vol.
folio.
Cases and Observations on the Successful
Treatment of Disorders of the Digestive Or-
gans, Asthma, Deafness, Blindness, Lame-
ness, <fcc. by Galvanism, &c. By M. La
Beaume, Medical Galvanist and Surgeon-
Electrician, F.L.S., <fec.
Transactions of the Medical and Chirurgi-
cal Society of London. Vol. XIII. Part II.
with plates. Svo.
Sure Methods of Improving Health. 12mo.
9s. boards.
Practical Observations on the Manage-
ment and Diseases of Children. By the late
C. T. Haden, Esq. with Additional Observa-
tions, and a Biographical Notice of the
Author. By Thomas Alcock, Surgeon, Svo.'
7s. 6d. boards. ;
German Pocket Books for 1828.
Minerva, mit 9 Rupfern naoh Rambergzu
Goethe's Faust. 10s.
Becker's Taschenbuch zum Gesejligen
Vergnugen, Herausgegeben Von F. Kind.
10s.
Aurora Taschenbuch fiir deutscbe Tachter
und Frausn. 7s.
Orphea, mit 8 Kupfern nach Kamberg zu
Preciosa. 10s.
Penelope, mit Kupfern nach Ramberg zu
Schiller's Kampf mit dern Drachen. 8s. 6d.
Uraniu mit Thorwaldsen's Bildnisse, und
6 Charukter-Bilder Von G, Opiz. 12s.
1827.] [ 433 ]
PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.
NeiD Patents sealed, 1827.
To Gabriel de Soras, of Leicester-square,
in the County of Middlesex, gentleman ; and
Stacey Wise, and Charles Wise, of Maid-
stone, in the County of Kent, paper- makers,
in consequence of a communication made to
them by a certain foreigner resident abroad,
for an invention of certain improvements in
siaing, glazing, or beautifying, the mate-
rials employed in the manufacturing of paper,
pasteboard, Bristol boards, and other sub-
stances— Sealed 21st August; 6 months for
inrollrnent.
To John Hague, of Cable-street, Well
Close-square, in the parish of St. George in
the East, in the county of Middlesex, engi-
neer, for his invention of a new method of
working cranes or till hammers— 30th Au-
gust ; 2 months.
To Benjamin Merriman Combs, of Bir-
mingham, in the county of Warwick, iron-
monger, for his invention of certain improve-
ments, or additions to a pulley machinery,
and apparatus used and applied for securing,
fixing, and moving curtains and roller, and
other blinds— 30th August ; 2 months.
To William Debtmer, of Upper Mary-le-
bone Street, Fitzroy-square, in the county of
Middlesex, piano-forte maker, for his inven-
tion of certain improvements on piano-fortes
— 30th August ; 6 months.
To William John Ford, of the parish of
Mildenhall, in the county of Suffolk, farrier,
for his invention of certain improvements in
the make, use, and application of bridle bits
—6th September ; 2 months.
To George Clymer, of Finsbury Street,
Finsbury-square, in the county of Middlesex,
engineer, for his invention of an improve-
ment in typographic printing, between plain
or flat surfaces— 6th September ; 6 mouths.
List of Patents, which, having been granted
in October 1813, expire in the present
month of October 1827.
15. Henry Osborne, Warwick, for his wze-
thod of making tools for tapering cylinders
of different descriptions, made of iron, steel,
metal, or mixture of metals; and also for
tapering bars of the same.
18. Robertson Buchanan, Glasgow, for
his improvements in the means of impelling
vessels and machinery.
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.
UGO FOSCOLO.
This elegant and accomplished scholar,
whose name and writings have long been
familiar to the British literati, was born in
the Island of Zante, about the year 1777.
He spent many of his early years amongst
the Ionian islands, where, and in the city of
Venice and its vicinity, he chiefly received
his education. He studied also at Padua.
His career, literary as well as military, ap-
pears to have been commenced in 1795}
when Italy was convulsed by revolutionary
commotions. At the period when French
arms and French principles had subverted the
Venetian republic, he became an active par-
tisan. His first drama, written at the early
age of nineteen, was Tieste. In this produc-
tion he stood forward as the rival of Count
Pepoli, and the Marquess Pondemonte,
whose dramas, he regretted to observe, were
preferred by the Venetians even to those of
Alfieri. Tieste was first represented upon
the same evening when two pieces were to
appear at different theatres, from the pens
of the Count and the Marquess. Despising
the taste of the day, Foscolo, writing upon
the model of the Greek poets, went beyond
Alfieri's simplicity and severity of manner.
The success of the piece, which retains its
celebrity to the present day, was decided.
To its publication by the actors, in the tenth
volume of the Teatro Italiano Applaudito,
MM. New Series.—VvL. IV. No. 22.
a warm panegyric was subjoined. Foscolo,
in contempt, as it were of praise, wrote a
severe critique upon his own tragedy, and
ascribed its success entirely to its servile ad-
herence to the ancient model. His anony-
mous strictures were received with extreme
indignation, especially by the votaries of the
Venetian theatre, where a portrait of the
young poet was triumphantly exhibited in
reply. Tieste has only four characters ; but
its abrupt and energetic style, its strength
and vivacity of passion, and the mysterious
terror which pervades its closing scenes im-
part to it an interest amounting to pain.
When the Venetian provinces were trans-
ferred to the despotic authority of Austria,
Foscolo quitted Venice with indignation*
He proceeded to Bologna, and, while there,
he wrote his celebrated work, the Letters of
Jocopo Ortis, a political performance, con-
stituting a vehicle for the author's own opi-
nions, and forcibly representing his own per-
sonal feelings and character. The story,
though simple, abounds with touching inci-
dents and traits of nature. It speedily went
through three editions.
Foscolo entered into the Italian army, and,
in a short time became a captain. He was
afterwards professor of eloquence in the Uni-
versity of Pavia, in which office he gained
high reputation. Melzi, the vice president
of the republic, conferred an annual salary
3K
434
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
upon him for his exertions in the cause of
liberty ami of literature. In 180! lie dis-
tinguished himself by writing and delivering
a discourse at the Congress of Lyons. That
discourse, pronounced at the desire of his
own government, on occasion of the conven-
tion of the notables of the Cisalpine republics
by Buonaparte, was not less remarkable tor
its high-toned spirit of independence, than
for its energy of thought, feeling1, and energy
of expression. It was expected that the
orator would deliver a panegyric upon the
new government; instead of which, he drew
a strong and eloquent picture of its abuses
and oppression, and with rapid iind masterly
strokes of satire, flashed the follies and
crimes of the agents and ministers ot'a foreign
power, in the very face of the consular despot-
ism which employed thorn. Perfectly uncon-
strained— with his bands resting upon the
back of his chair, he spoke for more than
three hours ; yet such was the rapidity, the
enthusiasm, and the authority of his man-
ner, as to disarm all parties of the power of
interruption or opposition. This oration,
afterwards published with a motto from
Sophocles, " My soul groans for my country,
for myself, and also for thee'' — gave offence
to Buonaparte ; and, as Foscolo could riot
submit to be a slave, he withdrew from pub-
lic employments.
For a long time literature seems to have
engrossed him wholly. In the year 1803, he
published an ironical and satirical commen-
tary on a poem of Callimachus. He appear?,
however, to have been again in the army.
He served some time in the capacity of Aid-
de-camp to General Cafifarelli ; and, in 1805,
he was stationed at Calais, with an Italian
regiment, which, it was understood, would
form a part of the grand invading army of
England. At that period he was engaged in
editing the celebrated commentaries and mili-
tary aphorisms of his countryman Montecu-
culi, which he published in 1808, with origi-
nal dissertations on military art subjoined to
each volume. This publication was dedicated
to General Cafi'urelli.
In 1807, Foscolo printed, at Brescia, a
poem, called " I Sepolcri,'' The Tombs, in
which the natives of Milan were severely
abused. His next productions were a trans-
lation of the first two books of the Iliad,
and a tragedy, entitled Ajax. The tragedy
was acted in 1811, and gave offence to the
Viceroy, who conceived that some parts of
it were levelled against Buonaparte. Fos-
colo was on the point of being exiled, when
his friend, General Pino, averted the sentence,
by sending him to Mantua on a military
mission. From Mantua he proceeded to
Gascony, where he settled, and began to
study the English language with great per-
severance and success. He soon attained in it
such a proficiency, as to be enabled to give
to the world the best translation that had
ever been made of Sterne's Sentimental
Journey. It appeared under the feigned
name of Dedimo Chierico, Yorick's sup-
posed clerk. It is accompanied by pungent
and satirical notes, and a life of the pretended
translator.
When Italy was invaded by the Austrians,
in 1814, Foscolo, indignant that his country-
men should receive their yoke, revisited
Milan, and aided the government by his
counsels and his pen. He was the author of
numerous proclamations addressed to the
citizens and the army, to excite them to
combat for their independence. At Milan
he became acquainted with many English
officers, and he laboured strenuously, but
unsuccessfully, to interest the British Go-
vernment in favour of Italian freedom. He
remained at Milan till Mnrat declared war
against Austria; but, having then become
an object of suspicion to the Austrian Go-
vernment, he travelled into Switzerland, and
thence into Russia.
Foscolo at length came over to England,
where he obtained much literary distinction.
In the spring of J 823, he published a volume,
eniitled Essays on Petrarch. The book, in
fact, contains three essays, on the Love,
Poetry, and Character of Petrarch ; a Paral-
lel between Dante and Petrarch ; and seven,
illustrative Appendices, as follows: Speci-
mens of Petrarch's Latin Poetry; Specimens
of Greek Amatory Poetry, (in translation,)
from Sappho down to the Writers of the
Lower Empire; a Theory of Platonic Love,
by Lorenzo de Medici ; Comparative De-
scription of Woman's Beauty, according to
Platonic Ide»s, and the early Italian Poets ;
Petrarch's Unpublished Letters, in Italian ; a
Letter, in Latin, of Dante's, lately disco-
vered ; Translations from Petrarch, by Bar-
barina, Lady Dacre. As the production of
an Italian, the volume reflects high credit
upon the writer for the skill which he has
acquired in English composition. Here
and there, indeed, we meet with a fo-
reign idiom ; but, upon the whole, the style
is respectable, elevated, and worthy of the
subject. The parallel between Dante and
Petrarch, is a fine, a noble piece of criticism.
During his residence amongst us, Foscolo
wrote much on miscellaneous subjects ;
and contributed essays, criticisms, cfec. to
some of our most eminent periodical publi-
cations. Besides the works already men-
tioned, he is the author of a tragedy, entitled
Ricciarda ; a few odes, and some other
poems. He is said to have left seven books
of Homer translated, and an edition of
Dante is now in the bauds of a publisher.
The manners of Foscolo were very strik-
ing. In conversation and action he dis-
played a degree of vivacity and energy,
which, in our colder climate, and with our
more subdued feelings, seem to border on
restlessness and want of self-command.
The Countess Isabella Albrizzi, who knew
him well, has thus sketched his character :—
" A warm friend, clear as the mirror itself,
that never deceives, and never conceals.
Ever kind, generous, grateful; though his
virtues appear those of savage nature, when
IS27.]
Biographical Memoirs of Emiiw.nl Persons.
435
compared with the sophisticated reasoners of
our times, I think he would tear his heart
from his bosom, if he thought that a single
pretension was not the unconstrained and
free movement of bis soul."
Foscolo's memory was remarkably tena-
cious. A short time previously to his death,
which occurred on the 10th of September, lie
had, for the benefit of his health, retired to
the vicinity of London. For nearly two
years he had laboured under an organic
affection; and, before the disease reached
its climax, his sufferings were increased by
severe inflammatory attacks, which extended
to the liver, and terminated in a confirmed
dropsy. In a very reduced state, the opera-
tion of tapping, a second time performed
after a short interval, is thought to have
hastened his dissolution. His pecuniary
circumstances, it is feared, were not pros-
perous.
WILLIAM BLAKE.
William Blake, born about the year 1761,
was a very remarkable, and a very eccentric
character. He was brought up under Basire,
an eminent engraver ; but his exertions were
not confined to the burin. His designs, illus-
trating a quarto edition of Blair's Grave,
and ushered into the world by a preface from
the pen of the learned and severe Fusel i, are
well known. Fiaxman pointed out Blake
to an eminent literary man, as a melancholy
example of English apathy towards the
grand, the philosophic, or the enthusiasti-
cally devoted painter By Sir Thomas Law-
rence, too, whose judgment in art has never
yet been questioned, he was repeatedly em-
ployed ; notwithstanding which he existed
in a state of penury, which most artists —
creatures necessarily of a sensitive tempera-
ment— would deem intolerable. He has
been seen living, or rather vegetating, with
his affectionate wife, in a close back-room
in one of the courts of the Strand; his bed
in one corner, his meagre dinner in another ;
a ricketty table, holding his copper plates in
progress, his large drawings, sketches, tfoc.,
MSS., his colours, books, <fec. ; amongst
which bis Bible, a Sessi Vellutello's Dante,
and Mr. Carey's Translation, were at the
top. At this time his ancles were fright-
fully swelled, his chest was disorJered, old
age was striding on, and his wants were in-
creasing, but not the means of supplying
those wants. Yet his eye was undimmed,
the fire oi his imagination was unquenched,
the preternatural never-resting activity of
his mind was unflagging. He was calm, he
was cheerful, at times he was even mirthful.
At the age of 66, Mr. Blake commenced
the study of Italian, for the sake of reading
Dante in the original; and he succeeded in
the undertaking. At one period, if we mis-
take not, he was upon intimate terms with
John Varley, another eccentric, but highly-
gifled artist. In temper be was ardent, af-
fectionate, and grateful ; in manners and
address, simple, courteous, aud agreeable.
He died calmly and piously, like an infant
sinking into its last s'umber, on the 13th of
July. He has left milling behind, except
some pictures, copper-plates, and his prin-
cipal work — a series of a hundred large
designs from Dante.
THE EARL OF STIlADBROKE.
John Rons, Earl of Siradbroke, so created
on the JStbof July, 1821, derived his title
from Stradbroke or Stradhrook, a parish in
the county of Suffolk, in which his an-
cestors— the family of Le Rus, or Rous —
were established, and had property, as early
as the time of the Heptarchy. The Rons
family founded the priory at Woodbridge,
where many of them were buried ; and the
Le Rouses of Denuington, as well as all
others of the name, are descendants from the
Rouses of Stradbroke. Sir William Rous,
the immediate descendant of Peter Le Rons,
of Dennington, in (he reign of Edward III.,
was father of Sir Anthony Rous, who pur-
chased Henfaam-hall, in Suffolk, in the year
1545. His great grandson, Sir John Rons,
was father of Sir John, created a baronet in
the year 1660. Sir John, the fifth baronet,
and father of the late Earl, was one of llae
representatives of the county of Suffolk in
the year 1768. In 1749, he married Judith,
the daughter and sole heiress of John Beding-
fiel!, of Beeston, in the county of Norfolk.
By that lady, his only son and successor was
John, the late Earl of Stradbroke, who was
born in 1749 or 1750.
Sir John Rous, who succeeded his father
in the title and estates in the year 1771,
married first, in January, 1788, Frances Ju-
liana Warter, daughter of Edward Warter
Wilson, Esq., by whom he had a daughter,
married, in 1816, to Admiral Sir Henry Ho-
thum, K.C.B. Lady Rous dying in 1790,
Sir John formed a second matrimonial union,
in 1792, with Charlotte Maria, daughter of
A. Whittaker, Esq. Sir John was elevated
to the English peerage, by the title of Baron
Rous, of Dennington, in the county of Suf-
folk, on the Mth of June, 1796; and, in
July 1821, he was advanced to the titles of
Viscount Dunwich, and Earl of Stradbroke.
His lordship, who resided on his paternal
estate of Henham-hall, was warmly and de-
votedly attached through life to the Tory or
Pitt system of politics. Liberal, generous,
and benevolent, this nobleman, in every
relation of life— as husband, father, friend,
and landlord— was universally beloved ; and
long and deeply will his loss be fell. Lord
Stradbroke died at his house in Hertford-
street, May-fair, on the 17th of August; he
is succeeded by his eldest son, John Edward
Cornwallis Rous, Viscount Dunwich, now
Earl of Stradbroke. His lordship, who is a
captain in the army, was born in the year
1794.
Besides the son and daughter already men-
tioned, the late Karl has left a family of six
children : — Lady Charlotte Maria, married to
Nathaniel Micklethwuite, of Oustou-hall, in
3 K 2
436
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
[OCT.
the county of Norfolk, Esq.; Lord Wil iam
Rufus, who married Louisa, daughter of
James Hutch, of Clabery-ball, in the county
of Essex, Esq. ; Lady Louisa Maria Judith,
married to Spencer Horsey Kilderbee, Esq.,
of the county of Suffolk ; Lord Hugh An-
thony, Lord Thomas Manners, and Lord
Henry John, R.N.
THE BISHOP OF CARLISLE.
Dr. Samuel Goodenough, the late vene-
rable Bishop of Carlisle, was born about the
year 1741. His education was completed at
Christ's Church College, Oxford, where he
took his degree of A.M. in 1767, and of
L.L.D. in 1772. For several years he pre-
sided over an academy at Baling, where he
bad the honour of educating many of our
young nobility ; amongst others, the sons of
the late Duke of Portland. This appears
to have opened to him the path of cleri-
cal preferment. Through the interest of his
high and noble connexions he was appointed
Dean of Rochester; upon which he relin-
quished his scholastic establishment in fa-
vour of his son, by whom its reputation has
since been most ably sustained.
By the marriage of one of his brothers —
William Goodenough of Oxford, M.D.— in
1806, with Miss Anne Addington, sister of
Lord Sidmouth, Dr. Goodenough acquired
additional interest. When the See of Car-
lisle became vacant in the year 1 807, it was
offered to .Dr. Zouch ; but that gentleman
declined its acceptance, and Dr. Goodenough
was consequently elected under His Majesty's
cong6 d'e'.ire,
His lordship was, with Sir James Edward
Smith, the president, and the late Mr. Mar-
cham, one of the founders of the Linnaan
Society, of which for several years he was
one ol the vice-presidents. He was also a
Fellow of the Royal Society.
The venerable Bishop closed a long life of
pious labour and the most exemplary conduct
at Worthing. He was found dead in his
bed on the morning of Sunday the I 2lh of
August. On the Friday night following, his
remains arrived in town, at the house of his
son, Dr. Goodenough, in Little Dean's-yard,
Westminster ; and precisely at nine o'clock
on the ensuing morning, they were commit-
ted to the earth in the north cloister of the
Abbey. The procession was conducted in
the most private manner as follows: — The
lid of feathers, Abbey beadle, two vergers,
the prebendary, the Hon. and Rev. Mr.
Bentinck, supported by G. Vincent and H.
Gell, Esqrs. ; the body, followed by the chief
mourners, Dr. Goodenough, the Rev. Dr.
Edmund Goodenough, the Rev. Archdeacon
W. Goodenough, <fec., and his lordship's do-
mestic servants, followed by twelve alms-
men, two and two. The coffin was quite
plain, covered with black velvet. The fune-
ral service was performed by the Hon. and
Rev. Prebendary.
MR. FURLONG.
Thomas Furlong, a gentleman distin-
guished in Ireland by his poetical and lite-
rary talent, was born at a place called Seara-
walsh, within three miles of Enniscorthy, in
the county of Wexford, about the year 1797.
His father was a substantial farmer. Hav-
ing received a suitable education, the youth
was, at the age of fourteen, apprenticed to
a respectable trader in Dublin. His leisure
hours he successfully devoted to the study of
the belles lettres; and long before the expi-
ration of his apprenticeship, he had become
a contributor to various periodical publica-
tions in London and Dublin. His business,
however, was not neglected for verse-making.
He retained the friendship of his employer
through life ; and when that gentleman died,
Mr. Furlong commemorated his departure
in a poem entitled The Burial. In answer
to the reproofs of some of his non- literary
friends, he wrote a " Vindication of Poetry."
Mr. Jameson, a man of liberal views him-
self, was struck with his talents, and gave
him a confidential situation in his distillery.
Having now more leisure, he published The
Misanthrope, a didactic poem, and contri-
buted largely to one of the London Maga-
zines. In 1822, he projected The New Irish
Magazine ; and, The Morning Register,
started in 1825, received much valuable aid
from his pen. His reputation now stood so
high amongst the Irish literati, that, as a
lyric poet, his name was often coupled with,
that of Moore at convivial meetings.
Mr. Hardiman, author of the History of
Galway, efec., having projected the publica-
tion of The Remains of the Irish Bards, Mr,
Furlong undertook to translate the songs of
Caro!an. He successfully accomplished his
task. At the time of his death, which took
place at .his lodgings in Dublin on the 25th
of July, he had in the press a poem of some
length, entitled The Doom of Derenzio,
which, in its M.S. state, is said to have been
much admired by the late Rev. Mr. Maturin.
Though a severe satirist, Mr. Furlong was ^
man of inoffensive and amiable manners.
MONTHLY MEDICAL REPORT.
This is the season of the year when putrid disorders, as they are called, may be expected ;
when the solids of the body, that is to say, are relaxed by the long continuance of atmos-
pheric heat, and the fluids, from the same causes, disposed to putrescency. The effect of the
late hot and damp weather upon animal matter, deprived of life, has been abundantly obviou.s,
Partridges have been kept with difficulty even lor a few days ; aud the butchers have found
their meat tainted even within four-and-tweDty hours after being killed. That a condition
1287.] Monthly Medical Report. 437
of atmosphere, which operates thus prejudicially upon the dead animal fibre, should produce
some corresponding effect upon the living body, is surely not an unreasonable supposition ;
and, although the term putrid, a.« applied to diseases, involves a degree of theory which is
scarcely acknowledged as legitimate in modern times, still the facts that led to the opinion
of the prevalence of such maladies in the month of September, are undeniable. It cannot be
uninteresting to inquire what has been the extent, and what the kind of disorder which has
prevailed in London during the past month. The quantity of disease has been unusually
great. The applications for admission into the different hospitals and dispensaries, which
the reporter is occasionally in the habit of visiting, have considerably exceeded the general
average ; and with reference to severity, seldom has it occurred to him to witness so great
a variety of acute attacks.
Disorders of the abdominal viscera have certainly taken the lead, assuming the several
forms of spasmodic cholera, bilious diarrhoea, gastrodynia, and pyrosis, jaundice, &c. Several
very severe cases of inflammation of the liver have also fallen under the reporter's observa-
tion. The second class of complaints, which have been witnessed during the period now
under review are those of the head. A determination of blood to the bead has been a pre-
vailing feature in many of the cases of general disorder. Head-ache has been a symptom
frequently complained of. The most marked proof, however, of this fact may be found in
the recent occurrence of several cases of palsy, one of which the reporter is induced to notice
somewhat in detail, as it exhibits some phenomena not generally met with. A lady, between
fifty and sixty years of age, was suddenly, and without any adequate source of mental
emotion, seized with palsy of the right side. The power of speech was lost at the same
moment. The mental faculties, however, were apparently but little affected. She was
perfectly conscious of the assiduities of the friends around her. She took her nourishment
and her medicine with the greatest readiness. She made many efforts to assist herself ; the
power of the left side continuing unimpaired. No progress, however, was made towards the
recovery of speech, and the pupil of the eye became permanently contracted. On the fifth
day from the attack she died. On examination of the body, the ventricle of the brain, on
the side opposite to that of the palsy, was found completely distended with grumous or half
coagulated blood. It must certainly be considered as a wonderful circumstance, that con-
sciousness could have been preserved, even to within three hours of death, under such a
condition of the brain.
The third class of complaints which has lately prevailed, and which we can have no diffi-
culty in connecting with the hot and moist state of atmosphere, which has been present, more
or less, since the date of the last report, comprises the several varieties of rheumatism. Of all
the forms of this disorder, that which presses most heavily upon the patient, and gives the
most trouble to his medical attendant, is Sciatica, the rheumatism of the hip, and more
especially of the great sciatic nerve. A case of this kind, of more than common severity, is
still under the reporter's care ; and, as illustrating the danger of neglecting blood-letting in
the early stage of this disease, merits some notice. The subject of the case is an elderly
lady, who has always been much averse to the loss of blood, and who urgently entreated
that we should do the best we could for her without this resource. The progress of cure has
been exceedingly tedious, but it may serve to impress a salutary lesson.
The reporter cannot conclude without some allusion to the great severity observable in
such cases of small-pox as the metropolis now affords. There is not, perhaps, more of
the disease than is usually met with ; but in intensity, it considerably exceeds the average
of the earlier months of the year. The reporter hears with much regret, that persons are
to be found in London who propagate small-pox by indiscriminate inoculation. Of the
danger and even cruelty .of this practice, so far as the public is concerned, he is so well
convinced, that he almost considers it incumbent on the legislature to interfere more
directly in the matte.r than has hitherto been done. It can be made clearly to appear, that
small-pox inoculation is one of the instances (probably one of the very few instances)
in which private benefits become positive public evils ; and legislative interference is surely
justifiable under such circumstances.
GEORGE GREGORY, M.D,
8, Upper John Street, Golden Square, Sept. 24, 1S2T,
MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
IN the highest and northernmost parts of the Island, there is, in course, corn abroad yet,
and may be for a week or two to come ; but in the southern and most forward, white corn
was generally carried by the middle of August, and the bean harvest finished by the latter
end or soon alter. The crops may be characterised as follows : the bulk of them being
secured, and their quality and probable quantity ascertained with sufficient accuracy. The
different scale of production on different soils, is in this season curiously observable. Great
crops on the best soils, on middle lumls a middling good crop, ami on the poor soils, a poor crop,
438 Monthly Agricultural Report. [OcT.
yet productive: enough to clear the present season from the character of being n bad one.
We have, perhaps, not had such a barley year \vithin the last twenty. The acreable
quantity, on some fine and rich lands, is stated so high in certain of our letters, that we
ure really ufraid to repeat it. The barley crop is rich both in corn and straw, and the best
samples beautifully plump, bright, and weighty ; a small part, however, is stained by
exposure to the rains. Wheat, on the best soils, is considerably above an average crop,
on the whole, full an average, and (be qualify of the best samples excellent. Oats, where
they are best, are a good crop ; but it is a strange error which has appeared in some
quarters, to suppose oats, generally, a large crop. Oats and beans are considerably below
an average, but the general quality of the latter will be very good. Pease are a crop, and
fine in quality. Of Potatoes, there will be a supply fully equal to every possible demand,
the greater part of fine quality, a portion blighted, bard, and ill flavoured. The supply of
Straw will be generally ample ; that of hay more valuable for quality than bulk. Hops
have greatly exceeded early expectation, and more particularly in the vicinity of Farnham,
where perhaps the finest in the world are grown. In Kent, they speculate on two to three,
and five bags per acre ; where, also, the crop of Canary seed is great, and likely to
meet a ready sale and high price. Seeds, Clover, &c., generally, will prove an inferior
crop. Winter tares a failure, the Spring species reported promising, from some parts, from
others the direct reverse. In the great turnip districts, Norfolk, Suffolk, and others, there
will be abundance, and a greater breadth of the Swedish turnip than perhaps ever
before cultivated in England. On less fortunate soils, the root crops will be considerably
defective. MangoM-wurtzel, that most useful of roots, as far as regards quantity,
increasing yearly in culture, is a flourishing crop, its substantial foliage bidding defiance
to blight and fly. Fruit is in vast abundance, particularly the superior fruits and grapes ;
but the vicissitudes of the summer season reduced the quality of a considerable part of the
wall fruits. We noted in our last the remarkable failure of the Wheat and Potatoe crops,
in the Carse of Gowry, and the Lothians, the most fertile parts of North Britain. The
Wheat is said to be scarcely two thirds of an average crop, and much of it very indifferent
in quality. The sides of the ears which had a northern exposure are not half filled, and
some ears entirely barren — a true description of atmospheric blast. It is also represented as
standing equally thin on the ground as in the most unproductive seasons. Their Barley is
large, but the quality not fine. They estimate their Oats at above an average, with a large
bulk of straw. The same of pulse and turnips. The Irish crops may be nearly assimilated
with the English, as to Wheat and Barley being the most productive ; Oats, in Ireland, have
failed on the whole, much of that crop being blasted and smutted.
The rains, during the season of harvest, were universal, though heaviest and most
continuous in the far western counties. The intervals of fair and dry weather were also
equal, and somewhat regular. Had the farmer been endowed with prescience of this,
Corn would have received as little damage in harvesting during the late, as in any season,
probably, which has occurred. But that could not be ; modern farmers, however improved,
not being conjurors. The sudden scorching gleams of the sun were deceptive, and Corn
was supposed fit to be carried, which proved far short of that criterion, really wanting-
more time in the field ; though Barley was, in some few instances, cut and carried,
without damage, in the same day. The anxiety of the farmer, however, influenced by
the variable atmospheric character of the season, urged him to be too eager in taking-
time by the forelock, and to hurry forward building of ricks, which be could not possibly
get thatched with sufficient speed. The consequence is a considerable quantity of sprouted
and discoloured corn, much of which will be unfit to grind until late in the Spring.
Perhaps waiting the event, in this case, is the least risk of the two. The following gossip
in this relation, has been communicated to us by a correspondent. A farmer from a distant
county, was lately a guest at a market dinner. An inhabitant of the vicinity was boasting
of the fatherly care of Providence, in watching over his and his neighbour's crops ; for had
the rain continued one day longer, their Corn had been all damaged. On this, the stranger
shrewdly remarked, he had reason to wish that himself and his neighbours bad not been
forgotten, for, in their vicinity, the rain actually continued three or four days after the day
quoted, and, in consequence, half their Corn sprouted.
The report, correct or otherwise, is nearly general, that the stock of bread corn in the
country, was nearly exhausted before the new came to market ; with respect to Oats and
Beans, the fact is undeniable. Nevertheless, complaints are made of the importation of
Oats ; groundless, surely, since our own growth never affords a sufficient supply. In the
poor land districts, labourers' wages are declining, and the prospect of winter is b}r no
means cheering. There is one single distressing fact, which unfortunately sets at nought
all schemes for improving the situation of, at any rate, the present nice of agricultural
labourers — they are too numerous. The threshing machine is an eminent and useful exer-
tion of mechanic ingenuity; but it now becomes a question, whether its use ought not to
be suspended during the approaching winter, where labourers superabouncl. Happily for
the country, commerce is reviving, and the manufacturing operatives are fully eniplojcd in
every part, at wages on which they can live, independently of parochial assistance. Wheat
was advancing considerably, but the Mid:adn!;i: demand fur money has replenished the
1827.] Monthly Agricultural Report. 439
markets. There is no prospect of much variation in price, until the grand point at issue
shall be determined by the legislature, whether monopoly, or a free commerce in the staff
of life, shall prevail.
The early wheat seedsmen of the western coun'ies, were somewhat impeded by
drought ; but the showers since have caused the stubbles and all the lands to break up
admirably, and to make as fine a tilth, whether for wheat sowing, or Winter fallow, as
was ever witnessed. The lattermath too, and the root crops, have wonderfully improved,
with the never failing set-off against these last, the appearance of the worm and slug to
claim their share. Great preparations are making, westward, for that most profitable
husbandry, sowing Winter Barley, tares, and rye, as an early Spring resource for live
stock. The holders have come to a somewhat late determination to sell their Wool
at the market price, whatever that may be ; whence some movement in that branch. A
plan likely to turn to better account than keeping it for a pure British manufacture of
superfine cloth. Schemes of this kind may very well rank with the periodical, infallible,
and evanescent ones, of preventing the mischiefs to vegetation, of inclement seasons..
The country markets are well filled with stores of all kinds, the price generally looking
upwards since the great improvement in cattle food, from the change of weather. Pigs
bear a very high price, notwithstanding our considerable Irish imports ; and the acorn
harvest promises abundance. Pithing cattle is said to be gaining ground in the country,
instead of the savage and appalling practice of knocking them down, to the shame of the
metropolis. The importation of carthorses still continues — another example of our inability
to supply ourselves. Good saddle horses, and lew there are of that description, have risen
in demand and price, and will be dear in the Spring. Heavy losses of beasts and sheep
during the severity of the Winter season, in the northern parts of the island, are annually
reported.
Smithfield.—Bezf, 4s. 4d. to 5s. 2d — Mutton, 4s. 4d. to 5s. — Veal, 5s, to 5s. lOd. —
Pork, 5s. to 6s. lOd. -Lamb, 4s. 4d. to 5s. 2d.— Raw fat-
Corn Exchange.— Wheat, 50s. to 63s. — Barley, 30s. to 37s. — Oats, 20s. to 36s. —
Bread, 9|d. the 4 Ib. loaf.— Hay, 70s. to 110s.— Clover ditto, 85s. to 126s. — Straw,
30s. to 40s.
Coals in the Pool, 32s. to 39?. per chaldron ; about 12s. addition for cartage, &c.
Middlesex, Sept. 24, 1827.
MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.
— The stock of sugar is now 8,700 casks less than last year, but it is probable
this difference will decrease for the following two weeks ; and the stock from that period
up to the end of October, will shew a great falling off in the crop. The only bad appear-
ance in the sugar market, is the decrease in the weekly deliveries. The quantity last week,
compared with the same week in 1826, is 619 casks less. The number of vessels reported
at the Custom-house is very great : the average of the cargoes about 310 casks of sugar.
This morning the market opened heavily, and the whole purchase of the day did not exceed
300 hogsheads. The three public sales of Mauritius, 1,424 bags, sold with briskness. Dry
brown 64s. to 70s. ; for yellow, Barbadoes, 133 casks, at 66s. to 71s., a shade under the
late prices. — The refined market gave way about Is. to Is. 6d per cwt. last week. Low
lumps, which were 86s., to 83s. per cwt., and some forced sales, were reported below that
price. On fine goods there were few sales.
Coffee. — The quantity of coffee brought forward at public sale last week, was 985 casks,
1,196 bags; nearly the whole sold at previous prices; but we think the market was
more firm.
Hemp, Flax, and Tallow. — The letters from Petersburg are to the 1st instant. Exchange
10T7gd. per rouble. Tallow. 99 to 100 roubles. Hemp in demand, at our quotations.
Cotton. — The cotton market is heavy, and prices unaltered.
Rum, Brandy, and Hollands. —The purchases of rum are very considerable; under-
proofs sold at 2s. 4d.; Demerara, 3s. Oid. ; proof, 2s. 5d. to 2s. 6d. per gallon. The chief
purchases were in Leeward Island rums. Jamaica, 30 to 31s. Over 4s. to 4s. 2d. Brandy
is held, with firmness. In Hollands there is HO alteration.
Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 3.— Rotterdam, 12. 4.— Antwerp,
12. 4.— Hamburgh,^ 36. 16.— Altona, 36. 11.— Paris, 25. 65.— Bordeaux, 25. 65.—
Frankfort on the Main, 152. —Exchange, Petersburg, 10. — Vienna, 10. 6. — Lisbon, 48|>
—Cadiz, 35i.— Bilboa, 35^.— Barcelona, 34*.— Seville, 34i. — Leghorn, 48. — Gibraltar,
(hard dollar), 45. — Palermo, 115 per oz.-^-Rio, 48.— Lisbon, 48|. — Oporto, 48. — Bahia,
46.— Dublin, 1|._ Cork, U.— Calcutta, 22 to 22i— Bombay, 2 1 .—Madras, 20^ to 21.
440 Monthly Commercial Report.
Bullion per 0*.— Foreign Gold in bars, £3. 17s. 6d.~ New Dollars, 4s.9|d.
bars, standard 5s. 9*d.
[Ocr.
-Silver in
Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint- Stock Companies, at t/te Office of WOLFE,
BROTHERS, 23, Change 4 'ley, CornhilL— Birmingham CANAL, 305^.— Coventry, 1250/.—
Ellesmere and Chester, 107J. — Grand Junction, 31 1/. — Kennet and Avon, 29/.— Leeds
and Liverpool, 390/.— Oxford, 720?.— Regent's, 287. 10* —Trent and Mersey, 800/.
—Warwick and Birmingham, 290/.— London DOCKS, 87/. 5.9.— West-India, 206/. —
East London WATER WORKS, 123/.-— Grand Junction, 64^.— West Middlesex, 68/. —
Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE.— 1 dis. — Globe 15 If/.— Guardian, 21f/. —
Hope, £$/.— Imperial Fire, 97|/.— GAS-LIOHT, Westmin. Chartered Company, 551.— City
Gas-Light Company, 167^.— British, 14 dis.- Leeds, 195*.
ALPHABETICAL LIST OP BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 22d of August
and the 22d of September 1827 ; extracted from the London Gazette.
BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.
Ferryman, J. B. G. Cheltenham, brick-maker
Fox, G. R. Black-heath, merchant
Gregory, G. B. Lisson-grore, merchant
Hooton, R. and W. Wilkes, Birmingham, iron-
founders
Jackson, S. G. Loughborough, Leicestershire,
corn-merchant
Jackson. S. G. late of South Lynn, Norfolk, job-
ber
May, I. and I. Aluca, Deal, money-scriveners
Robbs, B. and W. S. Hellyer, Redbridge, South-
ampton, ship-builders
Younge, E. and J. Mundford, Norfolk, general-
shopkeepers
BANKRUPTCIES. [This Month 70.]
Solicitors' JVames are in Brackets.
Alexander, J. Coninsborough, Yorkshire, draper.
[Blakelock, Serjeant's-inn, Fleet-street; Bron-
son, Sheffield
Braithwaite, I. Leeds, ironmonger. [Clarke and
Co., Chancery-lane ; Tyndall and Co., Birming-
ham
Bray, W. Redrnth, Cornwall, saddler. [Edmonds,
jun., Redruth ; Price, Lincoln's-inn
Bugby, J. Pall-Mali East, St. James's, bill-brokei .
[Hubert, Clement's-inn-chambers
Buckley, J. New Bain, Saddleworth, Yorkshire,
clothier. [Brown, Oldham ; Brundrett and Co.,
Temple
Bayley, P. Cheddar, Somersetshire. ]Daniel,
Bristol ; Pearson, Pump-court, Temple
Beecheno, R. Stamford, jeweller. [Fladgate and
Co., Essex-street : Jackson, Stamford
Rrick, W. and J. Hampson, Manchester, grocer.
[Smith, Manchester ; Copes and Co., Raymond-
buildings, Gray's-inn
Birch, S. Manchester, grocer. [Willis and Co.,
Tokenhouse-yard ; Whitlow, Manchester
Blakie, J. Oxford- street, haberdasher. [Shaw,
Ely-place
Clegg, I. T. Mather, jun., and R. Pringle. Etna
Iron Works, West Derby, founder?. [Lowe,
Southampton-buildings, Chancery-lane ; Orred
and Co., Liverpool
Cartledge, S. and J. Lincoln, merchants. [Ridout,
Great RuBsell-strect, Bloomsbury ; Moore, Lin-
coln
Cartmel, R. Penrith, Cumberland, gun-smith.
Lacon, Liverpool ; Adlington and Co., Bedford-
row
Dangerfield, G. late of Bromyard, Herefordshire,
apothecary. [Tomes, Lincoln's-inn-nelds ; Ho-
well, Bromyard
Ebsworth, H. J. and W. Badham, Nun's-court,
Coleman-strect, wool-brokers. [Fisher and Co.,
Walbrook-buildings, Walbrook
Emmmott, R. Stroud, Kent, horse-dealer. [Wil-
liams and Co., Gray's-inn
Fearn, G. Nottingham, dealer in shoes. [Hamilton
and Co./ravistock-row, Covent-gnrden
Fletcher, J. Ashton under- Lyne.'victnaller. [Clarke
and Co., Chancery-lane ; Higginbottom, Ashton-
under- Lyne
Ferns, T. Manchester, merchant. [Perkins and
Co., Gray's-inn-square, London ; Lewtas, Man-
chester ; Lingard and Co., Heaton N orris
Fewster, J. Knaresborough, tallow-chandler. [An-
derson, York ; Lever, Gray's-inn-spuare
Goodwin, W. Blandford-forum, Dorsetshire, vic-
tualler. [Moore, Blandford ; Haywood, Tem-
ple
Goodman, H. Kidderminster, Worcestershire, car-
pet n.auufacturer. [Dangerfield, Craven-street,
Strand : Brinton, Kidderminster
Gleave, P. Heaton N orris, Lancashire, victualler.
[Bower, Chancery-lane; Worthington, Cheadle,
and Stockport-street, Slockport
Grimston, R. and G. Wilkinson, Preston - lane,
corn-dealers [Perkins and Go., Gray's - inn-
square, Noble, Preston.
Hill, W. Cheltenham, victualler. [Packwood, Chel-
tenham ; King, Hatton-garden
Hilton, G. and R. Manchester, merchants. [Hurd
and Co-, Temple ; Lerlden, Manchester
Halford, T. Coventry, cabinet-maker. [Carter and
Co., Coventry
Hughes, R. Carmarthen, ironmonger. [Jones,
Carmarthen ; Clark and Co., Chancery-lane
Hayes, W. and T. Torquay, Devonshire, linen-
drapers. [Adlington and Co., Bedford -row;
Furlong, Exeter
Heaton, L. — Heaton, Lancashire, cotton-manu-
facturers. [Barker, Gray's-inn-square ; Wood-
house, Bolton-le- Moors
Haxbey, T. and J. Winterbottom, Barnsley, York-
shire, bleachers, [Walker, Lincoln's-inn-fields ;
Clough and Co., Barnsley
Homwood, T. Canterbury, baker. [Farris, Can-
terbury ; Price, Adam-street, Adelphi
Holland, I. and E. Leicester, grocers. [Crowder
and Co. Lothbury ; Walter and Co., Cheltenham
Hayes, M. and M. A. Twickenham, schoolmis-
tresses. [Winter, Lincoln's-inn fields
Haseldcn W. Liverpool, shipbuilder. [William-
son, Liverpool ; Hearsey, Lothbury
Hagarty, J. Liverpool, merchaut. [Taylor and
Co., Temple ; Lace and Co., Liverpool
Ham, W. West Coker, Somersetshire, common-
brewer. [Nethersole and Co., Essex - street,
Strand ; Tilby, Devizes, Wilts
Hallett, H. Albcrmarle-street, Piccadilly, tailor.
Matanle, Bond-court, Walbrook
Hopkins, W. Oxford, coach-maker. [Burgoyne
and Co., Duke-street. Manchester-squaj-e
Ivens, M. Combfields, Warwickshire, slieep-sales-
man. [Long and Co., Gray's -inn. London;
Troughton and Co., Coventry
Kerby, E. Stafford-street, Bond-street, bookseller.
[Saul, Surrey-street, Strand
Lake, G. Heaton Norris, Lancashire, bat-manu-
facturer. [Tyler, Pump-court, Temple ; Lin-
gard and Co., Heaton Norris
Low, A. C. late of Mark -lane, merchant. [Hawkes ,
Holborn-court, Gray's-inn-square
1827.]
Bankrupts.
441
Lock-wood, J.Wakeficld, Yorkshire, maltster. [Tay
lor, Wakelield ; Scott, Princes-street, Bedford-
row
Miller, J. Cummersdale, Toll Bar Gate, Cumber-
land, innkeeper. [Birkett and Co., Cloak-lane ;
Blow and Co., Carlisle
Milligan, J. Nottingham - place, Stepney, linen-
draper. [Norris and Co., John-street, Bedford-
row ; Creudson, Wigan
May, E. Maryland-point, Westham, Essex, gar-
dener. [North and Co., King's-bench-walk,
Temple : Dacre, Halford, Essex
Morgan, D. Civen Coedy Cymmer, Breconshire,
shopkeeper. [Holme and Co., New-inn, Lon-
don ; Williams and Co., Cardiff
Parsons, W. Vauxhall-bridge-road, coal-merchant.
[Williams, Alfred-place, Bedford-square
Pain, J. Paulton, Somersetshire, brewer. [Blake,
Palsgrave-place, Temple-bar; Mullins, Chevv-
Magna, Somersetshire
Rothwell, W. Liverpool, merchant. [Maudsley,
Liverpool; Adlington and Co., Bedford-row
Robinson, E. ^tokesley, York, grocer. [Anderson,
York ; Lever, Gray's-inn-square
Robinson, H. Adam's-row, Hampstead-road, glass-
paper-manufacturer. [Gee, New North-street,
Red-lion-square
Rogers, R. Catcaton-street, bookseller. [Brough,
Shored itch
Robinson, T. Crawford- street, linen-draper.
[Jones, Sise-lane
Robson, R. Hanley, Staffordshire, grocer. [Wheeler
and Co., John street, Bedford-row ; Dent, Han-
ley, Staffordshire
Riding, B. Liverpool, flour-dealer. [Norris and
Co., John Street, Bedford-row ; Toulmin, Liver-
pool
Smith, H. W. Lawrence Poultney-placc, merchant.
[Lane, Lawrence Poultney- place
Selway, H. Leigh-upon-Mendip, Somersetshire,
baker. [Hartley, New Bridge - street, Black-
friars; Millan.Frome
Stratford, J. Clartres-street, Piccadilly, surgeon.
[ Price, Adam-street, Adelphi
Scott, G. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, hatter. [Lowry
and Co., Pinner's-hall-court, Broad-street ; Low-
ry, North Shields
Smith, J. Stafford, innkeeper. [Morecioft, Liver-
pool ; Chester, Staple-inn
.Silburn.T. L. and H. R. Richardson, Manchester,
booksellers. [Casson, Manchester ; Milne and
Co., Tantield-court, Temple
Smalridge, M. and G. N. Smalridge, Exeter, dealers
in China. [Furlong, Exeter ; Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row
Tibbatts, R.Gloucester, oil-merchant. [Clarke and
Co., Chancery-lane ; Collins, Led bury
Timothy, A. and M. Stuart, Regent-street, milli-
ners. [Penard, Suffolk-street, Pall-mall-east
Wilelrton, R. NewBolingbrooke, Lincolnshire, car-
penter. [Eyre and Co., Gray's-inn ; Selwood,
Horncastle
Wakefield, W. H, Villiers-street, Strand, coal-
merchant. [Farden, New-inn
Wapshott, R., late of Drury-lane, victualler. [Mil-
ler, Great James's-street, Bedford-row
Whitehead, W. Minchinhampton, Gloucestershire,
trader. [Prince, Cheltenham ; King, Serjeant's-
inn
ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.
Rev. C. Haycock, to the Rectory of Withcott,
and Perpetual Curacy of Owston, Leicester. — Rev.
S. Cooper, to the Rectory of Wood-walton, Hunting-
don —Rev. E. J. Bell, to the Vicarage of Wickham
Market, Suffolk.— Rev. G. B. Blomfield, to a Pre-
bend Stall, Chester Cathedral.— Rev. T. Wise, to
the Rectory of Barley, Herts.— Rev. R. Watkin-
son, to the Rectory of St. Lawrence Newland,
Essex.— Rev. W. J. Blake, to the Rectory of
Hautbois Magna, Norfolk.— Rev. J. Simons, to
the Vicarage of Dymock, Worcester. — Rev. D. F.
Markham, to be Prebendary of St.George,Windsor
Castle.— Rev. H. T. Jones, to the Vicarage of
Charlbury, Oxford. — Rev. J. Armstrong, to the
Perpetual Curacy of Westhoe Chapel, South Shields.
—Rev. W. Webster, to the Perpetual Curacy of
Preen, Salop. — Rev. J. Luxmore, to the Vicarage
of Berriew, Montgomeryshire. — Rev. T. J. Abbott*
to the Vicarage of Loddon, Cambridge. — Rev. A.
Cornwall, to the Vicarage of Newington Bag-
shott, with Owlpen Chapel annexed, Gloucester. —
Rev. E. Willes, to the Vicarage of Ampney Crucis,
Gloucester.— Rev. T. F. Penrose.to the Vicarage of
Radcliffc-upon-Trent, Notts.— Rev. C. H. Minchin,
to be Prebend of Kilgobinet, Lismore. — Rev.L. Le-
wellin, to a Prehendal Stall in St. David's.—
Rev. A. A. Colville, to the Vicarage of Midsum-
mer-Norton, Somerset. — Rev. W. Pughe, to the
Rectory of Mallwyd.— Rev. G. Griffiths, to the
Vicarage of Llangwm. — Rev. T. Thoresby, to
the Vicarage of St. Harmon's (Radnor), and
Llanwrthwl (Brecon).— Rev. E. James, to a Pre-
bendal Stall in Llandaff Cathedral— Rev. E. Wil-
les, to the Rectory of Stratton, Gloucester.— Rev.
M. Fielding, to the Curacy of St. Andrew Auck-
land, with the Chapelry of St. Ann's, Bishop Auck-
land, annexed.— Rev. G.Mingay is appointed Do-
mestic Chaplain to the Duke of Portland. — Rev.
E.Jacob, to the Rectory of St. Pancras, Chichcs-
ter. — Rev. J. Shirley, to the Rectory of Antingham,
St. Mary, Norfolk.— Rev. C. J. Hutton, to the En-
dowed Episcopal Chapel, at Chalford, Gloucester.
—Rev. J.Williams, to the Rectory of St. Andrew's,
Glamorgan.— Rev. G. Hough, to the incumbency
of St. Peter's Church, Earlsheaton, York.— Rev.
H. C. Cherry, to the Rectory of Burghfield, Berks.
—Rev. M. Howe, to the rectory of St. Pancras.—
Rev. M. Wyatt, to the perpetual Curacy of St.
Giles, Durham— Rev. A. Dallas, to the Vicarage
of Yardley, Herts.
POLITICAL APPOINTMENTS.
Right Hon. W. Huskisson, one of His Majesty's
Principal Secretaries of State.— Right Hon. C.
Grant, President of Trade and Plantations, and
Gower retiring.— Earl of Fife, one of the Lords of
the Bedchamber.— Mr. Stanley, member for Pres-
ton, Under Secretary for the Colonies.— Earl of
P****J *VI V*IC *- tMuiiifa.— Xli H 11 Ol
Treasurer of the Navy .-Right Hon. J. C. Berries, Darlington.Marquess of Cltveland.-Lord Clinton,
Chancellor, Under Treasurer of the Exchequer,
and one of the Lords of the Treasury, Lord L.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 22.
to be one of the Lords of the Bedchamber.
3L
[ 442 ] [OcT.
INCIDENTS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS, TN AND NEAR LONDON, ETC.
CHRONOLOGY.
August 21.— A powder mill blew upon Hounslow
Heath, to which two of the men fell a sacrifice.
— Total amount of stock at present standing in
the names of the Commissioners on behalf of
Savings' Banks is .£7,833,359 three per cents., and
.£6,903,229 three and a half per cents.
27.— One criminal executed at the Old Bailey,
for a highway robbery.
— H.R.H. the Duke of Clarence sworn in Lord
High Steward of Windsor, when a grand entertain-
ment was given on the occasion by the mayor and
corporation of that borough.
September 6.- The Lord High Admiral presented
Earl Northesk with an elegant sword, in appro-
bation of fhe regulations adopted for the reception
of H.R.H. at his recent official visit to Plymouth,
7.— Exhumation at St. Martin's Church-yard
commenced, preparatory to the improvements on
the north side of the Strand.
9. H.M's. shipMaidstone arrived at Portsmouth,
from Africa, with the intelligence that the Ashan-
tees evince a disposition to conclude a treaty of
peace with the English.
12.— Talacre Hall, Flintshire, destroyed by fire ;
.£70,000 had been recently spent in its erection.
13. — The sessions commenced at the Old Bailey;
the calendar announcing 457 prisoners for trial.
17.— Mary Wittenback executed at the Old Bai-
ley for the murder of her husband.
— Mr. Owen gave an account of the proceed-
ings of his Society in America, at the Co-operative
Society, Red-lion-square.
21.— H.R. H. the Lord High Admiral arrived at
Chatham, and inspected the dock -yard, marines,
&c. ; and
22.— The George the Fourth, of 120 guns, was
launched in presence of H. R. H. and the Duchess
of Clarence, who christened it. This is the largest
ship ever launched in England.
— The sessions at the Old Bailey ended, when
39 prisoners were condemned to death; 156 were
transported, and 143 ordered for imprisonment!!!
MARRIAGES.
At Mary-le-bone, Rev. P. Still, to Miss Aime
Hughs.— C. Heneage, esq.-, nephew of Lord Yar-
borough.to Louisa,third daughter of Lord Greaves,
and niece to the Marquis of Anglesea— At Little
Pardon, J. Bland, esq., to Miss M. Hemming.— At
St. James's Church, E. L. Bulwer, esq., to Miss
Wheeler.— Captain G. Todd, 3d Dragoon Guards,
to Mary Jane, daughter of Sir Egerton Brydges,
Bart.— At St. James's, P. Burgess, esq., to Miss
€.C. Green, second daughter of Major C. Green.—
At Marylebone, D. Maclean, esq., second son of
Lieut.-Gen. Sir F. Maclean, bart., to Harriet,
daughter of General Maitland.— At Lambeth, H.
B.Leeson, esq., to Miss Sutton.— At St. George's,
Hanover-square, Hubert de Burgh, esq., to Mari-
anne, daughter of Admiral and Lady E.Tolle-
mache.— J.C.Colquhoun, esq., to the Hon. Henrietta
Maria Powys, eldest daughter of the late Lord
Lilford.
DEATHS.
In Hertford-street, May Fair, John, Earl of
Stradbroke, 78.— In New Milman-street, R. Bick-
nell, esq., 81. — Jane Gordon, youngest daughter of
Sir Murray Maxwell.— In Torrington-square, R.
Orme, esq., late clerk of the crown, at Madras. —
Mary, wife of Mr. Alderman Waithman, M.P.— At
Hammersmith, Lord Archibald Hamilton, brother
to the Duke of Hamilton. — At East Ham, the Rev.
Dr.Honltain, 80, 50 years Vicar of East Ham.—
J. Germes, esq,, many years secretary to Lord Ex-
mouth. — Mr. Bampton, of Salisbury-square. — B.
Follet, esq., 78, Inner Temple. — In Upper Ber-
keley-street, Mrs. C. Drummond, 83. — In Ludgate-
street, J. Mawman, esq., 67. — At Kensington Gore,
J. Mair, esq., 84.— Mr. John Beard, 78, late of
Chelsea Hospital. — Amabel, youngest daughter of
Lord Grantham. — In King-street, Portman-square,
Jacqueline Charlotte, Countess de Hompesch. — S.
Hough, esq., 86, of Tavistock- street.— Ugo Foscolo,
an Italian gentleman, well known to the whole
circle of English literati'.— At Netting Hill, Mrs.
Vade, daughter of the Hon. R.Walpole, brother to
the first Earl of Orford.— The Right Hon. Nicholas
Lord Viscount Bangor, in the 7Sthyear of his age.
MARRIAGES ABROAD.
At Paris, at the English Ambassador's chapel, J.
Rayment, esq., to Miss Letitia Winifred Hauten.
—At Florence, Mile. Henriette Guynemer, to the
Chevalier Carlo du Tremoull, of Pisa.
DEATHS ABROAD.
At Paris, M.Manuel, the distinguished liberal,
who was expelled from the Chamber of Deputies.
— At Cambray, Miss Boden. — At Jamaica, Rev.
Dr. Towton, and Mary Bridge, 111 ; she retained
her faculties to the last, seeing her fourth gene-
ration ; Rev. H. Jenkins (on ship board), returning
from Jamaica. — In Paris, W. Young, esq., secretary
to the Lords Commissioners for Redemption of the
Land Tax. — At Chandernagore, M. Lewis, esq.,
brother to Admiral Lewis. — At Santarem, Portu-
gal, Capt. E. Hill, 63d regt.— At Chatillon-sur-
Loire, Sir A. Bellingham, bart.
MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES;
WITH THE MARRIAGES AND DEATHS.
NORTHUMBERLAND AND DURHAM.
We feel much pleasure in being able to state,
that the wool-combers of Darlington and Bishop-
Auckland are in full employment, with a small ad-
vance of wages.
The two east wings of Sunderland barracks are
pulled down ; and, although it is about thirty years
1827.]
Northumberland, Durham, Cumberland, fyc.
443
since they were built, the timber is nearly us fresh
as when first put together.
- The first stone of a new poor-house was laid at
Bishopwearmouth on the 30th ult.
Mr. II. Irwin, gardener, at Hexham, lately pur-
chased a horse, which died on the 30th of August.
It was dissected, and in the body not less than
twenty stones were discovered in a layer of tine
sand, varying in weight from one pound to half an
ounce, and weighing together six pounds five
ounces. There appears no doubt, but the stones
were formed in the body of the horse, and they
were so placed in reference , to each other, that, on
the least motion of the animal, they must have
moved simultaneously, and the friction thus pro-
duced, gave them a varietv of singular shapes.
A trial has been made, in a steam-boat upon the
Tyne, of a new rotatory steam-engine, for which a
patent has been taken out by Mr. Galloway, en-
gineer, of Newcastle. It answered very well.
Married.'] At Durham, G. Goldie, esq., to Miss
M. A. Bonomi.— At Bowness, Mr. Thompson, to
Miss Faulder. — At Cockermouth, Mr. Sawyer, to
time is saved, inasmuch that the inhabitants of
Dewsbury and neighbourhood now receive their
letters from town thirteen hours earlier than they
used to do.
At Knaresborough trade is still very bad, and
there are no less than 400 empty houses in that
small and seemingly decaying place.
The Archbishop has consecrated two new
churches ; one at Boothroyd, the other at Earls-
heaton. Collections on two Sundays were made
at Huddersfield for Ramsden Chapel, the first pro-
duce .£210, the second .£194— total .£404! ! 1
The exhibition of the Bradford Artists' Society of
Painting and Sculpture was opened Sept. 18.
A nightly delivery of the mails commenced at
Leeds, Sept. 17, by which means the inhabitants
will receive their letters several hours earlier than
usual.
The receipts taken at the Selby musical festival
have left a balance in the hands of the managers
for the benefit of the charities of that town.
At Doncaster races 26 horses started for the
SE££^^.W^!£S^-% G-'StLege,. s,»tes; a, the, advanced ,o ,h.
to Miss Milburn.— At Barnard Castle, Mr. Charles
Raine, to Miss Mary Hedley.— At Bishop Auck-
land, Mr. C. Winter, to Miss Jfi. Errington.
Died.] At Newcastle, Mr. H.Brodie, 85; Cathe-
rine, 66, relict of Rear Admiral Charlton ; Mr.
Fountain, 78.— At Gateshead Low Fell, J. Smith,
96.— At South Shields, Mrs. E. Steel, 87, and Mr.
C. Dixon, 89,-At Whalton, W. Hepple, esq., of
Blackheddon ; in less than seven months Mr. H.,
his sister, and five other relations, have pursued
each other to the tomb.— At Durham, Mr. Paul
Edgar, 85 ; Mrs. Martha Milner.— At Norton, Mr.
Charles Tatham. — At Tillington, Mr. John Clen-
nell.— At Newcastle, John Fox, Esq.
CUMBERLAND AND WESTMORELAND
The fifth annual exhibition of pictures has been
opened at the Academy of Arts, at Carlisle. j
Married.'} At Carlisle, G. G. Morensey, to Miss
J. Heysham. — At Whitehaven, Mr. Layburn, to
Miss Magee.— At Kendal, Mr. Medcalf, to Miss J.
de Lambert.
Died.'] At Wheelbarrow Hall, MSssE. Earl.— At
Whitehaven, Mrs. Sallaney, 72 ; Mr. Nicholson,
70.— T. Wybergh, esq., 71, of Isel Hall.
YORKSHIRE.
A very numerous meeting of the inhabitants of
Brightside Bierlow, has lately been held for the
purpose of uniting that village with Attercliffe, in
the expenses incurred in the erecting a new church
and other ecclesiastical dues ; when it was resolved
to memorialize the commissioners for building new
churches to the contrary.
The branch bank at Leeds has commenced opera-
tions upon the same principles as the Bank of Eng-
land ; discount 4 per cent., and bills at 21 days are
given for cash, but no interest allowed for de-
posits ; dividends from the public funds paid free
of all expense except postage.
The Dean of York has resolved to take down the
Deanery, and to erect thereon a grammar school
or college, at which youth may be educated suffi-
ciently for ordination for the church.
A subscription has been entered into at Rother-
ham for building a New Dispensary, the old one
being totally inadequate for the purpose.
An important change has taken place in the
post-office of this county, by which considerable
rising ground the bright colours of the riders ap-
peared like visions gliding on the verge of the
course. The Hon. E. Petre's Matilda was the
winner— the subscribers were 90, at 25 sovereigns
each : 30,000 persons attended, whose conduct
was highly respectable ; all seemed well clothed,
well fed, and happy. .£2,000 were taken at the
grand stand for admission. Penury and poverty
seemed banished for once ! Would it were always
80 I
Hull and several other parts of Yorkshire,
were, in the latter end of August, visited by a
number of those red little insects, so well-known
by the name of cow-ladies. They are supposed to
have been brought in steam-boats from the
south.
York can at present boast of more improvements
carrying on than perhaps any town in the king-
dom. A new museum is building on the Manor
Shore ; a new Deanery in the Minster Yard ; »
new cattle market is nearly completed ; altera-
tions and improvements are carrying on, upon a
very extensive scale, at the castle and city jail;
Michellgate-bar and Fishergate-postern will be
much improved, by the repairs, &c., now making ;
added to which various public and private im-
provements are in progress in various parts of the
city. . -
\ Great interest has lately been excited in
York by the discoveries made by the workmen
who were employed to lay the foundation of a new
museum, to be erected on the Manor Shore. Walls
have been uncovered — and apartments exposed,
that had long been buried in the earth ; and several
articles for ornament or use in other days, have
been turned up with the rubbish.
A dispute exists between the local preachers and
superintendents of the Methodists at Leeds, and the
Conference, about erecting an organ in Brunswick-
chapel there. The Conference, on the petition of
the people, have decided that one shall be erected ;
the preachers are against it.
The town of Leeds is rapidly improving. A
large market is nearly finished in the centre of the
town ; a new corn exchange is building, the first
3 L 2
444 Provincial Occurrences i Stafford, Salop, Cheshire,
[OcT.
»tone of the south elevation of which was laid on
the 2Sth of August, by Mr. John Cawood ; a fine
range of buildings, to be called the Commercial
Buildings, are also erecting.
A musfcroom, measuring twenty-eight inches in
circumference, and weighing twelve ounces, was
gathered at Gawood.
On the 3d of September Doncaster was lighted
up with gas for the first time.
A number of fragments of the horns of deer were
dug up in a street in York, a few weeks back ;
some in very fine preservation.
Married. J At Barwick-in-Elmet, R. Bramley,
csq., to Miss Eliza Skelton.— At Sheffield, S. Smith,
esq., third son of VV, Smith, esq., M.P. for Nor-
wich, to Miss Shone, of Tapton.— Rev. D. Mark-
ham. Vicar of Stillingfleet to Catherine, daughter
of Sir W. M.lner, bart.-At Sheffield, Rev. J. B.
Brownell, to Miss M. Major ; the same day they
departed for New Providence as missionaries. — At
Doncaster, Rev. R. H. Formby, to Miss Harriet
Peel.— At Leeds, Mr. H. Rogers to Miss E. Crow-
der— At Handsworth, J. Simpson, Esq., M.D., to
Miss Ward.— At Ripon, C. H. Schwanfeldor, esq.,
to Miss King.— At Pontefract, the Rev. William
Birch, A.M., to Miss Jefterson.— At Horbury, W.
W. Battye, esq.. to Miss Scholefield.— AtKnares-
borough, William Wailes, esq., to Miss Wailes.— At
York, Mr. Scott, to Miss Armitage.— At Scar-
borough, the Rev. C. Jobnstone, to Miss Hawks-
worth.— At Richmond, the Rer. T. Marshall, to
Miss Whitelocke.
Died."} Mr. Whittaker, late teacher, at Bever-
ley ; as an arithmetician he was almost unrivalled ;
his memory was astonishing, having been known
to repeat 6,000 lines of poetry without an error.
— At Howden, R. Spofforth, esq. — At Sklpton,
Mrs.Wheelhouse, 90.— Mr. Rust, of Hull, author of
"The Swearers' Prayer." — Near Hallifax, T.
Dyson, esq., 83 ; he left 1/0 full suits of mourning
to his poor neighbours I— At Doncaster, Mrs. M.
King, 92.— At Sheffield, Mr. T. Gray.— At York,
Mr?. Overton— At Marham, Mr. T. Bunell.— At
Leeds, William Davy, Esq.— At Hull, William
Horncastle, Esq.— At Wakelield, Mrs. Bacon.
STAFFORD AND SALOP.
At a late meeting of the teachers and friends of
St. Chad's Boys' Sunday School, Shrewsbury, it
* as resolved to establish a " Relief Fund," having
for its object the temporary relief of the scholars
when in a state of indisposition and distress.
According to the Report of the Parliamentary
Commissioners on the state of the Public Charities,
it appears that in one of them in the county of
Salop, there ar« arrears now due to the poor for
upwards of forty-two years 1 ! ! We trust that a II
the provincial newspapers will extract from these
reports as they are published what relates to their
local interests, that the public, seeing the enormity
of these time-crusted dilapidations, may seek the
means of employing to the original purposes of the
pious donors no less a sum than .£9/2,396 annually
to England only.
The Anniversary of the Shropshire Society, in
aid of the Sunday School Society for Ireland, has
been held at the Town-hall, Shrewsbury, the Earl
of Roden in the chair, when a flattering report was
made. " The Society," said the noble chairman,
" knows no party, it comprehends all sects, and its
benefits are not confined to the poor only. I my-
self, as a Sunday School teacher, have received the
highest benefits from it."
Married.] At Morton Say, Mr. J. Hazledine^to
Miss Rhoda Brayne.— At Easthope, Rev. R. L.
Benson, to Miss Amelia Dyer, grand-daughter of
Lieut.-Gen. Sir G.S.Browne.— AtLichficld, H.Chet-
wynd, esq., youngest son of the late Sir G. Chet-
wynd,hart.,to Miss M.A. Petit.
Died'] At Pipe-gate, 70, Mr. Latham.— Aug. 5,
Mrs. Charlesworth, Woodlands (Stafford); Aug. 1*,
Mr. Charlesworth; and Aug 18, Mr. C. Charles-
worth, their son.— At Wolvcrhanipton,84,R. Dick-
inson, esq. ; 73, J. Mander, esq.— At Linlay-hall,
A. Malo, esq.— At Market Drayton, within the
same week, 20, Miss Ann Bradbury; and her sis-
ter.Miss Eliza, 25, of typhus fever.— At Sandon-hall,
Granville Henry, infant son of Viscount Ebring-
ton.— At Wenlock, 96, Mr. Patten.— Near Eccles-
hall, 85. J. Faulkner, esq.— At Pool-hall, 70, Mr.
Latham.
CHESHIRE.
Married.] At Prestbury, N. Pearson, esq., to
Miss M. Milner.
Died A 71, Rev. T. Ward, prebendary of Ches-
ter.—At Holt-hill, 77, Rev. J. Shewell.
LANCASHIRE.
A meeting of the lay-payers of Chorley was
lately held, when the rate of 9d. in the pound, to-
wards defraying the expenses of the new churches,
being proposed, was totally disallowed.
At Blackburn Vestry Meeting, it was resolved,
that the attempt to impose a perpetual tax for
lighting and airing the parish church was inexpe-
dient, and in the present circum stances of the work-
ing classes, cruel in the extreme.— The Poors' Rate
for the ensuing quarter, at Blackburn, as allowed
by the magistrates, is 9d. in the pound — that of last
year was 2s 6d.!l!
A meeting of the working classes and others of
Manchester, was held August 8, and adjourned to
Augut-t 29, when several resolutions were entered
into, and embodied in a petition to be presented to
His Majesty, expressing their approbation of the
firm and decisive manner in which H. M. lately
exercised his prerogative ; and complaining, as the
cause of their late severe distress of an unjust
monopoly of the land by the Crown, the Church,
and the Aristocracy generally, which can only be
remedied by a complete representation of the peo-
ple in Parliament.
At a meeting of the inhabitants held in the Town
Hall, at Liverpool, it was resolved to erect a monu-
ment to the memory of the late Right Hon. George
Canning, by public subscription, and a committee
was formed ior that purpose.
Lancaster Assizes have exhibited crimes of great
enormity — a husband has been found guilty of mur-
dering his wife, and executed for the offence ; a
daughter has been tried on a charge of murdering
her father by poison, and very narrowly escaped ;
the trial for poisoning her mother having been de-
ferred 1iil the next assizes. A desperate gang of
robbers, the terror of that wild part of the country
which was exposed to their depredations, have been
convicted of crimes little short of murder ; and a
father and two of his sons sentenced to be executed,
without any hope of mercy having been held out
to them, for these offences.
Married.'} At Rochdale, Capt. W. Hepwortb,
to Miss Mary Crossley.— At Ripon, C. H. Schwan-
felder,esq.,to Miss King.— At Bury, J. Shearson,
esq., to Miss Anne Kay.
Died.'} At Bolton, 82, Mr. B. Hamer.— Rev. J.
Allonby,36 years incumbent minister of Cartn.ell-
fell. — At Leeds, W. Davy, esq., Consul of the
United States of America for Hull and its depen-
dencies ; Mrs. J. Barker, after an afflictive con-
finement of 35 years 1—76, Mr. C.Wheeler, original
proprietor of the Manchester Chronicle. — At Li-
verpool, J. B. Hollinshead. csq,, alderman of that
town.
1827.] Derby, Nottingham^ Leicester, Rutland, Warwick, $c. 445
DERBY AND NOTTINGHAM.
August 29, an Infant School was opened
at Nottingham, under the auspices of the Esta-
blished Church. The ceremony was attended by the
first families of the town and neighbourhood. —
After the little scholars had been marshalled in
due order, Mr. Wilderspin addressed the audience,
informing them, " That 19,000 babes were now
acquiring knowledge in similar institutions in this
counTy alone ; although half a century ago no
person would have thought that it would have
been possible to train 150 children, so as to make
them so orderly and quiet as the company now wit-
nessed them." The infants went through a variety
of exercises, and gave great satisfaction. — A Pro-
vident Society has been established at Nottingham
in the General Baptist School Rooms.
Married.'] At Chesterfield, Mr. Bunting, to
Miss Coller; Mr. Johnson, to Miss M. Saundem —
At Newark, the Rev L. Tugwell, to Miss Godfrey.
—At Derby, the Rev. J.P. Mosley, to Mrs. F. Pole.
—At Ashbourn, Mr. Webster to Miss Borough.—
At Southwell, Rev.S.P.Oliver, to Miss C. .Fowler.—
H. B. Leeson, esq., of Wilford, to Miss E. Sutton.
Died.'] At Cbaddesden, 82, Mr. Goodwin.— At
Moira Baths, /I, P. Waterfield, esq., of Ashbourn.
—At Newark, 82, Mr. J. Tailos ; and Miss M. Boss.
—At Chesterfield, Mr. G. Gosling.— At Bel per, 80,
Mrs. A. Barber. — J. Simpson, esq., of Wirksworth.
—At Derby, 85, Mr. Bostock.— At Newfield Screve-
ton, 86, Mr. Neale. — At Foolow, 74, Mrs. Deborah
Morton, a celebrated Wesleyan Methodist.
LEICESTER AND RUTLAND.
The Commissioners for the Enclosure of Charn-
wood Forest have put up for sale, at Loughbo-
rough, the unappropriated lands. Some portions
of which, that have little to recommend them, sold
at the rate of .£100. per acre I
The framework knitters of Leicester have ad-
dressed a petition to the nobility, gentry, and
clergy of the county, on behalf of 40,000 persons,
praying for some relief from their abject and miser-
able situation, which the lowness of their wages has
plunged them into, and which, although they have
employment, will not allow them the means of
maintaining their families. We hope they will ob-
tain that attention their case reqwires ; " for where-
ever wages have been low, I have observed with
pain," says Justice Best, "that the labourer has
resorted to the law of nature, and has supported
himself by plunder."
The receipts at the doors of the church at the
Leicester Music Meeting, and at the Concerts,
amounted to .£4,533. 5s. lid. After all expenses
are paid, there will be nearly j£\, 200. for the in-
stitutions for which this festival was undertaken.
Never in the memory of any person living'did the
town contain such an assemblage of wealth, beauty
and fashion, as on this occasion.
WARWICK AND NORTHAMPTON.
At Warwick Assizes, 18 prisoners received sen-
tence of death, 13 were transported, and 25 im-
prisoned.
At a meeting of the inhabitants of Birmingham,
an address of condolence to His Majesty, on the
loss of Mr. Canning, was unanimously agreed to.
By the report of the state of patients admitted
and discharged at the Northampton Infirmary, it
appears that 78,087 persons have been cured, and
8,128 relieved, since the foundation of this noble
charity in 1774. A collection was made Sept. 13,
after a sermon preached in behalf of the Infirmary,
amounting to .£82. 18s. ll|d. The governors re-
gret their inability, from want of funds, to erect
an asylum for lunatics.
The trade at Coventry is in an improving state.
A monument, executed by Chantry, has been
erected in Handsworth Church, jn memory of
the mechanician Watt. On a marble Gothic pe-
destal stands his full-length figure, and on the
front is inscribed, " James Watt, born 19 January,
1736, died 25th August, 1819. Patri optimemerito.
E.M. P."
Married.] At Warwick, Mr. Loveday to Miss
S. M. Topp.— Mr. Bacon, of Stratford-upon-Aron,
to Miss Evans —At Coventry, Mr. J. H. Angier to
Miss Walker.
Died.'] At Walgrave, 79, Mr. Mabbutt ; he had
been master of the free school 48 years, 41 clerk
to the Baptists, and teacher in the Sunday school
from its commencement. — At Warwick, 68, Mrs.
Tomes, wife of J. Tomes, esq., M.P. for Warwick.
—At Tamworth, 82, Rev. J. Byng.— At Coventry,
74, Mr. Shields.— At Kenilvvorth, Miss Rock, and
Mrs. White.
WORCESTER AND HEREFORD. •
August 31, the new charter, graciously granted
by His Majesty, was presented to the borough of
Kidderminster, at their Guildhall, where the cor-
poration was in full attendance. This charter pro-
mises important results to the borough, by facili-
tating the daily administration of justice on the
spot, and thus meeting the exigencies of a very in-
creased population, and securing the direction of
an efficient police. This is what every borough
town, and city in the kingdom ought to havej then
they will not be obliged to keep their wretched cul-
prits six months in gaol before it is known whether
they are innocent or guilty.
The receipts at the Music Meeting at Worcester,
for the benefit of the Three Choirs, amounted to
.£5,024. 13s. 4£d— upwards of .£1,200. more than
those of the last meeting, 1824. This success we
trust will give an impetus to that spirit of reno-
vation which has lately distinguished the conser-
vators of other cathedrals to those concerned with
the Three Choirs, so that at the next exhibitions
they may each appear with equal magnificence, in
splendid restoration of the venerable remains of
pious antiquity.
The inhabitants of Ross have distinguished
themselves in the course of eight years by their
brilliant society of horticulture, which has come to
great perfection. They have this autumn esta-
blished an exhibition of pictures in oil and water-
colours, with the idea of making it permanent!
Married."] ' At Worcester, P. Johnston, esq., to
Miss E. Gwinnell.— At Hereford, Mr. Parker to
Miss Davis.
Died."] At Ross, in consequence of a fright oc-
casioned by the sting; of a wasp, Mrs. Pritchard.—
At Great Malvern, Anne, wife of Vice Admiral Sir
W. Hotham.— At Shobdon, 84, Mr. Caldecott.— At
King's Capel, 73, Mrs. Roberts.— At the Ryelands,
Mrs. Livesey. — At Worcester, Georgiana, wife of
C. Babbage, esq.— At Tewkesbury, J. J. Turner, a
youth blind from his birth, and a well-known local
preacher in the Wesleyan connexion.— At Kernp-
scy, 73, Mrs. Smith.— At Stoke-prior, J. Dowdes-
well, esq.— At Hereford, 83. Mrs. Powles.
GLOUCESTER AND MONMOUTH.
At the assizes at Gloucester, 13 prisoners were
recorded for death, and 20 transported, one of
them, only 14 years of age, was an old offender ; arid
31 imprisoned, one of them 71 years old ! A boy
446
Provincial Occurrences : Bucks, Herts, Essex, fyc. [OcT*
of 12 years old was tried for stabbing a playmate
of 15, in consequence of a quarrel while playing at
marbles ; he was acquitted. Baron Vaughan said,
" You have had a most fortunate escape ; for if a
direct conviction had taken place, I could not have
done otherwise than suffer the law to take its pro-
per course I!!"
At Monmouth, 3 condemned to death, 2 trans-
ported, and 5 imprisoned.
Monday, Sept. 27, the new Stroud Mail left
London at 8 P.M., and arrived at Stroud at 8 on
Tuesday morning, completing a distance of 106
miles in 12 hours. It being the first royal mail
coach on that line of road, numbers of persons as-
sembled at Cirencester, Stroud, Chepstow, and
other towns, and in several places ringing of bells
and hoisting of colours evinced the joy of a popu-
lation of not less than 40,000 inhabitants.
. A new watering-place is to be established at the
peninsula of the Severn and the Wye ; and pre-
miums have been advertised for laying out and
building on the Beachley estate for that pur-
pose.
At the late meeting of "The Clergy Society," at
Bristol, the sum of .£434. 4s. 7d. was collected ; and
at that of the Gloucestershire Society, at Clifton,
.£256. 19s. in aid of the good purposes of both
establishments.
Married.'} At Wootton-under-Edge, Mr. Lewis
to Miss Wiles. — Mr. Home to Miss Tombs, of
Moreton-in Marsh.— At Gloucester, Mr. Meyler to
Miss Walker.— At Cold Ashton, Rev. H. T. Elli-
combe to Miss Ann Bridges.
Died.} At Stroud, Mrs. Burder.— At Wootton-
under-Edge, 62, J. Cooper, esq.— At Gloucester, 74,
Mr. Gransmore ; and Miss Park. — At Cheltenham,
W. Dowding, esq.— At Frogmill, Rhoda, the wife
of Lieut. -Col. Pearce.
BUCKS.
The paymasters of Aylesbury parish have deter-
mined to rent 20 acres of land, to be cultivated by
spade husbandry, in order to employ their super-
fluous labourers.
The Bazaar held at the Town-hall of Aylesbury,
has produced, by the works of the ladies only, as
much as «£loo. for the excellent purpose of esta-
blishing an infant school.
Married.} At Oakingham, J. M. Bence, esq.,
to Miss Jenkyns.— At Brimpton, W. A. Harris,
esq., to Miss Ann Goddard.
Died} T. A. R,udd, esq., late of Ampthill.— At
Beaumont, the Hon. H. E. Flower, third daughter
of Lord Ashbrook.— At Bedford, 62, Mrs. F. Chap-
man.
HERTS AND ESSEX.
The Committee of the "West Herts Infirmary"
have made their First Annual Report, which
answers the expectations of the most sanguine,
and conveys the gratifying assurance that the
bounty of its supporters has been well bestowed,
as a permanent comfort and benefit to the poor,
and a source of advantage to the country— 157 pa-
tients have been relieved and cured.
The first stone of a new market-house was laid
at Ware, Sept. 8, which is to be upon a larger scale
than the old one ; the ground was given to the town
by the lord of the manor.
OXFORDSHIRE.
At present there is not a single person for debt in
the gaol of this county ! ! I
Married.} At Oxford, D. Ward, esq., to Miss
Marian Johnson ; T. Wace, esq., to Mrs. Hitch-
ings.
Died.} At Albury, 63, Mr. Hester.— At Oxford,
75, Mrs. Bartram ; J. Lett, esq. ; 62, Mrs. Robin-
son* 98, Mrs. Jackman.
NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK.
September 5, the first stone of a new Roman
Catholic Chapel was laid at Norwich by the Hon.
and Rev. E. Clifford, with the usual ceremonies.
At the Annual Meeting of the Subscribers to the
Public Library, it was announced to be in a very
flourishing condition.
September 3, the Directors of the Norwich and
Lowestoffe Navigation Company proceeded down
the rivers in grand ceremony, to be present at the
commencement of the undertaking at Mudford
Bridge, when Alderman Brown commenced the
operations by digging the first spadeful, amidst
immense cheering ; portions of the first earth
turned up were eagerly seized by the crowd, and
carried away in their pockets as a memento of the
day. There was a sailing match on the occasion
on Lake Lothing. Such a concourse of people was
never seen before at Lowestoffe ; there were at
least 15,000 people afloat and on the margin of the
lake.
The room of the Lynn Mechanics' Institution
was thrown open to the subscribers Sept. 3, when
an appropriate address was delivered by the Rev.
E. Edwards.
Married.} At Wissett, H. Howard, esq., to Miss
E. Tillott.— At Lakenham, Rev. B. Cubitt to Miss
White.
Died.} At North Burlingham, 77, Rev. J. Den-
nison.— At Bedingham, 90, Mrs. Norgate.— At
Great Yarmouth, 74, Mrs. S. Cotton; 77, Mrs.
Austin.— 91, Mr. T. Sheldrake, of Henley.— At Pul-
ham, 83, Mrs. Mayston.— 80, Mrs. Devereux, of St.
George's, Colegate. — At Norwich, 74, W. Herring,
esq. ; he was second son of Dr. Herring, Dean of
St. Asaph, and had been 32 years Alderman of
Norwich.
CAMBRIDGE.
A beautiful fossil of the sea turtle has recently
been discovered, and by the perfect substitution of
all the organic parts, as well as its locality, may
be considered an interesting remain of a former
world. It is incrusted in a mass of ferruginous
limestone, and weighs 180 pounds. The spot on
which it was found is in 4 fathoms water, and is
formed of an extensive stratum of stones, called
the Stone Ridge, about 4 miles off Harwich har-
bour, and is considered to be the line of conjunc-
tion between the opposite cliffs of Walton and Har-
wich. It is in the possession of Mr. Deck of Cam-
bridge.
HANTS AND SUSSEX.
By the recent report of the committee of Ports-
mouth and Portsca Literary and Philosophical So-
ciety, it appears that no less than 600 specimens
have been deposited in the Museum since Septem-
ber 1826!!!
Married.} At Petworth, Lord Charles Spencer
Churchill to Miss Benet, daughter of J. Benet,
esq., M.P., Wilts.— At Arreton, Isle of Wight,
Major G. G. Nicholls, only son of General Nicholls,
to Miss Henrietta Atkins.— At Owslebury, Rev. P.
Hall to Miss M.H. Wools.
Died.} At Portsmouth, 82, Mrs. Leggatt.— At
Midhurst, 106, Mrs. Anne Harding.— At Hastings,
the Hon. Orlando Bridgman. — At Tichborne-
house, Mary, fourth daughter of Sir Henry Tich-
borne, bait— At Chichester, 83, Rev. Mr. Walker,
1827.]
Dorset, Wilts, Somersetshire, Devonshire, fyc.
447
DORSET AND WILTS.
At Kingston-hall, the Duke of Wellington laid
the first stone of the Egyptian obelisk on the lawn
on the south front of the house, with the following
inscription:—" The first stone of the foundation
for the Egyptian Obelisk, removed, in 1819, by
William John Bankes, esq., from the island of
Philae, beyond the ffrst cataract of the Nile, was
laid by Arthur Duke of Wellington, on the 17th of
August, in the year of our Lord 1827." A Waterloo
medal was dropped into a small cavity prepared for
that purpose.
Married.'] At Ramsbury, J. Blackman, esq.,to
Mrs. Lawrence.— At Landlord, F. Stratton, esq.,
to Anne Rosamond, daughter of General Orde, and
tiiece of Lord Roden.
Died.] At Imber, 76, Mr. Scammell ; and Mr.
Bradshawe. — At Tiowbridge, Mr. Cross, watch-
maker, and a very celebrated mechanical genius.
—At Mapperton-house, Eliza Emily, second daugh-
ter of Sir M. H. Nepean, bart.— At Stinsford, 85,
the Right Hon. Susan O'Brien, aunt to the Karl of
Ilchester.
SOMERSETSHIRE AND DEVONSHIRE.
The ceremony of laying the foundation stone of
the Female Orphan Asylum took place at Bristol
August 22, attended by all the beauty and fashion
-of that place and neighbourhood, and in a magni-
ficent style. Tbe mayor laid the first stone. The
children and the company were partakers of a cold
collation ; a collection was also made. The chil-
dren were entertained by the mayoress the next
clay at the Mansion-house, when she presented Is.
to each of the children.
A numerous and respectable meeting was held at
the Town-hall, Wells, August 30, for establishing,
Friendly Societies in the eastern part of Somerset
on more just and equitable principles than those
which have hitherto prevailed, when a committee
was formed for the purpose, and the Bishop of
Bath and Wells unanimously chosen president.
At Somerset Assizes, 28 prisoners were recorded
for death, 20 transported, and 15 imprisoned for
Various periods: yet there were only 7 criminals
left to suffer the last awful punishment of the law ;
one of whom, for burglary, was 71 years of age 1
— The verdict given in the quo warranto action at
these assizes, relative to the Corporation of Wells,
will not only deprive 6 or 7 of its members of their
civic honours, but remove nearly 60 burgesses.
The Fourth Annual Report of the Fronie Sav-
ings' Bank evinces a gradual return of confidence
and prosperity; the sum invested in government
securities is greater, and the number of depositors
in the labouring class is increased.
At a numerous and highly respectable meeting
of the inhabitants of Plymouth, at the Guildhall,
September 14, it was unanimously resolved to esta-
blish an Infant School for the children of the La-
bouring Poor, from the age of 2 to 7 years, to be
called "The Plymouth Infant School."
The Plymouth Dispensary relieved last year (by
their Report) more than 1000 persons, principally
«t their own residences.
The ceremony of opening Exeter Canal took
place September 14, and several vessels have since
entered its basin.
Married.'] At Bath, R. V. Edwards, esq., to
Miss M. A.Armstrong; E. W. Clift, esq., to Miss
E. Lax; Mr. James to Miss Deans.— At Frome,
Major Fawcett to Miss Wickham.
Died.] At Marston-house, Lady Lucy Geor-
giana Boyle, second daughter of the Earl of Cork.
—At llfracornbe, Miss Priscilla Coats; Henry
Lewis, esq.— At Bath, Mrs. Bird, of Widcombe
Terrace.
CORNWALL.
Married."} At Garlennich-house, Rev. G. A,
Moore to Miss Ann Turner.
Died .] At Tresuga, 68, Mrs. Robins.— At Hale,
82, Mrs. J. Bowden, leaving a progeny of 100 chil-
dren, grand-ehi'dren, and great grand-children.—
66, Lieut.-Col. John Bailey, inspecting field officer
in this county.
WALES.
The chapel of St. David's College, Lampeter, has
recently been consecrated by the bishop of the
diocese.
There has been an advance of 10s. per ton on
bar-iron in the principality.
At Brecon Great Sessions, the j udge, in his address
to the grand jury, complimented the county oh th«
paucity of offenders for trial. — In Merionethshire,
there were only 2 persons for trial. — In Carnarvon,
one only ; and at Beaumaris, in the trial, Lord
Newborough v. Spencer and Hughes, the jury, after
a deliberation of nearly two hours, finding they
were not likely to come to unanimity, agreed to
toss up on which side the verdict should be given.
This fact was stated on affidavit on the next court
day as ground for a new trial. — At Glamorgan,
5 death, 3 imprisoned. — At Carmarthen, 1 tran-
sported.—At Pembroke, 2 death, 5 imprisoned.
The Mary Ann, from Bangor, loaded with slates,
put to sea and became so dangerously leaky that
the crew left her, took to the boat, and watched
her sinking far beyond the time they had calculated
she must disappear ; they returned to her, and
found the leak had ceased to increase. They set
her sails, and brought her into Milford-haven ; and
to their astonishment found the leak had been stop-
ped by the body of a fish which had been forced
in with some sea-weed ; their ship and cargo were
saved.
Married.] Major Hartley, of Deganwy (North
Wales), to Miss Clark. — Mr. James, of Merthyr-
tydfil, to Miss Louisa Carter.
Died.] At Llandovery.80, Rev. Morgan Jones ;
this venerable clergyman had never been elevated
above a curacy above .£50. per annum, which he
diligently served for more than half a century ;
and saved, by wonderful parsimony, .£18,000.— At
Glanhalren, 75, Mr. Matthews.— At Cardigan, J.
Davies, esq.— At Montgomery, 75, Mr. J. Mickle-
burgh.— At Dolgellan, 104, David Pughe.— Evan
Humphrey, esq.. of Garth-hall, Glamorgan.— Mrs.
Scowcroft, Haverfordwest.— At Llanelly, 76, Mr.
Williams.— At Abergavenny, Rev. C. Powell.— At
Swansea, J. Caldecote, esq.— At Neath, W. Wil-
liams.esq., comptroller of the customs. — AtLlanelly,
Captain Ray.— At Tenby, 77, Mrs. Brodbelt, of
Jamaica.— At Bishop's-castle, T. Routledge, esq.
SCOTLAND.
By the last Annual Report of the Edinburgh
School of Arts, it appears that there has been a
considerable falling off in the number of students,
caused by the pecuniary distress which, for the last
two years, has been felt more or less by every class
of the community. The wages of stone-masons,
carpenters, and joiners, who have always formed
the great majority of the students, have fallen from
26s. to 13s. a week.
Died.] At Edinburgh, 80, George Ferguson,
Lord Hermand, one of the senators of the College
of Justice.
DAILY PRICES OF STOCKS,
From the 2uM of August to the 25M of September 182T.
Hank
3 Pr ft
i Pr ( t
UPr Ct
JiPr.Ct
N4Pr.C.
Lnngr
India
India
Exch.
Consols
S1
Stock.
Red.
Consols.
Consols.
"Red.
Ann.
Annuities.
Stock.
Bonds.
or Ace.
26
__
.
_
_
27
2ll£212
«7ii if
SM 87
94 |
94 *
100$ 1
915-16 201-16
254i
8788p
55 58p
§87*
2S
210*211
8/1 88
86 ^ 87
94
94*
100* 1A
20 *
256
89 90p
57 59p
8/1
29
2)1
87i ft
86$ 87
94i
94* $
loof i
1915-16201-16
—
9091p
58 59p
|
30
31
210 211
210 211
87 I
87* i
86} £
86$ 1
93g 94
93*94
ioo| i
1915-16201-16
1915-16201-16
254J
92p
9394p
58 60p
5961p
87
86| 87*
Sep.
1
2
212
873 88£
86^ 87i
—
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—
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6
—
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5862p
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8487
E. EYTON, Stock Broker, 2, Cornhill and Lombard Street.
MONTHLY METEOROLOGICAL REPORT,
From August 20th to \9th September inclusive.
By WILLIAM HARRIS and Co.. 50, High Holborn.
0
S?
Therm.
Barometer.
De Luc's
Hygro.
Winds.
Atmospheric Variations.
j
3
o
s'
g
g
1
e
c
§
*
8
.5
9A.M.
10 P.M.
;A
CU
9 A. M.
10 P. M.
9A M.
2P.M.
10 P.M.
9
rt
»
S
S
o
0
20
63
66
54
29 92
29 92
75
80
NNK
NNW
Fair
Fair
Clo.
21
63
70
56
29 97
30 01
81
88
E
NE
—
22
/2|
59
68
56
30 09
30 15
90
88
NE
E
_
23
^
59
71
58
30 20
30 21
80
73
NNE
NE
—
Fine
— :
21
64
55
30 14
30 01
75
78
N
NNW
Fine
Fine
25
.58
68
52
30 00
30 06
76
77
NNTE
N
Fair
Clo.
26
•6
55
66
49.
30 07
30 10
76
81
NNE
N
Fair
S.Rain
Fine
27
55
66
58
30 17
30 19
83
78
NE
NNW
—
Fine
Fair
.28
60
78
51
30 17
30 21
82
79
NW
NNE
Overc.
Fail-
29
(9
53
66
53
30 26
30 23
80
78
NNE
N
Fair
Fine
30
58
65
55
30 17
30 05
84
90
WNW
NW
Clo.
Clo.
Clo.
31
57
66
55
30 17
30 22
93
82
NE
ESE
—
—
Sept.
58
68
53
30 23
30 24
88
90
E
E
Sleet
Fail-
2
56
71
54
30 22
30 20
93
87
ENE
ENE
Clo.
Fine
Fair
3
59
70
55
30 18
30 20
85
79
ENE
E
Fair
__
4
57
62
55
30 20
30 15
75
83
ENE
E
Clo.
Fair
5
o
58
68
51
30 11
30 17
85
82
ENE
ENE
Fair
Fine
6
\~s
56
66
50
30 16
30 18
86
82
ENE
ENti
Clo.
7
58
65
56
30 16
30 14
82
85
ENE
E
Fair
^
Clo,
8
58
65
58
30 13
30 07
80
82
NE
E
Clo.
Clo.
9
62
67
58
29 90
29 82
86
94
S
wsw
Fair
Rain
10
•82
59
66
63
29 7«
29 76
96
80
WNW
WNW
Rain
Rain
Clo.
11
64
70
59
29 72
29 62
82
86
sw
W
Clo.
Fail-
12
•31
59
66
53
29 61
29 68
90
88
ssw
WSW
S.Rain
Rain
13
€
56
64
51
29 77
29 98
91
78
w
WNW
Clo.
Fair
Fair
14
54
68
60
30 09
30 08
88
89
w
WNW
—
_
Clo.
15
65
71
62
30 14
30 15
82
92
N
NNW
Fair
Fair
16
66
71
59
30 18
30 20
88
88
ENE
NNE
Clo.
•
Clo.
17
60
69
58
30 21
30 17
85
88
ENE
SE
Fair
Fine
Fail-
18
•13
60
69
51
30 13
30 07
91
80
SE
N
Clo.
Fair
Rain
19
54
60
46
30 04
30 03
80
72
NW
NW
Fair
Clo.
The quantity of Rain fallen in the month of A'Jgust was one inch and 8-100ths.
THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOL. IV.] NOVEMBER, 1827. [No.
PAUPER LUNATICS.
OP the calamities flesh is heir to, the one conspicuously the most appalling
to our apprehensions, and the least within our power to guard against, is
lunacy. Any man, at any moment, may be thus visited ; and, therefore,
every man's interest it is, while he is in a sane state, to look well to institu-
tions established for so deplorable a condition : it is his paramount interest
to insist upon the most approved arrangements for care and cure ; to detect
and remedy abuses ; to place such institutions, if that be possible, out of
the range of corrupt and sordid motives ; to stipulate for a system of inspec-
tion, of too wakeful and public a character to be easily evaded ; and thus
to secure to himself, beforehand, as far as precaution can go, something
like fair treatment. Such is — if not the hardness of human nature, at least
such is its indisputable indolence, there is no trusting to spontaneous kind-
ness, and certainly not to steady and continuous kindness, for the fulfil-
ment of what are styled the duties of humanity, especially when neither
prompted by the impulses of affection, nor imposed by respect for opinion.
These duties are often onerous and expensive, and beyond the reach of
many who are called upon to perform them, and sometimes painful, and
even disgusting, and such as nature shrinks from; and then a reluctant
performance is all that even payment can exact, or authority extort.
What is everybody's business is nobody's ; and so general is the convic-
tion that such business will not be performed at all, that recourse is had, by
common consent, to the sanctions of the legislature to enforce the dis-
charge. Hence arises the necessity for asylums, and provisions of relief for
poverty and age — for those who have neither the means of subsistence left
them, nor friends to supply the loss. And if provision for the pauper can
only be secured by an act of the legislature, the necessity for placing the
lunatic— ^and, above all, the pauper lunatic — under especial protection, is
still more imperative. The pauper, if refused relief by the proper autho-
rities, can appeal to the magistrate ; but the lunatic is, for the most part,
utterly incapable of such appeal, arid if, in a lucid interval, he be capable
of applying for redress, he is more likely to be repulsed than relieved, and
his very complaints be numbered among his hallucinations.
M.M. New Series— VOL. I V. No. 23. 3 M
450 Pauper Lunatics. [Nov.
But such protection, it will be said, is already afforded. Lunatics are
actually placed under the tutelage of the Chancery ; and, with authority
so unlimited, or at least so indefinite, as is that of the court, all abuses in
the management of lunatics surely might he promptly remedied. Yes, in a
hundred places we read lunatics are so protected ; but books and facts —
especially law-books and facts — are frequently at variance ; and the fact
in this case is, that it is the rich lunatic only who is under the Chancel-
lor's guardianship. With respect to the rich lunatic, too, it is rather his
property than his person with which the court is concerned ; at least,
where no property appears, we never yet could learn — let law-books say
what they will — that the lunatic was ever the better for the honour of so
distinguished a guardian. So far as the persons even of rich lunatics are
concerned, the Chancellor's supposed authority is delegated to a Medical
Commission, consisting of five physicians and a secretary, all appointed by
the College, but perhaps approved by him. Returns, at all events, are
annually made to his court ; but let the reader learn — it will probably be
new to him — that no returns are made of pauper lunatics. The Commis-
sioners visit all mad-houses within the pale of their jurisdiction — a few
miles only round London ; but, in the clause which directs them to make
returns of lunatics, pauper lunatics are expressly excepted ; and, if the
Commissioners do bend their lofty regards upon them, it is by straining the
terms of their authority, and not in consequence of any orders or powers
specifically entrusted to them. Remonstrances, it seems, they rarely make;
and when they do, they appear — and no wonder, unauthorized as they
are — to be treated with pretty uniform contempt. Mr. Warburton we
shall find generally forgetting such remonstrances were ever made, and,
when occasionally brought to his recollection, bearing testimony to his own
neglect of them.
The office of this Medical Commission, then, amounts to visiting, once in
the year — some of the larger establishments twice — and reporting upon the
condition and management of those lunatics, who may, perhaps, with
some small degree of propriety, be said to be under the Chancellor's pro-
tection ; and the ultimate object of the visit is to prevent sane persons from
being deprived of liberty under pretence of insanity, and of securing to the
insane proper treatment while under restraint. How far these objects are
accomplished by these means — how far the property is protected, liberty
respected, and cruelty restrained — it is not our present business to discuss.
That, in the two last respects, the expedients are effective, can scarcely be
predicated.
The immediate question before us is the fate of pauper lunatics. Our
attention is drawn to the subject by a Report, published by the Committee
of the House of Commons appointed to inquire into the state of Lunatics
and Lunatic'Asylums, and especially into that of the Pauper Lunatics in
the County of Middlesex. The report almost exclusively concerns the
treatment of the male paupers belonging to the parishes of Marylebone, St.
George's Hanover-square, and Pancras, confined in an establishment
called the White House, at Bethnal Green, kept by a Mr, T. Warburton.
From this establishment, about a twelvemonth ago, the parish of Maryle-
bone withdrew their paupers — to the number of forty or fifty — disapprov-
ing of the severity and neglect with which they were treated. This cir-
cumstance probably led to the appointment of the committee, and certainly
influenced them in first directing their inquiries to the state of the White
House. To the report containing the results of these inquiries, we shall,
1827.J Pauper Lunatics. 451
for the present, confine our attention. The maxim of " ex uno disce
otnnes" is generally a safe one, where the circumstances scarcely vary,
and the motives by which men are commonly impelled necessarily the
same. The establishment in question, be it remembered, is not of a public
nature, but a private one. It is especially instituted for private gain ; there-
fore, the greatest profits, with the smallest trouble compatible with success,
must be the final and ruling object of the proprietor. Humanity can
scarcely enter into the system, and, at all events, cannot be calculated
upon. It is at variance with the interests of the institution ; for humanity
implies more personal attention than is found to be given, and less coer-
cion ; and these things can only be at the expense of time, and anxiety,
and labour, and, in the same proportion, to the sacrifice of profit. The
only restraint upon severity and neglect — the only motive which is likely
to secure any of the effects of kindness — is the apprehension that the too
eager pursuit of gain may defeat its own purposes. Individuals may perish
by harsh treatment, and the credit of the establishment suffer with them ;
therefore, there is a limit to neglect, some bounds to severity, some check
upon cruelty — not in humanity, but happily in interest itself. Cruelty
and interest may, however, long go hand in hand before they must part
company ; as a bow will take a good deal of straining before it snaps. It is
an easy thing to throw an oblivious cloud around the insane, and, under
the cover of that cloud, to commit fearful atrocities : their condition occa-
sions their friends perplexity, and excites alarm among them ; they look
eagerly anywhere for relief, and welcome any promise of deliverance. The
disposition of people to confide in the doctor is almost without measure:
he himself affects to know more than he really does, and, on the claim. of
superior knowledge, demands greater confidence ; and, under the shelter of
this confidence, he may steadily and safely pursue his own interest, to the
abandonment of the patient's welfare.
If there be one matter more than another, where it is essential to shut
out all the ordinary motives and means of gain, the care of lunatics is that
one. They cannot help themselves; they are thrown upon strangers
interested in oppressing them; and, comparatively, are resigned into their
hands, or deserted by their friends. The case of pauperism is not half so
imperative ; and yet it has been found necessary to withdraw the motives
for personal interest from their management : it has been necessary to stop
the practice of farming the poor, because the thirst of gain, which is in most
natures next to ungovernable, has prompted the contractor to starve the
miserable wretches who fell under his tender mercies. But what is this
system of thrusting the pauper lunatics into houses like Mr. Warburton's,
\>\\t farming them, under the most unfavourable circumstances too, where
the poor victim is supposed to be unable to distinguish complaint from con-
tent, and may of course be oppressed with impunity. M
The statement we are coming to, be it understood, is no-attack of ours
on Mr. Warburton's establishment. He owes the notice his establishment
attracts to its greater extensiveness. The Committee do not suppose it to
be worse than others ; nay, the implication rather is, that it is one of the
best ; but, nevertheless, they find the system pursued liable, in their full
extent, to the old objections pointed out by the Committees of 1807 and
1815; and as neither any modification in the laws, nor palliation in the
practice, seem likely to remove them, the only effective expedient is public
institutions — county asylums, superintended by the magistrates, and
3 M 2
452. Pauper Lunatics. [Nov.
managed by persons whose interests will not be advanced by oppression,
and whose activity will be kept awake by inspection.
We have heard it asserted that Mr. W. has been unjustly and hardly
dealt with by the Committee. His establishment has been ferretted out
and out; every hole and corner exposed to open day; no secret suffered
to lurk undetected; no malversation to be extenuated. The private
recesses of his retirement have been invaded : the whole economy of his
domestic management sifted and censured ; his larder has beeen overhauled,
and his very servants examined ; the amounts of his bills for medical
assistance have been demanded — for wine and delicacies — for sugar and
spices : in short, the poor man, it has been said — and that by rational
people too — has been treated as if his house was not his own. Nor is it,
nor ought it to be, his own, in the common-sense of the term. So far as
he and his management are concerned, the establishment should be a glass-
house, and all the workings within visible to every passer-by. Every soul
of man has an interest and an undoubted right in exploring the secrets of
such a prison-house.
But others there arc, who will not abstractedly deny that his house, as
a mad-house, ought to be made the subject of public inquiry — but who
seem inclined to side with the injured Mr. Warburton, on the general
ground that all parliamentary reports of this kind are justly liable to sus-
picion, and, in the eyes of every man who can keep them open, ought to
be distrusted. Two or three persons, it is said, thirsting for notoriety, seize
upon some exciting occasion, and resolve forthwith to get up a committee.
It is the easiest thing in the world to accomplish such a matter. Nobody
opposes private committees. The proposers name their own colleagues —
send for what witnesses they please — give the evidence what colouring they
please — draw up the report to suit their own purposes — and thus are the
public mocked and betrayed, and private interests sacrificed to personal
ambition, and passion for distinction.
We have scarcely patience to repeat these calumnies — these wicked, but
perhaps sometimes only thoughtless representations, though more generally
the vile promptings of faction and party. Any part of them is rarely applica-
ble to the reports of late years, which are in reality a mine and mint of
the most valuable information — taken, as every thing else must be, with
some grains of allowance, and not received with a credulous indiscrimina-
tion. The interrogations are no doubt frequently put expressly to elicit the
facts, which the witness is known to possess, and which he comes expressly
to state ; but every body must surely be gratified by thus gaining evidence
at the first hand, from men of the highest eminence and the best means of
information, and which could never otherwise be got at — and, occasionally,
by the felicitous results of cross and close questioning. But the evidence is
not given upon oath. What then ? Have not the House power to punish
prevaricating witnesses ?
But, with respect to the report before us, there is no ground whatever
for distrust. Evidence, for and against Mr. Warburton's institution, has
been received — not only the evidence of those who were led to complain —
not only the evidence of recovered lunatics — not only that of the overseers
and the medical men of the parishes— not only that of the Commissioners
of the College of Physicians, but all who are immediately connected with
the institution — from Mr. Warburton himself, and the doctor, his son —
from his own medical attendants, and the superintendant of the establish-
ment, down to the keepers, all have had their "say;" and not one of
1827,] Pauper Lunatics. 453
them, we confidently add, will have the audacity to charge the Committee
with misrepresenting them. All have had an opportunity of correcting
their testimony. The report comes, therefore, in the most unques-
tionable shape ;" and by this evidence ought the institution to be finally
judged.
To go through the report seriatim our limits will not allow ; nor would
such a survey further our immediate purpose, which is simply to give the
results of the evidence as bearing against the propriety of continuing these
institutions, or at least of longer allowing paupers to be placed in them. These
results may be taken chiefly from Mr. Warburton's own statement, who
was allowed to look over the evidence of the parish officers, of the surgeon
of the parishes, of discharged lunatics, and of the College Commissioners.
The complaints he finds to be — that the house is too crowded with patients
— that no medical attention is paid — that no curative process is used— no
classification of patients — no variation of food, according to the health and
state of the patients — an insufficient number of keepers — inhumanity and
neglect of superintendents and keepers towards the patients— that conva-
lescent patients were made to act as keepers — that the crib-rooms were wil-
fully concealed, and in a state of loathsome filth — that the patients were
confined in their cribs on Sundays, to save trouble to the keepers — that they
were washed with mops and cold water in the winter : with other parti-
culars, indicating gross mismanagement.
The truth of these complaints, one and all, he peremptorily denies, and
desires leave to disprove them by the evidence he proposes, consisting
mainly of his own medical friends, superintendent, and keepers. He was
himself first examined, and his own evidence is detailed at great length' —
memorable, the whole of it, for the confident and undoubting tone with
which it is delivered — for the absence of all power of measuring probabilities,
or of judging of the effects on the minds of others likely to follow his hazard-
ous assertions — for the direct testimony to facts, of which it is impossible
he could know any thing, and to the general conduct of persons he seldom
saw — and, finally, the absurd degree of confidence he professes to place in
his superintendent.
But, to come to particulars. Complaints, it appeared, were actually on
the books of the Medical Commission, of the " crowded state of the house/'
These complaints, Mr. W. recollects, were sometimes made, and, he admits,
not without reason ; — but no attempt was ever made to remedy them ;
and, in point of fact, we may safely infer he never, on that ground, rejected
a patient. But other complaints stand on the books — of the " blankets
and clothing.'' Of this he has no recollection. Again, of a " want of
keepers." On recollection, thinks there was such a complaint. — What was
done in consequence ? Has no recollection ; but, no doubt, if patients
increased, keepers were proportionably so; not in consequence of any repre-
sentations on the part of the Commissioners, but by the rules of the insti-
tution.— Again, of the " rooms being close and offensive." Has no recol-
lection.— Of their being " still close and offensive, and no improvement
made." Recollects a statement of this kind. — Of a " keeper being admo-
nished and censured for rough treatment to a particular pauper." Has no
recollection. When asked, after these remindings on the part of the
Committee and his own recollections, if he perseveres in his assertion of
the absence of all complaints ? Does not doubt the complaints were made
as they appear on the Commissioners' records, but still has no farther recol-
lections than what he admits. Of course, it may justly be concluded, no
454 Pauper Lunatics. [Nov.
remedies were applied : the remonstrances were treated with contempt.
It is not at all probable that complaints were made by these grave person-
ages without very obvious cause.
Then, as to there being no medical attention paid — it must be' observed
that no such allegation had been made. But it is often good policy to
aggravate an opponent's statement. It enables the party to contradict
something ; and though the part contradicted be only the aggravated part,
it goes in the common estimate for a part of the whole accusation, and
weakens the credibility of the charge. An advantage is thus gained, and
that is half the matter in securing acquittal. But what is Mr. W/s own
account of the medical attendance ? His own son-in-law is the regular
surgeon of the establishment, and attends every other day. On other
days, a friend of the surgeon visits the house — not a partner, nor an
assistant, but a friend, or an amateur, perhaps : he is not paid for attend-
ance, and of course is not responsible. But we shall hear more of him.
In the White House there are about 500 patients, and in the adjoining one,
called the Red House, 300 more. This surgeon, Mr. W.'s son-in-law,
attends them all. This same surgeon attends also another house of Mr.
W.'s, called Whitmore House : but the number of the patients there is not
mentioned. This same surgeon is also surgeon of St. Luke's. This same
surgeon has also a <l fair share of general professional practice abroad."
The inference is obvious j and the fact must be, that only cases of bodily
ill-health are specifically attended to. That alone, indeed, must be quite
enough to absorb all the attention one man can give — enough, and more
than enough ; for here are a thousand persons, of a class peculiarly liable
to sudden attacks of bodily disease, every one of whom may justly, per-
haps, be said to be constantly in a state of bodily disease — more or Jess
susceptible of alleviation from medicine, and more or less to require attend-
ance. That the same man can have any individual acquaintance with the
cases of a thousand people, is too plain a matter to be questioned • and,
accordingly, Mr. Warburton, when, by dint of more searching questions,
he is compelled to modify his general assertion, observes that a large pro-
portion come from other establishments as incurables ; and with these the
said surgeon, who attends to every person, has nothing to do, except with
their bodily health. Dr. Robert Hooper is also introduced to the Com-
mittee to state his opinion, that, out of 360 or 170 patients, perhaps not
more than ten or twelve, on the average, may require to be under process
of medicine ; — and this proportion will probably give a higher number than
is actually under the care of the surgeon at any one time. Now how could
Mr. W. thus broadly assert, as he does, that the medical attendant super-
intends all the patients, mentally and bodily; and that a " curative pro-
cess," as he phrases it, was constantly going on ; meaning — or at least
meaning the Committee should understand — that the minds of the patients
were as much attended to as their bodies ? To mislead, of course, and to
bear down suspicion, by the weight of confident and indiscriminating
declarations.
But Mr. W. is a man who professes to undertake himself not
only the care, but the cure, and may therefore fairly bo supposed to
supply any deficiencies, on the part of his medical attendant, by his own
practice. Let us see. He tells the Committee his knowledge of insane
cases is equal to any man's in England. But how — ask the Committee, very
properly — how does he contrive to apply this knowledge, which nobody
questions, attending, as it appears he does, only two single hours a week,.
1827.] Pauper Lunatics. 455
and a great part of that time occupied, as it probably is, by the other duties
which devolve on him as proprietor of the house ? — " By examining the
patients, as other people do," is his answer. Besides, he adds, the confi-
dence he places in Mr. Jennings, his superintendent, enables him to give
more of the two hours to the " curative process" of the minds of the ,500,
than he could otherwise do. But when farther pressed by the questions of
the Committee, who are naturally puzzled, and cannot comprehend how
one poor mortal can look to 500 cases in less than an hour, that is at about
the rate of ten per minute, — he " conceives the surgeon is the person
whose constant attention in that way is required, and he knows that con-
stant attention the surgeon does give at his visitations ; but, with regard to
himself, he sees the patients, and examines, and gives directions accord-
ingly ;" all which it finally appears he contrives to do very well, because
" a very short time does for insane patients, many of whom also are incu-
rables." When again pressed about his knowledge of the surgeon's attend-
ance, and asked, as he himself only visits twice a week, and the surgeon
every other day, if it frequently happened he did not see. him — he boldly
answers, " it rarely happens :" though, in fact, if both attended at the
same hour, they could only meet once a week; but, on their own shewing,
they do not even visit at the same hours. However, they possibly meet at
Mr. W,'s other establishments ; and the surgeon's report, so paradingly
alluded to, may then be made of all the establishments together. But
how, after all, are these reports, which are stated to be so regularly made — .
how are they made — in writing ? No such thing ; all verbal only. Truly,
the one must have a memory, and the other an apprehension, quite unpa*
ralleled, to make such reports complete or useful.
With respect to professional attendance, then, the fact is, and must be,
no attention at all is paid to the cure of the minds of the patients, beyond
some general system of restraint and occasional separation — none, we mean,
to particular cases. The patients are kept in safe custody, and acute
diseases are attended to : that is the sum of Mr. W.'s " curative process."
Mr. Warburton is next examined as to the classification of the patients.
" Any classification ?" — " Certainly ; one room for the violent, one for
the more quiet, and another for the sick." It is a curious feature in Mr.
W.'s examination, that he always answers as if his replies would be
accepted as absolute and conclusive. He seems never to anticipate ques-
tions that must compel him to modify his peremptory statements. Even
the very inadequate classification he speaks of turns out to be quite falla-
cious. The rooms are all accessible ; nothing prevents the quiet from
going to the violent, nor the violent from going to the quiet — only that the
keepers would of course send back the violent to their own room, if they
saw them out of it.
As to food, a difference, he says, is made between the sick and well.
When asked if the same difference is made with respect to the paupers —
and if, in point of fact, any paupers were then on the sick diet ? — he is
" positive there must be a great number, because it is constantly ordered, if
required." We do not comprehend the logic of this reply. When asked,
as no written report is made of those who are ordered a change of diet,
how he knows that each has the diet directed ? — the answer is, he relies
on the superintendent. " Is Mr. W. aware of the different diet given in
each case ?" — " He is aware it is directed." " Is any distinction of diet
made with reference to the mental malady ?'' — " The variation is according
to the nature of the case." But in this matter, as well as in others, Mr. W.
456 Pauper Lunatics. [Nov.
and his superintendent do not coincide ; and we suspect the superintendent
knows most about the fact.
Now as to attendants. " What number of keepers have the care of
the male paupers ?" — "Five." " How long have there been five?'' —
" For years." Again : the superintendent's account will not coincide,
though he labours hard to reconcile his and his master's; but that of the
keepers themselves contradict Mr. W. point-blank. " But convalescent
patients assist ?" — " No patients are ever desired to do any thing but what
is for the benefit of their own health and the promotion of their cure." The
charge rests mainly upon the evidence of the convalescents themselves, and,
though bearing every mark of probability, can of course be insisted on only
so far as it is confirmed by other testimony.
The crib-rooms. These are rooms appropriated to the pauper-patients,
who are in what is styled a " high" state, and also to those who are insen-
sible to the calls of nature, and of course require extraordinary care. When
asked if he knew in what manner patients were " placed" in these cribs at
night ? — Mr. W. answered he did* If he ever saw them so placed? — he
left that to the superintendent. If he ever actually witnessed the manner
in which they were placed ? — Repeatedly, repeatedly he has gone to
them. " Within how many years?" — "Less than years or months."
Again, the superintendent will tell a different tale.
When denying the charges of neglect and cruelty — of the effects of extra-
ordinary filth — of the patients being washed stark-naked in winter, with
cold water and mops — he relies for the denial on the report of the superin-
tendent, and the confidence he has in him, and cannot of his own personal
knowledge deny it ; — is only sure Mr. Jennings would not use any person
with cruelty or hardship. He contradicts the evidence brought before the
Committee — not from knowing himself the truth of this contradiction, but
because he believes Jennings's counter-statement; he gives him general
instructions that nothing be wanting, and relies with entire confidence on
his fulfilling the directions, and is willing to abide by whatever Mr. Jen-
nings shall state to the Committee ; he knows all the charges of mismanage-
ment, neglect, and cruelty made against his establishment; he has inquired
of Mr. Jennings about them ; Mr. Jennings denies them ; and Mr. Jen-
nings he believes.
Well, but the crib-patients are confined from Saturday till Monday —
that is, chained to one spot in their cribs ; " what is the reason ?" —
" Because confinement is beneficial." " But why on Sundays ?" — " Be-
cause it is a quieter day— -no visitors are admitted." " Is it not for the
relief of the keepers ?" — " Never." " But why should all of them be
thus chained up ? can indiscriminate confinement be a good plan ?" —
" Indiscriminate confinement, he should think, not correct." " Was Mr.
W. ever at the White House on Sundays ?" — " He seldom goes." —
" Within a twelvemonth ?" — " Yes ; three months, perhaps." " Did he
ever go into the crib-rooms on Sundays?" — "He never did; he leaves
them to the management of Mr. Jennings/' " Does he confine his
' private,' his gentlemen patients, as well as the pauper patients?" — " No."
" Is it not extraordinary, then, that the pauper patients should thus exclu-
sively be so treated?" — " It is under Mr. Jennings's management." Mr.
Warburton is then asked if he considers himself responsible for Jennings ?
— " Perfectly so." " Did Mr. W. himself always know of this practice
of Sunday confinement?" — " No." "Did he" till within these three
months ?"— « No." " Mr. Jennings concealed it from him ?"— " Yes."
1827.J Pauper Lunatics. 457
" Has the knowledge of this matter weakened his confidence in Mr.. Jen-
nings ?" — " It has." " Then has he not reason to doubt Mr. Jennings's
statement in other matters ?" — " No." " Is it not probable that, if he
conceals one thing, he may another ?" — " Yes." " But his general con-
fidence is not shaken ?" — " No." The examination closes with the
Committee returning to the charge of chaining to their beds the crib-
patients on Sundays. Mr. W. is again asked if he chains his private
patients from Saturday to Monday; and he answers they are never
chained. How does he justify the difference of treatment ? The pauper
patients of course are not under the same sort of discipline as the wealthier
patients : he assigns, he adds, no other reason than that.
This is the sum of Mr. W/s own testimony. No one can fail of being
struck with the real ignorance under which he labours of his own esta-
blishment; by the sort of confidence he places in all about him — the sur-
geon— the superintendent ; he scarcely seems to think any check or con-
trol required. He glances over the establishment twTice a week ; he trusts
to the surgeon for their bodily health, and for following up his own direc-
tions for their mental maladies ; he himself exercises his own curative
powers by a word — a look ; virtue goes out of him ; he commands, and
all obey ; do this, and — it is done — for any thing he knows. For our
own part, it seems marvellous how the establishment thrives; but that it
does thrive — that is, that it pays — is of course beyond all question.
The cursory view we have thus taken of Mr. W/s own evidence is of
itself, we imagine, nearly sufficient to establish, to every body's convic-
tion, that the system of management requires re-modelling — built as it is
on the principles of money-making ; that, in short, other institutions are
demanded for the protection of. the insane, to screen them from the oppres-
sions which, first or last, sooner or later, more or less, are sure to spring
from the sordid sources of personal avarice. But, to make the case still
plainer, and to shew the interior workings of the establishment more dis-
tinctly, we will briefly look over the superintendent's evidence. His
interests are of course so closely bound up with the establishment, that it
will hardly be supposed master and man do not agree ; and yet, the truth
is, scarcely in any facts do they agree. The discrepancies arise chiefly
from the one knowing more of the matter than the other — more of the
whole range of facts and management : both are equally ready to vouch
for the absolute perfection of the whole concern.
In reply to the inquiries of the Committee as to medical attendance,
Mr. Jennings gives nearly the same account as Mr. W., except that he,
is not quite so peremptory about the surgeon's friend : he attends, he says,
a/most every other day. M r. W. does not, after his manner, qualify at
all. But how far this " unpaid" friend is effective, it is impossible to get
at from any part of the evidence. The regular surgeon visits from eleven
to twelve, or from twelve to one. According1 to this account, he could
never encounter Mr. W., who comes at ten, for one hour. When asked,
as to the several sorts of insanity — some violent, and some melancholy
and mopish — whether he considers the same diet fit for all ? — he answers,
" yes, if the bodily health be good." Therefore, that diet is not regu-
lated, as Mr. Warburton says it is, with reference to the mental state of
the patient. When asked, as the patients are all treated alike, private and
paupers, if he can state any paupers who have received the better, the
sick diet, in the last year ? — He really does not know that he can ; it
M.M. New Scries,— VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 N
45$ Pauper Lunatics. [Nov.
is a thing ho never supposed ho should be asked, and never took any notice
of it. " Can he name any one pauper?" — "He really does not know
that he can." " Can he name any for the nine years he has superintended
the house?" — " There are many ; but he cannot name one." " Can he
tell how much is expended on arrow-root and sago?" — " No; there are
great quantities bought — enough for three months at a time ; but things are
bought together at Apothecaries' Hall, or at Mr. Dunston's : but he can give
no separate account of any thing but bread and meat; he buys, perhaps, a
dozen things together, and enters them in a lump in the cash-book — for
instance, ' Sundries, three or four pounds.' " " Is Mr. W. satisfied with
that ?" — " Yes ; all sorts of things are included — sometimes clothing —
three or four, or half a dozen hats or shoes." "That is the way he
accounts to Mr. W, ?" — " Yes."
With respect to mental remedies. " Does he exercise his knowledge in
promoting the mental cure of the patients ?" — " He certainly does." " In
what way ?" — " By classing them, as well as the nature of the establish-
ment and the keeping them together will permit ; not allowing one in a
raving way to be with a melancholy one." " Is that the only attempt
he makes ?" — " Yes, and keeping them well-bedded and cleaned, arid
washed and comfortable ; and, as to the other part of the curative process,
he leaves it to the medical man ; he takes care to administer the medicine
ordered." " The only point to which he turns his attention, as to cure, is
classification?" — " Yes; attention to cleanliness and comfort." The facts,
therefore, come to this : — Mr. W. leaves the mental care to Mr. Jennings ;
Mr. Jennings separates them into classes, keeps them " clean and com-
fortable," as he calls it ; and leaves the rest to the surgeon, who troubles
himself with nothing but acute diseases. And this is the process of the
institution for the cure of mad people !
When Mr. Jennings is asked about Mr. W.'s attendance — whether he
visits twice a week ? — he answers, " Yes, or his son." Mr. W. himself
said nothing about the son visiting in his stead. But the fact, of course, is,
he does not visit the establishment even twice a week. " Has Mr. Jen-
nings any recollection of Mr. W.'s being at the house at night ?" — " No,
not to look round the establishment." Yet Mr. W.'s language led the
Committee to believe he had been there within three months — of course, to
look over the house. When asked how Mr. W. came not to know about
the Sunday confinement of the paupers ?— he says, he always supposed he
did know. What volumes does this fact speak ! If such a circumstance
could escape Mr. W. so many years, of how many others is he still more
likely to be in utter ignorance ? But, with respect to this confinement, Mr.
Jennings asserts the patients were, nevertheless, all taken up, and washed
on the Sunday ; — an assertion, in which he is contradicted by the keepers,
whose knowledge of what is actually going on is doubtless as much supe-
rior to Mr. Jennings's, es his to Mr. Warburton's.
This system of confinement — notwithstanding all the alleged advantages
— is now, it seems, abandoned — abandoned in consequence of the wishes
of the Board of St. George's. " Then, in consequence of this wish on the
part of St. George's parish, you have discontinued the practice as to all
pauper patients?" — " Yes.1* " Out of deference to one body of gentle-
men, totally unacquainted with the treatment of mental insanity, you have
discontinued the practice generally ?" — " Yes." " Are you always so com-
plying as to the regulations of the house, that, if any person objects to a
1827.] Pauper Lunatics. 459
regulation, you always cease to enforce that regulation, and make the
change universal?" — u Yes, certainly we do ; it must become a general
rule of the establishment, or we cannot carry it on. For instance, as to
the confinement : we used to confine them in strait- waistcoats, till Lord
Robert Seymour came to our house; he was constantly about it. We have
discontinued it in consequence of his objection. I have heard him say, if
he thought the use entirely of the strait-waistcoat was not abolished before
he died, he thought he could not rest in his grave." " And for the sake
of his resting in his grave, you have done away with it ?" — " He was a
man of some consequence.*'
To trace still farther the actual state of things, we must glance at the
evidence of William Barnard, a keeper for eight years, and still in the esta-
blishment. It has been stated by Warburton and Jennings, though in less
absolute terms by the latter than the former, that there were always five
keepers for the paupers. Wm. Barnard, when asked who acted with him,
named four plump. On farther inquiry, it proved one had been with him
three months, another not so long, and a third from August of last year.
Before August there were only two, himself and another — -taking occa-
sional assistance from the gentlemen's side, and assisted by the convalescent
patients. These patients had no absolute care of rooms, but helped, and
had remuneration in the shape of tobacco and money. As to the cribs, there
were from thirty to forty confined in them on Sundays. Mr. Jennings spoke
of twenty. These patients were not all taken up — did take out three —
will not be positive about so many as five. Then as to the mops and cold
water ? — " Never used a mop three times in his life ; but has seen it used
occasionally, but never as a regular thing."
What says John Sharpe, who was hired as groom to Mr. Jennings, but,
on his predecessor continuing, assisted for a few weeks in looking after
the patients, and was there from November till the Duke of York's
funeral ? — The crib-patients were all chained up on the Sunday ; they
were not taken up and washed, but occasionally wiped : on Monday, if
dirty, they were washed with a mop and cold water. " Did he often use
a mop ?"— " Often." " Use hot water ?"— « Never." " Any flannel ?"
— " No ; believes there was a copper heated every day, but did not use the
water. As to variety of food, never knew any difference made, except with
those in the Infirmary, and does not know what they had ; at breakfast,
some had coffee and bread and butter, at expense of friends. Has seen the
convalescent patients assisting — putting others to bed ; seen one of them
strike the patients ; left the establishment, because he was not wanted."
But the evidence of Thomas Dalby is of more importance, because he
has been in the establishment nineteen years and a half, and is as stout
about all being right as Mr. Jennings or Mr. Warburton. Till within a
twelvemonth, he and Barnard had the charge of all the paupers, with
occasional assistance. When asked if any alterations had taken place in the
system of management, answers, " No.'' " What, just as it was a-twelve-
month ago ?v— " Yes, we do the best we can." " No alteration in
treatment of patients ?" — " No." " Crib-patients not now confined on
Sundays ?" — " No, but they are treated just the same." " Is not that an
alteration in the treatment?" — " Yes, in that respect." " No change in
Infirmary ?" — " No ; it is kept clean, and always was." The tone cannot
be mistaken ; nor could Thomas Dalby be mistaken as to the number of
his colleagues.
3 N 2
460 Pauper Lunatics. [Nov.
We have before seen the extent of the surgeon's labours — at the least a
thousand patients ; but a glimpse at his own testimony will be more satis-
factory. On his examination, he professes to consider himself responsible
for the mental and bodily cure of all. When asked to describe the process,
he fears, by speaking professionally, he shall not make himself intelligible;
but, being farther urged, he states generally, if the case be one of excite-
ment, he reduces; if of depression, he gives them a fillip ; and, if depen-
dant on bodily disease, he cures the disease. Jn short, all who are bodily
ill, he attends to ; and of those who are mentally so, all who are susceptible
of being benefited by medicine. He does not hesitate to make this decla-
ration, though never more than one out of ten are actually under his care.
Of course, nine out often are considered by him as incurable, and no regard
is, in point of fact, paid to them. Being asked how he remembers the cases,
he says he keeps a paper, with the name and medicine prescribed, which
he renews as it fills up — perhaps every week or ten days. " Does every
description of patients receive the same diet, exclusive of bodily ailments ?"
— " Yes, but thinks the furious require better diet than the melancholy,
and has no doubt they have it." Like Mr. Warburton. the surgeon answers
generally : whatever is requisite is done; he gives orders, and is sure they
are executed : but, being farther questioned, knows nothing of course of
the actual execution of his orders. The superintendent is all in all.
Then follows the Py lades of this Orestes, Mr. Cordell, who is as ready
as the best to make the largest declarations. He gives directions about diet
•—and every thing is done — done so far as the orders go, he means. " If
I find a man sinking, I say let this man have wine; if accustomed to wine,
give him brandy. I am speaking of paupers. With respect to the higher
orders, of course, if wo recommend champaign and brandy, it is followed
immediately without restriction." " What sort of register does Mr. Dun-
ston keep of his patients ?" — " A very correct one." " Is it a book ?" —
" A large folio volume ; and, I believe, for neatness, as well as correctness
of detail, it is a pattern for every professional man to adopt." " Does that
book constitute the means you have of going on with the system of medical
treatment ?" — " Precisely. For months back we have had occasion to refer,
and I have never found the reference fail," &c. Will the reader believe
that the whole of this detail is sheer moonshine — that, in reality, no such
book exists ? — and, of course, no such referencecould be made ? This gen-
tleman, on an after examination, when the Committee remind him of his
evidence, begs leave to correct his statements. He laboured under a
mistake ; some years ago there was some such book, and he supposed it
was continued ; his statement was made in the confidence he had in Mr.
Dunston's extraordinary punctuality and method. There can be no
difficulty in attaching its due value to this gentleman's testimony.
Dr. Robert Hooper is also examined on the part of Mr. Warburton, and
at Mr. Warburton's desire ; not, the reader will think, with very good dis-
cretion. Speaking of Mr. W.'s bouse, he says, " The patients that are sent
there are many of them epileptic patients, whose minds are, after an epi-
leptic paroxysm, very much deranged, and who, during the attack, are very
unmanageable: they are generally incurable cases. Now, I conceive, that
such cases, if they are looked after to see that they do not hurt themselves,
that they are taken proper care of under the paroxysm, and that they have
comfort afforded them when the paroxysm goes by, are as well there as in
any other place, affording them similar attention. There are very many
J827.] Pauper Lunatics. 461
melancholy, whose aberrations of mind constitute what we term melan-
choly madness : 1 do not think the situation at all calculated to effect the
cure of melancholy madness. There are some few that go there under
acute maniacal sufferings — furious madness : the place is perfectly ineffi-
cient for the cure of those, I conceive. Perhaps another class may he said
to be those who have delusions — cases of lunacy : I do not think that
place well calculated to remove delusions. — That is the distinction I take/'
That is, in Dr. Robert Hooper's opinion, the epileptic are properly taken
care of at Mr. WVs ; but the other three classes, as he expressly says, are
left without any efficient system of cure — derive no efficient advantage.
The facts, then, which may be considered as established, are these :•—
that the patients are too thickly crowded to admit of adequate classifica-
tion and exercise — in a space, indeed, less than either Bedlam or St.
Luke's there are double the number of patients ; that though the instances
of positive cruelty may be few, those of the most criminal neglect are
many ; that the medical treatment is confined to cases of acute bodily dis-
orders ; that nothing — absolutely nothing — is attempted in the way of
mental cure ; that as to any attention in varying the diet according to the
varying states of mental disease, little or nothing is done ; that neither the
surgeon nor the proprietor can be said to know much of what is going on in
the establishment ; that an absolute confidence is placed in one man, who
has chained patients, indiscriminately and periodically, unknown to the
proprietor, and has described the establishment itself in a manner of which
he himself could give no proof, and which is contradicted by the keepers,
and who is as adventurous and almost as reckless as the proprietor himself
in answering for what he could not personally know. But, above all, it is
manifest that the whole system of supervision exercised by the parish
officers and their medical men, as well as by the College Commissioners,
can give no security whatever for good treatment ; that the whole centers
in the confidence of all parties in Mr. Warburton, whose own account
proves that he throws the burden of management upon another, whom few
persons, after. the disclosures that have been made, except Mr. Warburton,
would think deserving of farther confidence.
If private establishments, then, were the proper places for lunatics, this is
riot the place ; but the whole result only tends to set the fact in a more
glaring light — that nothing short of a public institution, open to constant
inspection, under the direction of men who have no personal interests to
prosecute, is alone calculated to furnish the protection which the security
of society, the rights of humanity, and the sympathies of our common
nature demand.
[ 462 ] [Nov.
THE MOTHER'S MONITOR ;
SUGGESTED BY A GERMAN LEGEND.
Six playful summers had he seen,
The widowed mother's only boy ;
Her care, her play-fellow had been,
The last dear spark of life and joy.
None ever caught his glancing eye,
But longed to look on it again ;
" Heaven bless due !'•' breathed the passer-by,
And churlish hearts still joined " Amen !"
Did he, who gave the treasured bliss,
But grant it as a taste of heaven,
To teach of better worlds than this ?
Alas ! 'twas only lent, not given.
E'en in the spring-tide of his day,
When closest to her heart he clung,
He pined, and sickened slow away ;
The widow's wail, his death-dirge sung.
Now most forlorn she sits alone,
There, where she watched his heartfelt glee,
While memory brings with every groan,
Her boy's gay laugh of ecstacy.
Nor faith, nor hope, can reach her there ;
Death is before her, round her, still.
That aching heart can raise no prayer ;
Those streaming eyes ne'er cease to fill.
— Tis that still hour when all should sleep,
And bless, in dreams, kind Nature's care ;
— What form is that which seems to weep,
And stand in lovely sorrow there ?
It bears her boy's transparent brow,
His soft round lip may there be seen ;
But ashy white, its coral now,
For death now breathed where life had been.
Yet 'tis her boy ! Oh, was it woe,
Or was it bliss, that shade to see ?
A moment ceased her tears to flow,
— " Com'st thou, my boy, to comfort me ? "
" Oh mother ! look upon my shroud ;
" 'Tis ever wet with tears of thine ;
" Past is the time for grief allowed,
" Now heaven's bright hope again should shine.
" Oh mother ! let me rest in peace,
" Till on thy breast again I lie ;
" And let it make thy sorrows cease,
" That thou shalt hope, not fear, to die."
Blest as the ray th-it paints the bow,
When God's own word to man is given,
Was that sweet voice, which bade her know
She should behold his face in Heaven !
1827.] [ 463 ]
FULL-LENGTHS. — K° VI.
The Ship-Clergyman*
WE approach our subject with a degree of timidity ; we crave the most
charitable consideration of our readers. The matter to be discussed is at
once both delicate and difficult. Fine hair-strokes, and softly-mingling
colours are here imperatively requisite ; we must venture no bold outline —
a hurried touch would instantly destroy our subject, as well as hand us over
to the scorching accusation of a reckless disrespect. We are, in sooth upon
our very best behaviour.
As we always like, whenever it is possible, to lean upon the huge-nobbed
stick of philosophy, we shall here for a brief space rest upon the weapon.
It is well known that matter exposed to the sea air undergoes, in many
instances, a variety of transformations; blacking and bottled porter ar
particularly affected by a long marine voyage : but of all the changes
worked by the ocean — and indeed we could heap the page up with
instances— > of all its manifold operations, none are so strikingly peculiar as
those upon a son of the church. It is really wonderful to contemplate the
character — the now tincture — given to orthodoxy by a voyage in a man-
of-war to the West Indies. There is — or ought to be — in the bearing of
every land clergyman, a kind of dignified suavity — a sweetness, yet still a
dignified placability. Now, this dignity, which, indeed, we have frequently
heard censured by the superficial and unthinking as clerical starch, we
rather call gum, " medicinal gum," at once imparting a strength and a
gratefulness to the clerical character. Now, of this moral gum our ship-
clergyman hath not an atom ; the sea air hath wholly annihilated it — the
salient particles have utterly destroyed it, returning at the same time a less
artificial rigidity to the character of the despoiled. We think if it were
possible to feed a man upon musk, the excess of sweetness would render
him an idiot. Is there not, however, other musk than that bought in
packages at the perfumer's ? Let us consider it philosophically ; — and what
are the hourly obeisances, the half-breathed replies, the continual cringings
cf deference, but so much civet curling up from the altars of the dependent
to the nostrils of the patronizing ? The nose of nearly every man is greeted
more or less with this daily odour, which, steaming to the brain, there
imparts a deceptive principle of strength, which, christened in the meekest
name of passion's vocabulary, is called — confidence. We know it may
take a hundred different appellations — folly, rashness, conceit — according to
the original power of the organ it enshrouds. Now every member, from the
bishop — from him who hath lawn sleeves — to the hard-working journeyman
of the church, who can scarcely obtain linen for attire of any kind — every
one of these hath, in his degree, a corresponding deference paid to him,
from which results a peculiar, and truly clerical dignity. Now our ship-
clergyman, having no marked distinction paid to him by supple humanity,
his moral man undergoes a progressive yet certain change, and whilst
feelings and ideas are at work within, the elements busy themselves
both in his intellectual and physical powers. We must here attempt a
contrast.
We can readily figure to ourselves a clergyman, confirmed an oracle of
,iis village-*— ihe grand arbiter of all disputes — the peace-maker and the pet
in families — the grand lexicon for the unlettered. How different the
461 The Ship-Clergyman. [Nov.
clergyman of the quarter-deck. The boatswain prefers no complaint to his
orthodox shipmate — the helmsman confers not with him on the quarter of
the wind — nay, we much doubt, whether, if. we were to examine the
whole navy, we should find that " the gentlemen of the cockpit" ever once
sent up «' their compliments to the Reverend Mr. , and begged for
his decision in an argument on the Hebrew roots.'5 Indeed we much doubt
the probability of the occurrence. Now this very consciousness of unim-
portance acts as a slow fire in the heart of every man — this tacit prohibition
of all display of acquirements is, in itself, a grievous evil. If we were to
bind round with packthread the tail of a peacock — if we were thus
inhumanly to prevent an exhibition of its glories — the animal would
doubtless pine and die. And so would man, had he not, when deprived
of one resource, reason wherewithal to put forth another — and thus we
have known a worthy marine clergyman, whose exquisite tact in hair-
breadth points of faith was never called into exertion, gain immortal fame
throughout a ship's-crew, by making grog — in the emphatic language of
his admirers — " like an angel."
Our readers must not start at this praise ; but must duly consider the
many circumstances, morally and bodily, which urge our clergyman to gain
such reputation. The elements which he has to confront demand of him
a firmness uncalled for in his land brethren. Even a clergyman, whose
black becomes drenched when the vessel ships a sea, cannot always retire
to his birth to dry himself over Latimer or Baxter alone — a thousand
seductive examples show a different mode. We must own that a roystering
lieutenant, slapping the powder out of the reverend gentleman's collar, and
telling him to " mix for the mess," has in it something averse to the
respect due to the primitive church ; we feel a surprise, akin to that excited
by Marlowe, who, in his Dido Queen of Carthage, makes JEineas say to
his taciturn and dull-headed friend : — ;
" Gentle Achates, reach the tinder.box !"
A Trojan warrior and a tinder-box — orthodoxy and cold rum and water !
What startling contrasts! A little consideration, however, destroys our
wonderment, and we recognise in both a propriety begotten by a rigid
necessity. As the clergyman cannot induce his shipmates to come over
entirely to him, he must step a little way out of his road to shake hands
with them. The first lieutenant declares he will not sit down to the
book of Job ; but kindly invites the reverend gentleman to a glass of
rum and water. And an invitation from a first lieutenant — but, stop, we
are doubtless conferring with the uninitiated ; we must, therefore, explain
ourselves by affinities. Our ship-clergyman cannot refuse the first lieu-
tenant. Why ? Can a poor curate reject a wealthy holder of livings ?
A ship-clergyman is, in fact, a kind of negative ornament : something
like the figure at the head of the ship ; there is an air of propriety about
the appointment, but little opportunity is afforded for a display of utility.
Indeed our clergyman is in every way a victim to naval discipline.
The sailors follow up their exclamations with fearful expletives, and pass
on, unrebuked by their reverend pastor. The fault rests not with our sub-
ject. Let him, however, commence a lecture in condemnation of profane
swearing, and he would have to contend with the shrieks of the boat-
swain's whistle, and the " Sway away, there !" from his mates. What
then ? He must endure the evil in silence. He must " compress the God
1827.] The S/iip-Clergymaji. 465
within him,1' and if he cannot pray with, pray for, the whole ship's com-
pany. He may, it is certain, treasure up all the enormities of the crew,
and touch upon them with a tongue of flame in his Sunday's discourse —
he may lay forth in the most odious colours, the vice of evil-speaking,
even though the captain be not notorious for his courtly figures — he may,
it is true, level his fire at the sin of drunkenness, and at the red nose of
the purser — the reverend gentleman may fulminate against fornication,
even though a hundred nymphs from the neighbouring sea- port make a
part of his auditory — and such they always do, whenever the vessel bears
so rich and gentle a freight ! The reverend orator may doubtless scourge
every creature in the ship from the admiral to the loblolly-boy ; but,
alas ! can human courage dare so much ? Ought he, compelled to live
with tigers, to venture to pull them by the whiskers ?
Indeed — after, we trust, a very patient and comprehensive view of
things, a view in which we have anxiously pondered on all the harm-
less creatures and engines to be found in either civilized or savage society—-
we conscientiously declare, we know not a more unoffending, a more
innoxious compound than a ship-sermon. These discourses form striking
contrasts to the ceremony which they precede : they are generally deli-
vered at the bottom of the quarter-deck companion ladder, where, on the,
pulpit being, " doused," the soul-cheering liquor is instantly served forth— *
the prayer, " May the peace," &c. is directly followed by the pithy
order " Pipe to grog!" and those of the congregation who have provi-
dently hidden their cans under the *' church" benches, are in a moment
ready to receive their liquor. The sermon is generally from Blair or
Tillotson ; all the vigorous passages expunged, with a few original emen-
dations to mystify; hiatus in manuscriptis frequently occurs, but Jack
has not the bitterness of criticism. These lectures are, in truth, more
pleasant, as they are less comprehensible ; ship-sermons, like glow-
worms, shine most in darkness. Let us not, however, deny, that our
clergyman is sometimes wholly original. He sometimes produces a fine
soporific manuscript, with laudanum worked into the very paper, and
bearing in every line a row of poppies disguised as letters — a volume, the
leaves of which are no sooner parted, than we sympathise with the covers,
and yawn likewise !
We have endeavoured philosophically to account for the distinction
between the churchman of the land and the (pardon the pun) " rector
pelagi.^ Notwithstanding, we cannot come to a close ere we attempt to
strike off the lineaments and habitudes of one particular ship clergyman,
at present most vivid in our recollection.
There was an admirable union of the gravity of the church and the
sturdiness of the quarter-deck in the person and manners of Mr. E . It
was a droll, yet happy amalgamation. There was, to the eye of Fancy,
a smutch of nautical tar on the three-corner beaver of the theologian ; the
milk-white bands which descended from his neck, were not cambric, but
plaited oakum ; his very hair, although closely cropt, to the considerate
look, seemed to tend in all the downward yearnings of a pig-tail. When
he exclaimed " Dearly beloved brethren!" one naturally concluded that
" Hearts of oak'* must follow. Not a boatswain in the whole fleet had,
a more unyielding frame. There was a compact robustness in his form
a kind of graceful violence in his bearing, which spoke the man whose
nerves delighted in a stiff gale and a high sea. In the event of an appalling
M.M. New Series—VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 O
466 The Ship-Clergyman. [Nov.
leak, no man could have been mere efficient at the pumps than parson
E . We think he inwardly pleased himself in the knowledge of this,
yet deemed a public belief of his powers at variance with the meekness of
his calling. From hence resulted some laughable manoeuvres in his affecta-
tion of timidity. He would step into a boat with all the interesting terror
of a young lady ; and was inexpressibly perturbed at the prospect of a
royal salute. Poor Mr. E ! he would have cut out a " three-decker,"
or sent a broadside of grape into her, with any lieutenant or gunner in his
Majesty's navy. His face truly shewed the man ! Winds from all points
had lacerated his visage, and good proof spirit had worked a cure; albeit,
it left some scars behind. Boreas and Bacchus had his cheeks between
them — their powers had fiercely disputed every atom of ground ; although
we cannot but think Bacchus must have been the victor, he having, in
token of conquest, planted his round tower (a barnacle) on the reverend
gentleman's nose.*
In the ward-room, Mr. E was an oracle. When in port, it was
he who was intrusted with the important charge of visiting all the poul-
terers, the wine-merchants, the pickle-warehouses — it was he who brought to
the mess, nearly " a pair of every living thing." Often have we marked
him nearing the ship — the gig sunk to the very gunwale with the weight
of flesh and fowl — the eye of our clergyman, as it were, slumbering exult-
ingly on a fat haunch, or gigantic turkey some three-hands breadth before
him — in fact, his whole person dilated with the consciousness of self-
importance, and the anticipations of dinner. We must confess it — in every
point of cookery, &c. Mr. E was orthodox — a very bigot — even to
the laying of the soft tommy. ,f
The failings of Mr. E , if failings they be called — vanished with
the cloth. He was a good, and, perhaps — but we never heard him dis-
course in Greek — a learned man. Certain it is, he had a pleasantry, the
sure sign of a mind at ease — at times, a joviality of manner, which, whilst
it fitted him for his companions, gave no licence to their looseness. He —
and let not this be considered as his meanest virtue — was the patron of the
poor child who had stepped from the nursery to the riot of the cock-pit :
he would take the ten-years old midshipman with him in his shore rambles
— would feed him with cakes and good counsel — and, as much as possible,
cleanse the mind of the infant from the moral mildew of a man-of-war!
Mr. E was a bluff, a merry, a good ship clergyman.
J.
* We trust not to be understood as here falling into a vulgar cry. The truth is, although
a water-drinker may do in the Weald of Kent, he would be mightily inconvenienced in the
" chops of the channel.''
•J- Nautical— bread.
1827.] [ 467 ]
TRAVELLING PARTICULARITIES I
No. I.
CALAIS. JulyS, 1827.
I BELIEVE you are right, after all, in bidding me send you as many
facts as I can lay my hands on, and permit you the privilege of collecting
your own inferences from them, and forming your own opinions. We
tf mob of gentlemen who write with ease" are, I confess it, very apt to
insist that those whom it pleases us to enlighten by our lucubrations shall
accept the boon after our fashion, rather than their own. We modestly
believe that you, who are good enough to read what we write, cannot
be repaid for your kindness by any thing less than being spared all the
trouble of thinking for yourselves. Seriously, our travellers' letters of the
present day are very full of " wise saws;" but they leave the " modern
instances" to lag behind. This shall, at any rate, not be the case with
mine. The latter shall be all in all with them — leaving you to form or
collect the former as best you may. In a word, I will endeavour to write
with a view to y0W7$satisfaction exclusively — except in so far as mine can
be made to grow out of that.
But you bid me write you from every town at which we stay in the
course of our desultory route — forgetting that the track we are likely to
follow, for the next month or two, is a beaten one, upon which nothing
new has sprung up for the last century or two, much less for the last week
or two ; during which latter period you have, no doubt, seen it duly
described. This is what I told you when we parted : but still you insisted
that I must write all I observe, and all I do not observe ; — tempting me to
do so by your flattering hints, that, in both cases, I shall tell you something
you did not observe or miss yourself, and have not been told by others.
There is no resisting this — especially when you add, seriously, that you
have not yet obtained, either from your own or other people's observations,
any very distinct and\available general notions of the different places, per-
sons, and matters with which I shall come in contact in the course of my
errant journey ings. This last plea decides me. It refers to a want that I
have long felt myself, and that I am determined at last to remedy — for
myself I mean. If, in doing so, I can also remedy it for you, the satis-
faction I shall feel in my success will be doubled.
I think I told you that we mean to stay several days at least, in every
town of any note that we visit, and also in every one of no note, if we find
any thing, either in cr about it, that claims attention. Shall Calais, then,
be passed by without mention, merely because all the world has seen it,
and knows " all about it," as the phrase is ? Assuredly not. Calais will
merit to be described by every Englishman who visits it, and to be read of
by every one who does not — so long as Hogarth, and " Oh ! the Roast
Beef of Old England !" shall be remembered, and — which will be longer
still — till the French and English become one people, merely by dint of
living within three hours' journey of each other.
Calais has been treated much too cavalierly by the flocks of English,
who owe to it their first, and consequently most fixed impressions of French
manners, and the English want of them. Calais is, in fact, one of the most
agreeable and characteristic little towns in France. It is " lively, audible,
and full of vent" — as gay as a fair, and as busy as a bee-hive — and its form
and construction as compact. This latter is the great merit (riot to men-
3 O 2
468 Travelling Particularities. [ Nov
tion its being the great defect) of all fortified places. A town should be a
town ; and Calais is one entirely. Its inhabitants know no more about
" the country" than those do who have spent all their lives, except an
occasional Sunday afternoon, in Cheapside ; and they are wise enough to
care about it still less — seeing that all the good appertaining to it, in their
eyes, is brought to them every Saturday throughout the year, and offered
at almost their own prices.
Calais, therefore, unlike any English town you could name, is content
to remain where it is — instead of perpetually trying to stretch away towards
Paris, as our's do towards London, and as London itself does towards them.
Transporting you at once to the " Place" in the centre of the town (an
entirely open square, of about 150 paces by 100), you can scarcely look
upon a more lively and stirring scene. The houses and their shops (they
have all shops) are like nothing so much as so many scenes in a pantomime
— so fancifully and variously are they filled, so brightly and fantastically
painted, and so abruptly do they seem to have risen out of the ground !
This last appearance is caused by the absence of a foot-path, and of areas,
porticos, railings, &c., — such as, in all cases, give a kind of finish to the
look of our houses. The houses here seem all to have-, grown up out of the
ground — not to have been built upon it. This is what gives to them their
most striking effect of novelty at the first view. Their brilliant and various
colourings — so unlike our sombre brick-work — is the next cause of the
novel impression they produce. The general strangeness of the effect is
completed by the excellence of the pavement, which is of stones, shaped
like those of our best London carriage-ways, but as white as marble in all
weathers, and as regular as the brick-work of a house-front. The uni-
formity of the " Place" is broken (not very agreeably) by the principal public
edifice of Calais — the Town Hall ; a half-modern, half-antique building,
which occupies about a third of the south side, and is surmounted at one
end by a light spiring belfry, containing a most loquacious ring of bells,
which take up a somewhat unreasonable proportion of every quarter of an
hour in announcing its arrival ; and, in addition, every three hours they
play " Le petit chaperon rouge," for a longer period than (I should ima-
gine) even French patience and leisure can afford to listen to it. Imme-
diately behind the centre of this side of the " Place" also rises the lofty
tower, which serves as a light-house to the coast and harbour, and which
at night displays its well-known revolving lights. Most of the principal
streets run out of this great square. The most busy of them — because the
greatest thoroughfare — is a short and narrow one leading to the Port (Rue
du Havre} : in it live all those shopkeepers who especially address them-
selves to the wants of the traveller. But the gayest and most agreeable
street is one running from the north-east corner of the " Place" {RueRoyale}.
It terminates in the gate leading to the suburbs (Basse Ville), and to the
Netherlands and the interior of the country. In this street is situated the
great hotel Dessin — rendered famous for the " for ever" of a century or so
to come, by Sterne's Sentimental Journey. The only other street devoted
exclusively to shops is one running parallel with the south side of the
« Place." The rest of the interior of Calais consists of about twenty other
streets, each containing here and there a shop, but chiefly occupied by the
residences of persons directly or indirectly connected with the trade of
Calais as a sea- port town. None of them are either very good or very bad ;
but observe that (not golden, but) silver mean, which is so agreeable in most
foreign cities of this kind, and the absence of, which is so painfully felt in
1827.] Travelling Particularities. 469
English towns similarly situated — where you find little or nothing between
the town residence of the purse-proud trader, and the loathsome hovel of
his poverty-stricken dependents. Here you see no such thing as either
poverty or dependence. Even the female shrimp-catchers (of which you
occasionally meet a little army) march merrily along to their daily occupa-
tions— their nets shouldered with an air of almost military defiance, and
their handsome sun-burnt legs (seemingly as firm as the stones on which
they tread) uncovered to the knees — as if to prove that poverty never laid
his withering fingers on such a frame as they belong to.
I shall, in a day or two, tell you something of the exterior of Calais
and of its inhabitants — English as well as French ; and shall also give you
an insight into the prices, qualities, &c. of those various articles of con-
sumption which we are pleased to term " the necessaries of life." In
regard to this latter subject of observation, you may expect me to be very
particular wherever I go ; since, next to the promptings of a somewhat rest-
less and erring spirit, my chief inducement for travelling at present is to
determine, from my own experience, in what spot or neighbourhood 1
shall hereafter " set up my rest."
Calais, July 10, 1827.
I beg you not to believe a word of what any body may tell you against
Calais — especially if they tell it you in print. Ferdinand Mendez Pinto
was but a type of the printing-press, that " liar of the first magnitude." I
never yet received a clear and distinct, still less a fair and unexaggerated
account, of any foreign place whatever, from the lips or pen of a person to
whom it was foreign — much less from one who was native to it, or to the
country to which it belonged. And Calais has been more ill-used in this
respect than any other place — merely because a few unlucky scapegraces
from England have taken refuge in its friendly arms. If you believe its
maligners, Calais is no better than a sort of Alsatia to England, a kind of
extension of the rules of the King's Bench. The same persons would
persuade you that America is something between a morass and a desert,,
and that its inhabitants are a cross between swindlers and barbarians ;
merely because its laws do not take upon them to punish those who have-
not offended against them ! If America were to send home to their respec-
tive countries, in irons, all who arrive on her shores under suspicion of not
being endowed with an Utopian degree of honesty — or, if (still better) she>
were to hang them outright, she would be looked upon as the most pious,,
moral, and refined nation under the sun, and her climate would rival that
of Paradise. And if Calais did not happen to be so situated, that it affords
a pleasant refuge to some of those who have the wit to prefer free limbs
and fresh air to a prison, it would be all that is agreeable and genteel. It
seems to be thought, that a certain ci-devant leader of fashion has chosen
Calais as his place of voluntary exile, out of a spirit of contradiction.
But the truth is, he had the good sense to see that he might u go farther
and fare worse ;" and that, at any rate, he would thus secure himself from
the intrusions of that " good company," which had been his bane. By-
the-by, his last " good thing" appertains to his residence here. Some one
asked him how he could think of residing in " such a place as Calais?"
" J suppose," said he, " it is possible for a gentleman to live between
London and Paris." His choosing to reside here has, in fact, done more
for his reputation as a man of sterling wit and sense, than even he himself
would perhaps give it credit for. "And it is a finer satire on his great
470 Travelling Particularities. [Nov.
friends, and a sharper thorn in their sides, than any thing he can do by
tus promised (or threatened) history of his " Life and Times." But to
leave this prince of petits-maitres to that " illustrious obscurity" which he
has so richly earned, by cutting the world, in revenge for being cut by one
of its chief rulers; let me proceed soberly with my description of the place
which he has chosen as his Corioli. The interior of Calais I need not
describe further, except to say that round three-fourths of it are elevated
ramparts, overlooking the surrounding country to a great extent, and in
several parts planted with trees, which afford most pleasant and refreshing
walks, after pacing the somewhat perplexing pavement of the streets, and
being dazzled by the brilliant whiteness which reflects from that, and from
the houses. The port, which occupies the other fourth, and is gained by
three streets parallel to each other, and leading from the " Place," is small,
but in excellent order, and always alive with shipping, and the amusing
operations appertaining thereto; and the pier is a most striking object,
especially at high water, when it runs out, in a straight line, for near
three quarters of a mile, into the open sea. It is true our English engineers
— who ruin hundreds of their fellow citizens by spending millions upon a
bridge that nobody will take the trouble to pass over, and cutting tunnels
under rivers, only to let the water into them when they have got all the
money they can by the job — would treat this pier with infinite contempt,
as a thing that merely answers all the purposes for which it was erected !
as if that were a merit of any but the very lowest degree. " Look at
Waterloo Bridge!" they say ; " we flatter ourselves that was not a thing
built (like the pier of Calais) merely for use. Nobody will say that any
such thing was wanted ! But, what a noble monument of British art, and
what a fine commemoration of the greatest of modern victories I" True :
but it would have been all this if you had built it on Salisbury Plain ; and
in that case it would have cost only half the money. The pier of Calais
is, in fact, every thing that it need be, and what perhaps no other pier is;
and yet it is nothing more than a piece of serviceable carpentery, that must
have cost about as much, perhaps, as to print the prospectuses of some of
the late undertakings, and pay the advertisements and the lawyer's bill.
At the opposite side of the town from the port, are the gates leading to
the suburbs and the open country, over three separate lines of fortification.
Though the uninitiated in the " noble art of war" must look upon the
fortifications of an almost impregnable town, like Calais, with very different
eyes from those who can read them as scholars do Greek, yet (unlike the
latter) they cannot fail to be almost as interesting to the one as the other
class of observers. We can all of us make something out from them ; or
at least conjure up something, which answers all the purpose. We can
invest, or rather we cannot help investing, the surrounding plain with a
besieging army, and lining the walls with cannon, and placing sentinels on
every " coin and vantage ground" within view, and lifting up the draw-
bridges, and sluicing the fosses, and converting every crack in the walls
into an " imminent deadly breach." The fine fortifications of Calais
afford ample scope for speculations of this nature. Passing through their
three solid gates, and over the drawbridges that adjoin them, you imme-
diately reach a long wide street, paved in the centre, and lined on either
side by houses, chiefly of a very inferior kind. Indeed, the Basse Ville is
by no means a handsome appendage to Calais; but it has the merit of
drawing off from the town itself most of those of the very lowest class, who
are necessarily employed in it occasionally, and thus acts the part of the
1827.] Travelling Particularities. 471
offices to a great house. At right angles with the principal street, on
either side, run others, which pierce away into the country, and take almost
the character of green lanes, except that they are all perfectly straight —
the French being at once the most flighty and the most precise people in
the world — and having the good sense to cut their roads, plant their woods,
and build their cities, as if with a view to curb and counterbalance one
against the other of these contradictory characteristics. In these little
side lanes are situated the cottages of the lower orders, mixed with others
of a better kind, which vie, in an air of comfort, with any thing that
England can shew of the kind : for it is idle to deny that the French have
the thing above named, however we may choose to twit them with the
want of the word.
I will close this letter by naming (in plain English), the prices of the
chief ^matters connected with a residence here: — premising, however, that
Calais may, for various reasons, be looked upon as one of the dearest
towns in France. An excellent suite of furnished apartments may be had
in--eire of the most respectable private houses in Calais, consisting of a
sitting-rooms, three bed-rooms, and a kitchen, for twenty shillings a week,
and smaller ones in proportion, down to five shillings a week for a batche-
lor's apartment. This, however, does not include attendance of any kind ;
and, with few exceptions, the apartments can only be taken by the
month. The price of meat is fixed by a tarif, at a maximum of sixpence
per pound for the very best. It varies, therefore, between that price and
fourpence ; and this pound contains something more than ours. Poultry is
still cheaper, in proportion, or rather in fact. My dinner to-day consists,
in part, of an excellent fowl, which cost Set., and a pair of delicate ducks,
which cost 1*. 6d. The price of bread is also fixed by law, and amounts
to about two-thirds of the present price of our's in London. Butter and
eggs are excellent, and always fresh : the first costs from nine-pence to ten-
pence the pound of eighteen ounces ; and the latter Wd. per quarter of a
hundred. Vegetables and fruit, which are all of the finest quality, and
fresh from the gardens of the adjacent villages, are as follow: asparagus,
at the rate of Sd. or 9d. the. hundred, peas (the picked young ones), 3d. per
quart ; new potatoes (better than any we can get in England, except what
they call i\HQ framed ones), three pounds for a penny ; cherries and currants
(picked for the table), 2d. per pound ; strawberries (the high flavoured
wood-strawberry, which is so fine with sugar and cream), 4d. for a full
quart, the stocks being picked off. (This latter is a delicacy that can
scarcely be procured in England for any price). The above may serve as
an indication of all the rest, as all are in proportion. The finest pure milk
is Id. per quart ; good black or green teas, 4s. 6d. per pound ; and the finest
green gunpowder tea, 7s. ; coffee, from Is. 3d. to 2s.', good brandy, Is. 3d.
per quart, and the very best, 2s. (I do not mean the very finest old Cogniac,
which costs 3s. 6d.) Wine is dearer in Calais than, perhaps, in any other
town in France, that could be named ; but still you may have an excel-
lent table wine for Is. per quart bottle ; and they make a very palatable
and wholesome beer, for 1 \d. and 2%d. per bottle — the latter of which has
all the good qualities of our porter, and none of its bad Fish is not plen-
tiful at Calais, except the skate, which you may have for almost nothing,
as indeed you may at many of our own sea-pert towns. But you may
always have good-sized turbot (enough for six persons) for 3s., and a cod,
weighing from twelve to fifteen pounds, for half that sum. As to the wages
of female servants, they can scarcely be considered as much cheaper,
472 Travelling Particularities. [Nov.
nominally, than they are with us. But then the habits of the servants,
and the cost of what they eat, make their keep and wages together
amount to not more than half what they do with us.
It only remains to tell you of what is dearer here than it is in England.
I have tried all I can to find out items belonging to this latter head, and
have succeeded in two alone — namely, sugar and fuel. You cannot have
brown sugar under 8d., and indifferent loaf sugar costs Is. 3d. And as to
firing, it is dearer, nominally alone, and in point of fact, does not cost,
to a well regulated family, noar so much, in the course of the year, as
coals do in our houses.
So much for the necessaries? of life, in Calais. In my next I shall tell
you something of its superfluities — that is to say, its amusements, its means
of luxurious living, its society, &c.
A P.AHTTNG SONG.
WHEN will ye think of me, my friends ? 1
When will ye think of me ?
— When the last red light of the sunny day
From the rock and the river is passing away ;
When the air with a deepening hush is fraught,
And the heart grows burdened with tender thought;
Then let it be !
When will ye think of me, kind friends ?
When will ye think of me ?
— When the rose of the rich midsummer-time
Is filled with the hues of its glorious prime ;
When ye gather its bloom, as in bright hours fled,
From the walks where my footsteps no more may tread
Then let it be !
When will ye think of me, sweet friends ?
When will ye think of me ?
— When the sudden tears overflow your eye
At the sound of some olden melody ;
When ye hear the voice of a mountain-stream j
When ye feel the charm of a poet's dream—
Then let it be J
Thus let my mem'ry be with you, friends !
Thus ever think of me !
Kindly and gently, but as of one
For whom 'tis well to be fled and gone ;
As of a bird from a chain unbound ;
As of a wand'rer whose home is found-
So let it be !
1827 [ 473 ]
CANONS OF CUITICISM.
" Avec quolque talent qu'on puisse etre n£, 1'art d'ficrire ne s'apprcnd pas tout d'un coup."—
Confess, de J. J. Routseau.
WHEN I look around me on the world (as the writers of sermons are
wont to say at the opening of their discourses), and behold the infinite
number of all sorts and conditions of persons, who start up,, like the soldiers
of Cadmus, armed to the teeth with pens, ink, paste, and scissors, with
indexes and common-place books, to burst upon society in quartos, octavos,
and duodecimos, I do not so much wonder at the prevalence of an opinion
that authorship is no art ; and that criticism, with its dogmas and maxims, is
no better than medicine, and the other solemn plausibilities of which society
is the dupe. Cela non obstant, Rousseau is right ; and books were never
written with more art than at present. Whatever may be the unpractised
simplicity of some authors (and we have more reason than ever for saying
with Horace, " scribimus indocti doctique"} — from however humble and
uneducated classes they are taken (and many of them can scarcely sign
their name or spell) — yet the publishers are all, if not theoretically pro-
found, at least practically experienced ; and it is in their obstetric hands
that books, for the most part, receive their form, and are fitted to meet the
public eye. It is to the critical acumen of the booksellers that authors are
chiefly indebted, not only for the greater excellencies of their works, but
for their very existence. In a vast many instances, the publisher takes the
initiative, and bespeaks books to be " done according to sample ;" and when
this is not the case, his judgment is generally decisive as to the appearance or
non-appearance of a MS. Without his aid, learning, research, wit, science,
and invention go for little or nothing : and never were they more in need
of his solitary guidance than in this present 1827 — which God preserve !
But while all other arts are in progress — while the " march of mind" is
advancing in quick step time in all the other departments of science —
criticism stands pretty much where it did. While Benthani is throwing a
blaze of illumination on the science of legislation, and while even Mr.
Peel thinks it decorous to light his farthing candle at the flame, the Jeffries
and the Giffards have not condescended to reduce their art to first prin-
ciples ; but suffer others to write, and themselves to review, without method
and without compass, by the rule of thumb ! Even the most experienced
publisher cannot explain the principle of his decisions ; and when he has
told you, your book " is not at all the sort of thing," — that " it wont do,"—
he would be terribly posed, if you insisted on knowing why. I shall make,
therefore, no farther apology for my attempt to supply this desideratum,
but proceed at once to a revision of the canons of criticism, in order ta
place the institutes of literature " au niveau dujour."
It has been falsely supposed by a few old-fashioned pedants, " con la
veduta corf a a'una spanna," that the laws of criticism, like those of nature,
are eternal ; and that what was true in the time of Aristotle and Longinus
must be so in the days of Nares, Lockhart, and Southey. That this is not
true can be proved, not only by an appeal to fact, but by the more satis-
factory argument of d priori necessity. In criticism, as in every thing else,
it is " autres terns, autres mceurs." Did Aristotle know any thing of
Romanticism ? or could Longinus have satisfied a German critic on any
point of the doctrine of oesthetics ? Can anybody nowadays sit out a
tragedy that preserves the unities ? and is not the code of Boileau and of
Horace as obsolete as the laws of the Brehons, or those of Lewark Hen?
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 P
474 Canons of Criticism. [Nov.
But bow, I beseech you, do the dotards, who maintain this similarity
between the laws of criticism and those of nature, know that even the lat-
ter are as irrevocable as they pretend ? For aught they can tell, nature may
have her Benthams and her Peels as well as ourselves, and may proceed,
from time to time, to the revision of her code as well as the United States
of America. Even the nolumus leges mutari gentlemen of Westminster
Hall, who would as soon part with a fee as with a precedent, have not
been able to prevent the most serious innovations in the customs of law.
How then can criticism, which is neither protected by authority, backed by
power, nor bolstered by interest, hope to escape the reiterated assaults of
time and fortune ? Criticism being the art of adapting style, &c. to the
susceptibilities of man, it must follow the changes in the human affections.
If a Briton is differently affected, in ten thousand particulars, from a
Roman or a Greek, how can a writer hope to produce the same effects
now, by the same means, which were successful in the classic authors ?
As well might we apply our Aristotle to measure the Arabian Tales, as to
scan the productions of the modern " Row." A religion, it has been said,
will last you but a couple of thousand years, or so : how then can criticism
hope for a greater longevity ? No, no ; d priori, & posteriori, et ab utroque
latere. It is demonstrable that a new code is wanting : so there is no more
to be said of the matter.
To begin with the beginning : it is a fact, which neither Aristotle nor
Dennis (I do not mean " him of the Dunciad," but the Halicarnassian)
never dreamed of, that literature is not equally predicable of all classes in
society. The critics of antiquity, good easy men, never stopped to inquire
into the pedigree of a writer ; and the slave Terence had as good a chance
of obtaining a hearing as if his plays had indeed been written by Scipio.
In the present times, if authorship be not strictly an attribute of the privi-
leged classes — if the 61 HoXXoi do indeed write books — yet it is not the less
true that they are quite unable to compete with their betters in the art. In
this respect, a tremendous revolution has occurred ; though scarcely a few
years since a villainous orthography, and a style at once stiff and disjointed,
were affected as the characteristic of nobility. But " on a change tout
fa :" the poor spinsters of the Minerva press can scarcely support life by
their labours — so completely are they driven out of the market by the Lady
Charlottes and the Lady Bettys; and if " parsons" are not as much bemuzzed
in beer as formerly, " a rhyming peer" is as common as a Birmingham
button. It would take ten Horace Walpoles at least to do justice to the
living authors of the red book ; and so general is authorship in the Upper
House, that the bench of bishops includes nearly the whole of the non-
literary portion of the peerage.
It is then a decided canon of criticism that a book is, cceteris paribus,
better in proportion to the aristocratic grade of its author. Messrs. Colburn,
Murray, and Longman, the Aristarchuses of the age, are always ready to
treat with the Lord Johns upon the most liberal, not to say extravagant
terms ; and there is scarcely any thing that they would refuse for a romance
with " Viscountess" in the title-page. What immense sales have recently
been effected of fanatical politics, under the assumed name of the late-
lamented Duke of York ! What a farrago of trash passed current under
the title of " the King's Letter !" proving that his name is, in literature, as
in government, " a tower of strength." Even Sir Walter himself sells the
better for hisbaronetcy ; and, from the Icon Basilike to Sir John Carr and
the chaplain of the Lord Mayor of London, the supremacy of church and
ifl
1827.] Canons of Criticism.
state dignities, is as uncontrolled in Parnassus as at court, or the Bath
assemblies; nor should we despair of a sale even for Leatherbreeches him-
self, as long as he has the privilege of clapping M. P. at the end of his
name.
In matters of taste, there is nothing so tormenting as a definition. How
many painful pages have been expended in defining the sublime, the beau-
tiful, the graceful, and, above all, the picturesque ! Yet I cannot say that
the world is much nearer understanding what is meant by these sensible
obstructions. Upon fine writing we have works innumerable; yet a clear
definition of it is still a desideratum. I feel myself, therefore, a benefac-
tor of society, and have more reason than all the Horaces in the world for
" knocking my head against the stars," when I afford mankind an insight
into this mystery. In one word, then, fine writing is the writing which
pleases your publisher ; and a good book is a book that sells. Had this
simple verity been known to the Roscommons, the Popes, the La Harpes,
and the Gravinas, what a deal of learned labour it would have saved !
Like all other great discoveries, the thing appears simple enough, and one
only wonders that nobody hit on it before. I should not, indeed, be sur-
prised if the envious should endeavour to deprive me of the honour of the
invention, and say that it lies inclusively in Hudibras's proposition : —
" What is the worth of any thing,
But so much money as 'twill bring ?"
But then, I ask, how comes it that nobody has made the application ? It
is the case of Columbus's egg over again. Be this, however, as it may,
the doctrine itself is logically demonstrable. Goodness is a quality solely
referable to our sensations ; and to say that a thing pleases, is to say every
thing in its favour. It is with taste as with opinion : et sapit et mecum
sentit. You think with me, and are a man of taste and judgment. You
dislike what I like, and you are a blockhead and a coxcomb. That, there-
fore, which generally pleases is alone entitled to the general epithet of
good. But how shall we know what generally pleases, if it be not what
is generally bought ? Money is universally allowed to be the thing which
ell men love best; and if a man buys a book, we may safely infer that
he thinks well of it. What nobody buys, then, we may justly conclude
is worth nothing. But if this does not satisfy the reader, probo aliter, as
the Cambridge slang has it. Every thing is good in proportion as it
attains the end to which it is directed ; but the end of all writing is to
make money. Whatever finical writers may talk of fame, the wants of the
public, or the pressing solicitations of those who have seen the manuscript,
" obliged by hunger and request of friends," is as true now as ever it was.
Petronius Arbiter has with his usual acuteness remarked, —
" Magister artis ingenique largitor
Venter,"—
that want is the best inspiration ; which could not be true, if the sale of a
book were not the criterion of its excellence. Our noble authors them-
selves do not disdain to accept of pecuniary compensation ; therefore, we
cannot doubt that money is the great end of authorship. The conclusion
is obvious : the work which brings most money most perfectly answers its
end, and is the best. No wonder then that booksellers are such good
critics, and that they so rarely pronounce a work bad that really is
not so.
3 P 2
467 Canons of Criticism. [Nov,
Upon this foundation rests a canon of criticism of the last importance. In
all things, write down to the level of your age.
He who gets the start of his age cannot please (i. e. sell) universally ;
ergo, he offends against the chief rule of criticism. Who will read the
author that thus appeals to a posterity he will never reach. ? Vel duo vel
nemo. He is ridiculed by the worldly, calumniated by the hypocrite,
censured by reviewers, and, worse than worst, remains a fixture on his
bookseller's shelves. We should laugh at any one dull enough to hope
for success by works on verbal criticism, palmistry, or the philosopher's
stone ; yet, surely, the man who writes to put down bigotry, to denounce
tyranny, promulgate free trade, or advocate cheap and rational justice,
would not be less remote from the existing order of ideas ! To sell many
copies of a book, there must be many purchasers ; and where shall we find
many, to whom such doctrines are not odious, damnable, and heretical ?
Oh ! ye makers of books, of all possible churches ! ye anti-catholic scribes!
ye dealers in Methodism, Toryism, party venom, and personal scandal !
ye writers of flimsy novels, chroniclers of the nothingness of high life, and
fabricators of anecdotes ! ye Southeys, Philpots, and Crokers ! ye Hooks,
Dibdins, and anonymous lords and ladies ! bear witness, that philosophy
and philanthropy have nothing to do with authorship, and that wisdom
cries aloud in the street, and no man regards it. To write a good book,
take measure of the many. Dil worth was a more valuable writer than Sir
Isaac Newton ; Dr. Kitchiner was worth all the Benthams, Ricardos,
Davys, La Places, and Cuviers put together ; and Harriet Wilson ranks
far above Antoine Hamilton and Bayle, consolidated.
The choice of subject has ever been deemed an important point of author-
ship ; and a critic would be justly deemed unpardonable who should leave
it untouched. I am the more disposed to enter somewhat deeply upon
the subject, because the older writers have so miserably failed in this part
of their treatises. Horace, for instance, recommends his pupils to consult
their forces — to examine " quid valeant humeri?' A fig for Horace and
his shoulders, I say: and Heaven help the unfortunate Pisones who should
set off on such a wild-goose chase !
It is a canon of modern criticism, well known to the most paltry pub-
lisher of numbers, that every body can write any thing. Newton wrote on
the Apocalypse; Sir Malachi writes history; Anacreon, biography; and
the muse of Windermere de omne scribili. Lord Leatherhead is great alike
in finance, and corn, and currency ; and has composed more pamphlets
than Hume has spoken speeches. Sir Richard Phillips has undertaken the
planetary system ; John Bell wrote on the fine arts; and Dr. Kitchiner on
optics. Figoro has said that it is not necessary to possess a subject, in order
to write on it ; and this is true in the intellectual, as well as the physical
sense. When an author comes to his work full of the subject, and, to use
a vulgar piece of critical cant, prepared for his task, he necessarily brings
to it all the prejudices of his previous education. The less he knows, the
less likely he is to mix himself up with his theme. Watson never had
opened a chemical book when he was appointed professor; and, in six
months, he produced the most original lectures that ever were given. To
utter ignorance of his subject, an author must bring a proportionate indus-
try, and he cannot write a line without profound meditation. Exquisite
advantage ! Knowledge and labour go paripassu, and, when the work is
complete, the author is in full possession of his subject. If a diploma can
make a physician, ordination strike off a divine, and military success make
1827.] Canons of Criticism. 477
a lawgiver and a sovereign, it is devilish hard, indeed, if writing a book
will not serve to make a man an author. The former old-fashion way of
studying first and writing afterwards, is like never entering the water till
you have learned to swim.
It is not, however, to be imagined that the choice of subject is a matter
of indifference ; or that, because any body can write upon any subject,
therefore all subjects are good to write upon. There are subjects which no
skill could make vendible; whereas there are others which may be said to
sell themselves. A man of genius possesses the enviable faculty of divining
the vendible, and can tell at a glance whether or no the thing will do :
commoner intellects choose in the dark, and sometimes stumble on a good
thing; but the safer way is to follow in the beaten track. There is always
some reigning favourite with the town : sometimes it is a Scotch novel —
sometimes a novel of real life : sometimes it is political economy, sometimes
autobiography, and sometimes a ghost story. Now it is corn, and now
-Catholics — now negro slavery, and now the north pole. The commonest
numscull who can keep a good look out a-head, and descry what is doing
in the trade, may be always sure of agood subject : he is only to take care
that he is not in the rear of the fashion, and does not come to market the
day after the fair. At present, personality is all the vogue ; and the best
book is that which discloses most private anecdote. If, unfortunately, you
are afraid of being kicked — or don't like the attornies — or, worse still, if
you have nothing to tell worth knowing of any body of notoriety — you have
nothing for it, but to lie and swagger — to insinuate in all societies that
there never was such a scandal as the book about to appear — that its
unknown author will be horse- whipped, and the publisher imprisoned for
libel ; &c. &c. &c.
These remarks chiefly are applicable to the higher orders of genius. For
a thoroughly dull dog, there are but two rules that can be serviceable ; and
these are either to apply to the trade, and leave the whole matter to the
publisher ; or, if this cannot be done, to plunge at once into polemics.
Write what you please on sectarian theology, you will be sure of a limited
sale. Every sect has its followers, contented to purchase sanction for its
own doctrines, and abuse of all opposing churches. For the rest, the greater
the nonsense the more numerous the purchasers. Sed de his hactenus.
Next to the subject, nothing merits more consideration than a title-page.
A good physiognomy, it has been remarked, is a letter of recommendation;
and a good title-page may be said to put a work in good countenance. It
is notorious that many books which have failed in the first publication,
have been successfully republished with a new title. Dr. Cheyney's popu-
lar essay fell still-born from the press, when it first appeared under the
untaking title of an " Essay on Sanity and Longevity." A title may be
promissory, allusive, plagiary, or simply taking. A promissory title is one
which affects at once to let you into the secret of the book : as, for exam-
ple, " Alraack's,"— " Crocktbrd House,"— «' The Guards,"— -the " Com-
plete Art of splitting Straws," — the " Fisherman's Guide," — or the like.
Whether the promise be fulfilled or no, is a matter of secondary import-
ance ; for the purchaser will not discover his disappointment till it is too
late. Like playhouse managers, publishers trade on the " no money to be
returned" principle : and a very good principle it is. As a general rule, the
obsolete lottery puff may be taken as a model, which, always terminating
in the merits of the current scheme, recommended itself to public notice
under the guise of the most attractive subject of the day. Upon this model,
478 Canons 6f Criticism. [Nov.
more especially, is built the allusive title-page : such as, " The Grand
Vizier," on a change of ministry ; " The Divorce," in an era of crim.-con. ;
" The Usurper," on a great political revolution. The merit of this title
is precisely opposite to that of the promissory ; for the less the work has to
do with the inuendo of its title, the cleverer is the adaptation. Thus
Moore's " Epicurean" would have much disappointed me, had it con*
tained any allusion to Sir W. C. and turtle-soup. On this principle,
" The Corn Question discussed" would make a pretty title for a chirope-
dist's manual ; and " the whole Art of Love" would sell many editions of
a Methodist sermon. The plagiary title is sufficiently intelligible. The
use of this species was first borrowed from the quack doctors. The sim-
ply taking title is as various as the modes of imposture. Lord Byron's
portrait peeping from behind a mask was a bright thought. This
vignette was worth the whole book. In general, however, fashion is the
principal merit of a taking title. At one time, contrasts, or rather conflict-
ing impossibilities, were all the mode. Such were " The Innocent Adul-
terers,"— " The Humane Cut-Throat," — or, " The Sympathetic Jailer."
Such a title now would not sell five copies. Double titles are also now
completely obsolete; and an " or" (once of the strictest etiquette) would,
in the present day, damn a Milton or a Pope. The last run was upon two
substantives and a conjunction copulative : such as, " Sense and Sensi-
bility,"— " Sayings and Doings," — " Gaieties and Gravities." The same
sort of title, voyes vous bien, will not do for any length of time ; and it is
safer to try something new at a venture, provided it is at all likely to catch
the ear or the imagination, than to hazard a title upon the decline. Sir
Richard Phillips was, in his day, the best judge of a title-page going;
but, at present, it would not be safe to depend on him. Of this great truth
we have many pregnant examples. " Bernard's Isle of Man ; or, Pro
ceedings in Manshire against Sin," was excellent in 1668 ; but, in 1827>
" ne vaut pas le diable." " Hayward's Hell's everlasting Flames, with
a Frontispiece." is too strong for the " ears polite" of these degenerate
times : it is no more to " Conduct is Fate," than a turnip is to a pine-apple.
" A Pair of Stilts for the Low in Christ," would be justly deemed blas-
phemous and indecent; but " Sinful Sally," and " New Milk for Babes/'
might pass muster.
Let no one imagine that bulk is a matter of indifference. All books
have their legitimate size : " sunt certi denique fines" — or, rather, " est
certa denique FINIS" — a man should know when to stop. In the beginning,
no books under a folio was esteemed worth reading : books were then rare ;
and " cut and come again" was a great recommendation. Now-of-days,
we have too much to write ourselves to be able to read long books. Few
readers really go deeper than indexes and tables of contents ; and these
are read a page at a glance. With respect to the limits of books, we may
give rules, but not reasons. Why has a tragedy five acts, " and no more;"
or an opera, three ? All that can be said is, sic vult usus. There is a
general tendency to narrow the limits of authorship, Epics are shrinking
into epigrams, acrostics into petites pieces, novels into tales, and tales
into anecdotes. For the time present, one quarto, two octavos, and three
" neat volumes in duodecimo," are the ne plus ultra of productive publi-
cation. A series of essays are better than a continuous treatise : only don't
call them essays ; it is too serious and alarming to weak nerves. So also a
set of tales sell better than one novel. Alas ! poor Richardson ! His long-
winded heroines would have no chance. On the same principle, a magazine
1827.] Canons of Criticism. 479
beats a substantive publication hollow : only the articles must not be too
long. The next generation need not despair of having books written, like
promissory obligations, with an I. O. U.
Among the obsolete canons of criticism, we are not quite justified in
placing the good old rule of judging a work by its politics. True it is,
that this canon is not so much acted upon as it was ten years ago. Other
matters are now taken into consideration : sense, spirit, and information do
go for something ; and Whig and Tory do not contain all that is to be said
on a subject. Yet woe betide the author who overlooks entirely such con-
siderations ! Occasional demonstrations of proper thinking are as neces-
sary to a successful publication, as loyal clap-traps are to a successful play;
and a slight dash of Methodism produces the same good effect even on a
jest-book, or a volume of loose love songs, as rubbing a plate with shalot
does on a beef-steak ; it renders the materiel much more palatable.
But, of all literary excellencies, there is none more important — none
more winning on a reader, and more profitable to an author, than a good
advertisement. Felices ter et amplius the authors who are au fait to
this branch of literature, the art of preparing the way for a new publication,
and of well-timing the series, or, if I may so speak, the climax of eulogium,
is neither easily learned nor lightly communicated. The tactus eruditus
is every thing. The collection of the " testimonia recentium" — Anglice,
the opinions of the reviews, and setting them forth to the best advantage —
is a mere mechanical branch of the art. Those who have narrowly watched
the great geniuses of the day will find that they have made a larger expense
of wit and labour in what is technically called " keeping themselves before
the public," than in the mere drudgery of composition. " The ingenious
Mr. Scribblemuch is on a visit with his friend, Lord Haut-Ton ;" — "Tom
Distich is on a poetical tour to the Lakes;" — "Sir Humphry Hum is
searching the files of the Morning Post for his ingenious biography of
Alexander the Great," — are mistaken by the simple for articles of news-
paper intelligence : the knowing ones are well aware that it is a preliminary
flourish to a "forthcoming publication." A good writer should never
suffer himself to be forgotten by his readers for a moment ; and, if really
nothing extraordinary happens to him, he ought to throw himself down
stairs, or set fire to his house, or be stopped by a highwayman — upon
paper, after the most approved Major Longbow fashion — at least once a
fortnight. Observe, that any nail will serve to hang a notice upon. If a
butcher's boy stops you in the street, and \>Q-trays his knowledge of your
being the great Mr. A., or the noted Mr. B., the dialogue will make the
world happily recollect that you are neither dead nor in St. Luke's. Quod
eratproxime, demonstrandum. Sitting for your picture is a good plan : it
kills two birds with one stone; and the painter and the author may divide
the expense of inserting the news between them. To recur, however, to
the materiel, it is a rule, from which there is no derogation, that poetry
should always be well printed, and upon good paper. The reasons are
many, and, indeed, almost self-evident. Every one complains that poetry
is difficult reading : it should, therefore, meet with no unnecessary obstacle
in charta eventissima and muddy type. Besides, poetry should dazzle
the reader (Boyer calls it elevate and surprise). Now, if the lines do not
effect this operation, the hot-pressed wire-wove forms a useful substitute.
And, last not least, it is good that a book should be good for something ;
and a handsome book, especially if well bound, always looks well on a
library-table. In prose publications, the print is less essential. In the
480 Canons of Criticism. [Nov.
first place, the public do not expect such decoration in prose works, and it
is not right to lead them astray ; and then most prose works are sufficiently
long to make them vendible with the butter-sellers and trunk-makers—
which, after all, is something.
These are only a few of the many points of criticism on which the
moderns differ very widely from the ancients ; but I am admonished, by
the extent of the manuscript, to pause — at least for the present. Of the
remaining canons, some are communicable only to the initiated; for the
art of writing, like the Eleusinian religion, has its exoteric and its interior
doctrines. In this respect, it is but on a level with the most sublime and
sacred arts. Law, physic, divinity, and politics are precisely on the same
footing ; and so, too, are music, and painting, and coach-building, and
tailoring (male and female), porter-brewing, and the manufacture of
polonies and sausages. To betray these secrets 'would not only be treason
to the craft, but would deprive the whole tribe of gentle readers of seven-
eighths of their pleasure. What would they say to a Marplot who should
come on the stage and tell the audience, " these jewels are paste" — "this
robe calico, and not silk". — and " this terrible irruption nothing in the
world but a pennyworth of gunpowder and nitrate of strontian ?" I would
never sit in the same boat (as Horace says) with such a man : so do not
look for it at my hands. T.
WHAT IS FAME ?
AND thou wouldst write ? for what ! — a name ?
To have a life-surviving fame,
Blazoned 'midst the glorious ones
Who shine — the never-setting suns,
Where unborn men shall constant gaze,
And dedicate with voice of praise ;
Giving their future destinies
To spirits of the poet's skies ;
To tempt the deed of youthful bard,
His hope to raise, and then discard !
To have the verses thou hast sung
Translated in a foreign tongue ;
To have a statue, raised to grace
Thy all-revered resting-place ? —
'Tis true, this is a noble theme,
Or else — say which ? — a madman's dream.
Thou'rt dead, — and left behind some books,
Which, neatly bound, fill up the nooks
Of some dull-headed plodder's room,
Well pondered o'er by — housewife's broom ;
Or yet, less lucky, doomed to sleep
On bookworm's stall, with label — " cheap ;"
And all the wit thy brain has wrought
May, with good fortune, fetch a groat.
Yet still thy fame neglect rebuts,
If, 'midst the care of cracking nuts,
Some fop avers he's read thy lines,
Picks off the shell— then talks of wines;
What is Fame? 481
And thy proud heart's immortal sport
Is lost in claret, hock, or port.
Again, some literary lord
Thy marble bust with care may hoard,
Giving it a station meet,
Because he knows a bust can't eat—
(Tis strange that human nature's known
Less kind to man than chiselled stone !)—
And then the all-divine translation
May waft thy name to distant nation;
'Tis something yet, when all is o'er,
For Russian slave, or German boor,
To give a veto—" right," or " wrong,*'
ft Sublime,'' or " blasphemous," thy song.
Yet, in a senate-house debate
(As beet-root beautifies a plate
Of salad for a supper- course),
Thy lines may deck a green discourse ;
Quoted in very timely season, ,
To save by rhyme when lost to reason ;
Then, if thou'st been a civil beast,
Nor gored a king, nor tost a priest,
Nor lived of courts and place a scorner,
Thou'lt stand in stone in Poet's Corner ;
Gaped at by 'prentice, clown, or tabby,
Who brings her nieces to the Abbey ;
Be shewn for halfpence, like the bear
Or monster of a city fair.
And, should thy portrait e'er be printed
To grace thy book, thou may'st be stinted
Ee'n of thy comeliness of feature,
And made a squint-eyed, high-cheek'd creature—
Thy placid visage crimped and smug,
And Roman nose transformed to pug.
This, this is Fame — to be well bound,
Sold for the sixtieth of a pound.
Now spoken of by petit-maitre —
Now lost in cry of" wine" and " waiter/'
By peer well prized thy carved-out head,
Which, living, perhaps had wanted bread ;
Cited to aid a new taxation,
To stuff a king, and starve a nation ;
A statue raised above thy grave,
To tell the world thou wert no knave,
beholders of thy sacred haunt,
A Sunday lout and sapient aunt.
A privilege before the great
To keep thy back of marble straight.
To rival monsters of the town,
And wear thy nasus upside down.
This, this is Fame !— O flattering ill !—
Bards, cut to toothpicks every quill.
D. W, J.
M-.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 Q
[ 48*2 ] [Nov.
BOYS'S NARRATIVE OF AN ESCAPE FROM THE FRENCH PRISON OF
VALENCIENNES.*
THE struggle of skill and personal courage against unequal and superior
force, even where those qualities are opposed to a constituted and acknow-
ledged authority, is always a theme of interest to the million, and its suc-
cess generally a subject of congratulation. The disappointment of a bailiff
diverts everybody — but an attorney. No man considers whether the
fugitive really deserves his favour, but speeds him on his way ; and
chuckles in the defeat of the slip of parchment — the execution of which,
nevertheless, he would not, by violence, have resisted. This penchant it
is that explains the popularity of such books (the modern epics — Iliad and
Odyssey — of London and Westminster), as " The Lives of the Highway-
men," (including of course their deaths). " The Freebooter's Manual,"
(describing all the most approved methods of handling the property of
other people); " Notes taken in Newgate," (by a gentleman accustomed
to take notes out of Newgate), &c. &c. in which the hair-breadth deliver-
ances of prisoners by unusual and perilous modes of human conveyance —
up chimnies, over walls, through the roofs of houses, and down drains and
sewers — become subjects of delight to persons of the most undoubted moral
feeling and respectability — there is a pleasure, inseparable from our na-
ture, in seeing any deep-laid scheme or stratagem, in which we are not per-
sonally concerned, unexpectedly, and rather ridiculously overthrown. The
maxim of Rochefoucault, that the misfortunes of our friends never very se-
riously displease us, is true in an ultra extent of all failures in public ar-
rangements— so long as the overthrow is attended with no such decided
danger to the country as renders it probable it may become mischievous to
ourselves. As it may happen to respectable people, therefore, to be enter-
tained even with the escape of an offender from gaol in London or Lanca-
shire, although that very escape be a defeat not less of moral and legal
justice, than of an authority which we bow to, and part and parcel of
which may be regarded as our own, we find no apology necessary in laying
before our readers a story of the escape of four British officers, prisoners of
war, from a foreign dungeon. The advantage being at least so far in our
favour, that the power here evaded is one which both our duty and our
prejudices incline us rather to defy and to despise; and the eluding parties
those to whom* captivity was an honour, instead of a disgrace ; and in
whose success we may exult without violence to our consciences — if,
indeed, the tenderness of that organ be likely to interfere with us in any
amusement which we have otherwise a mind to.
In the year 1803, almost immediately at the close of the short peace
between this country and Bonaparte, Captain Boys, being then a midship-
man in the Phrebe frigate, was captured as prize-master of an Italian ves-
sel, which the Phoebe had taken on her passage between Marseilles and
Genoa, and carried by the French man-of-war, Le Rhin, with his crew,
into the port of Toulon. No exchange of prisoners, at that time, took
place, in consequence of the anger excited — first, by the English seizure of
French merchant vessels, immediately on the declaration of war — replied
to by the counter-decree on the side of Bonaparte, the holding all English
* Narrative of n Captivity and Adventnres in France and Flanders, between the years
1 803 and 1&09, by Capt. Edward Boys, R.N. London : Long, Finsbury-place.
1827.J Narrative of an Escape from Valenciennes* 483
subjects then within the dominions of France as " detenus;" and the con-
sequence was, that the author, with a considerable number of companions
in misfortune — amounting, altogether, to about a hundred and forty — were
conducted up the country, to remain in permanent captivity at Verdun.
On the march to this place some laughable accounts are given of the con-
duct of the French authorities ; and especially of the behaviour of the new
revolutionary officers, whose desire to exhibit their suddenly gotten power,
and violent national hostility to the English, displayed itself in various
petty annoyances inflicted on the prisoners ; but we must go forward, at
present, to the more material points of the narration, referring our readers,
for these smaller details, to the book itself.
The town of Verdun, in which Captain Boys remained almost five
years, was, at the time when he reached it with his party, almost a British
colony. The whole number of English residents — prisoners of war and
" detenus" — exceeded a thousand : who had no choice — for regret and
wailing cannot go on for ever — but to live, in some sort, as though they
were reconciled to their situation. So large a population of idlers, though
they were any thing rather than rich, of course became a valuable pro-
perty to the trading and industrious classes of the district; and not merely
for their wants, but for their convenience or luxury, arrangements by de-
grees— when it was found that they could pay for them — were pro-
jected, and sprung up. Schools were organized among the prisoners them-
selves— for children were born and grew up in confinement. A gaming-
table was established (with the concurrence of the French authorities), ex-
pressly for the English use : the affiche over the door announcing that — •
" This bank being established for the peculiar accommodation of the Eng-
lish, all Frenchmen are forbidden to play." And, like men who sat down
to reconcile themselves to a lot which there was no evading, little by little,
some of the " detenus" formed friendships and connections among the
French; others availed themselves of their long leisure to pursue peculiar
studies, which their former duties in life had not allowed them time for :
and what with a tolerable deal of drinking, and some dicing, and a little
duelling, occasionally diversified by a passing love affair, or an excursion
into the country to snare quails and rabbits, the time — especially with any of
the detained parties whose prospects did not happen to be particularly
brilliant at home — rolled tolerably well away.
This feeling, however, did not, by any means, prevail with all. There
were many, to whom the lapse of year after year, in unprofitable inactivity,
joined to the apparent hopelessness of all relief, grew, the longer it was
borne, only the more entirely unbearable. And among those who became
most disgracious by this kind of feeling (together with the daily attempts
at breaking prison, which arose out of it), to the governing powers of
Verdun, it appears by Captain Boys's account — and we are not at all dis-
posed to question the fact — were those mischievous ornaments of our
English naval armament, the " midshipmen."
It very frequently will happen, that little points arise upon which the
opinions of prisoners, and of those appointed to guard them, do not exactly
tally ; and this was the case between his Majesty's midshipmen and the
commandant of Verdun. While upon parole, it was frankly and openly
admitted, by the whole body of officers, that any thought of attempting to
escape was impossible. But, as it was convenient to sail as near the shore
as possible, in getting round this point of difficulty, a device was hit upon
which rather kept the word of promise to the ear, and broke it to the
3 Q 2
484 . Narrative of an Escape from the [Nov
hope : when any one, Mr. Boys says, wished to try the chance of an escape,
it was the custom for him purposely to commit some offence, which
twould entail deprivation of parole ; as " it was an acknowledged rale that
the instant any one was put into prison, or even taken into custody by
armed men, no matter from what cause, parole ceased." Now, it is pos-
sible that the French, under all the passions which actuated them at the
time in question, might have considered such a " rule" as this, however
" acknowledged," rather Jesuitical ; and we are half afraid, that even now
it must be shewn that tho transitory arrests above described were consi-
dered by the authorities of Verdun as determinations of parole, and that
at their close it was the custom to re-demand parole — again and afresh —
from the parties concerned, before the last can entirely get rid of the
imputation of what our courts of law call " sharp practice." Be this,
however, as it may, in the month of July, 1808, all quibbling upon con-
struction came to a downfall, for — " I blush," Captain Boys says, " while
I relate it — three of the midshipmen were detected (without the form
even, in words, of laying any salvo to their consciences), in the direct act
of violating parole." This unarguable offence afforded to the governor —
who desired no better — an opportunity to represent to the minister at war,
ihatthe whole of the English midshipmen were such "tres-mauvaissujets,"
that nothing short of close custody, and a removal from Verdun, could
secure them : and the result was, that an order, six days after, arrived, for
.the removal of all that body, under strict surveillance, to the depots of
•Valenciennes and Givet.
The variety of precaution adopted by the escort upon this journey, ex-
cites our author's indignation, and sometimes his contempt; but, judging
impartially, we confess that it does not appear to us to have been alto-
gether misplaced ; inasmuch as, that the whole party escorted, amounting
to about a hundred and fifty, were excellently well disposed to take the
first opportunity — or, if necessary, to make an opportunity — to decamp.
At the very first place of stoppage, (Stenay), after an endeavour to " tempt
•the guards into a free use of the bottle," (which failed, " owing to the circum-
stance that French soldiers are not addicted o the vice of drunkenness,)"
.a project in the way of departure, between the author and his particular
friend, a Mr. Moyses, is imagined.
" Towards nine p. m. the party lay down on the floor to rest. Moyses and I
took our stations in a corner by the window, under which a sentinel was placed,
whose turnings were to be watched about eleven ; and when his back should be
towards the window, Wetherly (a brother midj was to lower us down with towels
tied together. If discovered, the sentinel was to be instantly knocked down. We
were to make for the river, distant only a few hundred yards, swim across, and
gain the woods. In case of success thus far, it was our intention to have proceeded
to those in the vicinity of Verdun, and there wait the assistance of a friend, who
was to furnish us with the necessaries for travelling through Germany, to the gulph
of Venice."
/
This first scheme is unexpectedly frustrated by a change of arrangements.
" About ten the guard was relieved, and we were ordered into a large lighted
room, there to lie on the floor, with the gens-d'armes forming nearly a circle
around us, the windows barred in, and doors bolted. This unexpected precaution
totally frustrated our plans. At day-light, we were again assembled in the waggons,
and continued our journey, escorted as before."
Nevertheless, so " actively alive were we all along the road to every hope
which beamed upon the fancy," that —
J 827.] French Prison of Valenciennes.
" Each copse, which rose to view as we advanced, we fancied invited us to its pro-
tection. It was our intention to take the first opportunity, in passing a wood,
through which our road sometimes led, to leap from the waggon, and trust to our
heels, and its shelter, for security. To this end, we had taken our station in the
front of one, with our knapsacks (containing a few articles necessary for a march)
'on our backs. On approaching a wood, a gen-d'arme observed, with a very signi-
ficant expression of countenance, ' Messieurs, il me semble que vous vous trou-
verez plus a votre aise sans 1'havresac au dos.J "
At Sedan, a " citadel with ramparts, in a most delightfully dilapidated
state," hopes are again entertained ; but, unhappily, only to be again foiled
by the " cat-like vigilance of the guard." And at Meziers a fourth most
admirable plot is knocked on the head, (as the projectors, we rather think,
would have been if they had attempted to execute it), by the unexpected
appearance of some " large dogs," upon whom the gaoler evidently counted
as his most effective and incorruptible turnkeys. The subsequent halts at
Arras, Quesnoy, and Landrecy, though the parties were incessantly upon
the quivive afforded no better fortune : and, on the 17th of August, hav-
ing then been five years, less by a few days, in France, the author, with
his party, arrived at the depot of Valenciennes.
At Valenciennes, according to the order already recorded, no parole
is to be allowed ; and the new coming party are conducted to the citadel,
there to take up their abode with about 1,400 prisoners who occupied the
barracks. No distinction is made between the midshipmen — " tres-mauvais
sujets" — and the seamen — " mauvais," of course — in virtue of their inferior
rank — except that the former have the permission of walking on a certain
rampart fronting the town, under observation too close (as it was sup-
posed), to let the privilege turn to much account.
From the citadel, indeed, escape appears almost physically impracticable,
it being surrounded with ditches, which the new-comers soon discover to
contain six feet of mud, with not more than one foot of water above it — so
that swimming is impossible ! The sentries, also, are increased in number,
and the very gens-d'armes, in their passage round the town at night, carry a
lanthorn ; commands being given tofire at every body who is found in the
streets after dark, without such a means of recognition. In addition to
these precautions, " espionage" is carried on to an inconceivable extent; and
several individuals, who attempt to break prison, are shot by the soldiers
(in preference to being re-captured), by way of caution to the rest.
But, in despite of all these impediments — or rather in wilful opposition
to them — notwithstanding that he is now separated from his comrade, Mr.
Moyses — our author (in whom the very spirit of flight seems to have
taken up its residence), has hardly been twelve hours in the depot, before
he begins to meditate how he shall get out of it ! And in his endeavour to
enlist associates in this enterprize (for it was impossible to undertake it
alone), he goes from man to man, sounding one and exhorting another, until
at length his intentions are not only known and publicly denounced by the
French authorities, but the very English themselves grow shy of him, as a
speculator whose plots are likely to bring their whole body into trouble.
In fact, the book itself must'be read, in order to form any idea of the
extreme pertinacity with which Captain Boys pursued this favourite point :
and it is one of the worst symptoms (in our view) for Mr. Pocock's man-
carrying kites, that the possibility of such a vehicle did not suggest itself
to him. First, he applies in succession to at least half-a-dozon of his
brother midshipmen ; some of whom consent to aid, but all decline to
r
486 Narrative of an Escape from the ([Nov.
accompany him. A seventh gentleman, then, a young man of the name of
Hunter, comes into his views, and agrees to a plan ; but changes his mind
only six hours before the time comes for carrying it into execution. A
third arrangement is broken up — and again, at the critical moment of depar-
ture, by the illness of an officer named Rocheford, who is an associate of our
author : and, on this occasion, Mr. Boys grows almost desperate; and, quitting
his canvass among the midshipmen, tries for an associate among the more
active and steady of the sailors ; but still in vain. Still, however, no dis-
appointment entirely disheartens him ; and, we fully believe, as he says
himself — " that nothing short of death could have changed his determina-
tion." Until at length, in defiance of augury, his perseverance turns to
account; and, on the 16th of November 1809, in association with three
other midshipmen, Messrs. Whitehurst, Hunter, and Mansell, the project
for escaping from Valenciennes is attempted, and actually carried into
execution.
The night of the 16th of November is one of anxiety. By means of
an agent in town, the associates had got " iron handles put to a pair of
steel boot-hooks, which they meant to use as picklocks." A quantity of
cord has been procured, by purchasing " skipping lines," such as are used
by the children, as though for amusement; and a further supply of the
same important material is calculated upon, by taking away the rope
belonging to the well in the " midshipmen's yard,'* which (as the conspi-
rators have wrought in their own behalf) is a new one. Spirits and pro-
visions moreover are procured, and placed in knapsacks, which are hidden
in a dog-kennel. A letter of quizzing " farewell'' civility is written, to
be left behind in a situation where it will find its way duly to the French
commander. And, finally, on the night appointed, at half-past seven in
the evening, the parties found themselves entirely prepared.
" At half-past seven p. m. we assembled, armed with clasped knives, and each
provided with a paper of fine pepper, upon which we placed our chief dependance ;
for, in case of being closely attacked, we intended throwing a handful into the
eyes of the assailants, and running away. The plan was. that Hunter and myself
were to depart first, fix the rope, and open the opposing doors : a quarter of an
hour afterwards, Whitehurst and Mansell were to follow. By these means, we
diminished the risk attendant on so large a body as four moving together, and
secured the advantage of each depending more upon his own care ; for, if Hunter
and myself were shot in the advance, the other two would remain in safety; and
if, on the contrary they were discovered, we hoped to have time, during the
alarm, to gain the country. Our intentions were, to march to the sea-side, and
range the coast to Breskins, in the island of Cadsand, opposite Flushing; and, if
means of getting afloat were not found before arriving at that place, we proposed
to embark in the passage boat for Flushing, and, about mid channel, rise and
seize the vessel. It was now blowing very fresh, and was so dark and cloudy, that
not a star could be seen : the leaves were falling in abundance, and, as they were
blown over the stones, kept up a constant rustling noise, which was particularly
favourable to the enterprise. Upon which, it being a quarter past eight, Hunter
and myself, with woollen socks over our shoes, that our footsteps might not be
heard, and each having a rope, a small poker or a stake, and knapsack, took leave
of our friends, and departed."
The escape from Valenciennes was entirely successful. In fact, difficult
as the feat was, and severe as the exertions were likely to bo that were to
follow it, the author and his friends were the proper kind of people to get
through it with security. No sort of men — cases of individual power or
aptness excepted — could be so well calculated, from their general habits,
for such an undertaking, as naval officers. They were accustomed from
1 827.J French Prison of Valenciennes. 487
boyhood to defy all inclemencies of weather. It was twenty to one that they
were good swimmers (a faculty which soon stood them in sufficient stead) ;
and the daily duties of their profession made those feats of activity matters
of course to them, which, to landsmen, would be difficult, and perhaps im-
practicable. Again, by their profession they were all handicraftsmen,
ready at the work either of smiths or carpenters; and familiar with every
device by which human strength could be applied most advantageously, or
safety best secured during its exertion. And above all, by their possession
of the art of managing a boat or vessel at sea, they would be secure of
success perhaps under the very same identical circumstances, which, to
landsmen, however strong and determined, would have left little choice
but between the certainty of being drowned, or the allowing themselves to
be retaken. The account of the manner of their quitting Valenciennes
is curious; and that of the difficulties which they at once began to expe-
rience in their march through the country, not less so : but as our limits
will only allow us to give a certain extent of notice to the narrative, we
shall come at once to the most interesting portion of it — that which follows
their passage through the Netherlands, and arrival at a little fishing village
on the Dutch coast — about four miles from Ostend — the port of Blankenberg.
The fugitives had been twelve days from Valenciennes, lying of nights,
during the whole time, in the open air, and marching under a rain (and in
November too) almost unremitting ; their feet were swollen and bleeding :
the nails of one of the party absolutely dropping off, and a tumour formed
in the side of another, which proved the foundation of a rheumatism for
life : in short, says Captain Boys, our condition was so desperate with
fatigue and exhaustion, that " we had only made one mile in the last
three quarters of an hour," when we gained the high road that led to
Blankenberg, a small fishing village, a few miles to the eastward of Ostend.
It was the intention of the parties to get on, if possible, to the coast, seize
the first boat that they found lying unguarded, and, at all hazards put off
to sea; but a circumstance of a very unexpected character occurred, and
altered their arrangements.
" At ten, passing by a solitary public-house, we observed though the window an
old man, two women, and a boy, sitting round a comfortable fire, at supper.
Hunter and myself entered for the purpose of purchasing provisions to take on
board any vessel we might be enabled to seize, being then about four miles from
the sea. We asked for gin : the woman of the house rose and stared at us, appa-
rently alarmed at our appearance. We repeated the demand without obtaining a
reply; still gazing, for a few seconds, regardless of our request, she rapturously
exclaimed, ' Mon Dieu ! ce sont des Anglois," — immediately offering us chairs.
Somewhat disconcerted at this unexpected reception, we again asked for gin ; to
which she replied, ' Take seats, and you shall have whatever my house can afford.'
We thanked her for her attention, reiterating our request : she insisted we should
partake of her fare, assuring us that not a soul should enter the house during our
stay, if we would but sit down. Weagain refused — observing, that, being con-
scripts, ordered into garrison at Blankenberg, we were fearful of punishment should
we not arrive there that night, according to orders. She burst into a loud laugh,
running to bar the door and window-shutters, at the same time ordering the
servant to fry more ham and eggs. We assured her it was useless, as we had already
taken supper at Bruges, and that we dare not stay; adding, it was a pretty com-
pliment to us Frenchmen to call us English. She jocosely replied, « Well, then,
you are not English ; but it is so long since I saw any of my good folks, that I
insist on your eating some ham and eggs with me ; besides, you will not be able
to get away from Blankenberg to-night.' We used every means in our power to
dispossess her of her suspicions ; to all which she only replied, * Take chairs, if it is
Narrative of an Escape from the £Xov.
only for a few mitiutes, and then, par complaisance, I will believe you.' Her per-
severing deportment, bearing the almost certain stamp of sincerity, together with
our hungry inclinations, induced us to accept the invitation, and partake of her
luxuries, knowing there could be little danger, as Whitehurst and Mansell were
on the look out. During our most comfortable regale, she talked of nothing but
her dear English (notwithstanding our repeated endeavour to change the subject),
dwelling particularly on the happiness of her former life, when in the service of an
English family. She uttered several broken sentences in English, of which we
took not the slightest notice, but which confirmed in our minds the idea of her
having lived sometime where the language was spoken. Being just about to rise^
furnished with provisions for our companions, a loud rap announced some one at
the door :— the woman started up, seized me by the arm, and, pushing me into
the next room, exclaimed, * Pour 1'amour de Dieu par ici, les grns-d'armes !'
Although we felt sure it was Whitehurst, yet we had no objection to see the result,
of this manoeuvre, and therefore made no resistance to her wishes, but complied
with seeming reluctance. Still, as it was possible he might have knocked to warn
us of the approach of some one, we followed her to the back door ; at parting,
she took me by the hand, and repeated her assurance of the impossibility of get-
ting off from Blankenberg that night, and desired us to return : adding, ' Good
night, friends; I shall see you again.' "
The prophecy of the old lady was not uttered lightly. In fact, our
adventurers had, without being aware of it, fallen into the hands of people
who were prepared to render them assistance ; and who knew what would
be their emergencies, and even what conclusions their emergencies would
lead them to, far better than they did themselves. Continuing our march,
says Mr. Boys, between twelve and one we entered the village of Blan-
kenberg,
" and finding a foot path leading over the sand-bank, we ran down to the sea,
forgetting our wounds, and exulting as though the summit of our wishes was
attained, and we were on the point of embarkation. Indeed, so exquisite was
the delight, that, regardless of consequences, we dashed into the water, drank of
it, and splashed about like playful school-boys, without being the least disconcerted
that the few vessels that could be seen were high and dry, close under the battery ;
nor will these feelings create surprise, when it is recollected that more than five
years had elapsed since we last quitted the sea in the Mediterranean, and that to
regain it was considered as surmounting the principal obstacle to final success. But
when these first transports had a little subsided, and were succeeded by rational
reflection, we could but acutely feel the disappointment ; although, had we been
enabled properly to caculate the tides, we might have foreseen this event ; for it
was high water on that day about half-past five p. m.; consequently, low water
about midnight, and, as the vessels cannot be launched from that flat beach,
excepting about the last quarter of the flood, and the first of the ebb tides, we
could not have got afloat had we arrived even four hours earlier.'*
At this moment the clashing of musquets is heard; it is the guard, which
has seen the intruders from the heights above, and they make good their
retreat by little less than a miracle. On gaining a point where they can
pause to breathe with safety, it is determined to be most advisable to
revisit the cabaret ; and this course is taken. The hostess receives them
in her bedchamber ; orders coffee, and reminds them that " she prophecied
they would not get off that night from Blankenberg." She then cuts
short a long compliment, with which the author thought of introducing the
real truth, by telling him that " she knew him to be an Englishman the
moment she saw him :" to which he replies, " that a hundred pounds shall
be given to any one who will land him and his companions in England,
or put them on board an English ship at sea." She rejoins, that " if they
were twenty of them, if they are not in England in three or four days, she
1827.] French Prison of Valenciennes. 439
is not an honest woman !" And the whole party sit down to breakfast
together within five minutes (so very amenable does mutual interest make
folks) as well acquainted as if they had been friends, or relatives at least,
for twenty years.
" The roof which now sheltered us covered a solitary ' cabaret,' situated midway
between Bruges and Blankenberg, known by the sign of the * Raie-de-chat,'
•which, by way of abbreviation, we called the ' Cat;* and being the house of police
correspondence, it was visited regularly three times a week, and sometimes of tener,
by the gens-d'armes, consequently the less likely to be suspected. According to
the ' code Napoleon,' the penalties attached to favouring the escape of prisoners
of war, were a fine of 12/. 105 , the expenses of the law proceedings, and two
months' imprisonment. This law, however, did not intimidate Madame Derikre,
for such was her name; she resolved upon serving us; yet, notwithstanding her
apparent sincerity and assurance of success, our minds were not perfectly at ease
until twenty four hours had elapsed ; that being the time allowed for proprietors to
announce to the police the presence of strangers in their houses. In order to
excite confidence, we offered her all our money : this she generously refused,
declaring that, if success did not attend our exertions, she should not expect a
stiver. No sooner were we in the loft than, aided by our friendly hostess, our
separate wounds were examined and dressed. After dark, the servant-maid, named
Cocher, and the dog Fox being placed at the front door to watch, we d. scended to
partake of some broth — anxiously waiting the return of a messenger sent by
Madame Derikre to Blankenberg for her confidential friend, a man named Winder-
kins. About nine, the boy came with intelligence that he was gone to Ostend,
and that his wife would send him to the * Cat' upon his return. We remounted
into the loft, and slept as comfortably upon clean straw as the pain of our wounds
would allow. The following evening, Mynheer Winderkins was introduced : he
undertook, upon condition of sharing the reward, to find a fisherman who would
either land us in England, or put us on board an English man of war; and pro-
mised information on the subject the following day."
The first movement made under the auspices of Mr. Winderkins is a
failure. The party march down at an appointed hour to Blankenberg,
and remain several hours in the dark among the sand-hills, expecting a
boat to carry them off. The patrole, however, remains too much on the
alert, until after the hour when the tide will serve ; and they return to
" The Cat/' much to their own chagrin, and the surprise of Madame
Derikre.
A second attempt is made three days after this first, on the 4th of De-
cember, at night; it has no direct success any more than the former, but
what occurs serves to keep up the spirits of the adventurers.
" We now (once more) bade adieu to the * Cat/ and, accompanied by Madame
Derikre and Winderkins, proceeded to Blankenberg. After leaving us some time
behind the sand-hills, the latter returned with information that he could not find
the fisherman who had undertaken to embark us. It was instantly determined to
seize one of the schuyts : we accordingly ran down to the beach, preceded by
Winderkins as a look-out, gave him his bill, and leaped on board the outermost
vessel. The sails were arranged, and every thing speedily prepared for weighing.
The night was dark; we sat silent as the grave, waiting with intense anxiety, until
the tide, which was then flowing, should float our little bark. Whilst thus listen-
ing to the murmuring break of the sea, which seemed slowly to approach, as if
chiding our impatience, yet inviting us to the protection of its bosom, our dearest
hopes appeared on the point of being realized. These hopes, however, Were but
of short duration, and only tended to render our disappointment more bitter : the
tide rose —just to cast a few sprays against the bows, and to retire. So high had
our expectations been raised, that the water had receded some feet ere we could
believe it had left us : it was then, however, too evident to be doubted. In so
M.M. Neiv Series.— VUL. IV. No. 23. 3 R
490 Narrative of an Escape from the [ Nov.
critical a situation, within pistol-shot of the fort, there was little time for delibe-
ration. Disappointed, but not disheartened, every article was replaced as it had
been found, and we reluctantly withdrew — fully convinced, however, of the prac-
ticability of getting afloat from Blankenberg, if we did but seize the proper oppor-
tunity."
In the morning, M. Winderkins sends word that he has reason to
believe his ally the fisherman had deceived him, and advises our friends to
remain housed at the inn (where they are in security), rather than hazard
the loss of all by too precipitate a venture. The soundness of this reasoning
contents them until the evening of the ninth of December, when he comes
again, and congratulates them on the certainty, this time, of success.
" * In two days,' said Mynheer, ' you shall be with your families ; for I have
now found a fisherman who will undertake the job, provided his vessel be restored
to him ;' " of this we gave him every assurance, and he left us. After so irksome
a state of suspense, we were the more elated at the now flattering prospect of a
speedy restoration to our native shore. On the 10th he returned, damping our
hopes with information, that, in consequence .of the appearance of several English
vessels of war, all the fishing smacks were hauled above high water mark. Sus-
pecting such repeated excuses originated either in fear, or incapacity to fulfil his
engagement, it was determined to go again that night, so as to be on the beach at
half flood. We, accordingly, departed towards midnight, and rendezvoused at
his house ; his daughters keeping watch at the doors, for it appeared all the family
were in the secret. Leaving my friends there, I went with Winderkins to the
beach, and found the vessels as he had represented, except one, which was
moored with five hawsers, about pistol shot from the fort, just to the eastward of
a jetce. I got on board to examine her sails, and to see that every thing necessa y
could be got ready in an instant. I found that the wind, being nearly on shore,
we should be obliged to make a board to the eastward, which, in a flat-bottomed
craft, without sufficient ballast, the ropes and sails all covered with frozen snow,
and a good deal of swell upon the beach, would have been of very doubtful issue :
should, however, the wind shift only two points, there was a chance of success.
With this information I returned to my comrades, and we all went down to the
beach, there watching the rise and fall of the tide; when, the impracticability of
getting the vessel to sea, as the wind then stood, being evident, and seeing her
again hard and fast, we returned to the country from the fourth trip. The next day,
bad weather prevented the fishermen from going to sea, and obliged them to haul
the vessels beyond the reach of the surf."
There are limits, however, to the efficacy of the soundest advice — even
although the parties on whom it is bestowed are midshipmen : and our
author, whose endurance, is incomparably more considerable than his pa-
tience, determines, that as M. Winderkins does not seem materially likely
to help the party, it is highly necessary that they shall revert to their old
practice, and help themselves. In consequence of this conclusion, three
efforts are made to seize vessels lying at Blankenberg, neither of which
are successful ; but the circumstances of one are so peculiar, that we shall
extract the story nearly as it stands.
The first of these experiments is made on the 2d of January ; a month
having then been consumed in fruitless speculation, and nightly visits to
the beach, with and without M. Winderkins, which we have not room
even to take an account of.
" On the 2d of January, information was brought that two of the vessels had
been nearly floated by the last tide. Upon the receipt of this joyful news, it was
resolved to pay them a visit that night; the wind being from the eastward, and
the weather fine, our hopes were most sanguine, amounting almost to a confidence
of immediate departure. Accordingly, soon after eleven, we went down to the
1827.] Frt'iwli Prison of Valenciennes. 491
coast, remaining behind the sand-hills as before, until the tide rose within a few
feet of one of the vessels which was found embedded in the ice and snow; we,
however, jumped on board, and, in this situation, remained about twenty minutes,
in the anxious hope that every succeeding wave would lift her bows ; but the tide
ebbing, we were obliged to retire. The next night, we again proceeded to * Myn-
lieerV house, who seemed to consider it the last time they should see us. —
* To-morrow,' he observed, ' we shall all be chez nous.' When the tide had risen
within a few feet of its utmost height, Hunter and myself got on board the same
vessel as before, and made several preparations, that there might be no delay or
confusion when she floated. So soon as all was ready, we ran to the other two,
with the joyful information. On our way thither, Hunter expressed some doubt,
which proved nothing but an untimely difference of opinion. The exact state of
the vessel I represented to Whitehurst and Mansell, who, always ready to run any
risk rather than suffer the slightest chance of success to escape, coincided with me
in the propriety of making the attempt: Hunter, believing it useless, declined
attending. Nevertheless, we three instantly repaired on board, let slip the stern-
fasts, and began to heave upon the bow hawser. Each wave, as it rolled in, lifted
the vessel, and having hove a taught strain, she crept seaward about a foot everv rise,
falling upon the sand with a shock almost sufficient to drive the mast through her
bottom. We exerted every nerve, and had got her out about ten fathoms, when, to
our mortification, the tide receded faster than we could heave a-head : soon after,
she became imrnoveable. On jumping ashore, Hunter rejoined us, and, injustice
I should add, was extremely distressed at his previous decision, as the result
proved that his additional strength would have enabled us to get to sea. We were
thus obliged to return to the * Cat.' "
Again, on the 1 7th of February, they are informed that the evening
tide will be high enough to float the vessels ; hut, after proceeding to the
beach, and " watching the roll of every wave amid ice and snow" for two
hours, u the water recedes without even reaching p, single boat."
On the 4th of March, however, the tide on the 3d having broke upon
the hows of two vessels, and being to rise higher on the following night,
the last and thirteenth attempt at Blankenberg is made; the result of
which is, the most provoking disappointment that even the fancy of a
dramatist or a romance writer ever suggested.
" With heart elate, as in the moment of victory, on the night of the 4th of
March, I made my thirteenth and last trip to Blankenberg, and, leaving my com-
rades at* Mynheer's' house, went with him to the beach to reconnoitre; when,
finding several vessels nearly afloat, we returned to our party with the joyful
information. Furnished with provisions and a lantern, we took a friendly leave
of Winderkin's family, proceeded silently to the water's edge, and jumped on board
the easternmost vessel, in the pleasing confidence of having at length evaded the
vigilance of the enemy, and of being on the eve of restoration to our native soil.
The wind was fresh and squally from the W. N. W., with a good deal of swell ; the
moon, although only three days after the full, was so obscured by dark clouds,
that the night was very favourable for bur purpose. The vessel was moored by five
hawsers — two ahead, and three astern. It was arranged that Whitehurst and
Mansell should throw overboard the latter— Hunter and myself the former: this
was preferred to cutting them. We had been so long in Flanders, and received
such protection from the natives, that all harsh feeling which might have existed
towards an enemy was so mellowed into compassion for their sufferings under the
Corsican yoke, that we were unwilling to injure one of them, and therefore had
determined, if in our power, to send back the craft, which, being a fishing
' schuyt/ might probably be the only support of an indigent family. Whilst White-
hurst and Mansell were executing the duty allotted to them, Hunter and myself
got ready the foresail, and paid* overboard one of the hawsers. The tide now
* " Let run fathom after fathom."
3R2
4i)2 Narrative of an Escape from the [Nov.
rolled in, the vessel floated, and we hove her out to within about four fathoms of
her buoy. Whitehurst and myself being ready to cut the other hawser, and hoist
the sail, Hunter went to the helm, when he found the rudder was not shipped,
but lying on the poop. We instantly ran aft, and got it over the stern ; but the
vessel pitched so heavily, that it was not possible to ship the lower pintle. We
were now apprehensive of the total failure of the attempt; for to go to sea with-
out a rudder would have been madness, and, being nearly under the battery, we
were in momentary expectation of being fired into. Several minutes were passed
in this state of anxiety and danger, still persevering in the attempt to ship the
rudder; but at length finding it impossible without a guide below, and feeling that
our only hope was dependant upon the success of this important effort, in the
excitement of the moment Ijumped overboard : at the same instant, the vessel
springing a little ahead, and the sea washing me astern, it was not without the
greatest exertion I could swim up to get hold of the stern-post. Hunter, seeing
that I was dashed from her by every wave, threw me a rope : this I made fast round
my waist, and then, with some trouble, succeeded in shipping the rudder. The
effort of swimming and getting on board again, although assisted by my comrades,
so completely exhausted me, that I lay on my back for some time, incapable of
moving a limb; but, at length, rallying, I went forward to help hoist the foresail,
whilst Hunter cut the hawser, >.nd then ran to the helm. The sail was no sooner
up than the vessel sprang off, as if participating in our impatience, and glorying in
our deliverance. Such, however, is the uncertainty and vanity of all human pro-
jects, that at the very moment when we believed ourselves in the arms of liberty,
and our feelings were worked up to the highest pitch of exultation, a violent
shock suddenly arrested our progress. We flew aft, and found that a few fathoms
of the starboard quarter hawser having been accidentally left on board, as it ran
out a kink was formed near the end, which, getting jambed between the head of
the rudder and the stern-post, had brought the vessel up all standing. The knife
was instantly applied; but the hawser was so excessively taut and hard that it was
scarcely through one strand ere the increasing squall had swung her round off
upon the beach. At this critical juncture, as the forlorn hope, we jumped out to
seize another vessel, which was still afloat; when Winderkins, seeing a body of
men running upon the top of the sand-hills, in order to surround us, gave the
alarm. We immediately made a resolute rush directly across, leaving our knap-
sacks, and every thing but the clothes on our backs, in the vessel. The summit
was gained just in time to slip over on the other side unseen. We ran along the
hills towards the village for about a hundred yards, when, mistaking a broad ditch
for a road, I fell in, but scrambled out on the opposite side. Mansell,'who was
close at my heels, thinking that I had jumped in on purpose, followed : this
obliged the others to jump also. Having regained the * Cat,' we related the heart-
rending disaster to Madame Derikre."
The immediate consequence of this unhappy adventure is, as may be
supposed, to render the condition of Mr. Boys and his friends ten times
more wretched and desperate than ever. Their old quarters, of course,
can no longer be tenable; and they at once make for the woods, where
they remain for three days, " wet to the skin," from the constant bad
weather, and with the extremities of their garments " solid boards of ice."
At length, on the third night, their small stock of provisions being entirely
exhausted, want compels them to revisit the cabaret; where they learn
from Madame Derikre the results of their unlucky enterprise.
" We set out at eleven o'clock, and, reaching a neighbouring wood about one
a. m., halted to listen — being apprehensive that, if any article had been found in
the vessel to create suspicion of the * Cat,' that gens-d'armes would be laying in
ambush ready to butcher us. It was arranged that Whitehurst and Hunter should
remain under the hedge of the orchard, whilst I approached the house; and in the
event of my meeting with such numbers as to render their assistance unavailing, I
was to give the alarm ; and they were to fly, regardless of me. With firm, yet
cautious step, I advanced, crept through a gap in the hedge, and entered the
1827.] French Prison of Valenciennes. 493
orchard, looking around, and listening, like the timid deer for the approach of the
savage hound, whose thirst nothing but blood can satiate. Starting, as by elec-
tricity, at a cold touch on my hand, I involuntarily threw myself into an attitude
of defence ; but seeing nothing, and judging that coward fancy had created this
alarm, I again advanced ; when I perceived by my side the dog Fox, whose cold
mark of recognition in the dark had been ihe cause of it, and who, trotting before
me to the house, every now and then returned, as if to invite, and assure me that
no enemy was near. Having reached the window, I gently tapped : Madame
Derikre opened it, begged me not to come in, and sent the dog to look out. She
then related that, soon after her return, the house was surrounded, and searched
most minutely, by thirty-six gens-d'armes and police officers, without their finding
any thing to corroborate their suspicions. During our residence in the loft, we
had procured five sticks, and put spike nails with a sharp edge and point into the
ends, to use as weapons of defence. Four of these were taken in the vessel ; the
fifth we had given to young Derikre, who incautiously left it by the fire-side. For-
tunately, it was not noticed, or it would have been sufficient proof to implicate the
whole family. She likewise related that the lantern, having been known to belong
to Winderkins, his house was also searched, and both of them were taken before
the police. He confessed that the lantern was his property, but swore he had
lent it to Madame Derikre : this she acknowledged, stating that she had put it
out of the door, in lieu of her lamp sent to be repaired, and that some one had
stolen it. The baker, who was also taken before the mayor, proved that the con-
sumption of bread at the * Cat* had been more than doubled for several weeks:
this, however, was evaded by a declaration of an unusual increase of custom — to
which she could safely swear, without risk of perjury. This explanation did not
entirely clear her of suspicion : the house was again surrounded, and searched on
the second night, but with no better success."
It should have been observed, some way back, that the English pri-
soners— a great many of them — had so far profited by their long residence
in France, as to acquire a most perfect familiarity with the language and
habits of the country. This acquaintance was indeed so complete, that
it had already enabled our party on several occasions in their route from
V7alenciennes to Blankenberg, to pass for French conscripts. And, upon
the strength of the security afforded by it, immediately after the failure of
the last attempt at Blankenberg, one of the associates, Mr. Mansell, had
ventured to proceed in the disguise of a female to Bruges, there to com-
municate with an agent of the name of Moitier, and discover if it was
possible to get off from that quarter, or if any advance of money could be
obtained for himself and his companions. Four days had now elapsed
since the departure of this emissary, and no news had been received ; and
it was with heavy hearts that the remaining three were compelled again to
turn round and take up their gite in the forest; leaving notice with the
landlady of " The Cat," of the spot where they intended to conceal them-
selves, and furnished with such means of subsistence, "bread, gin, and
cold potatoes," as the diminished larder of the cabaret could supply.
" We now retreated to a thick wood, about three miles to the westward, and
remained there without hearing from the Derikres until noon of the 10th,
when a rustling amongst the bushes set us all upon the 'qui vive.' I crept for-
ward, and, having listened attentively for a few moments, to my great joy per-
ceived it was occasioned by our faithful friend, Fox, who fawned upon us, appa-
rently as much elated at the meeting as ourselves. On going with him in the
direction whence he came, I found his young master bringing cheese and eggs.
We had been so long together, that he became really attached to us ; and, on the
recital of our hardships and sufferings, he was so struck with the view of our camp,
which was fortified by twigs made into basket-work, that the kind-hearted boy
burst into a flood of tears. We learnt from him that his mother had been to
Bruges, but that, not finding Moitier at home, she was afraid to say a word to his
494 Narrative of an Escape from the [Nov.
wife. She had, however, seen Mansell, who was concealed in the house: he told
her that he had not been able to procure money ; and that he had gone out to
Windmill Wood, but that his search for us had been ineffectual. She also learnt
that Moitier was gone into Holland, and was expected back in the course of the
week. All this the boy related with as much feeling as if he thought our situation
the most deplorable and wretched that human nature could endure: he promised
to bring us bread and eggs so long as we remained in the neighbourhood, but
thought it much better to be in prison than to perish with cold in the woods.
" In order to recompense him for his trouble, and to ensure his future assistance,
I made him a present of my watch, the only valuable I possessed. Two days more
were passed in this basket fort, when we were alarmed by the approach of an old
peasant. Well knowing that the Flemings entertained the utmost horror of the
conscription, we passed ourselves off for conscripts. The old man seemed to sym-
pathize incur distresses, and promised to bring us a loaf of bread; but as it would
have been imprudent to have suffered him to depart, and to have waited his return,
he was kept in conversation until nearly dark, and, when he left us, we broke up
the camp, and fled. Scarcely had we gone a mile, following each other at some
little distance, when Fox and his master were discovered : the latter advised us to
go to a thick wood, about two miles east of the house, and gave information of
Moitier's return. Soon after taking up this position, the weather set in intensely
cold ; and, literally clad in armour of ice, we lay listening to the whistling wind,
and shivering with exposure to the chilling blast, which not only defied repose, but
threatened the most calamitous effects. Indeed, the limbs were sometimes so
benumbed, that it became absolutely indispensable to shake and twist ourselves
about to promote the necessary circulation of the blood. Nor did there appear
any prospect of the termination of this misery; for, as the black and ponderous
clouds passed swiftly over us, the wind increased, the hail beat furiously down,
and the trees trembled, until the raging violence of the storm seemed to threaten
the uprooting of the very wood we occupied. In this exposed situation, with
variable, though piercing cold weather, we remained until the 15th, when the
boy, with the help of Fox, again traced us out, and said his mother had seen and
detailed to Moitier our exact situation : he pretended surprise, declaring that
Mansell had never given him reason to suppose that he had companions, and
lamenting, at the same time, his inability to be of service at present, promised to
assist in a day or two."
This condition, which is ill enough, rap'dly becomes wor.=e.
" Whitehurst now suffered so severely from illness, that doubts arose as to the
possibility of his continuing much longer in this state of exposure; and, had not
his complaint taken a favourable turn, his patience and fortitude must soon have
yielded to stern and absolute necessity.
" In addition to our anxiety for the sufferings of our companion, a degree of
gloomy restlessness pervaded every thought, auguring nothing but evil ; but whe-
ther these feelings proceeded from pain and despondency, or bore any affinity to
that instinctive foresight which teaches the tenants of the forest to prepare for
tempestuous weather, I will not determine. With this presentiment, how-
ever, we prevailed on the boy to bring a horse-cloth ; and, as neither of us
had a second coat, it proved one of the greatest comforts I had ever experienced.
Indeed, it so renovated our strength, that we were more firmly bent than ever
upon marching into Germany; but the increasing severity of the season confined
our attention to present preservation, rather than heedlessly running into greater
dangers. The dark and cheerless clouds, upon which our eyes were continually
fixed, soon discharged flakes of snow in such profusion as to threaten our being
cut off from the * Cat ;' but. fortunately, to prevent the too frequent passing and
reposing, Madame Derikre had sent us a stock of bread, gin, and a little meat,
which were economized to the best advantage. At the commencement of the fall
of snow, we moved about the wood, and finding a hollow, from which a tree
had been dug, we plucked a quantity of twigs and laid in it, so as to make a dry
bed : the' horse-cloth was then spread loosely over, propped up by a stick in the'
centre, fastened down with pegs, and dead leaves strewed round the edge— thus
1827.] Fretiah Prison of Valenciennes; 495
forming a kind of tent : one corner was left open for the free admission of air,
and for our entrance and exit. Here we lay in such comfort, that the sensation
experienced can only be imagined by comparing them to turning into a warm
bed, after being nearly frozen to death. The snow falling all night, in the morn-
ing our nest was covered nearly a foot deep, and scarcely rose sufficiently above the
surrounding white surface to indicate the place of our concealment. Very little change
occurred until the 19th, when we again despatched a messenger to Bruges, with a
note to Mansell ; but, as we received no answer, it was doubtless intercepted — it
being Moitier's policy to prevent communication between us. A sudden thaw
almost inundated the wood, and.it .was with mqch difficulty that the boy could
get to our retreat with provisions. On the morning of the 21st he came, almost
out of breath, with information that a party of men were again about to surround
the house, and, it was supposed, to search the adjoining woods. Upon this, we
instantly broke up our camp, threw the twigs in all directions, and ran through 'he
woods a mile due east. A ditch, about eighteen feet wide, now presented itself
before us. Luckily, at a little distance was a piece of timber lying across — upon
which we passed without a moment's delay; and being too well versed in military
tactics to leave the bridge for the enemy, it was drawn over, and thrown into a
hedge.
" Our hasty retreat was continued about three miles, when reaching an almost
impenetrable thicket, we crept in and hid ourselves. In this thicket we lay for
some time, expecting every moment the approach of the pursuers; but, as we
occupied a very favourable position for retreat — the surrounding woods being
intersected with wide ditches, one of which was immediately in our rear — we were
in no very great apprehension for the issue. In the midst of our consultation, a
distant noise was indistinctly heard, which seemed gradually to approach, until
the actual motion of the bushes put an end to all doubt. We instantly jumped
up, ready to fly ; when a dog was discovered drawing near, and, not far behind,
some person penetrating through the thick wood ; but, ere we had time to decide,
our faithful friend Fox burst to view, fawning and curling himself in silent con-
gratulation, as if sensible of a narrow escape. Almost at the same moment came-
his affectionate master, who brought information that a body of gens-d'armes only
halted at his mother's, on their way to Blankenberg, but, fancying they were
come to make another search, he immediately ran off' to give us timely notice.
The keen lad, guided by the sagacious Fox, had followed our footsteps, until he
came to the broad ditch ; when finding the bridge gone, and suspecting we had
pulled it over, he had run round a considerable distance. Having so done, he
returned to the opposite bank, and continued hunting us up. We immediately
retraced our steps, replaced the bridge, and marched back to our ' trou,' which
was rendered as comfortable as before. This little trip we fancied did us good,
from the exercise it afforded. A heavy fall of rain, during two days, prevented
the boy from getting to us ; and apprehensions were now entertained, that, from
the overflowing of the ditches, and almost inundated state of the woods, we should
be compelled, by hunger, to expose ourselves in the day — although, in prefer-
ence, we had resolved to endure the utmost extremity of privaiion. Indeed, we
already felt the want of food : our fare was seldom more than bread, sometimes
potatoes, and occasionally eggs — though, a few days previous, we had a little
meat, the bones of which were thrown away. For these I now searched, and felt
delight in finding one, which I ground down with a canine voracity, reproaching
myself for my previous extravagance. At length, hunger and wet forced us to quit
the camp ; and, about ten at night, approaching the ' Cat,' two of us went in,
dried our clothes, and got something to eat; whilst the third, with Fox, kept
watch at the door. The sagacity of this dog was really wonderful. Madame
Derikre assured us, that, latterly, this faithful animal, as if he knew our enemies,
growled at every gen-d'arme he saw, although he had been in the habit of seeing
and being caressed by them almost every day of his life. She again said that
Moitier had promised to assist us the moment Mansell was gone. Our hopes
being somewhat enlivened by these repeated assurances, it was determined to wait
a few days longer, could we survive the cold, to see the result of Mansell's depar-
ture. We now ventured to pay nightly visits to the < Cat,' in order to procure
496 Narrative of an Escape from t lie [Nov.
provisions, taking each time a different ditection, to avoid making a path. One
night, Whitehurst, exhausted with illness and fatigue, while crossing a ditch, fell
in ; and, swinging under an old tree that overhung the water, it was with some
difficulty we could extricate him. After this accident, we always left him in the
nest; but Hunter and myself continued our nightly excursions to the ' Cat,' and
found its inmates, at each succeeding visit, more and more determined to perse-
vere in rendering us assistance. Indeed, so much had we grown upon their esteem,
and so intense was the interest excited by the extremity of our sufferings, that, on
one occasion, poor old Cocher, the servant, offered to pawn even her gold cross
and heart, and all she possessed, to Moitier, if he would but befriend the poor
* Englishes.' "
The conduct of these poor people appears to have been highly creditable
throughout. They could scarcely be fairly considered (though they were
aiding the escape of an enemy) as traitors to the interests of France ; because,
except by the right of force, France had no more title to claim allegiance
from them than from the fugitives whom they were assisting; and their
fidelity to Captain Boys and his friends remained firm under circumstances
of great difficulty. It may be urged that " they were paid for what they
did;" but he who looks for service altogether disinterested, will generally
be mistaken : and it would have been very easy for Madame Derikre and
her companions, had they been so disposed, to have obtained all the money
which our adventurers possessed, without affording them any real assis-
tance— or even with the additional fraud of obtaining a government bounty
for delivering them up, or giving information which should lead to their
apprehension. There seems to be no reason, however, for believing that
any thought of treachery ever suggested itself to them throughout the
transaction ; and in fact it was to the courage and fidelity of the old
landlady, Madame Derikre, in person, that our friends in the end were
mainly indebted for their escape.
In the desperate condition to which their last efforts had reduced them,
news having arrived that Mr. Mansell has actually sailed, and all hope of
getting off from Blankenberg seeming to be at an end, Captain Boys deter-
mines at all hazards to proceed himself to Bruges, and communicate with
M. Moitier, in order to ascertain if any thing can be done. This journey,
which he undertakes under heavy auspices, and without the knowledge of
his friends, leads in the end to the deliverance of all the parties ; but our
limits will only allow a short extract, describing the commencement of it.
" After making the necessary arrangements with Madame Derikre, I lay down
in the stable, with my friend Fox at the door, who seemed to watch with increased
vigilance, as if aware of the importance of his trust. My bed, in this solitary cell,
was certainly not one of roses; for, independently of the anxiety arising from the
fear of surprise, I at first felt something like compunction, at not having previously
consulted my companions; nor was I without apprehension that they might sus-
pect I intended to desert them ; and, should any thing occur to cause the capture
of either party during our separation, the report of such a disgraceful act might be
circulated, without my ever being able to prove its fallacy. But the evident neces-
sity for some decided step, and the conscious rectitude of my intention, presently
dissipated such thoughts, and created a cheerful presentiment that my plans
would lead to some favourable result. At length, my mind became wholly absorbed
in the consolation which this feeling afforded ; and I lay meditating schemes for
the guidance of the future, till about four o'clock, scarcely able to close my eyes.
At that hour, I gently tapped at Madame Derikre's window. She immediately
equipped me in the same dress I had worn to Blankenberg on the 1 5th of Decem-
ber, and furnished me with a carpenter's rule, line, and chalk. After taking some
refreshment, we set out ' tete-A-tete" for Bruges. At dawn of day we separated,
182?.] French Prison of I -'tt/cHciennts. 407
keeping about a hundred yards apart, and entered the town just as the labourers
were going to work. In passing the guard at the gates, I was chalking and rubbing
out figures upon the rule, as it' my mind was wholly occupied in my business.
Although I did not turn my head, I could nevertheless observe, from under my
broad brim, two gens-d'armes eyeing me from head to foot. I, however, trudged
on uninterrupted, following the guide from street to street, until we entered that
in which Moitier lived. Fortunately, not a creature was to be seen. On passing
his door, she made a momentary pause, placing her hand on her hip as a signal to
me, and then went on without looking behind her. I knocked, and asked for
* Monsieur;" but he was not at home. Upon inquiring for ' Madame,' she appeared.
I told her that my business was of such importance, as absolutely to require my
seeing 'Monsieur son epoux;' and, if she would permit it, I wished to wait his
return. She politely shewed me into an apartment ; but, seeing it to be a public
waiting room, and being desirous of privacy, I made one or two observa-
tions remotely bearing upon the purport of my visit; when, finding she entertained
no suspicion of who I was., I ventured to congratulate her upon the success her
husband had met with respecting Mansell. ''Manselle!' she emphatically ex-
claimed, starting with surprise, and fixing her large black eyes upon me. On my
Madame, I am that unfortunate wanderer,' — she seized me by the hand, and imme-
diately conducted me to the attics."
The remaining portion of the story consists of ad ventures of a more cheer-
ful character than those which have hitherto presented themselves ; and after
a somewhat tedious negociation, chiefly prolonged by the want of ready
money on the part of our adventurers, through Mr. Moitier's agency,
assisted by another personage whose business it is to exercise " an indus-
try beyond the law," the parties all escape. On the 29th of April 1809,
having then, for the last month, travelled openly about the Netherlands,
as Frenchmen, and having been six months altogether concealed in the
country since their escape from Valenciennes, disguised as much as pos-
sible like Flemings, and assisted by Mr. Neirinks, and a smuggler, de-
signated onlv as " Peter," the fugitives leave Bruges in the close of the
evening, and march, by woods and cross roads, to the island of Cadsand,
opposite to Flushing. The principal danger they had to apprehend, the
author says, was in passing the guard at the gates of Bruges ; but as
many people were passing in and out, they mingled with the crowd, and
their joy at approaching the Cadsand, at one in the morning, when they
expected immediately to find a boat ready to embark, was as lively as
that which they felt after descending the last rampart at Valenciennes.
The position in which they stood even now, however, to persons less
inured to peril, and to escape from it, might have been deemed a nice
one; for the very point of ground from which they were to embark, was
overlooked by a fort, and patroles were almost hourly passing along the
beach within a few yards of them.
" On arriving near the coast we met Peter's wife, who ordered us to lie down
on the ground, whilst this Amazonian chief reconnoitred the strand. She had
scarcely proceeded a hundred yards, when she was hailed, and saluted with a shot.
Like a skilful general, she instantly made good her retreat, and bivouac'd with the
main body. In this position we remained for about two hours, whilst Peter and his
chief were occasionally watching the motions of the enemy, and looking out for
the private signal from the boat. Our anxiety was now at its utmost stretch, and
every passing moment appeared an age. The look-out, every now and then,1 was
oblieed to retreat, to avoid the p >troles ; although, had the boat arrived, being well
M.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 S
498 Nar ratio* of an Escape from the [Nov.
armed, amidst irregular sand-hills, and the spirits inflamed by confidence, our
object could not have been defeated easily, or with impunity. The boat not com-
ing-, we \vere obliged to retreat to Peter's hut for concealment. This habitation had
but one room. A few loose boards lying across from side to side upon mud walls,
•which supported a straw roof, formed a kind of ceiling to about one-halt of it : on
these boards were spread some dry rushes, upon which we reposed. In this situa-
tion, day after day closed, whilst we expected each succeeding one to be the last in
this country. But no appearance of the boat ; and, as no exertions on our part
could expedite its arrival, we did not quit the loft. At length, on the 8th of May,
positive information was brought that all would be in readiness at ten p. m. Ac-
cordingly, at that hour, the weather fine, and the night dark, we assembled in the
sand-hills ; and, so soon as the patrole had passed, the private signal was made
and answered. The boat gliding silently to the beach, with muffled oars, we
rushed in with the rapidity of thought, and, in an instant, were all safe afloat.
Each seized an oar, and, vigorously applying his utmost strength, we soon reached
beyond the range of shot."
Twenty hours, from this time, brought them to the back of the Good-
win Sands ; and within twenty-four they were landed in England : with
which gratifying intelligence our limits warn us that we should take leave
of Captain Boys; to whom, in conclusion, we pay no compliment when
we say, that he has told his tale in a very simple, intelligent, sailor-like
manner. In his anger for the sufferings he endured, he now and then does
some injustice to the French character; but the point between prisoner
and gaoler, as we have already observed, is one which it has never been
our good fortune to see very entirely accommodated. Where one man is
responsible for the custody of another, he will, in defiance of the most
liberal dispositions, have occasional fancies about the efficacy of a lock and
key ; and, without at all desiring to increase the annoyances of prison-
ers, or any hope to satisfy their personal judgments, we confess we think
that, though a custodier's duty may be an unpleasant one, he is enti-
tled to a liberal and large construction in seeing that it is properly exe-
cuted. With all the abuse that has been bandied to and fro, on the sub-
ject of the treatment of Buonaparte, at St. Helena, it would have been
an ill answer to this country, and to Europe, if that important captive
had escaped, to have proved that Sir Hudson Lowe was so delicately
minded a gaoler that he could not descend to the double bolting of a
door.
Some of the French dignitaries, however, are most mercilessly han-
dled by our author; and in particular, M. Wirion, the governor of
Verdun; who we dare say was a great rogue; but who, at the same
time, having a thousand English prisoners to manage — and some persons
among them of so little reverence as to treat the effigy of sovereigns as
Mr. Boys treated the bust of Buonaparte — would have enough, probably,
from time to time, to try his temper. Again, for the " extortions," it
will be recollected that the ordinary regime of the continent authorises a
good deal of exaction which opportunity does not arise for in England ;
while, on the other hand, it relieves us from a good deal, for which oppor-
tunity in this country does arise : and some of the items put into the
balance sheet. — as " robberies committed upon the English,'1 seem rather
hastily to have been classed under that severe and sweeping title. The sum
of £1,800, for instance, calculated to have been levied in fines, for
" missing the appels," &c., pressed upon no gentleman who attended
the " appels." »* Doctor's certificate (again) to avoid regulations, .£600."
This would not affect those persons who complied with regulations. Again,
" Gambling-houses, £3,600," gained by. Why did persons (we should
1827.] French Prison of Valenciennes. 499
ask) frequent them ? Two or three other items in this account, strike us as
open to the same sort of objection : but our author is resolute in his aver-
sions, we suspect, as well as his friendships ; for he not only stands out
fiercely against all the system of making money that was organized by
General Wirion, but actually concludes — to damn his foes to " everlasting
fame" — by publishing a list of all the French commandants who have
been hanged, committed suicide, or been dismissed from the army, within
his knowledge! — "in hope/' as he expresses it, "that their fate may prove
a warning to future commandants, and a safeguard to the unfortunate !"
We make a final extract, to give this document: —
WIRION — A general, and inspector-general of the Imperial gendarmerie, officer of
the legion of honour, and commander-in-chief of the prisoners of war;
shot himself.
COURQELLES — Colonel and commandant of Verdun, and of the department of the
Meuse, officer of the legion of honour ; dismissed from the army.
DEMANGET — Lieutenant of gendarmerie, member of the legion of honour; dis-
missed from the army.
MASSIN — Lieutenant of gendarmerie, member of the legion of honour: shot
kirns elf.
BOUILLE — Maiechal de logis of gendarmerie, paymaster, and member of the legion
of honour ; reduced to the ranks.
NAME FORGOTTEN — Lieutenant of gendarmerie at Sarre Louis ; shot himself.
NAME UNKNOWN — A colonel at Montmedy, member of the legion of honour ;
condemned to the gallies.
MUNDEVELLARS — Captain in the army, aide-de-camp to General Wirion, member
of the legion of honour; dismissed the army.
NAME FORGOTTEN — Aide de-camp to General Wirion, member of the legion of
honour; dismissed the army.
Besides these honourable members so disgraced, many others narrowly escaped,
and a long list of insignificant delinquents, might be added, whose rogueries are
not comprised in the foregoing calculations.
With the exception of a few sallies, however, like this — which, after
all, are by no means the ultra extent of prejudice; for one gentleman
at Verdun, a Lieutenant Mackenzie, had such a horror and detestation of
every thing French, that he even refused to learn the language — there is
nothing to find fault with in the temper of Mr. Boyg's book, and a great
deal to amuse in the details of it. The fate of the parties who made
such vigorous exertions to recover their liberties (as related in the last
pages of the book), has a little tendency to excite feelings of melancholy.
" Mr. Hunter/' says Mr. Boys, " was promoted in J8il." Whitehurst
was sent to the Halifax station, where he had not been long before he
was again made prisoner, and detained in France during the remainder
of the war. Mansell, a short time after, died at sea. Two or three little
engravings are added to the work, which serve to render particular points
in the narrative, intelligible, which it might have been difficult to com-
prehend without such assistance.
3 S 2
[ 500 ] [Nov.
LETTER FROM PARIS, UPON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL.
Paris, Oct. \5th.
There are certainly very few of your erratic countrymen who have travelled in
Swisserlancl, and frequented society there, without knowing something of the vene-
rable Meister. This amiable old man, who had lived for upwards of eighty
years at Zurich, and died there last year, retained, to an advanced age, that vigour
of mind, and elegance of conversation, which had, in early youth, rendered him
the delight of men of letters, and the haut-ton of both sexes, more especially
those of the latter, who exercised such an influence on the ideas and habits of the
last half of the eighteenth century. Meister seemed only to have lived by his re-
collection since that period. A stranger to the great social movement which had
been effected in literature, arts, political institutions, and even the intercourse of
society, one might have said that, like a modern Epirnenides, he had fallen asleep
from epicureanism, when he beheld those tranquil habits of society, inter-
rupted by the gravity of political affairs, and did not awake till roused by the re-
opening of the gilded doors of our saloons. His philosophy, blended with a
refined incredulity, called to mind the school of Voltaire, Frederic of Prussia,
Diderot, and Catherine II., amidst which he had passed his early years. All the
memoirs of that day, the correspondence, secret and literary, have successively
disclosed certain facts relative to each of these distinguished personages, which it
would have been more decorous to have left in oblivion. But in the midst of all
this gossip of the makers of memoirs, correspondences, and biographies, a highly
important l.terary fact has been overlooked : and this will explain to you, why I
commence the correspondence you have proposed, by a few remarks on Meister.
Your readers are, doubtless, acquainted with the celebrated correspondence of
Baron de Grimm, so famous for his quarrels with Rousseau, and his conquest of
Madame d'Epinay. A hundred articles have been written on this subject, in
France, and on your side the channel. Each writer certainly appreciated the
author's merit with judgment, and gave his opinion of Grimm according to his
feelings. Well, then, this famous correspondence was almost unknown to Grimm !
Out of the eighteen volumes, he only wrote the last half of the first, and the first
half of the second. D'Alernbert wrote half of the first, Diderot the end of the
second, and the whole of the third. The nine following are by Meister, and the
remainder by Madame Guizot,then Mademoiselle Maillant, whom we lost a few
months ago. Meister, himself, shewed me the originals at Zurich, and when
M. Suard printed the correspondence here, Meister sent them to him, to insure
the correctness of the edition. Like a true epicurean, he would not afterwards
take the trouble of claiming his share of the reputation, and the book continues
to circulate under the name of Grirnm. You have also seen an ingenious cor-
respondent of one of your periodicals, adopt the signature of Grimm's grandson,
as a sufficient recommendation. Thus it is, with most literary correspondences, in
which all is fiction, even to the name of the author, if he thinks proper to assume
one. I begin with you, by escaping this first temptation, of leading your readers
into error, and I propose, in my future communications, to depart as little as pos-
sible from the strictest veracity. lam placed in a better situation than those
authors printed under the name of Grimm. They addressed a prince who was
glad to hear certain truths, but who did not like to see them carried too far. I
speak to a British pubLc, that rejects nothing which is rational — for whom the
word extraordinary is not synonimous with ridicule — and that knows how to
accord that freedom to others which it claims for itself.
October is the worst month in the year to begin a correspondence of this sort.
Those whom the charms of the season could not hitherto attract to the country,
are now called there by the powerful interest attached to the vintage, and the
necessity of superintending the first operations of this important object. It is to
this solicitude that your tables are supplied with the sparkling champaign, the
perfumed clos-vaugeot, aud the chateau-margot, so delectable to the palates of
your nabobs. But this rural activity becomes detrimental to the city, which is,
as it were, abandoned to foreign travellers in September and October. It is not
J827.] Letter from Paris, upon Affairs iti general. 5()1
till the first symptoms of cold are felt somewhat severely, that life in the capital
is resumed in all its tumult. The Paris season is the reverse of that of London.
It commences at the end of Novemher, and closes at the beginning of May. The
period of your hunting is that of our drawing-room parties. Previous to Novemher,
Paris may be compared to a vast lazaretto, where the valetudinarians of every
country take refuge. Instead of an exile to the Baths of Aix, or Bagmres, some
have, of late years, preferred those of Tivoli; some seek in the midst of our fetes,
the oblivion of favours received at the Court of St. Petersburgh. Mr. Recacho
has arrived from Spain, to obtain the protection of the court mercenaries,
with the constitutionalists whom he had banished. The members of the first
Portuguese Cortes take their ices at Tortoni's, seated with peers, who thought
Don Miguel would pardon them for having accepted the constitution of his bro-
ther, on condition of preventing its being put into execution. A certain lady
comes from London, to wait until certain scandalous reports, prejudicial to her
honour, are forgotten ; and the gentleman who sits in the next box to her lady-
ship at the opera, who has given the slip to his creditors, plunges into the vortex
of dissipation, and thus avoids the reproaches of an uneasy conscience.
Add to the above, a few ennuyant visitors from the provinces, and some of the
petits maitres, delicate creatures, who would perish out of the subtle and vapour-
ous atmosphere of the Boulevard de Gand ; some stockjobbers; some adventurers
about to incur ruin by speculating on the fall, and others on the triumph of
M. de Villele, speculations equally adventurous, and you will see Paris in October.
Every thing is in preparation, but nothing is yet executed. . The ovens are heated
and the metal in fusion. A few short weeks, and we shall then see mean or mag-
nificent monuments — the ridiculous or admirable, useful or absurd— of human inge-
nuity. Herbault, in a grotesque head dress, meditates on the direction to be given
to the feathers of a new hat of her own invention. M. Scribe continues to report
a new production of his fecund and brilliant imagination, at the Gymnasium,
Feydeau, and Opera. M. Arnault, the younger, is rehearsing his Tiberius, by
French actors; and M. Lanrens is organizing, under similar discipline, the produc-
tions of Shakspeare and Rossini, for the pleasure of the idle Parisian, who is highly,
pleased to pass in review the dramatic productions of England, Germany, Italy
and Spain, after dining at the Gaffe de Paris, and before going to review the
beauties a la mode, while enjoying his ices at half past eleven, before the door of
Tortoni's.
Whilst literature and the fashions are preparing to enter the arena, politics have
also their champions, and M. de Villele is about to enter the lists. It is said that
he will, in a few days, strike a masterly blow, by the aid of some old gladiators.
Before the 6th of November the lugubrious columns of the Mouiteur will contain
the funeral oration of the chamber which voted for the septenniality, and that also
wished to impose the right of primogeniture, and the slavery of the press on us.
This dissolution is agreeable to all parties. In spite of the efforts made by the
ministers, the liberals hope that the well informed electors will perform their duty
and return independent members. The illiberals calculate on the apathy of the
nation, and strong in the fortune of seven years, promise themselves the pleasure
of imitating the example of their brethren in Spain, and put an end to the liberties
of the country. Thus every body finds his account in the hazardous measures of
M. de Villele, and even the indifferents themselves, look forward to it as a means
of feeding their eager curiosity.
The Distinctive character of this month, is, therefore, in all ranks, rather a pre-
lude to life than a real existence. The engine by which everything is to be put in
motion, is adjusting. The most important event of the month, is the trial of the
Abbe Contrefatto. For some time past, the crimes committed among the Catholic
Clergy have increased to a frightful extent. This is by no means surprising, and
it must go on increasing. Before the revolution, the clergy were not separated
from the nation, as they now are. The first class, that of grand vicars, among
whom the bishops were chosen, were composed of the sons of the most distin-
guished families in France, who added extensive information to all the graces of
society. The second class, that of beneficed abbes, was rather a set of indigent
idlers, whose morals were often relaxed, but who strove, above all things, to avoid
exposure. Some steady ecclesiastics, attached to their profession, occupied the
502 Letter from Pan's, upon Affairs in general. [Nov.
important cures ; and the clergy, having a great preponderance in the state, called
to itself all that was distinguished throughout the country. In the present day, the
old class of grand vicars and abbes has disappeared. There is no longer a
single respectable family, who dares attempt to impose the sacerdotal office on
their children. None take orders now but those who are suffering from poverty,
and whose indolence will not allow them to think of taking a different calling.
Their passions, compressed by the severity of Catholic discipline, burst forth at a
later period, with the more force, since they are not restrained by the respect due
to a society with which they never mixed, and are engaged in a sort of warfare
against them. Formerly the young abbe's had mistresses among women of title:
nor did this prevent them from looking forward to good benefices. At present,
the priests are chaste until the moment when their passions, which had been re-
pressed in a manner so contrary to nature, overstep every human check, and reveal
themselves by some dreadful crime. In the departments, the activity of the
bishops has sometimes intervened in sufficient time to interrupt the prosecution
of the family or public authorities, to enable the guilty to escape. Near Paris,
this is more difficult; a cure has just been condemned to the gallies by the crimi-
nal court of Versailles, for an outrage against public decency. The Abbe Contre-
fatto, accused of the same crime, was brought before the judge of instruction, who,
alone, supplies the place of your grand jury. The Jesuitical congregation, terrified
at the dishonour that was about to fall on the cloth, took care to get M. Frays-
sinous, nephew to the Bishop of Hermopolis, minister of public worship and in-
struction, named judge of instruction. Conformably to the wish of his masters
M. Frayssinous hastened to declare that Contrefatto was virtue personified, and he
was even about to issue an order for the arrest of those who had levelled their
accusations against so upright a person. Thus Contrefatto got out of the diffi-
culty triumphant. He presented himself at the office of the Constitutionnel accom-
panied by a young priest, and requested the editor to state that he had been
declared innocent of the charge made against him. " By all means," replied the
editor, " it is our duty, as well as pleasure, to cause the innocent to triumph. But
of what crime were you innocent ? of what were you accused ? Inform us of' it,
that we may proclaim the fact." Contrefatto made no answer. The same ques-
tions were put to the young Italian Abbe who accompanied him, and he was also
silent ; and neither being inclined to state what the alleged crime was, left the
office together. In passing through an adjoining street they were recognised by
the mob, who abused Contrefatto, and were on the point of rolling him in the
mud, which, thanks to the neglect of the police, is so abundant in all the streets of
Paris ; but he escaped, and took refuge in a guard bouse. Soon after this, a party
of gens-d'armes came and conveyed him away in a hackney coach. It was not pru-
dent for him to return to his lodgings, which were near the spot, and where the
little child of eight years, who had been the victim of his monstrous brutality, also
resided. He was conducted to the prefecture of police, followed by a crowd of people,
uttering cries of indignation as they went along. " Look," said they, pointing to the
vehicle, " there is another malefactor whom the police is wresting from the hands of
justice, and the vengeance of the laws, like the Cure* Maingrat, who, after having cut
three of his victims in pieces, is retained by the King of Sardinia, in a house of cor-
rection at Fenestrelles ! Let us prevent his escape!" The soldiers and gens-d armes
seemed to partake of the popular indignation ; they, however, conducted him in
safety to the prefecture. The censorship, that docile instrument of Jesuitism, pre-
vented the insertion of a single word as to the scene of the preceding evening. Not-
withstanding all this, the worthy and independent judges of the royal court had
been informed of the facts; conformably to the law, they directed the procureur
duroi,or attorney-general, to prosecute, "and named one of their counsellors as the
judge of instruction. The latter instantly issued a warrant for the apprehension
of Contrefatto, and sent an officer of the court to the agents of police, who had
already proceeded to the residence of Contrefatto, with a view of endeavouring to
suppress the proofs of his crime, that the court had taken cognizance of the affair,
so that the agents should withdraw, and henceforth await the decision of the
court. The prosecution commenced at once; after a delay of two months, the
trial has taken place, when a jury of twelve, of which the majority held public
employments, decided, with only one dissenting voice, on the guilt of Contrefatto,
1827.] Letter from Paris, upon Affairs in general. 503
who has been in consequence condemned to the gallies for life, to stand in the
pillory, and be branded with a hot iron, as well as to all the costs of his trial.
The congregation, furious at this verdict, could only revenge itself in prevent-
ing, as much as possible, the publicity of the affair, and not allowing it to be
stated that Contrefatto is a priest. You, who have the happiness to know nothing
of the censorship, except for the drama, cannot form an idea of this daily tor-
ment; these poor creatures, chosen from the dregs of those who dishonour the
pursuit of letters, betray the greatest ignorance and incapacity in all that concerns
politics, frequently cancelling what the ministers wish them to approve, and ad-
mitting passages the latter would fain suppress. But in whatever concerns the
church, they never deceive themselves. Will you believe that they have sup-
pressed the following article, which had been changed and reproduced in ten dif-
ferent forms? —
"A catholic priest, M. Fischer, professor at the Lyceum of Landshut, having
quitted the catholic church to embrace the protestant faith, the king of Bavaria
would not allow that this act of mere conscience should be prejudicial to his tem-
poral interests, and therefore requested the learned professor to continue his ser-
vices in the direction of public instruction. He has been, in consequence, trans-
ferred to a protestant college, with the same rank and emoluments he enjoyed at
the Lyceum of Landshut."
The censorship has also prevented all the journals from inserting a decree of the
king of Prussia, which interdicts any of his subjects from pursuing their studies in
any seminaries conducted by Jesuits ; and yet the publication of these two facts
was permitted by the official censors ol Germany, and actually appeared in the
journal of M. Metternich. The Frankfort journal, edited by the Abbe Harmerin,
under the inspection of M. de Miinch Billinghausen, the Austrian minister at the
diet, also published them without the least scruple. The truth is, that notwith-
standing the boasted liberties of the Gallican church, we bow the head much more
humbly to Rome, than ever Austria did ; when I say we, I of course allude to the
government, for the nation marches in a totally opposite direction.
The nation advances so rapidly, that they will one day find themselves so far
apart, that it will be impossible either to understand, or find each other out. I
shall endeavour to enable you to follow the progress of both one and the other,
whether as regards the sciences or arts, politics, literature, and religion. In elo-
quence, the Abbe Fayet, a furious missionary, and full of audacious pretension,
represents the court and its wishes. Royer Collard, a practical philosopher and
real stoic, eloquent by the force of morality and reason, represents the nation and
its wants. In poetry, nothing is left for the court but the canticles of Saint Sulpice
and the hymns of the missionaries ; for all the young writers have gradually come
over and joined the phalanx directed by the Berengers, De la Vignes, and Lebruns.
In politics, the Abbe Loignet remains master of the field, whilst the two opposi-
tions continue to be increased by all the social and intellectual superiority of the
nation. In fine, every notion favourable to ignorance and despotism, seem to be
terminating with the closing generation, while a love of truth and virtue appears to
be the distinguishing characteristic of that which has commenced.
Our young female writers have been the first to second this improving spirit in
the age. Mademoiselle Delphine Gav, whose head and figure might, like those
of Lady Hamilton, represent the Pythonissa, has withdrawn from the society of
which she is so great an ornament here, to seek, in the fine climate of Italy, that
independence of thought, which she incurred a great risk of losing at Paris.
Mademoiselle Gay is the daughter of a lady well known as the author of several
literary productions of merit; this young lady's visit to Italy has led to some
poetical effusions, of which report speaks very highly, and they will, no doubt,
soon see the light. Madame Tastu, wife to the printer of that name, is not less
distinguished for her poetic talents ; she has been peculiarly happy in some attempts
to transfer the spirit of some scenes of Rorneo and Juliet, Julius Caesar, King
Lear, and a Midsummer Night's Dream, into our language. Madame Tastu is
about to publish a series of historical sketches in the style of your Sackville's
" Mirror of Magistrates ;" the scenes are principally taken from the " Chronicles
of the Middle Ages," published by M. J. A. Buchon.
Another lady, Madame de Bauer, has just made an attempt at the theatre
504 Letter from Paris, upon A/fairs m general. £NoV.
Francois, which is not quite so fortunate ; her " Friend of all the World" does
not seem to have won the friendship of anybody. Hissed at the first representa-
tion, it was tolerated with a respectful silence at the second. The fair author
understood this, and withdrew her comedy at once. In order to compensate in
some measure fdr their disappointment, the manager announced her charming
little drama, the " Sequel of a Masked Ball,'* and it was received with the loudest
plaudits by the audience, who readily seized the occasion to heal, as much as
possible, the wounded self love of Madame Bauer.
A dramatic writer, M Mazeres, known by the success which recently attended
his comedy of the " Les Trois Quartiers" author of the " Le jeune Mari." is about
to bring forth another piece entitled, " Chacun deson Cote" Of all our dramatists,
M. Mazeres has been allowed to attack the follies of the day with most freedom.
The following is the way in which he has acquired this privilege : — Having heard
that his play of "Les Trois Quartiers" had been stepped by M. Lourdonein,one of
the censors, who retained it without giving any answer, he wrote the censor a
very polite letter, requesting that he would have the goodness to examine his
play, and send it to the manager. To this application no answer was received,
upon which Mazeres. without farther delay, went to the shop of the famous Verdier,
a dealer in canes, and so well known by his bill of 15,000 francs for sticks sup-
plied in the course of a single year to the Duke of D — , nephew of Prince Tal-
leyrand. Here he asked for a cane of stout dimensions- agreed for the price-
paid the amount, and requested Verdier to furnish him with a bill and receipt, in
•which the article was thus described : — " Sold to M. Mazeres, author of Les Trois
QUIT tiers' a cane, &c." This done, Mazeres wrote the following note on the back
of the bill:— "M. Lourdonein will have the kindness to hand the bearer, who
•waits an answer, the play of the ' Les Trois Qur<rtiers,'> such as the censorship au-
thorises its representation. Signed, MAZERES;" at the bottom were these words,
by way of postscript — " Turn over." On seeing the alternative which awaited him,
the censor did not wait for a second message, but instantly delivered the comedy,
with his name affixed, and without taking the trouble of looking at it a second
lime. The successful gasconade of Mazeres excited a good deal of mirth, and was
not less useful to him as an author But what matter was it to Lourdonein? The
ridicule which fell on him only served to give him a greater title to the esteem of
the congregation.
In speaking of the women distinguished by their talents, I ought to have placed
•in the first rank, a young lady whose death has deprived society of a most in-
estimable member; I allude to Mademoiselle Cuvier, daughter of the celebrated
naturalist. There has seldom been any instance where the strongest benevolence
-was so closely united to the charms of intellect She possessed a rare mixture of
elevation of mind and firmness of character— of strength and equanimity- sweetness
•and simplicity. It was truly gratifying to witness her worship, or rather super-
stition, for truth, and to watch the avidity with which she used to seize and illustrate
whatever she thought likely to remove ignorance, or promote the cause of virtue
and freedom. The circumstances which attended the death of this amiable crea-
ture, have, if possible, greatly augmented the grief of her family and friends. The
day of her nuptials was fixed, and she was to be united to a man of her own choice,
and every thing was prepared for the ceremony. Being suddenly afflicted by rapid
symptoms of consumption, all hopes of her recovery soon vanished. Notwith-
standing, the ball dresses, veils, and shawls continued to be sent home to the un-
happy parents, who dared not refuse them, lest they should themselves be accused
of giving way to despair. This mixture of preparations for rejoicing, and the cer-
tainty of death, formed a picture the most melancholy and pathetic. When the
fatal moment arrived, her family and many friends surrounded the dying couch in
mournful silence. The funeral was attended by all that is distinguished for rank
and fortune at Paris ; a clergyman of the protestant church read the service for the
dead, and a funeral sermon. A number of young females whom she had formed
f>r succouring the poor, were ranged round the bier, dressed in white, and fol-
lowed it to the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, where M. Salvandy, one of her friends,
undertook to deliver the final eulogy, which it is usual in France to pronounce
on departed worth.
1827.] [ 505 ]
NOTES FOR THE MONTH.
THE political events of the last month present nothing worthy of very ex-
. tended comment. Spain remains in a state of entire anarchy ; Portugal is
still in the occupation of the British troops. In Ireland, the " popular orators,"
finding their copyhold tremble under a long continuance of peace, are en-
deavouring to get up a grievance out of the " Report on Emigration." The
independence of Greece is in a fair way to be established, and as every
one conversant with the affairs of the Porte, we believe, expected it would
be established — by the acquiescence of the Turks. Even Ottoman pride
and absurdity is not so well disposed to run its head against stone walls,
now, as it was forty years ago ; and the mob of Constantinople are, pro-
bably, the real " contracting parties," who oppose a barrier to the immediate
execution of the treaty : the debate of the Sultan is how he may avoid
the destruction that refusal would bring upon his kingdom, and at the
same time get out of the danger in which consent would place his life.
In the mean time, for Greece herself, the internal affairs of the Islands
wear but an unpromising aspect; and it seems more than probable that
to head or hang a very considerable number of the newly liberated, will
be our only chance of checking the intolerable spirit of rapine and dis-
order that devastates the country. A permanent guillotine, of sixty-axe
power, worked night and day for six months, will be absolutely neces-
sary ! and, in fact, that this is unlucky truth is generally understood,
stands almost beyond doubt, from the state of the share market : the
prospect of " independence" does not raise Greek bonds at all ; nor, as
regards any payment of them to be expected, ought it to do so. The
only real gain, probably, to be looked for from a change of circumstances,
is that the Turks are wedded to a system which, while it exists, must
render barbarism perpetual. The Greeks are the greater knaves of the
two, in point of present practice ; but there is nothing in their theory
which precludes the possibility of amendment.
From the Turks, by an easy transition — Heaven guard us from Ottoman
vengeance, for the declaration — we come to the condition of the Jews —
whose affairs have been going on, in the strangest way imaginable, all over
the world, for the last six weeks. An ukase of the Emperor Nicholas of
Russia, dated the 7th September last, orders, in the first place —
" That all Jews settled in the Russian Empire shall henceforth be liable
to military service."
The terms of the order are an follow : —
" Imprimis. — As we consider it just, that, for the relief of our beloved
subjects, the duty of serving- in the army shall be enforced equally on all
who are liable to it — we order — First, That the Jews are to be made to
serve in person. Second, The pecuniary tax imposed upon them, in lieu
of their personal services, is abolished. Third, We are convinced that the
improvement and the knowledge which the Jews will acquire by their
military service, will, on their return home [^speaking of course of the
survivors], after their legal time is expired, be communicated to their
families, and greatly tend to accelerate the progress of their civil establish-
ment and domestic life!"
The horror which the transmission of this edict has excited in Petticoat-
lane, is said to be indescribable. A Jew, in a red jacket, standing — in the
minds and associations of our English members of that tribe — as a thing
out of the bounds of moral possibility. And even to good Christians — such,
M. M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 T
506 Notes for the Month. [Nor.
is the effect of habit and conceived opinion — -there does seem something very
unnatural in the notion of a Jew being a lancer, or a foot-guardsman ! This
very merciless decree, however, of the Emperor Nicholas— which has but
one redeeming circumstance about it — to wit, that it is the first, we believe,
on despotic record, that ever relieved the Jews from any " pecuniary tax
imposed upon them," under any emergency whatever — places in a strong
light the inconvenience of men's addicting themselves to the observance of
eccentric habits and ceremonies, and the necessity there is that those who
are bound by religious scruples, &c., should get themselves converted imme-
diately. There is no reasonable ground upon which either Jews or Quakers
can claim exemption from military service ; and yet, what a ridiculous
position would the followers of either sect be placed in by its being en-
forced ! The Quakers would be in a terrible difficulty. It is true their
usual stiff and upright posture would rather assist them, as being proper to
" parade ;" but then the natural movement of a Quaker is wholly opposed
to such an order as the Pas de Charge ! And, moreover, the uniform would
be an " abomina-a-tion !" And the calling the adjutant, or serjeant- major,
" Friend !" would lead to perpetual punishments for broach of discipline.
And the " presenting; arms" to a field officer, on sentry — or to a general,
at a review, would be considered a direct and absolute " bowing of the
neck to Baal!"
Now, the Mordecai men would not mind about " Baal ;" but from mere
habit we cannot conceive the thought of \hea\fightSng — any where but in
M on mouth-street, or at Moulsey Hurst. And they too would become
exposed to numberless inconveniences in the possible routine of a military
life — as, for instance — in the event of pork being served out to the army as
rations ; this would be tantamount to imposing a day of fast upon the
Israelitish portion of the troops. Again, if we did fix a recruiting sergeant
in Rosemary-lane, it would become the duty of those who, as Falstaff
observes, " kiss my Lady Peace at home," to look that the armies to
which those new levies were draughted, joined not issue on a Saturday
—of which the enemy, being aware, would no doubt make their attack
on that day. The navy too, to both these classes of sectarians, would
be a more killing service even than the army. Only to imagine the
sight of a Quaker urged " aloft" to a " reefing of top-sails," by the profane
pipe of the boatswain, or still more objectionable rattan of his mate :— -
or a Hebrew disturbed in the mid watch, from his visions of cast suits, and
the Feast of the Passover, by a tweak of the nose from the midshipman
on duty, and an order to cry out — " All — sh veil !" Altogether much in-
convenience must arise from the employment of such people, in a great
many of those active duties of life to which every citizen ought to be
competent ; and perhaps we shall endeavour to say a word upon the pro-
priety of their abjuring all personal and temporal peculiarities, at some
early opportunity.
Relics of Chivalry discovered in America. — Dr. Silliman's t( American
Journal of Science" for September, announces, as a treasure presented to
the antiquarian, that there has been discovered in the valley of Black river,
within the town of Coventry, " a shirt without sleeves, made of wire,
a little larger thtn that of the small steel purses:" in fact, " a real coat,
or shirt of mail, of the ages of chivalry !" The paragraph, probably
owing to some accidental omission, does not go on to state who had hid it
tfiere.
" Mule Silver' — (from the same publication}, — " We are informed by a
1 £27 J Notes for tht Month. 507
correspondent, that the mules employed at the amalgamatory mines in
Mexico, are opened after death, and that from two to seven pounds of
silver are often taken out of the stomach. The writer adds, that he is in
possession of a specimen which is perfectly pure and white, as they gene-
rally are." This is a fact that was not known to us ; but it explains the
reason why so little silver comes to England from these Mexican mines — •
The mules eat it !
" The celebrated Mr. Abrahamson," a French paper says, <c we are happy
to announce, has published his third report on the progress of the System
of Mutual Instruction," at Copenhagen. He states that the happiest
results have been obtained from it in all parts of the Danish territories."
This is the system lately described in an Irish work upon Education, by
which two persons, who know nothing, are enabled to teach one another.
English Drama in Paris. — We adverted in our last number to the diffi-
culty— or, as we considered it, the impossibility — under which the critics
of every country must labour, in attempting to draw conclusions as to the
merits of foreign dramatic performances. And an article in the French
Globe, of this week, upon the representations of the English theatre in
Paris, affords a curious illustration of this very difficulty, and of the danger
which even able people incur, in meddling with matters which they do
not fully understand. We select this article in preference to many others
before us, no less on account of the general talent of the journal in which
it appears, than because some parts of it are written in a sound and liberal
spirit of criticism.
We pass over the admiration given to the actors — (which we have suffi-
ciently noticed before) — the applause given to the excellence of Mr. Abbott
in Mercutio ! — the ravishing talent of Miss Smithson, in Juliet, &c. &c.
•—to come to the point where the critic tumbles in, smack out of his
depth — over head and heels — in examining the acted play of Othello, and
" retrancbements" that " Les Barbaras" — (" nous parlons des arrangeurs
de Covent Garden, et de Drury-lane") — have made in Shakspeare's text.
The writer here falls into the true French error : not contented to
speak for the taste (though hastily adopted) of himself and his countrymen,
but boldly anathematising the u arrangeurs" of " Covent Garden and
Drury-lane ;" and it is whimsical to observe ivhat are the scenes and
passages which he considers our English audiences wronged in being
deprived of.
In the first place, he says " On efface un role entier, celle de Betauca !"
This is a " role" upou which we shall say a word, because some of our
readers may not be aware that it ever existed in the tragedy. It is the
character of a " common woman," whose ministry is not in any way
necessary to carry on the business of the play, but rather soils and
weakens it. And — here comes the woe of speaking where we are only
superficially informed — the writer is not aware that it is a description
of character which English custom — (let that custom be right or wrong,
the " arrangeur" has nothing to do with it) — has banished entirely from
the stage. In all plays where sucli a character has existed, and can be
omitted — as in Otway's Venice Preserved — it is entirely left out. And
even where the development has been less offensive, and it is impos-
sible to get rid of the part entirely, we have found the necessity of cut-
ting it down quite to shadow : Lamorce in the Inconstant, and Myrtilla
in the Provoked Husband, are barely permitted to utter so many words
as will serve to link together the action of the piece ; and people begin to
3 T 2
308 Notes for the Month. [Nor.
look coolly at the scenes between Joseph Surface and Lady Teazle, in
The School for Scandal.
But, besides this objection — as it so happens for the ruin of our instructor
— all the matter in Othello, connected with the existence of Bianca, is so
wretchedly bad and clumsy, as to make it almost difficult to conceive that
it could have been written by Shakspeare ! The critic of the Globe says
— " On n'a pas manque deja de relever 1'invraisemblance du mouchoir
perdu ; raais on ne dit pas quo Shakspeare avait ecrit une outre scene
qu'on ne joue pas, ou les soupgons du Maure se changent en certitude
par letemoignage de se:s oreilles et de ses yeux." This " certitude" (as
we understand it), is rather a strong epithet to describe a scene by, in
which Othello is merely made the dupe of an artifice, and a very poor
and flimsy one. lago proposes to the Moor to conceal himself in a
closet, whence he shall hear and see him (lago) get an admission from
Cassio of his intimacy with Desdemona. He then leads Cassia (who
enters at the time) into a discourse about his (the latter's) mistress, the
courtesan Bianca; and Othello being made to hear only portions of the
conversation, believes that all which is said applies to the conduct of his
wife. Now such a device is something farcelike, and the having to
stand as the dupe of it does not much raise the dignity of the character
of Othello: but, besides this, the scene or scenes alluded to are more than
weakly written. In the beginning of one, for instance, where Othello, in
his rage, falls in a trance at the feet of lago, the latter, when he comes to
hiraselfj inquires — " If he has hurt his head!" This is literally the fact.
The words are — raising Othello — " Have you not hurt your head ?" to
which the latter replies, naturally enough—" What a question !" Again,
in the place where Othello listens to the supposed confession of Cassio,
his exclamations, (t aside," are such as these — u What, have you scored
me !" " Oh, I see that nose of yours — but not the dog I shall give
it to /" &c. And afterwards, when he speaks of the seducing attributes
of Desdemona, he says — " So delicate with her needle !" And for music
— "Oh, she will sing the savageness out of a bear I" &c. &c. And
these are by no means singular blots upon a great mass of that which is
excellent — as very constantly occurs with Shakespeare and the dramatists
of his day: but there is nothing contained in the scenes of any dramatic
or poetic value — they would not do — both from their length and from other
circumstances — for us to extract ; but those who are at the trouble of a
reference to Johnson's edition, will not find that we cannot be at all dam-
nified in losing them.
As we go on, the entanglement gets still deeper. The Globe complains,
for instance, of the modern practice of Othello's " stabbing" Desdemona
with the dagger, after stifling her with the pillow. He says — " Shak-
speare does not direct this — le texte de Shakspeare n'indique pas cela.
Othello exclaims — Je ne veux pas te laissef languir — I would not have
thee linger in thy pain. But at that moment Emilia knocks, and inter-
cepts him ; and he opens the door." And the writer adds, " Ces deux
coups de poignard augmentent sans necessite Vhorreur du denouement, et
rendent peu vraisemblables les mots si touchants— " Nobody! I myself,"
&c. (in answer to Emilias inquiry, " Who has done this dee'd?") — -"which
Desdemona has to pronounce some five minutes afterwards. Now this seems
to be the very acme of wilfulness, or of nonsense. As regards the " horreur
augmented without necessity" — this outcry comes very oddly from the
same writer, who, not half a page back, and in this very article we are
1827.] Notes for the Month. 509
discussing, complains, in the representation of Romeo and Juliet, of the
omission of the death of Part's — an incident which, certainly, there was
no reason for omitting in the French performance, but which has nothing
very material to do with the course of the piece. And, for the u vraisem-
blance," the fact is, that the monstrous impossibility of Desdemona's
speaking, ten minutes after she has been suffocated with a pillow, is
changed, for the sake of " vraisemblance" into the not entirely impossible
occurrence, that, from the wounds given with the dagger, she should have
lingered to that moment still alive!
The whole article, however, is full of the same curious contradictions or
absences of perception. In the previous notice of Romeo and Juliet, the
critic observes, that the scene in Capulefs house, after the supposed
death of Juliet, has been considerably shortened, " no doubt from the
impossibility of acting it with such indifferent performers as are employed
in the characters of Capulet, Lady Capulet, &c." This is perfectly true,
and well judged ; and ridiculous enough, certainly, the scene commonly is,
Capulet and the rest come on the stage, and hold up their hands, and say— -
" Oh, she (Juliet} is dead !" or something of that kind. And then the
Friar says — " If she is dead, she must be buried !" or something of that
kind ; and so the characters go away. But ten lines after, the same
writer — again complaining of" omissions" — finds fault with the conclusion
of the same play by the incident otJuliefs death; and says, "Pourquoi avoir
rotrariche Farrivee des deux peres, qui se reconcilient sur le corps de leurs
enfans ?" Why, it might be supposed, without any great employment of criti-
cal acumen, that the same sort of actors — those who play Capulet, Mon-
tague, Lady Capulet, &c., having been incompetent to the business of the
former scene — that of the chamber, with Juliet's trance — would hardly do
well for the important task of winding up the play, with the still more
difficult scene in question ! Nevertheless our friend continues, in the true
spirit of a Parisian, to assure the world, that — " In these matters, as well as
in a thousand other points of more importance, France is far in advance
of England" — " Nous savions bien qu'en une foule de choscs plus impor-
tantes, nous sorames, d son insu, de beaucoup en avant de 1'Angleterre ;"
and concludes by promising that, " if the public assists him, the perfor-
mances at the English theatre in Paris shall instruct us in England how
Shakspeare ought to be acted !" — The Globe criticism is, notwithstanding,
taken altogether, a very ingenious notice of a foreign dramatic represen-
tation.
The John Bull oi the 30th ultimo — who stands out in general valiantly
for the right of keeping his fellow subjects, of whatever colour or com-,
plexion, in chains — publishes a series of ." negro notes," received from a
correspondent in Antigua (in an article entitled " West Indian Slavery,")
to shew the happy condition of the persons who are bought and sold, as
convenience directs, in our colonies, and how infinitely better off such per-
sons are, as slaves, than they would be if, by any accident, they were to
be emancipated.
The papers — which are not very jocose — run as follows :
No. i. A note, doubled cocked-hat-wise. — "To Miss Harnpson.: —
Mr. Dinbar and Lett will be happy of Miss Hampson's company for
Saturday, to take tea and spend the evening at Weir's estate."
No. 2. An embossed card. — " Miss Trittand and M. J. Charles solicits
the favour, of your company, Saturday, 17th of March, to spend the
evening at Friar's Hill," _%
510 Notes fur the Month. [Nov.
No. 3. — " Miss Richards and Miss Mills solicit the favour of Miss
Trittand, Miss John, Miss Harvey, and Miss Bennett's company, on
Saturday, 17th of March, to take tea with them at Williams's Farm,"
&c. &c.
f. Now, these "exhibit?," which our readers will perceive are "invita-
tions" to negro balls, and petit soupers, are not very comical ; and they
prove nothing in the world. To shew the most boisterous merriment
existing among any race of people, is not at all to negative their general
misery or degradation. The wretched pick-pockets and trulls that come
up every day to be sent to the tread -mill, from the police office in Bow-
street, sing and laugh, and "Sir" and " Ma'am" each other ten times
more than the substantial tradesmen in Holborn or the Strand. But it is
strange that John, and his fellow defenders of the colonial system, should
always elect to take up that part of the case which does not give them a
leg to stand upon. There may possibly be a doubt raised — particularly
while the " licensing system" in England continues to be upheld, to
protect the monopoly of the brewers — how far we are justified, even for
the relief of the slaves in the West Indies, in taking any course (without
compensation) which damnifies the property of their owners ; but, for the
condition of the slaves, it seems almost a pleasantry, how any human
creature can affect to have a doubt about it ! All the facts in the world
-—if it were shewn, even upon affidavit, that every negro in Jamaica ate
plum-cake twice a day — cannot deserve the consideration of a moment.
We will not ask what is the case, but what, according to all existing ana-
logy and experience must it be! What does any body think, even in this
country — where a sharp control over human action exists in the freedom
of the press, and the responsibility consequently induced to public opinion,
and where long habit has not yet deadened or corrupted the general
feeling — what does any sane man believe would be the condition of those
plagues of human life, the domestic servants of England, to-morrow — if
their masters and mistresses were invested with the same powers over them
that the colonists of the West Indies hold over their negroes ? How many
footmen does John think — we will take his own now for an example, as
no doubt he esteems himself the most merciful man in existence — at the
end of the first three years of such a regime would have escaped whip-
ping? Not to speak of what Mrs. Bull might consider from time to time
to be for the benefit of the housemaids? And is it not a work of super-
erogation to go as far even as this ? Can any man doubt, who is in his
senses, that every creature, subjected to the absolute domination of another,
must become the victim constantly of the most horrible cruelty and injus-
tice ? What shall we say of one little illustration of this fact — if any
argument upon it can be necessary — which we can't pass through the
streets of the metropolis without having before us every day of our Jives ?
The temptation to maltreat brute animals — fear of the Jaw, and of reta-
liation apart — is not a tenth part so strong, or so frequent, as that which
we feel to chastise and coerce our fellow-creatures ; and yet, for the
protection of brute animals, a specific law is found necessary, the opera-
tion of which, every one only regrets cannot be made far more extensive
and more efficient.
The daily papers contain an account of a meeting of the *' Steam Navi-
gation Company," in the course of the last week; the proceedings at
which seem to have been marked by the same urbanity and pleasantness
of mutual feeling which so eminently distinguishes the discussions of most
1 827.] Notes for the Month. 511
of the " Joint stock Associations," which the last few years have created.
One director, it appears, charged two others, openly, with having made
,£4,000 by a single job — (we are not sure that job would be exactly the
correct term for such a transaction) — in the money affairs of the Company.
One of the dignitaries impugned then arose, and confessed that the said job
had been talked of; but it was only " in jest" — " poison in jest!" — it was
only a job u in a merry sport" — all (to use the worthy director's own ex-
dressive phrase) — all " gammon." The most entertaining part of the affair,
however, was the manner in which Mr. Whittle Harvey's House of Com-
mons heroics — which he took it into his head to sport rather out of their place
— were treated by the Company. The meeting was composed — unluckily
for eloquence — of practical people ! — steam arid pit-coal people — who knew
what smoke was, being daily in the practice of manufacturing it ; and
who, moreover, were talking of the management of their own property, not
that of the public — and upon whom — as much as the song of the nightingale
upon the hungry hawk — the tropes and figures of the member for Colches-
ter's rhetoric were wasted ! As for example — " Standing there, as he (the
honourable member) did, in a proud and eminent situation !— (loud hisses,
and cries of " off !' ) — " standing, not as the representative of a rotten borough,
but of a place where the inhabitants knew how to appreciate character !"
(great laughter, and more particular hisses !) — He was glad that the meeting
treated the matter in so facetious a way : he should have more remarks to
address to them, which — " (renewed hisses, and cries of * Ah ! that may
do in another place ',' &c.) The same agreeable sort of running commentary
continuing to accompany the honourable member and director, during the
whole of his Ciceronian harangue. The fact is, that this talking, where par-
liamentary forms do not interfere to prevent occasional unlucky scintilla-
tions of truth, is a delicate matter. And, besides, the affectation of par-
liamentary style or dignity in private discussions, is like an actor's wearing
his stage clothes in the street : none but very vulgar performers are ever
guilty of it; and those who are, become very properly exposed to the
huees of the populace.
Prospects for the Opera. — The hands into which, by the course or
failure of commercial speculations, the management of our public places of
entertainment fall from time to time, are rather curious. A very respec-
table vender of boiled beef, in Fleet-street, some little while ago found
himself — we believe to his sorrow, in the event — metamorphosed into a
dealer in murder and rope-dancing, at the Royal Circus; and Mr. Peter
Moore will never be forgotten (and, if he were, his wig would never be
forgotten) as the arbiter of taste and purveyor of public diversion at Drury
Lane Theatre. The Opera House, for the ensuing season, it appears,
will be almost as facetiously managed and possessed. The directors of
Italian opera — as assignees of the property — will be Mr. F. Bernasconi,
plasterer; Mr. W. Leonard, surveyor, and Mr. W. Richardson, stable-
keeper! A fourth manager appears, who is designated " gentleman," and
his name is Grum !
The Examiner of last Sunday (the 7th instant), contains a notice on
the affairs of Greece, in answer to Cobbett's paper (Register, 29th Sep-
tamber), upon the unlucky business of the steam-boats. This matter,
now, is hardly worth discussion. Long since, investigation was tried,
and the accounts were found so involved, and the statements of those parties
who could give information, were so wilfully unintelligible, that all hope
of a fair analysis of what had been done, was abandoned by every body.
5 1 2 Notes for the Month. [Nor.
But still the Examiner makes a wretchedly bad defence — and it is as well
that he should understand this — against, not merely Cohbett's accusations,
but against the admitted facts of the case. Nobody suspects Sir F. Bur-
dett, or Mr. Hobhouse, as we take it, of having profited in a pecuniary
point of view by the Greek loan ; but it is not clear that they have not
misused the trust with which they were invested — for to neglect such a
trust was to misuse it — very abominably notwithstanding. The case of the
steam-boats, upon facts which are indisputable — stands thus : — Sir F. Bur-
dett, and a party of his friends and connections, had direct and considera-
ble influence — an influence amounting morally to absolute control — in the
disposal of the funds of the Greek government. Of these funds a very
large sum was to be laid out in the preparation of steam vessels ; which
vessels might have been purchased at once, and ought to have been so
purchased, in a case where the loss of a single hour might lose the best
hopes of the cause which was to be aided. Instead of purchasing, the
decision of the friends of the Greek cause is to build ; a course which
must necessarily be attended with delay, but which of course — where
such a sum as £150,000 was to be laid out — opened the door to the dis-
pensing a considerable quantity of patronage. It would seem that if the
boats must be built, there could be no doubt as to one portion of the
arrangement — to wit, that the work should be given to the most able and
experienced artists in such construction, that England could produce: but
this feature of the transaction is decided as unfortunately as the preceding
resolution had been. Mr. Galloway of Fleet Street, who knows nothing
about building steam boats ; and who has a son engaged in the service
of the very power which these steam-boats are to destroy ; but who is an
active partisan of Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Hobhouse, at their West-
minster elections, obtains a contract on which he is paid more than £20,000 !
and the result is that the money thus laid out, seems to be entirely wasted ;
that the machinery furnished is either inefficient or interminably delayed ;
and that, in conclusion, the project of the steam-boats, upon which the
deliverance of Greece was to depend, lingers on until public patience will
bear the humbug no longer, and then is confessed to be defeated alto-
gether !
Now all the bolstering in the world will not help a state of facts like
this. The parties who volunteered to " save the Greeks," may all havo
used their best diligence, and may all be completely justified — but it will
be hardly possible for them to make any reasonable man believe so.
Results will count for something — especially those results which the con-
duct of parties (although it may not produce them) has an obvious and
direct tendency to produce. A stage-coachman mounts his box, drunk.
He drives without lights, though the night is dark, and at full gallop, and
the coach is overturned. We all know that the coach was overturned
" by a stone that lay in the road" — we hear it sworn — there was no
earthly fault on the part of the driver — but the jury finds a verdict with
swingeing damages against Mr. Waterhouse, notwithstanding. Careful
people, when they heard that Mr. Galloway — who was not a steam-boat
builder — was to build these boats, which were wanted so hastily, and on
which so much depended, would say: — "This is not the right course." When
the same people heard that Mr. Galloway, who was to build these boats
for the Greeks — their whole value, and even utility, depending on their
being completed within a given time — had a son in the employ of the
Greek enemy ^ the Pacha of Egypt — they would say " Decidedly this course
1827.] Notes fot the Month. 513
is objectionable. It may be safe, but we ought not to hazard it." When
those same persons, however, heard again that this Mr. Galloway, already
doubly unfit for the duty proposed, happened to be foe friend and partisan
of those who nominated him, they would say — " We must retreat from
this ; in case of accident, how would it be possible to answer the general sus-
picion ?" The accident has occurred, and it has been a total failure. If .a
minister of this country had bestowed the profitable job of preparing
an important armament upon one of his own retainers or allies; if it had
been discovered that this party so favoured, had not customary skill
for the execution of such works ; that he had a son in the service of
the enemy ; and that eventually, the preparation of that armament en-
trusted to him, had entirely miscarried — would either pamphlets or pro-
testations have saved that minister from losing his head upon the scaffold?
The " appeal" which the Examiner proposes to Mr. Galloway's " cha-
racter," as an answer to all this, is no doubt extremely cogent ; but it is
not the sort of answer that — as given to facts — people in general will be
content with. To get rid of the imputation of at least culpable negligence
and error, the proof of the Examiner must demonstrate this — That the
course taken by the Greek counsellors was such as, to every impartial per-
son seemed, to be grossly wrong : that it turned out to be grossly wrong :
but that, nevertheless, it was quite right. The problem is not a new one;
but we confess we never saw it worked — in any case — to our entire
satisfaction.
Seeing is Believing. — In South America, the whole population is
equestrian. No man goes to visit his next door neighbour on foot ; and even
the beggars in the street ask alms on horseback. A French traveller being
solicited for charity by one of these mounted petitioners, at Buenos Ayres,
makes the following entry in his note-book. — " 16th November. Saw, a
beggar this morning, who asked alms of me, mounted on a tall grey horse.
The English have a proverb, that says — ' Set a beggar on horseback, and
he'll ride to the devil !' I had often heard this mentioned, but never saw
one upon his way before."
The " Beebles." — Something definitive is going to happen to the Jews,
that's certain ! In all quarters, for the last month or two, they seem, as it
were, to be delivered over. All the respected family of the Ikey Solomons
seem irretrievably booked for Botany Bay. Another considerable buyer
and seller of the property of his neighbours, named, if we recollect well,
(( Reuben Isaacs/' has been taken up, and is (it is said) to be " weighed
in the balance," where doubtless he will not be found wanting. And
f< Mr. Levi, the Bum,'' has got a second defeat in his action for libel against
the printers of the little feuille — long deceased — called " The Spirit of
the Times."
But, by the way — it seems to us a portentous state of things, that
a Jew, in a civilized country, should be allowed to bring two actions
against a Christian ! And Lord Chief Justice Best, who tried the
cause, and who has always, to do him justice, an equitable feeling, ob-
viously felt this, and was placed in the oddest dilemma, between his
official hatred of a libeller, and his personal, irresistible inclination to bite
off the head of an Israelite! — thereby saying the very oddest things, and
taking the most eccentric and whimsical positions ! On the one hand, his
law, " hanging about the neck of his heart" — and yet it was but a bastard
sort of law neither — cried, " Good Lancelot — or, good Sir William — here
is a libeller I" and forthwith his lordship delivers us a stoutcharge in
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 23. 3 U
514 Notes for the Month. [Nov.
favour of the right of the plaintiff. But, in the next minute, his conscience,
catching him by the great toe — which some will have to be the tenderest
point in all his lordship's body — though we don't believe it — cries, " My
lord — your lordship — is not this witness, with the suspicious name of
' Nathan/ dabbling a little, or coquetting, something as one may say, with
the pleasant game of perjury?" Whereon his lordship makes no more ado,
but out with his sword of sharpness — and a right sharp one it is — and rips
up the Hebrew from the systole to the diastole ; knocking the plaintiff,
and his case — and he would have included the whole tribe of Benjamin
had they been present— pell-mell to the devil! and shewing the jury, who
would have been something loth to find in opposition to the opinion of so
eloquent and pleasant a man as Judge Best really is — the clear road —
smooth and broad as M' Adam's highway — to a verdict for the defendants :
and all this in less time than you could say " Shealing-vaxsh !"
The fact is, that we have a sort of admiration (which goes near to play
us false) for Chief Justice Best's talent, even when we differ from him (at
due distance) in opinion ; and we are sure that there must have been a
great struggle in his mind before he could resolve to consider a Jew as
libelled in any case. But, that a Jew should be allowed to act as a
bailiff, in a Christian country, at all — that is the most wonderful wonder !
That a mere misbeliever should dare to touch the hem of the garment of
— much less the shoulder — much less to empoigner, as the French call it
— a true man! That we should absolutely be arrested by a fellow, who
can't even tell us in plain English — " At whose shoot?" It shews the
admirable height to which the feeling of obedience to the law is carried
in this country.
The last volume of M. Benjamin Constant's book on Religion — ancient
and modern — the former portions of which have acquired very high reputa-
tion on the Continent — contains an ingenious and elaborate discussion of the
well-known problem — Whether the Iliad of Homer, and the Odyssey —
the " Homeric poems," as the writer calls them, generally — are works of
the same date ; and whether it is possible to attribute the composition of
them to one individual? M. Constant supports the opinion, that these
poems are not the work of one hand, but an assemblage of legendary
" rhapsodies," first collected by Pisistratus ; and he maintains this theory
by internal evidence, taken from an examination of the works themselves.
" We will take it as shewn, then (M. Constant begins), that the Greek
polytheism of this time (the epoch treated in the Iliad") afforded to mo-
rality no solid support," &c.
" It is otherwise with the Odyssey: morality there becomes an integral part of
religion, So early as in the seventh verse of the First Book, it is declared, that
the companions of Ulysses had forfeited by their crimes, the benefit of return to
their country ; and, if the principal of these crimes is the having destroyed the
herds of Apollo — which is a fault committed against the personal interest of the gods,
the justice of the latter, in abundance of other places, shews itself independent of
that particular feeling of advantage. All crimes here (in the Odyssey) are seen
to excite their horror. 'If I forced my mother to quit my home/ says Tele-
machus, ' she would invoke the Furies.* Jupiter prepares for the Greeks a fatal
voyage, because they are neither prudent nor just. The Gods warn ^Egisthus not
to assassinate Agamemnon, in order to marrjr his widow : and, after he has com-
mitted the murder, they do not delay to punish him. Minerva approves, and de-
monstrates the propriety of that punishment : and Jupiter adds, that JEg;sthus has
committed his crime in opposition to the will of Destiny. Now this new point of
view, which forbids men any longer to accuse fate of those crimes which are their
own, is an amelioration of moral feeling. The same Minerva, in reproaching the
1 827. J Notes for the Month. 515
Gods for abandoning Ulysses, whom she protects, founds her intercession not upon
the number of his sacrifices, but upon the justice and worth of the hero. * I will
not detain you by force/ says Alcinous, in another place, to Ulysses disguised ;
' such an act would be displeasing to Jupiter. If 1 killed you after having re-
ceived you here, with what confidence could I address my prayers to the mighty
of heaven ?'
" The Gods of the Odyssey interpose as ex-afficio in the deeds and relations of
mortals. They traverse the eartji disguised, to observe the acts of crime or virtue.
" In the Hiad, their resentment always founds itself upon some sacrifice neglected,
or some insult offered to their priests : in the Odyssey, the crimes of men against
men draw down their severity. In the Iliad, the gifts conferred by the Gods on
men, are always strength, courage, prudence, or cunning : in the Odyssey, they
inspire us with virtue, of which happiness is the reward.
" The distance which separates man from the Gods is also considerably widened
in the latter poem. In the first, the Deities all act, and they are acting inces-
santly. In the second, Minerva is almost the only deity that interferes. In the
one poem, the Gods act like men; they strike blows wi'h their own hands; they
utter shouts that ring through heaven and earth ; they snatch from the warriors
their broken arms. In the other, Minerva works only by secret inspirations, or at
least in a manner mysterious and invisible.
" In the Iliad, when the immortals desire to be concealed from men's eyes, they
are obliged to encompass themselves with a cloud : their nature is to be visible.
Often they are detected in despite of all these efforts. Minerva, when she de-
scends from heaven, is seen, both by the Greeks and Trojans : and, to hide himself
from the sight of Patroclus, Apollo envelops himself in thick darkness. But, in
the Odyssey, it is declared impossible to discover a deity against his will : at this
second epoch, therefore, the nature of the immortals has advanced ; their cha-
racter is to be invisible, and it is a prodigy when they are seen.
" Again, in the Iliad, Thetis is compelled by the command of Jupiter to espouse
Peleus. In the Odyssey, the Gods disapprove of alliances with mortals. Such a
mixture of races appears to them unfit and inconvenient. Jupiter forbids Calypso
to espouse Ulysses, and strikes lasion with a thunderbolt for forming an ambitious
alliance with Ceres."
If we carry these comparisons beyond the real state of religious belief or
feeling, the evidence becomes stronger still.
" In the Odyssey, we perceive (as it seems to us) the commencement of a period
which has a tendency to be pacific : the first developments of legislation; the
early essays of commerce ; the creation of amicable relations among people mutu-
ally interested in such arrangement : all replacing, by voluntary negotiation,
brutal force, and, by exchanges, freely consented to, violence and spoliation.
" One of the characteristic traits of the Odyssey is a curiosity, an avidity of
knowledge — a proof of the dawn of an epoch of repose and leisure. Ulysses is
announced as having learned an infinite deal : observed the manners of various
nations. He prolongs his voyage, and encounters a thousand perils for the sake
of instruction. The eulogium of science is frequently pronounced; and that
sentiment is incorporated even in the fables. All this refers clearly to a period
posterior to that of the Iliid\ where the Greeks, occupied with the immediate
interests of their own lives, and expending all their strength in attack and defence,
scarcely have time — for any other business — to look around them.
" The state of woman too — which always rises with a rising civilization — is quite
differently described in the Iliad and in the Odyssey. Alete, the wife of Alcinous,
exercises an extended influence both over her husband and his subjects. The
delicate modesty of Nausica too, and her sensibility, shew a condition at the
time of considerable refinement. The description that she gives of the scandalous
humour of the Phoenicians, before whom ' she dares not pass through the city
with a stranger,' shew the tactics and relations of a polished and a pacific state.
So again, we may mark, the difference between Penelope — in the Odyssey, and all
the women of the Greek heroic time (Andromache excepted); who are— Eriphryle,
Helena, Clytemnestra, Phidia — all of them capable of treason, adultery, and
murder. In answer to this last point it has been urged, that the state of women
3 U 2
516 Notes for the Month. [Nov.
prisoners— female slaves — is the same in both poems. No doubt this is, in some
degree so : the laws of war, more rigorous and cruel than those of peace, are also
more slow in their progress of modification. Nevertheless, the condition of
captive women — though in both cases painful — is differently described in the Iliad,
and in the Odyssey — and with a variance which is not opposed to the hypothesis
of their advance (in the latter poem) in the general state of society. Now — for
example — the more free and happy the existence of women was at home, the more
odious and intolerable would slavery be to them. The higher and more honour-
able the rank assigned them by their husbands and lawful protectors, the greater
would be their horror of those masters to whose lot they fell as slaves, by right
of conquest. Thus in the Iliad, Briseis, whose father Achilles has slain, attaches
herself to the conqueror, without remorse or scruple : while, in the Odyssey, we
find a female prisoner driven forward even by blows — but that very fact of rigorous
treatment supposes a resistance in the individual to the conqueror, of which the
Iliad exhibits no example.
" The manner, too, in which the passion of love is occasionally spoken of, shews
a state which, with some of the virtues, has also the vices peculiar to civilization.
In the Odyssey, barbarous nations treat this passion grossly, but never jest upon
it. In the Iliad, the infidelity of Helen is treated solemnly. Menelaus is out-
raged ; but nobody finds in that outrage a subject for pleasantry. On the other
hand, the Mercury of the Odyssey, jesting with Apollo upon the account of Mars
and Venus, is a coxcomb, speaking in a society which refinement has already, to a
certain point, corrupted.
" This is not all : the two poems are not distinguished merely by their moral
character : they differ in their literary style ; and that difference indicates in one
of them a state of society more advanced.
" A unity of action, rendering a tale more simple and clear ; the concentration
of interest, which renders it more lively and more sustained ; these are the per-
fections of the narrative art; and these perfections are strangers to the Iliad.
The action is neither single nor continued. The interest is divided from the very
first book. Every hero shines in his turn ; and Achilles often is forgotten.
" The character of the Odyssey, on the contrary, is that of perfect unity — all
turns upon the restoration of Ulysses to his home. Ulysses, Telemachus, Penelope
— these are the objects we are constantly interested for. Moreover, the tale is
told with superior art and arrangement. Repetitions are avoided more carefully
than in the Iliad. Ulysses, in the palace of Alcinous, having arrived at that part
of his history which the poet has already described, breaks off in the recital of
his adventures, in order that he may not relate that which has been told before."
M. Constant then proceeds to examine the comparative poetical merits
of the two works, the Iliad and the Odyssey ; and he concludes also
upon this ground, as well as upon that which he terms the " fundamental
arrangement of the two poems, both with respect to religion, manners,
customs, morals, the state of women, and civil and political life," that it is
impossible they should have been written at the same time and by the same
hand. He goes farther into a discussion of considerable ingenuity, but
through which we cannot follow him, to shew that the very fact of the
constant increase of force and grandeur which distinguishes the Iliad as it
advances (some episodes excepted) from all other poems, is evidence that
it was not written or composed by one man, but by a succession of bards,
each of whom strove to surpass what had been performed by the other.
Upon this last point we think all analogy is against M. Constant ; but,
for the present, our limits compel us to quit the subject.
From ancient inquiries, to turn for a little while to modern — the man-
ner of writing what is called "History" in the present day, gets enter-
taining. A " History" now consists of one or two good thick volumes,
large octavo, published by some popular advertising bookseller ; and put
together by some writer whose opinions nobody cares a farthing about, and
whoso facts are compiled from the readiest undigested material that happens
1827.] Notes for the Month. 517
to lie in the way. We were about to have mentioned one or two parties who
have performed rather chefs-d'oeuvre in this way of doing business, if a book
just now produced, by .Mr. Murray, called " The Establishment of the
Turks in Europe : an Historical Discourse/' had not rather outrun all
things that have gone before it. In this " Historical Discourse," the
author, not content with quoting largely from such authorities as the Baron
cle Tott, the Tableau de L'JEmpire Ottomane, &c. boldly makes up his
mind to nonsuit half measures, and nicety at once, and says — speak-
ing of some customs peculiar to Christians in the East — See " Anastasius !
one of the best delineations of manners ever given to the world!" Now
there is no doubt that Anastasius is the most splendid novel that modern
times have produced ; and a great deal of the matter contained in it bears
internal evidence of being founded in fact : but still that a " Historian"
should quote a romance as authority for his statements, is a stretch of cool-
ness which, thirty years ago would hardly have been imagined. It is
true that the word (t history" is only a word — of seven letters. It is only
perhaps a difference as to a name. But the calling things by wrong names
leads to confusion.
A Sunday paper copies the following notice from a board near the new
bridge, in Kensington Gardens. "All persons found guilty of fishing in
these waters, will be prosecuted." There is some mistake here, we
apprehend : the " cart seems to be before the horse." The Board of
Works probably means to say — " All persons prosecuted for fishing in
these waters, will \*Q found guilty."
The report of the committee upon Lunatic Asylums has been published ;
and will be found discussed at length in our magazine this month, in an
article to which we recommend the attention of our readers. Perhaps,
after the investigation, it is little more than justice to Mr. Warburton to
say, that — considerable as the faults and abuses of his establishment un-
questionably have been — the marvel is rather that they should not be
discovered to have been greater. Considering the dreadful character of
the trade in question, how impossible it would seem to find subordinate
agents disposed to undertake the management of lunatics, and to minister
to all the wants connected with their unfortunate condition, even at large
and ample stipends; what can we reasonably expect, where a capitalist
has to make a fortune (as every man in trade fairly expects to do), by
furnishing food, lodging, clothes, constant guardianship, and medical at-
tendance, to pauper lunatics, at twelve shillings a-head per week ? Where
so many temptations concur to induce neglect and misconduct, it can
scarcely excite much astonishment that such vices should exist. But that
very fact only furnishes a more decided argument of the necessity for taking
so difficult a calling out of the pale of trade altogether ; and confining the
treatment of pauper lunatics to asylums provided, and regulated, at the
charge and under the guidance of the public.
Irish Intelligence — " Rock's the boy to make the fun stir !" The
Belfast Chronicle says- — " During the night of Monday last, four horses
were killed in a grazing field behind Cromal Lodge, adjoining this town,
their throats being cut across with some sharp instrument. Two belonged
to a carman named James Duncan, and one to James M 'A vary, who had
hired the grazing field, and the other was the only property of a poor
industrious man, named Pat M'Garry, who made his living by selling
water about the streets. The outrage appears to have been produced by
Notes for the Month. [Nov«
& personal malice against Duncan, for on the head of one of the dead
horses was found a rude couplet, to the following effect :
' James Duncan, you bought the apples out of my hand;
For the same, your two horses lie dead on the land.'
" The horses which belonged to M'Avary, and M'Garry, were probably
destroyed, being in the dark, in order that Duncan's should not escape."
Our readers will not have forgotten that worthy adjuration — " By the
hate you bear to Orangemen !" In the little, single, sacred feeling,
appealed to by that very pathetic admonition, lies the moving spirit of all
this kind of atrocity, and of three-fourths of the miseries which are deso-
lating Ireland. Here is some miscreant disappointed in a bargain about
apples ; probably (from the wording of the precious verse) merely outbid
by some dealer, who was disposed, or could afford, to give a higher price
for the property ; and, in the feeling by which he is adjured by his teachers,
when^he is called upon for a conduct of peace and charity, he destroys the
whole means of livelihood of the man who has opposed him, and adds the
ruin of two others (into the bargain), in order that the first may not
escape ! As long as this accursed disposition lurks in the hearts of the
Irish people, it little matters what political measures are pursued — as far
as regards any real chance for happiness and tranquillity to the country.
But we should be curious to know whether, where these outrages are
committed by Catholics — which must be the case in the greater proportion
of instances, from the mere numerical state of the population — whether
they are disclosed by the perpetrators to their priests in confession — and
what the kind of penance, or penalty, affixed is ? Because the Roman
Catholic system makes the priest, in point of fact and practice, the law-
giver ; and a despotic, and an irresponsible, lawgiver.
A court of Common council was held on Thursday, the 4th of October,
to consider of the report of a committee of that body upon the state of the
City nightly watch. The principal improvement suggested upon the
existing plan — the compelling the guardians of the night to keep walking
about upon their beats, instead of allowing them to sit in their boxes —
we rather doubt to be no improvement at all. In fact, we perfectly
agree with Mr. Figgins — (we believe the worthy common councilman's
name is Figgins I) — though his remark excited laughter — that, as it is — if
the mountain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the moun-
tain— If the watchman goes to sleep in his box, when you want him you
know where to find him ! but, on the altered plan proposed, in case of an
accident, there would be to seek him through half the public-houses in the
ward; and, if you only sought him in half, just an even chance against
finding him when all was done.
To speak, however, more seriously — the object of a nightly watch, like
that of London, must be considered as twofold. First, it is to serve the
purpose of keeping a number of men ready, who may be easily mustered
at a given signal, to repress plunder, or act in case of riot. And next, it is
to provide a number of vigilant agents, whose task it is to look to the
houses of the inhabitants during the night, and preserve them (preven-
tively) from general harm or pillage. Now, the first of these duties our
watch executes indifferent well — although only indifferent well. The men
ought to be better paid than at present — at least at the rate of fourpence
per hour — and never permitted, under any circumstances, to remain more
than six hours on duty. Jf these changes were attended to, as their posts
1827.] Notes for the Month. 519
would be better worth the people's having, they would he more anxious and
active to preserve them ; and, in this way, the first part of the duty of our
watch would be executed pretty efficiently.
But the second part of the work — that is the watching — the guarding
premises, by observation and vigilance, from being entered by thieves —
this, looking to the facilities and ingenuity with which such entries are
now performed — is a more nice and expensive matter. In most of our
streets, the arrangement of the open area, provides a trench regularly built
and furnished for the thief: he descends into it in a moment; and it covers
his after operations, which he stops during the momentary passage to and
fro of the watchman. In other places, where doors are left upon lock and
key, the " skeleton key" opens a door in less than half a minute. It sel-
dom happens, we take it, that a burglary is committed (in town), where
the first entry into the house is a work of more than five minutes ; and
this (with a spy out to observe) is managed perfectly well, while a watch-
man goes from one part of his beat to the other.
The only arrangement which could afford anything like full security
against this last danger, would be the employment of a large additional
number of watchmen ; and, even then, the arrangement of every division,
must be so set out, that the watchman to whom it belonged should be
able, from any position, to see from one end to the other of it. A watch-
man, who has to turn two or three corners, cannot possibly be responsible
for the security of any of the houses entrusted to him. Such a change as
that which we suggest would be a measure of expense ; and it may perhaps
be a question, whether the added protection is worth so much expense.
But even under any circumstances — the thief and the watchman watch
one another. The first watches for a booty of a hundred pounds, and the
last for a hire of eighteen-pence or two shillings. It will happen some-
times, with the best organized system in the world, that the thief will
prove the more vigilant of the two.
Pedestrianism Extraordinary. — The Chronicle of this morning contains
a calculation, worked upon unerring arithmetical principles, of the extent
of ground walked over daily by the prisoners in all the tread-mills of
England. The following is an exact copy of this valuable piece of
statistics : " At Lewes, each prisoner walks 6,500 feet in ascent in a day ;
at Ipswich, 7,450 ; at St. Alban's, 8,000 ; at Bury, 8,950 ; at Cambridge,
10,750 ; at Durham, 12,000; at Brixton, Guilford, and Reading, 13,000 ;
and at Warwick (recollecting, probably, that ' the thief of all thieves/
according to the song, 'was a Warwickshire thief), the penalty is to go
farther than any where else : the summer rate (at Warwick) will be
17,000 feet in ten hours." Now, 17,000 feet in ten hours, and all up
hill ! might it not answer — we .put it to any gentleman of the turf — this
sort of exercise, as " training" for prize-fighters ? Because, some of the
sporting characters would find it a great convenience if it would; as they
might be discharging an occasional debt to society, and be labouring in
their own vocation at the same time.
The law of Libel continues, as usual, to form a fruitful source of dis-
cussion, equally to the lawyers and essayists of the day. Every fresh
verdict commonly gives the newspaper writers something to complain
about ; and every fresh charge from the Judge contains a covert reply
to previous complaints — as far as the dignity of the Bench will allow of its
making one. But the oddest verdict — as taken together with the direction
— that we have met with lately, is the verdict in a cause of Haywood, v.
Green ; in which the jury found, with Fifty pounds damages, for the
620 Notes for the Month. [NoV.
plaintiff. The cause— upon the merits of which, we mean to give no
opinion whatever— arose out of the wreck of a vessel, in which the de-
fendant was a passenger, and on which he publicly imputed unskilfulness
to the plaintiff, who was the commander. And the learned Judge is
reported to have said, in his summing up, — " Though the commander, to
whom this unfortunate accident had occurred (the plaintiff) might be
considered at the time to have wanted the experience, which such a situa-
tion as he held at particular times required ; yet, it did by no means follow,
that the proceedings of that day might not prove a useful lesson to him,
and that he might in time coming make a most excellent commander!"—
Now upon this, the jury found a verdict of fifty pounds damages for the
plaintiff! But if the case was, as the learned Judge said, that the
"lesson" of that day was likely to be so valuable to the plaintiff — does it
not seem to be the hardest thing in the world, that the defendant should
have to pay fifty pounds for having given it to him ?
Cobbelt, we see, by his Register of this day, the 20th of October,
announces his intention to stand for Preston again at the approaching elec-
tion, in opposition to Mr. Stanley. This writer seems to "give medi-
cines," as Falstaff expresses it, to all men that can appreciate faculty, to
make them, if not " love," at least endure him. His Register of this day
— there is not a line in, that is not as false, and as flimsy, as matter or
argument well can be ; and yet, it is all written with such force, and such
freshness, that one would read it ten times over, and be pleased with every
word. Even his panegyric on his own honesty, we were obliged seriously
to recollect that it was Cobbett who spoke, before we could convince our-
selves that some passages in it were not true.
In parliament, however, even should he be elected — (we have hazarded
an opinion upon this point before) — Cobbett assuredly will sink. He can
do nothing in the House of Commons, because he must stand alone — -no
party can or will support him. But his estoppal would arise even before
the matter came to this : he would never speak five minutes in parliament —
that is, in the manner in which he speaks and writes elsewhere — and, if he
did not use the same style, he would cease to be effective — without bringing
up the Speaker upon the always-convenient point of "Order." The forms
and usages of the House of Commons are spread, to wind round every man
of violence like a web. Sometimes a very great blue bottle — like Mr.
Brougham — bounces through : but the smaller flies are caught, and dis-
posed of by the gentleman in the great wig, in a moment. There is this
wide difference too — besides the mere difference of strength and character,
between the two men (Mr. Cobbett and Mr. Brougham:) " disorder,"
sharpened with a great deal of poignancy and wit, is only the occa-
sional garnish to the speeches of the one : it would be the whole dish — the
staple article — seasoned only with coarseness and fury — of the other. Cob-
bett will never make an impression on the House of Commons : for the
interests and the dispositions of all who sit there, are alike against him.
Should he even so far command himself, as, for any length of time, to be
permitted to speak, he can only look to make his impression (through the
newspapers), upon the people without doors: and the people out of doors
have heard already, and do hear, all that he has to say ! The only people
in England, we believe, to whom his election would be likely to produce
any serious advantage, are the door-keepers, who take half crowns in the
lobby of " St. Stephen's :" his appearance, we have no doubt, for the first
six weeks, would draw as full "galleries," as the debut of a new Mazurier
at Covent Garden or Drury Lane.
1827.] I 521 ]
MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.
The History of the Battle of A gin-
court, and of the Expedition of Henry
the Fifth into France, &c.t by Nich. H.
Nicolas ; 1827. — The reader will naturally
ask, what could lead to a new and sepa-
rate history of this brilliant but familiar
event? Why, the secret is — among the
MSS. of the British Museum was disco-
vered a list of the peers, knights, and men-
at-arms, who were actually at Agincourt.
To print was the first thought, from mo-
tives obvious enough, but the editor ham-
mers out another or two — the interest it
possessed for the descendants — and still
more, the data it furnished for estimating
the amount of the English army. At first,
also, a few pages prefixed to the list,
seemed sufficient — merely to make a
" small tract" of it ; but then a small
tract, for so splendid a thing, was really
betraying its dignity, and, besides, flinging-
away an opportunity of making a justum
volumen. " Accordingly, the original idea
(says Mr. N.) was abandoned, and it was
resolved to collect all which had been said
by cotemporary writers of both countries
on the subject — together with an account
of the preparations for the expedition it-
self, from the public records."
To these public records, and cotempo-
rary authorities, consisting chiefly of Hen-
ry's biographer, who called, and doubtless
considered himself another Titus Livius,
Charles's biographer, St. Remy, Elmham,
Walsingham, Hardyng, Otterborne, Mon-
strelet, Pierre de Fenin, Jean Juv. des
Ursins, M. Labonreur's collection, Lyd-
gate's poem, the Fcedera, and the Rolls of
Parliament — has now been added an ano-
nymous chronicler, whose labours have
long reposed, undisturbed, except occa-
sionally perhaps by Sharon Turner, among
the Cotton and Sloaue MSS. The writer,
it appears, was a priest, and was, as he
tells us, present at Agincourt, where he
sat on horseback with the other priests,
among the baggage in the rear of the bat-
tle. The MS. is in Latin, and, except by
the said Sharon Turner, intact, and by
him noticed only in the octavo edition of
his work. It is therefore nearly in a vir-
gin state. Of this valuable piece of vir-
ginity, all that relates to the year 1415
has been " literally translated, and every
word, (Mr. N. assures us) which occurs
from the day on which the fleet quitted
England, until Henry entered his palace
at Westminster, after his return, has been
introduced into the text."
The volume before us, then, to page
Ixxxvii. contains a statement of Henry's
proceedings previously to his embarkation
— the result of the editor's own researches ;
then follows the narrative of the anony-
M.M. New Series.— VOL, IV. No. 23.
inous priest, to page ccxlvii., with an.
ample supply of notes by the editor,
among which are seme, happily enough,
illustrative of Shakspeare; and close
upon the heels of the narrative comes
Lydgate's metrical, and probably very
faithful, account of the expedition. Then
re-appears the editor, in his character of
author, resuming his own story, and re-
tracing the events detailed by the chro-
nicler, and " submitting such comments
as it is the province of the historian to
make upon the events which are the sub-
jects of his attention." This is again in-
terrupted at page ccclxxiv. by the singu-
lar and entertaining description which the
same chronicle gives of the pageant pre-
pared for Henry's reception into London,
upon his return — which is followed by
Lydgate's metrical account of it ; — and
then, finally, comes the roll of the peers,
knights, &c. Now to the narrative — or
rather to the introduction, for we have
not space for more.
The pretence for Henry's invasion was
the assertion of his claim to the crown of
France, as the heir of Edward III. Ed-
ward's own title was indefensible j and
Henry's, of course, still more so, as he was
not even Edward's legitimate successor.
To this invasion he was prompted, says Mr.
Nicolas, by (Chicheley) the archbishop's
persuasions, and the remembrance of his
father's dying injunction to furnish em-
ployment for his people, and thus turn
their thoughts from his usurpation — and
more probably by his own youthful am-
bition— and more probably still, it may be
added, by the distracted stale of the
country, torn and divided by the Bur-
gundians and Armagnacs, and exposed, as
it was, to any body's attacks, by the
king's imbecility. No pains has Mr. N.
spared in ferreting out the circumstances
which preceded the invasion 5 but though
incidents in abundance are detailed, they
do uot string well together, because the
motives of the respective parties are still
wrapped in obscurity, and almost disre-
garded.
The first indication of Henry's design;
was a demand of the crown as heir, in,
July 1414. This demand the French go*.
vernment refused even to discuss. What
followed then ? Why Henry, consequently,
says Mr. N., consented that Charles should
continue in possession ; but still demanded
other concessions, which it was equally
impossible to grant. In short — stripping
Mr. N.'s laborious researches of their so-
lemnity— Henry takes the first opportu-
nity, after his accession, to announce his
claim to the crown. The ambassador says
— " My master claims your crown, and
3 X
522
Monthly Review of Literature,
[Nov.
begs you will hand it over to him as the
legitimate owner." The French govern-
ment reply — " We won't listen to you."
" Then," says the ambassador, anticipating
apparently his reception, " we must have
some of the country — we must have Nor-
mandy, Maine, and Anjou — the Duchy of
Aquitaine, and half of Provence — we must
have the arrears of John's musom, and be-
sides, we will have your daughter Cathe-
rine, with two millions of crowns for her
dowry." " No," says the Duke de Berri,
the organ of the government, " but, for
the sake of peace, you shall have Aqui-
taine, and Catherine with 600,000 crowns
— not an acre nor a farthing more."
According to some cotemporaries, how-
ever, this was not all — for the Dauphin, a
boy of eighteen, to shew his contempt for
Henry, in mere wantonness, sent him a
box of tennis-balls. Now this, according
to Hume, is utterly incredible, because
the large concessions the French were
ready to make, shew them to have thought
the matter no joke ; and even according to
Mr. Nicolas — a much more deliberate per-
son— not at all disposed to dismiss a case
while an atom of evidence is left — not
much less so ; for though many cotempo-
raries speak of the matter as notorious,
others say nothing about it — and though
Lydgate tells the whole story in verse,
yet, if even on other occasions he be as
good an historian as a poet, he may in this
be nothing but a poet ; and besides, if
such an insult had really been offered, it
must have cut off all hope of accommoda-
tion, all farther negociation — which was
not the case; and besides, continues Mr.
N., Henry afterwards challenged the Dau-
phin, and made no allusion to the balls ;
and — to crown the argument, and annihi-
late the fact at once — not one of the ten-
nis-balls, no, nor even the box, are at pre-
sent known to be in existence. Trium-
phant, however, as all this may seem, we
ourselves are not at all inclined to give
up the fact — nor will we so readily fly in
the teeth of cotemporary authorities, and
of Lydgate to boot. Nobody says the fact
was not so— and what improbability is
there in supposing that a petulant prince
of eighteen chose to do, what might not be
approved of by his father's ministers?
Besides, does not the fact well account for
what is otherwise not so accountable —
Henry's challenging the Dauphin at all ?
But to return — the concessions on the
part of France not satisfying Henry, he
summons a parliament, and the Chancellor
Beaufort tells them of the king's resolve
to recover his inheritance — enforcing his
purpose on this very satisfactory ground
— that for every natural thing there are
two seasons— one to bud and another to
ripen — one to act and another to repose —
one for peace and another for war ; and of
course, as they had had peace for some time,
they must now have a little war. But war
has its exigencies — counsels, support, and
supply ; and supply was what was wanted
from them ; and supply it was good policy
to give — because the more the king en-
larged his dominions, the less they would
have to pay. Convincing as all this was,
they gave, however, only two-fifteenths,,
and that out of love and affection,— not to
prosecute the king's views.
The subsisting armistice was to expire
in January — an embassy was accordingly
sent, consisting of an earl, and two bi-
shops, and 600 horsemen, to negociate an
extension till the first of May. This mat-
ter being readily accomplished, the am-
bassadors proposed a peace upon new
terms — they gave up the claim to Nor-
mandy, Maine, and Anjou, and offered to-
take Catherine at half price, that is at one
million. No motive whatever is suggested
by Mr. N. for this reduction in the terms
— but the difficulty of providing the sup-
plies is perhaps significant enough. But
what said the French to this offer ? Did
they retreat upon this show of modera-
tion ? No, they actually advance upon
their former offer — they yield Aquitaine,
and propose 800,000 crowns with Cathe-
rine, and moreover her wardrobe, and
equipage proper for her rank; and ex-
press, besides, some readiness to nego-
ciate on the other points. The fact is,
Henry was known, in the meanwhile, to
be actively pursuing his preparations ; and
the French, could not forget Edward ; and
probably did not know all the king's diffi-
culties about money-matters.
About the beginning of April, no steps
having been taken by the French to re-
sume the negociation, Henry resolved to
try his own eloquence, and accordingly,
in his own name, despatched a letter — •
and a very curious one it is — in which he
expresses his deep regret for the necessi-
ties of his situation — his love of peace, and
horror of blood — his hope that France
would have renewed the negociations —
his wish that they may not imitate Lot
and Abraham, whom avarice excited to
discord — and assurance, that as the truce
was nearly expiring, he must consult the
welfare of his people, and follow their incli-
nation. This was dated the 7th of April, and
apparently, without waiting for an answer,
he follows it up on the 15th with another,
still more hypocritical — fuller of the most
loathsome cant, and covered with false pre-
tences. The very next day a council was
held, and the resolution finally taken to at-
tempt the invasion in person, and the day
after a regency appointed. Every thing
was forthwith put into activity; the dukes,
earls, barons, knights, who were to at-
tend, were all named, and the pay for
each fixed; contracts were entered into
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
523
with such as were bound to provide a
staled number of men-at-arms ; and with
others for carpenters, masons, smiths, wag-
gons, bows, arrows, &c.; despatches were
sent to Holland to hire vessels 5 orders
«ent to the Thames, and ports as far
as Newcastle, to arrest all vessels carrying
twenty tons or more, for the king's ser-
vice; and directions given to the masters
of the king's ships to impress sailors to
navigate them.
But money was still wanting. The par-
liamentary supply was insignificant; and
accordingly a proclamation was issued to
the king's very dear and loyal subjects,
informing them that the lords and others
of his retinue had been paid a quarter's
wages, but he had promised another on
embarkation, which, if not paid, would re-
tard or defeat the expedition, and there-
fore he trusted to their kind assistance —
promising speedy repayment. This ap-
peal was to some extent certainly success-
ful, for it is known thai Canterbury sent
as a gift 100 marks, Sudbury 40, Bristol
£240., the Bishop of Hereford £100, the
Bishop of Lincoln £40, and a foreign mer-
chant 100 marks. Nevertheless all would
not do ; and recourse was finally had to
mortgaging the customs, and pawning the
crown jewels and plate. Not a soul would
lend without a deposit, nor a soul embark
without something in hand. Robert Cha-
lons, knt., as security for his second quar-
ter's pay, amounting to £45. 6s. l^d., re-
ceived a cup of gold, two pots of silver
gilt, and a small vessel of silver gilt. To
other knights, were " pawned, for their
wages, several vessels of plate and jewels,
tablets, images, crucifixes, notre-dames,
tabernacles, and the like." To Sir Thomas
Hanley, a pair of gold spurs with red
tyssers, a sword garnished with ostrich's
feathers, &c. The HARRY CROWN was
broken, and 'distributed among several ;
and the Duke of York had the gold almes
dish, called the tygrey made in the fashion
of a ship, standing on a bear, garnished
with balays and pearls — with many others,
to a great extent. 500,000 nobles were
thus raised by pledges ; and the greater
part of the articles were it seems ac-
tually redeemed in the first eight or ten
years of his son's reign.
In June, Henry set forth in the full pa-
rade of royalty — detailed in Lydgate's
versification — and on the 26th reached
Winchester, where he stepped some days
to receive the French ambassadors. Se-
veral interviews and discussions took
place, and, on the J6th July, the French
consented to add to their former offers the
towns of Limoges and Tulle, with all that
belonged to the latter, worth about 40,000
gold crowns. These offers Henry agreed
to accept, provided the towns, Catherine,
aad the money were all delivered by St.
Andrew's Day — the ambassadors remain
ing with him till the king's answer ar-
rived. To these conditions the ambas-
sadors demurred, and alleged the money
could not be minted in time. The king
was highly offended at this, and bade
Beaufort read them a trimming lecture,
which so much nettled one of them, an
archbishop, that he boldly declared the
king had no right to what he claimed, nor
even to the crown of England. There
was no brooking such insolence — he was
ordered to depart forthwith — with an as-
surance the king would speedily follow.
All chance of accommodation being now
over, Henry proceeded to Southampton ;
where he was detained by the discovery
of the Earl of Cambridge's conspiracy.
The conspirators were put on their trial
without delay, and on the 5th August
were most of them executed. On that
same day, Henry wrote another letter to
Charles, of the same hypocritical charac-
ter with the former — lamenting that they
were at last like Lot and Abraham — he
being himself of course the yielding Abra-
ham — and imploring him, for the last
time, on the strength of another bit of
scripture, to do him justice — and assuring
him how much more agreeable it would
be to live an innocent life with his fair
daughter, than to enrich himself with the
treasures of iniquity. According to some
authorities, this letter was written on the
28th July; and Mr. N., pro sua humani-
tate, inclines to this date, solely, because
it seems more creditable to Henry to be-
lieve he never could have written such a
letter the very day his kinsman and most
intimate friend had suffered a violent death.
Does Mr. N. suppose for a moment Henry
wrote the letter with his own hand ?
On the 7th, Henry embarked with a
force of probably 30,000, in a fleet of from
1,200 to 1,400 ships, from 20 to 300 tons
burden ; and landing near Harfleur, be-
sieged and took it early in October. His
loss during the siege was considerable;
many thousands perished by dysentery; and
as many more were sent home incapable
from disease of service. From this place,
with the relics of his troops, about 9,000,
probably not much exceeding 7,000, Hen-
ry resolved to march by land to Calais, in
the teeth of a numerous force collected to
intercept him. For this fool-hardy at-
tempt, Mr. N. can find no excuse, but
plainly declares it was justifiable only by
the event— which is no justification at all
— and so he himself seems to think, though
the thought is smothered in a mass of
words. Xenophon, we remember, com-
mends his hero, Agesilaus, for putting no-
thing to hazard — adding, "If I praised him
for fighting against a superior force, I
should make him a blockhead, and prove
myself a fool." Hume states unreservedly,
3X2
5-24
Monthly Review of Literature,
[NTov.
that Henry first offered to give up Harfleur
to secure a safe passage to Calais — on what
authority does not appear; and as Mr. N.
says nothing about any such offer, we
may conclude this was only another of
Hume's guesses — to palliate, what of
course to him appeared a piece of teme-
rity. Ill this march to Calais occurred the
battle of Agincourt, of which it is quite
superfluous to speak — but with respect to
the description of this battle, Mr. Nicolas,
in his preface, " anticipates, that if his
work be attended by any particular re-
sult, it will tend to remove the absurd
impression, that that victory must be con-
templated with humiliating feelings in
France. There is no truth with which
the consideration of this battle has more
deeply impressed him than that the bra-
very of the French character, its exalted
patriotism and chivalrous courage, instead
of being tarnished, acquired new lustre
on that memorable occasion" — which we
venture to say is one of the drollest con-
clusions that author ever arrived at.
The French were ten to one — and panic-
struck — what, then, to any purpose, can
be said of the bravery of that particular
army?
Though we may seem to smile occasion-
ally— we have no desire to depreciate Mr.
N.'s labours ; we have too much respect
for them, and shall always welcome them
with pleasure. A little aute-diluvianism
is inseparable from the profession of an
antiquary.
The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies,
fyc. by T. Hood; 1827.— This poem is in
the Spenser stanza, and the first produc-
tion, of any length, of Mr. Hood's pen —
that is, it occupies sixty-four pages. Ano-
ther poem, and in another stanza, nearly
as long, of the old story of Hero and
Leander follows; and then a third, in tro-
chaic measure ; and a fourth, in a different
metre still : with a lot of smaller pieces by
way of make-weight.
Take the story of the Midsummer Fai-
ries. The poet is strolling along, as poets
do, something listless, one autumn even-
ing, about sun-set, musing upon the usual
themes of a poet's contemplation at that
particular season, when he suddenly dis-
covers Queen Titania — and a matter of
very great interest it is to him — holding
her court close to his very footsteps, and,
at the precise moment his attention is thus
drawn towards her, issuing a mandate for
the immediate appearance in her august
presence of every man, woman, and child-
fay in the elfin dominions. Titania, it
seems, was in a fit of the blue devils that
evening — and possessed by all manner of
melancholy forebodings of the speedy
wind-up of her kingdom. Her sleep had
presented the most menacing prognostics,
and the persuasion, equivalent to " this
night thy kingdom departs from thee !"
was pressing heavily upon the little lady's
sighing bosom.
Like many other people, however, who
move in brilliant circles, she was quite
aware of the good policy of putting a good
face upon the matter; despair can at any
time be resorted to, while to rush into it
prematurely is the most hazardous step
possible. So the lieges being, as we said,
convened from their several retreats— the
primrose-buds, harebells, cowslips, and
other country residences — and displaying
themselves before her in their very best
court dresses, are commanded to dance,
either by way of bravado against the ap-
prehended catastrophe, or to give her ma-
jesty an opportunity of yielding up her
thoughts for a short space to the sad im-
pressions she had imbibed. But not long
could she keep up appearances ; and the
innocent little fays, though the sorrow of
their royal mistress was but too conspi-
cuous, were utterly at a loss for the cause;
and whether it were a matrimonial fracas,
or Oberon's absence merely, or anxiety on
account of the hostility of the gnomes,
they could not even guess. So, suspend-
ing the fantastic tripping, they gathered
round her with looks of humble and de-
voted solicitude, and to them she gladly
unbosomed her griefs, of which the sub-
stance appeared to be, that she had dream-
ed of a very awful and hoary personage,
'yclept Old Time, armed with his scythe
and usual appurtenances, who had deli-
vered in her ear pretty decided threats of
mowing- away at one fell-stroke the rem-
nant of her sovereignty, and herself to
boot — and had been inexorable to all her
prayers. While speaking even, our old
acquaintance of the hour-glass in reality
glides in among the appalled multitude — •
presenting the very apparition, and ex-
hibiting the very weapon, of the doom he
had denounced.
Now follows a long expostulation on
Titaoia's part, in which she dilates on the
good deeds of the fairies ; and then Sa-
turn's reply, in words, accompanied by the
still more expressive process of whetting
the blade. Then speaks an Eve-fay, with
much the same effect as her mistress; and
another, and another try their desperate
eloquence in vain upon stern Saturn, who
scorns all their " pleas." Their long-
winded deprecations of his wrath seem
intended mainly as expositions of the offi-
ces and dispositions of the fairy-race, as
assigned by ancient credulity, consisting
of the benevolent and beneficent only. A
good deal of fancy characterizes the detail
of their good deeds ; but it is terribly
wearisome; and we could not but wonder
at the patience of Old Time in listening,
and especially in replying, as he did occa-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
525
sionally, whole mouthfuls of spleen — alias
bombast and balderdash.
Relief offers itself at last in the person
of a youth — Shakspeare, we believe, is
meant — who, fearless and resolute, de-
termines to rescue the sinking kingdom
from Time's clutches. He deals a few
substantial blows at the phantom, and a
great many bitter taunts— paying mean-
while due, and reverent, and blythesome
greeting to the pale queen, whom he re-
assures and comforts, and finally compels
the hoary sage to forego his expected har-
vest. We are probably mistaken in the
person of this youthful saviour. Titania
had already alluded to Shakspeare, as one
who had before given her a lift — and
could not be unknown to her — it must be
Mr. Thomas Hood himself.
Nothing can we see — not even a stanza
— at all valuable in the Midsummer Fairies.
Mr. Hood has plenty of language— good
poetical language too; and a good deal of
the inward material of poetry ; but he has,
either by injudicious exercise, perverted
the natural march of thought and feeling
(see Whims and Oddities), or he is in-
nately too much of a grasshopper in his
mental movements, to produce any thing
concentrated, or continuous, or effective
in writing. The fault, we suspect, is not
an original one, but rather a vicious habit
— for vicious it is, and always diminishes
the amount of intensity that belongs to
our thoughts, to wrest them forcibly either
in pursuit of verbal contrasts, or absurd
images, or, in short, in any way, where
they would not spontaneously go. Such
a course is not confined in its effects to the
subject and period in which it is employed ;
but is lastingly operative upon future as-
sociations of thought; and if long con-
tinued will destroy, irrecoverably, the
finer and higher faculties of the under-
standing. We suspect, as we said, that
Mr. Hood has cultivated a taste for the
ludicrous but too successfully — to the in-
calculable injury of another and a supe-
rior set of powers, which nevertheless
could not be entirely subdued — so that his
poetry assumes a tantalizing and artificial
appearance. When just upon the verge
occasionally of moving and exciting one,
it goes off suddenly into some quaint ab-
surdity, or pun, or common-place, as if the
writer's energy were no sooner kindled
than spent again— or, as if he were ashamed
of being carried away by his imagination
the moment it becomes tinctured by sen-
sibility.
The " Hero and Leander" we liked better.
The tale has enough naturally of the pa-
thetic to apologize for his not joking over
the whole, though in the construction he
has thrown in a dash of the ridiculous, by
making an amorous sea-maid the effective
cause of Leander's destruction — while, in
the detail of the nymph's desolation at
finding she had unwittingly drowned the
gentle youth in their passage to her sub-
aqueous retirement, he is quite touching.
'« Lycas, the Centaur", like the rest, dis-
plays a good deal of ill-ordered talent. The
" Two Peacocks of Bedfont" is good for
nothing. But to make some amends, one
little exquisite piece there is, addressed
to the moon, in which a lofty poetic feel-
ing is sustained throughout — where the
thoughts, melting into one another by the
tenderest gradations, are simple and beau-
tiful— the images harmonize with the feel-
ing, and the cadence with both.
The English Gentleman' >s Manual, by
W.Goodhugh; 1827.— This is a guide to
the formation of a library of select litera-
ture, accompanied with original notices,
biographical and critical, of authors and
books — published with the same object as
Dr. Dibdin's "Guide to the Young and
Consolation to the Old," but with some-
what less quackery, though not without
quackery. Mr. Goodhugh for himself an-
nounces to the world, that he has acquired
a knowledge of many of the Oriental (we
hope he feels the full import of these por-
tentous words) and most of the modern
languages (and also of these) ; and there-
fore conceives himself competent to un-
dertake any department of bibliography.
This last word was probably meant for
bibliopoly, because he at the same time
''"does not hesitate to avow that it is as a
bookseller, he is desirous of appearing
before the public, and to found a reputa-
tion upon a strict and punctual attention
to every department of his business, as
best calculated to secure that confidence
and favour, &c. &c." These notes of pre-
paration are somewhat alarming, and seem
mightily superfluous for a knowledge of the
mere titles of books ; but every man to
his taste; and every man must speak, if he
speak at all, according to the measure of
his knowledge, and the scale of his intel-
lect. The same words and phrases will
sometimes mean different things in dif-
ferent mouths, and happily it is not al-
ways impracticable nor discriminate. If
it were — !
Nevertheless the book will prove very
useful to young readers, and others yet
unacquainted with the common treasures
of booksellers' shelves. Books of esta-
blished reputation in all departments of
literature are pointed out, with the prices
appended, and also little scraps of popular
criticism, and sundry anecdotes of books
and authors omnibus et lippis notum ct
tonsoribus — though read a score of times,
there are listless moments with the busiest,
when the same may be read again, and the
leaves of a catalogue like this be turned
over with something like pleasure. Sir
52G
Monthly Review of Literature,
[Nov.
Walter Scott and Dr. Dibdin— the first
time surely they could ever have met —
are his great authorities. Mr. Goodhugh,
however, does not recommend books, co-
pies of which cannot be got at ; his, as
might be expected, are all of the accessible
kind. He even ventures a smile at one of
his oracles on this point. "It is amusing,"
says he, " to notice Dr. DibdhTs advice in
his Library Companion, on the History of
Portugal. He recommends his young
man to procure, with all imaginable
earnestness, anxiety, and delight, and
with a fearless disregard of its expense
[Dr. Dibdin must be the very Apollo of
booksellers] the Bibliotheca Lusitana,
Historica, Critica, et Chronologica of
Barbosa Machado, Lisbon, 1741, 1759,
a work beyond all competition, and be-
yond all praise, and of the most extensive
difficulty of acquisition, — [did the world
ever hear such balderdash?]: and in a
note he adds this consoling information —
* The work in question is in vain looked
for among the displays of auction-rooms,
and in the repertories of booksellers, for
which Mr. Bohn rummaged Bavaria, and
Mr. John Payne, Italy, to no purpose.' "
In the course of the volume, Mr. Good-
hugh introduces some original letters,
given him by the Earl of Buchan, of
Thomson the poet, which shew up the
bard — more fat than bard beseems — in a
very amiable light, as the kind brother,
who, out of his poor accumulations, set t»p
his two sisters at Edinburgh in the
" millinery line," with a stock of £15.,
and allowed them a small annual pension
as long as he lived. A long account also
is given of Jemmy Thomson and some of
his friends, extracted by force of question
and answer by Thomas Parke (a brother
we believe of Judge Parke) in the year
1791, from a Mr. Richardson, a very aged
surgeon of Kew, who died within a few
hours of the torture. The account, how-
ever, we have seen somewhere or other
before.
Some of the opinions scattered about
the book are due, it may be presumed, to
Mr. Goodhugh himself; for instance,
"TEMPLE. The works of Sir William
Temple, first printed in 1720, in two folio
volumes, now re-printed, 1814, in four
vols. 8vo , £1. ID'S. That will be a dark
and doubtful period in the era of national
taste, when the volumes of Sir Wm. Tem-
ple shall be neglected or depreciated."
And yet we are very much afraid he is, if
not depreciated, neglected. To neglect is
not absolutely to depreciate ; but most
booksellers will find the book is depre-
ciated ; — we know not who will give
£1. 16s. for it.
The First Twcnty-eight Odes of Ana-
crcon, by John Hroderick Roche, M.D.,
and A.M.y $c. #c. ; 1827. — Here are
twenty-eight odes of Anacreon, occupy-
ing 300 pages. According to this ratio, the
140 scraps will fill 1,500 pages. The pub-
lishers—for it appears by the preface to
be their doings — aware that such a mass
would find but a heavy sale, have sent
into the world this fasciculus as a feeler
— not, to be sure, on the ground which we
have suggested, but kindly and consider-
ately to stay the impatience of the greedy
public, whose appetite they knew the
" novelty of the plan, and the advantage
of its arrangement," must have whetted
almost beyond endurance. The whole —
if the whole ever sees the light, is in-
tended to be a complete Thesaurus Ana-
creonticus. The disposition of the work
comprises —
1. The Greek text, from the best autho-
rities.
2. The same text arranged in the prose,
or literal order, for the use of learners.
3. A translation in rhyme.
4. A literal translation in prose, in
which the ellipses of the original are sup-
plied, and the points of difference between
the idioms of the Greek and English Ian-
guages pointed out.
5. Variorum notes, for the most part in
English, selected from the best editors
and commentators.
6. A grammatical analysis, in which all
the original Greek words are parsed for
the use of learners ; and
7. A lexicon, in which the same words
are all fully explained, so as to supersede
the necessity of a separate Greek lexicon,
The reader shall have a specimen of this
elaborate, or rather accumulative per-
formance j and as there is little motive
for choice, we will open the book at ran-
dom, to glance over the translation and
commentary. It proves to be the fifth,
headed commonly, and also by Dr. Roche
— « To the Rose."
The prose translation, with two excep-
tions perhaps, is clearly and specifically
correct. The metrical one is anything
but close, any thing but gay and airy, any-
thing but tasteful and delicate. It is in-
deed coarse and heavy, fitter for the de-
baucheries of a tap-room than the revels
of the loves and graces — more like the in-
spirations of porter than nectar. Then for
the commentary, wherein Dr. Roche first
preludes a little. " This spirited poem,"
says he — any body else might have called
it light and elegant — " is an eulogy on the
rosej"and to shewthatheknewthiswasnot
all the same Anacreon had said of the ro$ey
he very properly refers to another ode.
But Barnes, Dr. Roche discovers, refers
to a fragment of Sappho preserved in the
romance of Achilles Tatius, where the rose
is styled the "eye of flowers ;" and the
same " poetess," in another fragment, one
Mcebius observes, calls the favours of the
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
527
muses — the ** roses of Pieria." Now all
this is little, or surely nothing to the pur-
pose, if the purpose be to explain Ana-
creon, and not merely swell the pages.
From the contents of this little ode, Dr.
Roche next infers, but not without the aid
of some odes of Horace, that it was t( cus-
tomary for persons of a refined or volup-
tuous taste, among the ancients, to intro-
duce OINTMENTS (a most disagreeable
image, as the doctor, or one of his autho-
rities, says, somewhere else), PERFUMES,
and crowns at their entertainments." This
•was an inference of too much value to be
lost — being quite original, too — and there-
fore, as Sappho's fragment was the mat-
ter before him, it was obliged to be
thrown in parenthetically. Now Sappho's
fragment from Achilles Tatius, having
alluded to the rose, and called it the " eye
of flowers," ocular proof must be thrust
upon the reader ; and accordingly here
we find the original, probably, in Achillcs's
own fustian prose ; but this takes up only
six or seven lines, and, therefore, to fill up
a little more space — to shew the Doctor's
universal reading, and excite his patient's
— we mean his reader's — wonderment, we
are next favoured with one Stirling's ham-
mered translation in rhyme, followed by
another, of course a gayer and more trip-
ping one, by Mr. Thomas Moore. But
why Dr. Roche should stop here we can-
not imagine — for, surely, with a very
little more research among the commen-
tators, or a very little inquiry among the
lady botanists, he might have found lots of
other allusions to the rose — quite as much
to his purpose.
But some critics, Brunck for instance,
think this beautiful little scrap of sixteen
short lines is altogether spurious ; and
Brossius believes the first five lines are
not genuine; and others think the ode,
short as it is, is not one, but two odes.
Again, it is not quite settled among the
said critics, what, after all, is the subject of
this ode,'be it one, or two, or more. Born
is decided in his belief, the poet meant
only to commemorate the glories of the
rose; while Mcebius differs toto ccelo ;
— according to him, the poet was in
high spirits at the return of spring, and
being resolved to get jovially drunk on
the occasion, invites his friends to join
him, and, among other things, to bring
some roses with them for chaplcts, and
dance a reel or two ; — and so confident
is Mcebius that he has hit the right nail
on the head, he discards the old heading
«f po£ov, and substitutes— agreeing in this
withPauw and Gail — u$ a-v^oa-tov.
Now then, leaving all farther prelu-
sions the Doctor comes to the verses,
taking them, one by one, and sometimes
two by two ; but really we must cut the
matter comparatively very short.
1.2. " Let us blend with Bacchus the
rose, the flower of the. loves," or rather
probably, "that of the loves" — specifically
" Loves' rose." The rose, observes the
Doctor here, the rose is sacred to Love
and Venus, and also to Bacchus and the
muses, as we shall see, he farther tells us,
in the fifty-third ode — but that we have
not got yet. Dr. Roche would also have
referred to two passages in Horace, had
not Longepierre anticipated him ; but
though Longepierre has anticipated him
in the reference, that is no reason on earth,
why he should be precluded from quoting
the same two passages. Accordingly
" Mitte sectari," &c. ; and " Hue vina,"
&c., both follow; and both are accom-
panied by a rhymed translation, by whom
done and executed is not stated, nor is it
material — perhaps by Dr. Roche himself.
But obvious to every man of common-
sense, as is the sense of the latter piece,
Fischer has one opinion on the purpose of
the poet, and Born has two, both differing
from Fischer's; and all three Dr. Roche
mercilessly inflicts upon his unsuspecting
reader. By the way, we overlooked in
its place, though Dr. Roche would have
reminded us again, that Plutarch says the
odour of flowers prevented ebriety.
3. 4. " Fitting to our temples the beau-
tiful-leaved rose." Does this require a
commentary ? Yes — for what purpose are
they so fitted ? Plutarch has already hinted
— to prevent ebriety. Aye, but what say
the moderns ? Why one Younge — is this
one of the score of physicians of this name,
or the Scotch Grecian ?— says very pro-
foundly, and we suppose professionally — .
" It was imagined that partly by flowers,
and partly by the constriction made by
the chaplet, drunkenness might be pre-
vented, or the disagreeable consequences
much allayed. I do not conceive that,
used in this manner, the bare effluvia
could have any effect, though some of
them were of a medicinal nature. Hip-
pocrates, indeed, prescribes rose-leaves
(but first made into a poultice with vine-
gar) as a good topical application for the
head-ache. That may be rational; yet the
strong scent of flowers in general hurts
the nerves." Dr. Younge's authority,
great as it doubtless is, is not, it seems,
conclusive — for Dr. Roche now brings up
Gail's reference to two passages — both to
account for the use of chaplets of flowers
generally — in Athenseus, who was himself
a most indefatigable quoter. These two
passages belong respectively to Sappho
again, and one Philonides, another phy-
sician ; and Gail follows them up with
some profound argumentation — which we
spare our readers— though Fischer and
Born come again upon the stage, and Plu-
tarch again, and the old story— and in
addition Festus.
528
Monthly Review of Literature,
[Nov.
5. " Let us drink, gaily laughing.'* —
Born and Fischer of course cannot agree ;
but here comes a new combatant, a lady,
Madame Dacier, who unluckily cannot
a^ree with herself — her translation in her
text is, " let us think of nothing but amus-
ing ourselves-," and in a note, the sense
is, she seems to say, " let us drink and
laugh, comme le diable." For all this in-
formation, we appear to be indebted to
•« Greene."
6. 7. " O rose, most excellent flower ! O
rose, nursling of spring I" Here again is
a grand bustle and confusion among the
commentators; and Barnes, and Baxter,
and Trapp, and Faber, and Mad. Dacier,
Addison, Gail, and Pauw, mingle pell and
inell in the fight. The whole squabble
resolves itself into TC and w. Of the pa-
trons of TO, some will have it the first word
of the line, and others the second; and of
the advocates of w, some insist upon the
exclamative, and some the invocative
sense; while Dr. Roche himself, appa-
rently declining to take part in the fray,
seems impartially to adopt one in his prose
translation, and the other in his metre.
But then follows, in the same lines, al-
most as hot a dispute upon ps\nya, which
Dr. Roche, in his prose, calls, as we see,
nursling, and in his verse, daughter.
Barnes, who was but a dull fellow, most
prosaically calls it pupil; while Baxter
and Degenius, who have more imagina-
tion, if not common-sense, are for terming
it darling ; but Fischer, who had a little
of both, dexterously avoids altogether a
term, and says it was so called, because
the spring commands, or causes it to grow
and bloom. But let us move on.
8. " Roses are delightful even to gods."
Ex. gr. says Dr. Roche — Baccho, Veneri,
Musis, Amori •, — and then recollecting
every body might not understand him —
he offers the benefit of a translation, signed
Degen. Thus — " The gods meant were
Bacchus, Venus, Cupid, and the Muses. —
(Degen.)"
9, 10, 11. "The boy of Cytherea, danc-
ing with the graces, entwines roses with
his beautiful ringlets." Here comes on
another skirmish, as sharp as any we have
encountered. The point is whether the
accusative shall be used for the dative, or
the dative for the accusative — whether
love intwines roses with his ringlets, or
his ringlets with roses. The combatants of
course wield the weapons of their logoma-
chy with various skill — none of them trust-
ing to MSS., or authorities, which indeed
are pretty equal, and Euripides uses both
constructions ; but one defends the con-
struction he patronizes, because it has, to
his ear, more suavity — another, because,
he presumes to say, his has more accu-
racy ; and a third, because it is more com-
mon, backing his assertion, at the same
time, with a quotation from Aristophanes,
which has nothing whatever to do with
the question. Dr. Roche himself will
again have nothing to do with the conflict,
but, not to be altogether a cypher, he
gravely adds — " The graces are here very
properly chosen as companions for the
god of love, since every qualification,
which can adorn a woman, is by the poet
ascribed to those divinities" — which seems
to have been suggested by one of the
French editors — ' this sweet idea of love
dancing with the graces is almost pecu-
liar to Anacreon.' Dr. Roche concludes
with quoting Moore's translation of these
line? : —
Cupid, too, in Paphian shades,
His hair with rosy fillet braids,
When, with the blushing, naked Graces
The wanton winding dance he traces.
In Anacreon, be it observed, the said
Graces are neither naked, nor blushing,
nor wanton — this is all Master Moore's
usual pruriency.
12. u Crown me, then, and I will strike
the lyre." This unlucky verse again
swarms with materials for squabbling.
First, the word Xi/gj£w — might it not be
Xt/pj^w, or XypiG-<ru>, or xt/fio-w, or even a par-
ticiple to agree with a previous one ;—
shall the verb, again, correspond with
another verb, or correspond with none 1
Then, once more, might not the copula be
left out, to make room for another mood
and person of jsifxiu, requiring three syl-
lables instead of two ? Dr. Roche, all the
while, maintains himself inflexible silence
— he often shews great modesty — at least
reserve ; — but we may gather from his
prose and his verse, that he sticks to the
verb, and will not at all events consent to
its being transmogrified into a participle.
13. « Near thy shrine, O Bacchus."
The word Bacchus gives room for enu-
merating the different stories of his origin-,
his attributes, and his insignia— all which
appears to belong to one (A). The same
(A) tells us the o-rjxo;, the shrine, was the
place where the image of the god stood,
and was in the middle of the temple, a
little raised, and railed in. This is being
very precise, and quite in the style of an
eye-witness. The proof is — Turn foribus
divce Media testudine templi — which is
rendered in somewhat a novel manner by
Dr. Roche himself, we suppose, whose ear
is remarkably true — "'Midst of the temple,
just before the shrine." Fores therefore
must mean the railing in of the shrine, or
perhaps a little door let into, or forming-
part of the railing. It must pass for what
it is worth.
The reader no doubt is tired, and as
Gilpin says, so are we. But there is
still a long winded note upon the word
fic<,$iw\*r?i, of which the least that can be
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
529
said is— Dr. Roche, and his authorities,
make nothing-. Mr. Younge is quoted as
calling " deep-breasted," a most disagree-
able image, and to be sure it is, if it mean
hanging like an Hottentot's. But really
so fond as he is of accumulating names,
he might have made room for the Bishop
of Chester's, whose opinion is at least as
much entitled to attention as most of those
he enumerates. We have not Dr. Bloom-
field's books at hand, but he thinks, if we
recollect rightly, /3a^t/^wvo;, and ^a-%xoX9ro?,
have pretty much the some meaning —
whether correctly or not is not to the
purpose — and that meaning he expresses,
as a mantua-maker might, long-waisted.
We must now leave the book — the good
and the bad — for those who have more
patience, and more learning than our-
selves.
The Glorious Recovery by the Vaudois
of their Valleys, by Henry Arnaud —
Edited by H. D. Acland; 1827.— Mr.
Sims, Mr. Gilly, and Mr. Acland himself
may, by their several publications, be
thought to have exhausted the subject of
the Vaudois ; but Mr. Acland has, how-
ever, produced another goodly octavo — -
aided by the common arts of book-making
— not that the volume before us is alto-
gether superfluous, but it inclines us to
murmur a little, because it plainly is not
conclusive. Another book becomes indis-
pensable to put the whole mass of scat-
tered information iuto something like
order.
Mr. Jones's History stops at the expul-
tion of the Vaudois in 1686 — he being un-
able to trace them and their history any
farther. The present occupants of the
Valleys he considers to be a new race —
not descended from the ancient posses-
sors ; but he grounds his opinion not on
historical facts, but on some fanciful in-
terpretation of the Apocalypse, and on an
assumed difference in the tenets of the
ancient and modern Vaudois. Arguments
of this kind, however, will satisfy few
readers now-a-days. The facts of the
expulsion of the Vaudois in 1686, and of
their return, or at least of a considerable
number, in 1689, are as well established
as any historical matter can well be by
cotemporary authority and uninterrupted
tradition.
A narrative actually exists, written by
Henry Arnaud, the chief pastor of the
Vaudois, and the military leader of the
enterprize, in which they recovered pos-
session of their old quarters. This narra-
tive Mr. Acland has translated and re-
published, preceded by a sketch of their
history, by himself, from Claude of Turin,
professedly, to the expulsion, in 1686, by
the Duke of Savoy, but in reality stop-
ping short at 1664. Arnaud's narrative
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 23.
of the « rentree glorieuse," is followed by
another sketch of their subsequent his-
tory to the present time. So that this
volume which, one way or other, was to
exhibit a view, more or less detached, of
their whole history, after all leaves out
this conspicuous event, and we must refer
for it to other volumes — particularly to
one Boyer's work, which was, it seems,
translated and abridged by a person of
quality, 1692.
To that work Henri Arnand himself ap-
parently refers, and states: —
That the able author has exposed the cruelties
»)>• which 14,000 Vaudois, imprisoned, in violation
of the written promise of a prince of the house of
Savoy, were reduced to a remnant of 3,000, who,
more like spectres than men, were at last released
by his royal highness of Savoy, and allowed to re-
tire to Switzerland only in virtue of a treaty with,
the Protestant cantons. He has also so feelingly
painted the arrival of these moving skeletons at
Geneva, that I feel grateful for being spared a de-
scription which I could not have dwelt on without
abandoning myself too much to grief. The Gene-
vese vied with each other in taking to their houses
the most wretched of these exi'es, and carried
many of them in their arms from the frontier,
where they went to meet them. Some arrived only
to die, and others scarcely in time to be susceptible
of assistance. These were put in a state to follow
their countrymen who had previously been reco-
vered, and who, after being clothed according to
their wants, had already proceeded to Switzerland,
in performance, on their part, of a treaty, many
articles of which had been violated towards them.
In February 1687, they had all arrived
in the Swiss Protestant cantons, chiefly in
that of Berne, where subsistence was
kindly afforded them. But, restless, and
pining for home again, they made two un-
successful attempts to return, the last of
which was productive of almost fatal con-
sequences to their wishes. The Duke of
Savoy was put on his guard, and augment-
ed his garrisons-, and the Bernois, to ex-
culpate themselves from the charge of aid-
ing the attempt, compelled them to quit
the canton. A proposal was made to them
to emigrate to Brandeburgh; but, still
holding to their resolution of returning to
their vallies, they objected to the distance.
At length they embarked on the Aar
for Zurich and Schaffhausen, intending,
some of them, to go onward to Wirtena-
berg, where a grant of lands had been,
made them. Unwilling, however, to sepa-
rate, they solicited permission to winter
(1687-8) in Zurich and Schaffhausen, and
obtained it chiefly by the interposition of
the Genevese, and the protection of Eng-
land and Holland, from the latter of which
countries they received 92,000 crowns.
But this sum would not last for ever ; and
the poor Vaudois were again urged to ac-
cept the offers of the Elector of Brand -n-
burgh, which they peremptorily refused.
3 Y
530
Monthly Review of Literature,
[Nov.
The Swiss were now deeply offended at
the obstinacy of people who had not
a farthing to bless themselves wilh, and
finally forced them to sign an instrument
promising to go wherever they were or-
dered. This instrument Arnaud himself
signed, with a protest against an act ex-
torted by violence. Eight hundred, how-
ever, determined to comply, and they
•were accordingly conducted to Berlin,
and kindly welcomed by the Elector. The
rest, compelled to find new places of
abode, spread about the Grisons, the
frontiers of Wirtemberg; and some parts
of the palatinate were assigned by the
Elector, who was anxious to re-people
his desolated territories. But soon the
advance of the French compelled the new
settlers to abandon their new-sown lands
to escape falling into their hands ; and
again flinging themselves upon the mercy
and protection of the Swiss, they were
again hospitably received by that generous
people.
In the meanwhile, Arnaud, in company
•with a Vaudois captain, Batiste Besson,
proceeded to Holland, to communicate
with the Prince of Orange, who listened
to their statements, applauded their re-
solve to attempt a recovery of their homes,
and exhorted them to keep the Vaudois
together. On his return, measures were
forthwith adopted to carry their views
into effect. Taught by their former fai-
lures, they conducted the matter with the
utmost secrecy ; and so well did they
manage their plans, that their whole force
was in motion towards the point of ren-
dezvous, before the subordinate indivi-
duals knew of the purpose immediately in
view — and neither were the Bernois able
to throw any obstacles in the way of their
departure, nor was the Duke of Savoy at
all aware of their purpose. The Vaudois
assembled in a large forest in the Pays de
Vaud, between Nion and Rolle. About
8 or 900 had there assembled, and were
waiting anxiously for the arrival of some
from the extremities of Switzerland, who,
to the number of 120, were unhappily in-
tercepted by the envoy of Savoy, who had
got intelligence of their route. Of this
event the party in the forest were igno-
rant j but, weary of delay, and fearful of
discovery, they determined on crossing
the lake. This, however, was not effected
without disaster and treachery. When
all had crossed, they divided into nineteen
companies, of which six were foreigners,
chiefly from Languedoc and Dauphiny — .
Protestant exiles of France, after the re-
vocation of Nantes. Arnaud, whom they
styled their patriarch, commanded. They
lost no time in commencing their march —
seizing in their way the priests and gen-
tlemen as hostages, and employing their
authority in procuring provisions-— ex-
posed every hour to the attack of foes, or
the treacheries of friends — compelled, from
the sroallness of their numbers, to butcher
the captives, whom they would willingly
have spared — crossing the great and little
Mont Cenis, amidst difficulties and dan-
gers not to be described — losing each
other in the fogs, or the windings of the
hills, but luckily reassembling on the
eighth day just in time to repel an attack
of Savoyards who occupied the heights —
pouring down rocks upon them — and on
the eleventh reached Balsille, the first
village in St. Martin's, one of their own.
vallies. Embarrassments thickened upon
them ; and events come too rapid to be
here enumerated ; but the writer details
them day by day to the thirty-first, the
3d of October; after which his narrative
proceeds with less particularity to the end
of October, when the French, compelled
by the harassings of their enemy and the
rigours of the season, to quit the heights
of St. Martin, bade the Vaudois expect
them again the next spring.
By this time the Vaudois were reduced
to 400 ; but these through the winter en-
joyed comparative quiet, and found abun-
dance around them. In April of the fol-
lowing year came again the French, and
terms of surrender were offered, which
they indignantly rejected, claiming the
vallies as their birth-right. Balsi, the last
point of attack the year before, was again
assailed ; 10,000 French troops, and 12,000
Savoyards, were witnesses. 500 picked
men made the assault. Covered by their
main body, they gallantly gained the first
barricade of trees, but were unible to
pass it. The Vaudois opened a vigorous
fire upon them. Confusion followed. The
Vaudois rushed in upon them, and cut
them all, with the exception of ten or
twelve, to pieces. On the 10th, the siege
of Balsi was again resumed ; and on the
14th the grand attack was prepared.
Luckily — providentially, the narrator
says, a sudden mist wrapt the hill in
obscurity, and at the moment when death
seemed staring them in the face, they
escaped ; and not till two hours after day-
break the next morning were they disco-
vered ascending, by steps cut in the snow,
up the Guignevert. The detachment sent
in pursuit was routed by them with little
loss to themselves. More pursuits, more
escapes, more successes followed, too nu-
merous to detail, when, early in June — •
just as new perils seemed likely to crush
them, arrived the news of a war declared
against France; which rescued the Vau-
dois, and soon gave them an opportunity
of signalizing their loyalty to their recon-
ciled sovereign.
The narrative of Arnaud here closes.
In the war between the Confederates and
Louis, their conduct more than once com-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
631
manded the applause of Eugene. They
•were formed into one regiment, com-
manded by their own officers. In 1694,
our King William gave Arnaud a regi-
ment, and a company to his brother. Ar-
naud himself ended his days, at the age
of 80, at Schouberg, in the Duchy of Wir-
temborg, not being allowed to live and
die on his native soil. In 1706, Victor
Amadeus took refuge among the Vaudois,
when a fugitive from his capital, besieged
by the Duke of Orleans. In 1726, two
years before his death, he received their
oath of allegiance, and promised them
security in their vallies, but at the same
time diminished their boundaries, and
banished those who were not born within
the limits. The Vallenses of Wirtemberg
are the descendants of these exiles — these
victims of treacherous ingratitude. From
this period to the usurpation of Piedmont
"by the French, the Vaudois were only dis-
tinguishable for resignation to an oppres-
sive government, and adherence to their
faith. " With Napoleon's empire a gleam
of prosperity (says Mr. Acland) passed
over the Vallies. The Vaudois were re-
stored to their civil rights. But on the
replacing of the old regime the old severi-
ties were resumed; and they are now
again excluded from office^ civil and mili-
tary— compelled to serve as soliliers, but
cannot rise above the rank of serjeant ; as
attornies and apothecaries only can they
practise in law and physic, and this prac-
tice must be confined to their own vallies ;
the holidays of the Romish calendar must
be observed by them ; their pastors are
depi'ived of their additional salaries; they
may build neither churches nor presby-
teries without special permission ; they
are allowed no printing presses; and a
duty, amounting to prohibition, is laid on
bibles and books of instruction; correspon-
dence with foreign clergy is forbidden ;
the very ties of nature are dissolved, for
children may be taken from their parents
to be converted from the faith of their
fathers; and marriages between a Vaudois
and a Romanist be annulled at the will of
the Romanist — in short, it is the old code
of England inflicted upon Ireland in its
worst stage of severity."
A dozen engravings of the scenery of
the Vallies, beautifully executed, accom-
pany and adorn Mr. Acland's volume — of
his own drawing.
The Nullity of the Roman Faith, #c.,
lij the Rev. I. Garbett, M.A. ; 1827.— The
world must, and of course will, get on as
well as it can ; but the truth is, there is
too much liberty among individuals to suf-
fer sound policy to pursue its own wisest
course. Every witling must have his opi-
nions, and crude and ill-timed as they may
be, must publish, or — though probably
himself a mighty stickler for authority —
public liberty is infringed. For our own
parts we sometimes think a little restric-
tion would be very usefully applied, par-
ticularly upon theological controversy—-
we think so, not merely as reviewers —
for that nobody will doubt — but as friends
of the best interests and moral progress
of men. With respect to Catholicism, the
effectual mode of extinguishing its autho-
rity in Protestant countries would be to
leave it to itself— take no notice whatever
of it, and soon no notice would be left to
be taken of it, except to record its former
existence as an historical remembrance.
And no notice, we are persuaded, would
in our days be taken of it, were it not for
the Protestant clergy, who are worked
upon by too many motives to keep their
tongues and their pens still. Among some
of them exists a sort of hereditary and
unreasoning terror of the Catholic power,
cherished by the records of Smithfield —
among others perhaps a fixed belief of the
rampant ambition inherent in the hierarchy
of Rome, and the consequent necessity of
stedfastly watching her outbreaks, gather-
ed not from the actual conduct of that
church in our own limes, but from the
course of professional study and limited
reading — among some a thirst for exhi-
biting their sagacity in research, and their
dexterity in debate— among others, a lurk-
ing apprehension the revenues of their own.
church are in danger — while among others,
more cunning than candid, the corrup-
tions of Rome prove an excellent stalking
horse to their own personal ambition ; and
we verily believe there is no surer method
for the unbeneficed to catch the smiles of
their ecclesiastical superiors than display-
ing their zeal against popery.
By which of these, or of other motires,
of equal value, the writer before us is in-
fluenced, we presume not to determine —
by one or other, or more of them, there
can be little doubt — for convinced are we,
were a man at once sane, honest, and en-
lightened, he would never again stir up
tha controversy — he would waive it as
superfluous, or spurn it as worthless, or
shrink from it as an impertinent interfe-
rence with the prejudices of his fellows,
Or abandon it from despair of grappling
successfully with the stubbornness of per-
sonal interests. For ourselves we are sick
of the controversy. The one party argue
like lawyers — to have and to hold— and
the other are fools enough to take up the
argument on the same ground. The
Church of Rome claims infallibility. The
Protestant, instead of looking solely to
the foundations of the claim, goes cack-
ling about, searching for instances of
practical fallibility, and at every petty
3 Y ?
Mouthy Review of Literature,
discorery, discovered a thousand times,
crows in ecstacies, as if the victoty were
won. The argument of the Romanist is —
to take Mr. Garbett's exhibition of it —
The Church of Rome cannot err, there-
fore she has not erred. To this the true
mode of replying would be to ask — why
she cannot err? — and if she cannot give a
satisfactory answer, to reject without cere-
mony her claim. But Mr. Garbett, like
other gabblers, we were going to say,
prefers a different one. His reply is — (he
loves the •« Stoici conclusiuncalse") — she
may err, because she has erred, and there-
upon he sets to, zealously and vigorously
to shew that she has thus erred — erred in
her doctrines and discipline— in her re-
lations at home, and her connexions abroad
-—erred, particularly, as to Transubstan-
tiation, communion in one kind, in the
sacrifice of the mass, in that of penance,
in indulgences, in purgatory, in the invo-
cation of saints and angels, ia the adora-
tion of images, in being idolaters, schisma-
tic and heretical.
Of all these errors he produces his
proofs in a series of dialogues between
Orthodox and Philodox. Orthodox is of
course Mr. Garbett himself, the champion
of the Church of England, and Philodox
is — not a Catholic, but a sort of bottle-
holder to his fellow dialoguist, who, when
Orthodox has fought his round, or has
exhausted his powers, supplies a fillip,
and by a timely suggestion either of some
forgotten objection, or of some fresh to-
pic, prepares him again for the scratch.
Orthodox of course floors his man — has
indeed the best of every round — carries
it all his own way like a bull in a china-
shop ; and one is surprised to see the
fight hold out so long — only that we know
the pugilist must have an opportunity of
shewing all his skill. His opponent, in-
deed, is but an air-drawn figure, which
any weapon can cut in two, though it can-
not prevent the coalescing again.
But seriously, the volume contains no-
thing new — nor is any thing new to be
expected from another with which we are
indirectly threatened. The writer, in-
deed, recommends his book, not for its
novelty — God wot — but for conveniently
bringing together what is elsewhere too
much scattered to be readily accessible to
every reader; but we believe, without
trouble, we might name eight or ten vo-
lumes, each of which embraces every
point of the whole controversy. The ge-
neral tone however of the composition is
rather moderate than otherwise, and that
is some merit — the writer merely loses
his temper j and when he does, he rents
his indignation, and covers his vitupera-
tions in the vigorous language of scrip-
ture, without trusting the promptings of
his own spirit. The matter occasionally
[Nov.
is put smartly and logically enough, but
as dialogues, never were any more dream-
ing— never was any thing a greater mis-
nomer.
Heraldic Notices of Canterbury Cathe-
dral, with Genealogical and Topographi-
cal Notes, by Thomas Willement; 1827. —
Mr. Willement, who designates himself
" heraldic artist to His Majesty," is, we
believe, favourably known by his " Ar-
morial Insignia of the Kings and Queens
of England from Coeval Authorities."
Judging from the present performance, he
is not a mere man of shields and symbols,
but plainly regarding them with the eye
of a rational antiquary as matters sub-
sidiary to historical accuracy. In search
of original authorities to illustrate family
genealogy, he has visited the Cathedral
of Canterbury, which he finds rich in
these matters beyond all comparison, af-
fording cotemporary evidence of the arms
of almost every family of every rank in
the kingdom, entitled to use them in the
14th and 15th centuries.
This superb edifice, to the credit of the
Dean and Chapter, has for some years
been repairing, or rather restoring — of
which Mr. Willement, in his performance,
deservedly speaks in high terms of pane-
gyric. " The heraldic embellishments,"
he says, " have been carefully attended
to, in the admirable restoration of this
magnificent cathedral, which has so rapid-
ly advanced under the superior taste and
intelligence of the present dean (the pre-
sent Bishop of Carlisle) j an undertaking
not merely confined to the careful removal
of those dis-figuring coats of colour, which
had for years accumulated on its beautiful
enrichments, but embracing substantial
and scientific repair, in the most impor-
tant and difficult points. Some of the
shields on the bosses of the nave were
found totally defaced. On these have
been sculptured armorial bearings apper-
taining to the present dignitaries of the
church— of one of which, Lord Nelson's
(a prebendary of Canterbury), in another
place, he adds, with great propriety —
the contrast between the elaborate intri-
cacy of this modern coat, and the simpli-
city of the earlier ones that surround it,
is particularly striking, and says but lit-
tle for the heraldic taste of these later
times.
Nearly, if not quite, 1,100 shields are
" blazoned," we believe the phrase is — •
described that is — in this volume — some
few of which are cut in wood, and four
vases are very tastefully and effectively
engraved on copper. Among the notes
subjoined to the blazoning, occur matters
of no inconsiderable curiosity — particu-
larly on the origin of the Prince of Wales's
feathers. The common story is, as every
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
533
body knows, that they were worn by John
of Bohemia, who perished in the field of
Cressy, and the motto of " Ich Dien " is
referred to the act of his serving that day
in the army of the French king. The
feathers and the motto, for no assignable
reason, nor with any intelligible pro-
priety, were adopted by the Black Prince,
as his own cognizance. The story ori-
ginates with William of Walsingham — not
a cotemporary writer, but posterior by a
full century — that is, Walsingham "s his-
tory is the earliest in which the matter is
mentioned. Objections have been started
against the accuracy of this account, on
the grounds that John of Bohemia's known
crest was not these feathers, but the ex-
panded wing of an eagle — and that these
feathers were not peculiar to the prince's
cognizance, but were well known to be
used by other members of the royal fa-
mily. Other sources have accordingly
been sought for ; and Randle Holmes, in a
MS. preserved in the Harleiau collections,
asserts, that these same feathers were the
ensign of the Welch, and that when the
King of England's eldest son was made
Prince of Wales, he assumed the feathers,
and added the "Ich Dien" to indicate
that though a Prince in Wales, he was still
a subject of the crown of England. And
then to account in some measure for the
old story of the King of Bohemia, he adds,
" the prince took the king's crown, and
added it to his own Welch feathers." The
story wants authority — particularly whe-
ther the Welch ever knew any thing them-
selves about ostrich feathers. But refer-
ring to the minute directions given in the
prince's will, respecting the array of his
funeral obsequies, it is ordered, that on
the arrival of his corpse at Canterbury, it
should be preceded by deux destrez (armed
chargers) coverts de nos armes, et deux
homes armer de nos armes et in nos
heaumes ; c'est assavoir, Pun par la
guerre, de nos armes sentiers quartellez;
et 1'autre pur la paix, de nos bages des
plumes d'ostruce. " From this distinction,"
observes Mr. Willement, " it is highly
probable that it may hereafter be disco-
vered, that the cognizance of the ostrich
feathers took its origin, not from the victory
of Cressy, or any other martial achieve-
ment, but from some pacific event; or, as
it was also used by his collateral rela-
tives, it might have borne a genealogical
reference."
Among the shields in the undercroft of
the cathedral (which by the way, as an
antiquarian friend of ours, and a towns-
man, assures us, is not, as Mr. Willement
describes it, under the nave, but under
the choir and Trinity Chapel) is that of
John Holland, Duke of Exeter. la a note
Mr. W. adds—
The duke died in 1447, and was buried in the
church of St. Katharine, near the Tower of Lon-
don, where his monument existed until the recent
demolition of that church. The greatest care has,
however, been taken of the several parts, and it is
gratifying to learn that they will be again erected,
and the deficiencies supplied in the new collegiate
church, now in progress in the Regent's Park,
from the elegant designs of Mr. Poynter.
In the cloisters is a boss with an eagle
with wings expanded, standing on a child,
and an escutcheon on the right wing,
charged with the arms of the Isle of
Man:—
The device of the eagle and child appears to have
originated from a legendary account of a male in-
fant having been discovered in an eagle's nest, and
adopted by Sir William Latham, of Latham, circ.
Edward II. The foundling, who took the same
name, left an only daughter and heir, Isabella,
whobeeame the wife of Sir John, the second son of
Wm. Stanley, of Stanley. He was seated at La-
tham, in the county of Lancaster, which he held in
right of his wife ;• and this may account for his
placing her arms in the first quarter. Among
other high offices, he was appointed to the Lord
Lieutenancy of Ireland, was steward of the house-
hold to Henry IV. and on the forfeiture of the Earl
of Northumberland, obtained a grant in fee of the
Isle of Man. He held likewise the constableship
of Windsor Castle, and was elected a knight of the
most noble Order of the Garter. There can be lit-
tle doubt, from the date of the cloisters, that the
bearings on the above boss appertained to this
individual. He died at Ardee, in Ireland, 6 Jan.
1414, and was ancestor to the Stanleys, Earls of
Derby.
On the Nobility of the British Gentry,
and on the Political Ranks and Dignities
of the British Empire, compared with those
of the Continent. By Sir James Lawrence,
Knight of Malta.— The gentry of England
are indebted to the Chevalier Lawrence for
this little work, which treats a dry subject in
an amusing and interesting way. The Cheva-
lier appears to be deeply versed in genealogy ;
and, if this was an age for tournaments, no
doubt he would turn his abilities to good ac-
count ; happily, however, for the present
generation, a man is valued rather for his
own deeds, than the fame of his ancestors ;
and although due honour should be given to
the descendants of those who, in a former day
have contributed to the welfare of their coun-
try, and rendered illustrious the land of their
birth, yet, we must never forget that high
rank, and exalted station, involve a duty to
perform, rather than a privilege to enjoy.
With this view, we confess some little indif-
ference for the claims of those who have
retrogaded from vthe eminence of their fore-
fathers, the best means of regaining which,
would be to imitate Sterne's Marquis, and
restore the dignity of their name by a life of
usefulness and activity. Here, blood is but
a sorry pretext for distinction ; and it is with
some little satisfaction we remind the Che-
534
Monthly Review of Literature.
[Nov.
valier of the oW opinion of Englishmen, with
reference to the rank of foreigners —
" A French Count, an Italian Prince, a Spanish
Grandee,
A British yeoman is worth them all three."
and we doubt not but] our young heiresses
will soon discover the truth of this illustra-
tion. Some few, indeed, of weak minds, and
credulous dispositions, may be led away by
the false glare of titles they do not under-
stand, and to such as these we earnestly re-
commend this little book as a traveller's vade
mecum, during their next autumn on the
Rhine, or winter in Italy. Needy adven-
turers are plentiful in all countries, and mar-
quisats are as easily attached to the name
as mustachios to the lip. The author's ad-
vice, therefore, to have nothing to do with
any foreigners, who* are not introduced by
their ambassador, is invaluable, and may save
many a youthful and ambitious aspirant for
rank from misery and disappointment. We
do not think it necessary to enter into a dis-
cussion of the relative claims of nobility and
gentility. We are perfectly satisfied with
the station allotted to each in their own coun-
try, and we do not believe that either have
occasion to grumble at their reception
abroad, when their pockets are in a condi-
tion to pay for the respect they require.
Those who cannot afford to pay, must e'en
submit to the common neglect of poverty,
and console themselves with Paddy's ditty,
" When I'm rich I rides in chaises," &c.
MONTHLY THEATRICAL REPORT.
THE summer theatres closed with eclat.
The Haymarket had the good fortune to
produce two of the smartest translations
from the French that we remember. " The
Bride at Fifty," by Kenny's rapid, and
certainly dextrous turn for adaptation,
was remarkably effective. The burlesque
of late marriages was easily understood,
and slightly as the allusion might have
been made to the opulent lady who was
so conspicuously in the predicament of
the heroine, it was sufficiently piquant to
secure popularity to this pleasant little
production. Cooper's performance of the
rakish husband was very amusing, and it
might be reckoned among the proofs of
how little the stage is the « mirror of
life," that his vice improved his reputa-
tion, that his drunkenness did credit to
his judgment, and that he never appeared
to more advantage than when he would
have deserved to be sent to Coventry by
all mankind.
" The Rencontre," translated and adapt-
ed by Planche, was similarly successful :
without the force and immediate applica-
tion of the " Bride at Fifty," it had supe-
rior grace. There was a want of charac-
ter in the personages, but it was made up
by the happy interest of the plot. It had
the advantage of being admirably acted,
and we would advise those who desired
to see Farren, Vestris, and Miss Tree
in their happiest talent, to see them
in « The Rencontre." This piece does
great credit to Planche, and, we hope, will
encourage him to transplant more of the
pretty and ingenious dramas ofthe "Opera
Comique."
The winter theatres opened with a
strong determination to struggle for po-
pularity. But it has always, to us, seemed
surprising, that to this bold determination,
which commences every year, and with-
out which they must perish, they add so
little of the obvious means of success.
Both theatres have now been open a
month, and in Drury-Iane but one new
performance has been presented, and in
Covent-garden nothing. The ill conse-
quence of this tardiness is palpable in the
thinness of the houses. Yet every man
who knows London, knows that there are
every night, of even its thinnest season,
ten thousand individuals who would be
rejoiced to find any theatre open, in which
they might have a chance of amusement
for the evening. It is said that the
Londoners are not attracted by the
theatre, and that the chief audience are
strangers. But the stage coaches bring
into London, every day of the year, thou-
sands of people, who have, for the most
part, no resource for the evenings of their
remaining in the capital but the tavern or
the theatre, and who would chuse the
latter alternative, in ten instances to one,
if the performances were new, and tolerably
attractive.
But nothing can be more unfounded than
the idea that the Londoners are not fond
of the theatre— give them something that
catches the public taste, and they crowd
the house; but they will not go to the
perpetual repetitions of old plays, to see
even our ablest actors for ever in the same
parts — to be bored with heavy melotlrame,
or have their ears and eyes equally ex-
hausted by the horrors of dull debutantes
in exploded tragedies.
This plan has been adopted long enough,
and has shewn its weakness by its failure.
The old system of putting off the public
with every kind of weariness until the
meeting of Parliament, is made to fail, for
it is founded upon a total disregard ofthe
1827.]
Monthly Theatrical Report.
changes of society. Fifty years ago the
higher orders led the public tastes — the
presence of stars and garters was essential
even to dramatic fortune, and the play
which ventured forth without a handsome
display of diamonds and feathers in the
side boxes, was pronounced good for no-
thing at once. But those times are past,
the higher orders lead no public taste— •
they are directors of nothing but stupid
routesand exclusive balls, fashionable mar-
ket places for the disposal of heirs and
heiresses. The world knows but little
about them, or they about the world — the
little that is known is not good, and
another class of society, a much more in-
telligent, accomplished, active, and useful
race, have altogether thrown the " privi-
leged" into the back ground. With the
young nobility, dandies, and profligates ;
theirseniors, gamblersand victims to pride,
poverty and the gout; intrigue and insi-
pidity among their women ; and general
indolence and fastidious foolery the cha-
racteristic of the whole ; we may leave
them to the unenvied possession of titles
which, to their great majority, are but a
reproach ; and opulence, when real, often
made worthless by its abuse, yet full as
often empty and nominal as their virtues.
The middle classes of society have so
totally superseded those feeble holders of
distinction, that the only individuals of the
nobility who retain any true rank, retain
it on the claim of adopting the habits,
knowledge, and intellectual vigour of
those classes. We may thus disregard the
supercilious distance which such unleading
leaders may be pleased to interpose be-
tween themselves and the better mind of
England, and follow the course of our
public tastes, without knowing or caring
at what hour it may please a duchess to
dine, or a noble marquess to leave his faro
table.
The result of all this change should be
a conviction on the mind of every man
who provides for the public intellectual
gratification, that the opinions of the " very
first world" — the starred and gartered, the
elite of the creation, are utterly insignifi-
cant— that he has no occasion to trouble
his soul with the columns of the Morning
Post, announcing the return or departure
of their lordships from London and duns —
that the dinner hour in Portman-square
may be forgotten among his calculations
of popularity, and that whether my lord is
a subscriber to the Paudemonium in St.
James's-street, or to the more select and not
less plundering associations of St. James's-
square, is a matter with which he has no
more concern than with the discovery of
the Pole.
Yet with this knowledge feelingly im-
pressed upon every fibre of managers, re-
peated night after night iu the visages of
treasurers, and echoed by every form of
public communication, managers will per-
sist in " reserving their force," as they call
it, for the fortunate months of spring,
when ladies may walk in Kensington Gar-
dens, and therefore must go to the play.
We wish these men would take the trouble
of ascertaining, for their own edification,
how many noble families see one play a
piece in the course of the season. We
wish they would make the still more va-
luable experiment of how many families of
the middle classes might be attracted by a
vigorous exertion of the whole means of
the theatre at the commencement of the
season. If Mr. Kenny is to produce his
translation at all, let it be ready before a
single fiddler breaks the summer silence
of the house. If Mr. Poole teems with
farce, let him teem in time. If the other
habitual authors of the theatre are to give
their efforts, let them be called on at once ;
the idea of reserving the manager's
strength for the fulness of the town, is ab-
surd. Let it be exerted at the time when,
its exertion is most required by the thin-
ness of the town, if London can be consi-
dered thin, and a single experiment will,
we have no doubt, settle the question in.
favour of the old maxim, that the first
blow is half the battle.
We give Drury-lane, however, credit
for having made an attempt to strike the
first blow, and that, too, a home one. The
introduction of young Kean was an excel-
lent ruse, if it was no more. Of course the
manager never dreamed that the son would
supersede the father, nor that the public
would care sixpence whether lie did or not.
But no expedient could have been more
ingeniously conceived to divide the public
attention, and none could have more ef-
fectually succeeded. No man alive <:an
play more impressively than Kean, the
father, when he chooses. Yet the Shylocks
and Richards have been paralysed by the
Norval. Comparison between the actors
would be idle. But the effect has been,
wrought, and the elder Kean talks in a pet
about abandoning the ungrateful stage,
and leaving the ungrateful public to find
out his equal when he is gone. Whether
this resolution be more than the fever of
the moment, must depend on caprice ; but,
for the sake of those who desire to see
Shakspeare represented on our stage, we
hope that Kean's caprice will be brought to
reason by that golden persuasion which
shakes the resolutions even of the most
angry among actors and men.
Young Kean has figured for a few nights
in Norval, a part long exhausted, never
good for much beyond the display of school
boys, at a Christmas breaking-up, and
now tiresome beyond endurance. His
Ackmet was probably a more fortunate
character ; but the public will not be per-
536
Monthly Theatrical Report.
[Nov.
suaded that either " Douglas" or « Barba-
rossa" is worth seeing. The tragedies of
that day were of an order which nothing
but capital acting, novelty, and public pre-
judice, stirred up by the peculiar circum-
stances of the time, could render popular.
The adventitious charm is past, and no-
thing remains but the wonder how any
charm could have sustained the natural
heaviness of the material. The single
conclusion is, that no acting which we
can discover on the living stage, will sus-
tain exhausted mediocrity. We will say
more, that even Shakspeare sinks, by eter-
nal repetition ; and that every time that our
leading actors appear in his plays, draws
more largely on the patience of the public.
Who goes to see "Hamlet?" the finest
dramatic conception in the world. Empty
benches echo the magnificent eloquence of
Macbeth ; Richard calls " to horse," in the
presence of a pitfull of half-sleeping ap-
prentices j and Shylock breathes fiery pas-
sion, to the admiration of an audience of
orange women. Are we never to see a
great tragedy again ? Is comedy to be all
French, and all farce? Is melo-drame to
perplex us with doubt whether we are in
a theatre or in the Old Bailey?
The performances at Drury Lane, have,
however, not wanted the advantage of
variety. A succession of comedies, fa-
vourites in their day, and with no demerit
greater than this, that their day is past
(nor a greater could they have), appear
nightly. Dowton, Jones, Miss Tree, Miss
Paton, Braham, and Liston, all excellent,
appear perpetually. And if a man could rise
from some sleep of a century, he would
be delighted by the succession. But, un-
fortunately, we have not been indulged
•with that valuable receipt for novelty — a
hundred times told play is as bad as a
twice told jest, and both are intolerable.
The principal comedy has been " The
Cure for a Heartach," in which Liston
figured as the old tailor, and Jones as the
young. Nothing could be better than the
actors, as nothing could be worse than
the parts. Singular a portion of the cre-
ation, as tailors may make, two such
tailors never existed, and could never
have existed, but in the monster-breeding
brain of their author. Incongruity upon
incongruity, affected phrase, extravagant
sentimentality, and the dullest of all dull
humour, make up this patch-work of cha-
racter ; and the actor, if he were Garrick
and Shakspeare in one, must be broken
down under the merciless weight of this
thing of gaiety.
The " Illustrious Stranger," a burlesque
founded on the French trifle, adapted by
Planche, " You must be Buried," has
been played a few nights on the strength
of Liston's popularity. It contains some
humourous situations. Listou's grotesque
style makes the populace laugh, and the
piece lingers on.
The " Hypocrite" has been played for
the ad vantage of Listen's Mawworm. No-
thing can be more perfect than his con-
ception of this repulsive and ridiculous
character. But the play is altogether un-
popular, and its unpopularity does credit
to the public taste. The ridicule that was
meant for French fanaticism, a hundred
years ago, might have been pleasantly
transferrd to English fanaticism fifty years
ago ; but the occasion has died away ;
fanaticism stalks no more among us. The
field preachers are a past generation,
they are married, have roofs over their
heads, fleece their congregations according
to law, wash their faces, and wear breeches
like the sinners of mankind. Whitfield
terrifies the sacred bench no more, and
Wesley, with his face of saintship, and
his little ambitious heart, the infallible of
free consciences, the pope of methodism,
runs his annual round no more preaching
and pence-collecting to the extremities of
the empire. We might as well laboriously
burlesque the Roundheads of 1648, or
write down Jack of Leyden.
The moral of the " Hypocrite" is past,
but the offence remains. The language of
piety and purity is contaminated by the
lips by which it is uttered. We see a
gross attempt at seduction carried on be-
fore the audience, insults to maiden deli-
cacy and matronly virtue urged to an
offence, which almost makes the author
as culpable as the vice which he stigma-
tizes; and a lesson of corruption adminis-
tered under the mask of a defence of
principle. The play has another grand
defect, which fortunately prevents its evil
on any large scale. It is dull, nothing
can be more fatiguing than its gravity,
except its humour, and nothing more cal-
culated to repel the audience than its
grossness, except its attempts at ingenious
satire.
The other performances, " She Stoops
to Conquer," " The Slave," " The Lord of
the Manor," &c., have introduced no no-
velty, except Jones's Young Marlow, and
Young Contrast, both excellent. The
embarrassment of Young Marlow, which
in other hands is generally a clumsy cari-
cature, is rendered probable by the actor's
dexterity. The idea is extravagant, and
ill managed by Goldsmith ; and the most
timid man that ever had eyes, would not
have used them as the hero is intended to
do in this comedy. But this fault rests on
a head that can bear it well. Jones's
dandy 'squire is capital : utter effeminacy,
feebleness of mind, and affectation of
manner, were never better delineated.
Braham has appeared with his habitual
popularity ; and Miss Paton with a rather
enfeebled voice, but her taste aud talent
.1827.]
Monthly Theatrical Report;
537
cannot be shaken by casual illness, and
we may look to her speedily taking the
lead again.
Poole brings out immediately his trans-
lation, which had been superseded by
Kenny's. The title is nearly the same,
« The Wealthy Widow ;" probably with
the same intentional allusion; — we will
hope with the same success.
" Alfred," a musical melo-drame, is
about to appear at Govent Garden.
The English Theatre in Paris, contrary
to all expectation, is likely to succeed.
Abbot's intelligence and good manners
make him highly adapted for a manager.
A succession of English tragedies and
comedies are rapidly brought out : to the
French they are all new; and popular
caprice, the goddess of the Parisians,
carries all the world to be enraptured.
. On the whole, the only performance
which has attracted even a brief popula-
rity, has been "The Thirty Years of a
Gambler's Life ;" a frightful exhibition of
the misery and ruin in which this atrocious
vice plunges its victims. It has powerful
parts, but is too painful for the stage.
PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.
INSTITUTE — ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.
Paris. — July 23.— M. Arago, in the name
of a commission charged to consider the
means of executing the regulations regard-
ing steam-engines, communicated the expe-
riments made on the subject. M. Girard
detailed the circumstances of the explosion
of a low pressure engine at Amiens. Se-
veral .experiments, instituted by M. Dulanie,
on brome, were stated by M. Arago. M.
Cordier concluded his memoir on the inter-
nal temperature of the. earth. M. Ampere
presented many observations on this me-
moir, and objections against the hypothesis
which forms its base. M. Dutrochet read
some new observations on endormoris and
exormoris, and on the cause of this double
phenomenon. — 30. M. Thenard read a re-
port on part of the M SS. forwarded by the
minister of the interior, and acquired by the
death of M. Preineck, a Prussian, who died
at Amiens : they were considered not worth
the expense of printing. M. de Petit-Thou-
ars made a verbal report on an agricultural
dictionary offered to the Academy, and
presented some claims to what his own re-
searches had established. — August 6. M.
Young was elected foreign member of the
Academy, in the place of the late M. Volta.
M. G. St. Hilaire exhibited a plaster mask,
modelled on the face of a man for whom
Dr. Delpech had made an artificial nose.
This operation was performed in Italy, in
the sixteenth century; then abandoned and
renewed in England, after the manner of
some savage nations ; and lately recom-
menced in France, by Dr. Delpech, who had
succeeded in affording regularity to the fea-
tures. M. G. St. Hilaire presented the head
of a young cameleopard, from which it
was evident that, during its earlier years, the
osseous germ of the horn is separated from
the forehead by a distinct secture, like the
antlers of a stag immediately before they
are shed ; and offered some remarks on the
subject : among others, that, on the horns
of the adult giraffe, some tuberosities may
be seen, which evidently stand in the place
of the antlers of the stag. M. de Candolle
read a memoir on the family of the " No-
dastomees/' M. Stanisles Julien was elected
sublibrarian. MM. Molard and Navier re-
ported on M. Contfs machines, called . a
" Tachygraph and Tachytype.'' The first
of these pieces of mechanism is designed
to print with as much rapidity as words are
delivered in ordinary speaking : the cost of
its construction is estimated at 600 francs
(about tAventy-five pounds sterling) ; and it
was recommended to be undertaken at the
expense of the Academy. — 30. M. de Frey-
cinet made a report on the work of M.
Adrien Balbi, entitled, " Introduction to an
Ethnographic Atlas of the Globe, or Classi-
fication, of the ancient and modern People,
according to their Languages, applied to
many Branches of Human Knowledge."
M. Chevreul read a note on the discovery
of the photenic acid in the orcanette (litho-^
spernum tinetorium). M. G. St. Hilaire
read a memoir on a horse, which had toes
separated by membranes. M. Silvestre read
a report on the second edition of a work by
M. Francceur, entitled, " Instruction ia
Linear Drawing."
M.M. New Scries.— VOL. IV. No.
3 Z
538
[Nov.
VARIETIES, SCIENTIFIC AND MISCELLANEOUS.
Captain Parry'* Expedition. — On the
29ih of September, Captain Parry, having
left the Hecla at Longhope in the Orkneys,
returned to town, accompanied by Mr.
Beverly, the surgeon to the expedition, to
announce the total failure of his last at-
tempt to penetrate to the pole. The inten-
tion of this enterprising navigator was to
have proceeded with the vessel to the
verge of the ice, and then to have crossed
this latter in sledges drawn by reindeer,
so contrived as to serve for boats when-
ever an opening in the ice left the water
clear. At Hammerfest, on the coast of
Lapland, the supply of reindeer, snow-
shoes, &c, was procured ; but, upon arriv-
ing at Spitzbergen, where the vessel was to
have been laid up, the harbour was found
to be closed with ice; and, the Hecla
having got entangled in it, it was not till
May 27 that the boats could be employed,
and the Hecla was left in latitude 81°. 62'.
The ice, however, soon breaking up, to
proceed at this time with the boats was
found impracticable ; and a delay ensued
till the 19th of June, when they succeeded
in penetrating 1°. 39'. more to the north-
ward : but the ice was so rotten, and alto-
gether so different from what they had
been taught to expect, that the passage
over it became indescribably laborious —
the boats, on some occasions, being neces-
sarily unloaded and reloaded twenty times
in a day. No field of ice was found to ex-
tend unbroken more than three miles ; and
at length they found that, owing to a cur-
rent setting to the southward, they were,
after three days of most severe exertion,
and ^describing a distance of eighteen
miles, two miles farther to the southward
than at starting. The reindeer being use-
less, the officers and men were harnessed
to the tackle, and their food only about
nineteen ounces of prepared biscuit-pow-
der, with a pint of warm water per twenty-
four hours. The physical strength, not
the spirits, of the party becoming gradually
exhausted by the hard life they led, and
the obstacles to their progress multiplying
before them, the accomplishment of the
object in view seemed utterly impracti-
cable. When the boats, on their return,
got into an open sea, they were fifty-six
hours pulling under a severe snow-storm,
and the wind occasionally blowing hard j
and, as the scurvy had began to appear,
it was with the greatest difficulty they got
on at all. At length, however, they re-
joined the Hecla, which, during their ab-
sence, had been forced high and dry upon
the coast by the irresistible pressure of the
ice, which a heavy gale had detached :
her cables had been cut, and the anchors
lost. Much valuable time was occupied
in getting her again into the water, which
being effected, they proceeded to Whygatt
Straits — but have returned to this coun-
try, we are happy to add, without the
loss of a single life, and, at the time of
their arrival, only one individual had not
recovered from the effects of their unpa-
ralleled fatigue. The failure of the expe-
dition is to be regretted rather as a disap-
pointment to the hopes of the individuals
engaged, than from any other cause : the
question it involves is one of mere specu-
lative curiosity. In a philosophical point
of view, as well as in a mercantile one, no
possible benefit can result from its solu-
tion j and, while we admire the courage
and ability displayed on the occasion, we
lament that they were not directed to some
more useful object.
Locusts' JE//0S. — The Pacha of Acre
has offered a reward for whatever quan-
tity of locusts' eggs, which are deposited
in the earth, may be brought him, after the
rate of sixteen piastres for each measure.
A letter from Acre states that more than
forty garavas, each containing seventy-
two measures, had already been brought
in— amounting in weight to about 40,000
pounds English, and the value of the re-
ward will exceed 46,000 piastres.
Artificial Leeches. — A French surgeon
has invented a mechanical instrument to
serve as a substitute for leeches. The ad-
vantage consists in withdrawing only the
precise quantity of blood that may be re-
quired, and in occasioning no inflamma-
tion, which frequently results from the
use of the beneficial, but disgusting rep-
tile, the natural leech. It is considered
that, in every climate, and under all cir-
cumstances, this small machine will be
equally efficacious.
Tenacity of Screws. — We inserted some
time since, from the Philosophical Maga-
zine, the result of Mr. Sevan's experi-
ments on the adhesion of nails : the follow-
ing are the results of his experiments on
the force necessary to draw screws of
iron, commonly called wood screws, out of
given depths of wood. The screws were
about 2 inches in length, 0-22 diameter at
the exterior of the threads, 0*15 diameter
at the bottom, the depth of the worm or
thread being 0-035, and the number of
threads in an inch, 12. They were passed
through pieces of wood exactly half an
inch in thickness, and drawn out by the
weights specified in the following table :
—Dry beech, 460 Ibs. ; ditto ditto, 790 j
dry round ash, 790 ; dry oak, 760 5 dry
mahogany, 770 j dry elm, 655 ; dry syca-
more, 830. The weights were extracted
1827.]
Varieties.
539
about two minutes before the screws were
extracted. The force required to draw
similar screws out of deal and the softer
Wood was about half the above. Hence,
as a rule to estimate the full force (f) of
adhesion in hard wood, /=200,00b aclt,
and in soft wood, /=! 00,000 adt ; a being
the diameter of the screw, d the depth of
the worm or thread, and t the thickness of
the wood into which it is forced, all in
inches —f being the force in pounds to ex-
tract the same,
White Monkey.— A. perfectly white
monkey was caught in April at Ramree.
The hair on its body was white, curly, and
soft as silk. The animal was reckoned of
a very rare description ; so much so, as to
excite great wonder and admiration among
the natives, who represented that such a
creature had never but once, to their know-
ledge, been seen in those parts 5 and then
the king of Ava sent down a golden cage,
with a host of people to escort the animal
to the golden presence, and expended, be-
side, 20,000 rupees in sacrifices and public
rejoicings; auguring, from the arrival of
the extraordinary stranger, the most hap-
py presages of good fortune. In the pre-
sent instance, the creature was unfortu-
nately of too young and tender an age
when caught. A Burmese fioman, who
was nursing an infant of her own, request-
ed permission to suckle it, and very fairly
divided her maternal attention between the
two. The auimal lived in apparent good
health and spirits for six days ; buf, whe-
ther it was that its nursing disagreed with
it, or tlvit it was naturally very delicate,
it died on ihe seventh day.
To bronze Statues, Medals, fyc. — Take
of sal-ammoniac, two drachms; of salt of
sorrel, half a drachm. Dissolve them in
half a pint of white wine vinegar; clean
the metal to be bronzed from verdigrise ;
then moisten a brush, by dipping it gently
into the above solution ; rub it continually
on the same place, till the colour becomes
dry, and assumes the depth of shade re-
quired. In order that the dyeing may be
more rapid, this operation is to be per-
formed in the sunshine, or by the heat of
a stove. The oftener it is repeated on the
same place, the deeper proporiionably will
be the colour of the bronze.
Measure of the Arc of a Mean Paral-
lel between tlie Pole and the Equator. —
Under the auspices of Napoleon, it was
proposed in France, as a continuation of
the trigonometrical operations which the
mathemat icians of that country had so ably
executed, to cross several meridians by a
parallel, of which the curvature and the
extent should be determined with pre-
cision. MM. Broussaud and Nicollet, to
whom the completion of the undertaking
was entrusted, have recently given an
account of their proceedings. The diffi-
culties they had to surmount were consi-
derable and unexpected. The first philo-
sophers who engaged in measuring a ter-
restrial arc were far from suspecting the
cause of the errors against which they had
to provide. In the geodesiacal operations
in Lapland, Maupertuis, Clairaut, and
Carmes disregarded the refraction. By
Bouquet and La Condamine, it was taken
into account during- their labours in Peru.
MM. Broussaud and Nicollet have learned
to distrust ail extraordinary refractions.
The measure of a mean parallel assigns to
the earth a depression of ^ to ^ less
than that which was deduced from mea-
sures of the arcs of the meridian : but, be-
fore they deduce any other results as to
the figure of the earth, these gentlemen
wait till the astronomers of Austria and
Italy furnish the details of the continua-
tion of the arc, as far as Fiume.
Tunnel under the Mersey. -The expe-
diency, not to say necessity, of a commu-
nication between the counties of Lanca-
shire and Cheshire, in the neighbourhood
of Liverpool, has given rise to two of the
most splendid projects that ever were
formed even in this country : the one, a
suspension-bridge over the Mersey, at
Runcorn, several miles above Liverpool ;
the other, a tunnel underneath the same
river at Liverpool itself. The first will
require a centre arch with 1,000 feet
waterways ; and the latter must extend
one mile and a quarter under the bed of
the river, which, as it is supposed to flow
over a rock, will present no dangerous
obstacle to the success of the undertaking.
Mr. Brunei, to whom the execution of this
great work is to be entrusted, has calcu-
lated that the expense will not exceed
150 or 200,000 pounds sterling ; while the
receipts, estimated on a very limited scale,
will average from 12,OOOZ. to 15,000/. a
year. This gigantic enterprise, which
was proposed several years ago, it is now
understood will be commenced as soon as
the similar work under the Thames is so
far advanced as to prove, even to the most
incredulous, the probability of its suc-
cess.
Geology. — Numerous fossil bones have
recently been discovered in Ava. Want of
means to make an accurate comparison
with the fossil skeletons of the larger ani-
mals discovered in Europe and America,
renders it difficult to discover their appro-
priate classification ; but they are larger
than the bones of ordinary-sized elephants,
and their teeth present some marked dif-
ferences. Their discovery is of great geo-
logical interest.
Preparation of Spruce. — Early in the
spring, cut off the young branches of the
pine or fir, three our four inches in length.
3 Z 2
540
V-arieties.
[Nov.
and break them into small pieces ; boil
them in water, and, after filtering the ex-
tract through a sieve, add to sixteen gal-
lons of it about six pounds of sugar. It
may then, by boiling, be reduced to a sy-
rup, which will keep in bottles fora length
of time. For beer, mix three pints of this
extract with thirty of water ; boil it for
about two hours, and, when cold, put it
into a cask (a fresh-emptied wine-cask is
the best), aud ferment it in the usual
method.
Gurnets Steam- Carriage. — Although
the steam-engine has been successfully
employed for draught, where immense
power but no great speed was required —
as in the collieries in the north of England
— great doubls have been entertained as to
the practicability of adapting it to vehicles
which shall move with sufficient velocity
to supersede the ordinary stage-coach.
Messrs. Brustall and Hall are stated to
have produced an engine which answered
this purpose ; but, on the day of its in-
tended exhibition to the public, the boiler
exploded. Mr. Goldworthy Gurney has
been much more fortunate : a machine, of
his own design and construction, travelled
from his manufactory in the Re«ent's-par£
to the town ofHighgate, during part of the
time at the rate of sixteen miles an hour,
and ascended the hill at about one-third
of that pace. By endeavouring to render
the vehicle as light as possible, its strength
was injudiciously Lnpaired, and, when de-
scending the hill, on its return to town,
the axletree broke. Little or no damage
was sustained by the machinery, of which
the arrangement and adaptation were
equally admirable. It would be unhand-
some to offer a sketch of the machine in
its present state to our readers ; but, as
soon as the ingenious inventor has satisfied
his own wishes regarding it, we shall not
fail to offer an exact representation.
Roman Galley. — A beauiiful galley,
which it is believed was constructed by
Tiberius, was sunk at a very remote pe-
riod in the lake of Nemi, five leagues from
Rome. According to local tradition, many
valuable articles and a great number of
curious antiquities were lost in this vessel,
and two attempts were formerly made to
raise either it or its cargo from the bottom.
The first attempt was in the fifteenth cen-
tury, by the order of Cardinal Bosper Co-
lonna ; and the result was the recovery of
several brazen or leaden articles, — in one
of which was well engraven the name of
Tiberius Caesar. In 1535, the celebrated
architect, March':, made a second attempt,
which, without being entirely useless, was
nevertheless not more decisive than the
first. The undertaking has now been recom-
menced by M. Annesio Tusconi, a Roman,
who has brought to some degree of per-
fection the machine for the subaqueous
operations. This last has already arrived
at Nemi, and accounts of its success are
daily expected.
WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.
Viscount Dillon, the able annotator of
" The Tactics of JElian," has in the press an
epic poem in twelve books, entitled "Ecoelino
(fa Romano, surname*! the Tyrant of Padua."
The scene lies in Italy in the middle, of the
thirteenth century : and the poem contains
the history of that portion of the Wars of the
Guelphs and Ghibbelines.
Preparing for publication, with a Plan of
the proposed Town of Hygeia, and Map
of the Vicinity of Cincinnati: Sketch of
a Journey through the Western States of
North America, from New Orleans, by the
Mississippi, Ohio, City of Cincinnati, and
Falls of" Niagara, to New York, in 1827.
By W. Bullock, F.L.S. <foe. &c. Author of
" Travels in Mexico." With a Description
of the new and flourishing City of Cincin-
nati, by Messrs. B. Drake ami E. D. Mans-
field. And a Selection from various authors
on the present Condition and future Pros-
pects of the Settlers, in the fertile and popu-
lous State of Ohio, containing Information
useful to Persons desirous of settling in
America.
Mr. Kendall, Author of « Letters on Ire-
land and the Roman Catholic Question/
and of " An Argument on Trial by Battle,"
is preparing for publication Judicial Oaths,
in English Jurisprudence, their History and
Law: written with reference to the question
of administering an Oath upon the Gospels to
Unbelievers, and likewise the questions of
the legal utility and Christian lawfulness of
judicial swearing in general. The work
will also comprise a variety of legal, histo-
rical, and philological annotation.
The Author of " The Astrologer of the
Nineteenth Century," has just ready The
Prophetic Messenger, with an ominous
Hieroglyphic for 1828, on a large copper-
plate, coloured ; it is to contain all the en-
tertaining and interesting parts, peculiar to
The Prophetic Almanack, the publication of
which is discontinued.
Snatches from Oblivion, containing
Skeiches, Poems, and Tales. By Piers
Shafton.
Religion in India : a Voice directed to
Christian Churches for Millions in the East.
A Treatise on the Cutaneous Diseases in-
cidental to Childhood. By Walter C. Deny,
1827.]
List of New Works.
541
Surgeon to the Royal Infirmary for Chil-
dren, with 24 coloured delineations of the
most important diseases.
Crowning the British Poetesses; a Poem.
A Compendium of the Laws of Nature
and Nations. By J. P. Thomas.
The Romance of History : England. By
Henry Neele, Esq. will consist of Tales
founded on fact, and illustrative of the ro-
mantic annals of each reign, from the Nor-
man Conquest to the Restoration. In 3 vols.
small 8vo.
Bibliographica Cantabrigiensia, or Re-
marks upon the most valuable and curious
Book Rarities in the University of Cam-
bridge. Illustrated by original Letters and
Notes, Biographical, Literary, and Anti-
quarian.
An Historical, Antiquarian, and Pictu-
resque Account of Kirkstall Abbey. Em-
bellished with engravings, from original
drawings, by W. Mulready and C.Cope. In
post 8vo.
The Planter's Guide, or a Practical Essay
on the best Method of giving immediate
Effect to Wood, by the Kemoval of large
Trees and Underwood. By Sir Henry
Steuart, Bart., with plates.
The White Hoods: an Historical Ro-
mance. By the Author of " De Foix,"
" Letters written during a Tour through Nor-
mandy and Brittany," &c. In 3 vols.
A Descriptive Catalogue of the Works of
that admirable Artist, Wenceslaus Hollar,
arranged according to their various Classes,
with a Biographical Account of his Life,
from the MSS. of the late Messrs. Robert
Graves, Senior and Junior, with Additions,
by Francis Graves.
The Antidote, or Memoirs of a Free-
thinker : including Letters and Conversations
on Scepticism and the Evidences of Chris-
tianity. In 2 vols. I2mo.
The Rev. S. W. Burgess will shortly pub-
lish a volume of Poems, to be called Leisure
Hours, to be published for the benefit of an
Orphan.
Hope Leslie, or Early Times in the Mas-
sachusetts. By the Author of " Redwood,"
" A New England Tale/' <fec.
Introductory Report to the Code of Prison
Discipline, explanatory of the Principles on
which the Code is founded. Being part of
the System of Penal Laws prepared for the
State of Louisiana. By Edward Livings-
ton.
In November will appear Time's Tele-
scope for 1828, or a Complete Guide to the
Almanack, containing Historical, Biographi-
cal, and Antiquarian Notices, together with
the Natural History and Astronomy of every
Month in the Year.
A Third Edition of Mr. Bakewell's In-
troduction to Geology, greatly enlarged, will
be published early in January next.
Traditions of Lancashire. By W. Roby.
Sylvia, or the May Queen, a Lyrical
Drama. By George Darley, Esq.
Allan Cunningham, the Author of Paul
Jones, has in the press a Romance, bearing
the name of Sir Michael Scott.
An Edition of Cowper's John Gilpin, with
six illustrations by George Cruikshank.
Illustrations of India. By Messrs. Thomas
and William Duniell, R.A. under the patron-
age of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great
Britain.
Twenty-six Illustrations to Walton and
Cotton's Complete Angler. 8vo. prints, 2 Is."
4to. India proofs, 22s.
The Clarendon Papers will be published in
a few days, by Mr. Colburn, in 2 vols. 4to.
They comprise the Correspondence of Henry,
Earl of Clarendon, and Laurence, Earl of
Rochester ; with the very curious Diary of
Lord Clarendon, from 1687 to 1690, contain-
ing minute particulars of the Events attend-
ing the Revolution. They will be illustrated
with Portraits, (copied from the originals, by
permission of the Right Hon. the Earl of
Clarendon,) and other Engravings.
The noble Author of " Matilda,'' is about
to publish another Tale of the Day, entitled
" Yes and No.''
The well known and admired Author of
" Granby" who has been residing abroad for
the last two years, has also nearly ready for
publication a new Novel, to be called " Her-
bert Lacy."
" Angelo's Reminiscences" are in the
press, and will very speedily appear, con-
sisting of the Memoirs of the Elder Angelo,
his Friends and Connexions, from his first
arrival in England in 1750; and continued
by his son, Henry Angelo, to the present
time. The two Angelos had the honour of
attending professionally, nine members of
the Royal Family, and almost all the per-
sons of rank in the kingdom, for nearly
eighty years successively, and are thus ena-
bled to add to the interest of their own remi-
niscences, by introducing numerous original
anecdotes and curious traits in rhe personal
history of many noble and illustrious charac-
ters.
An octavo edition of the curious and
valuable Memoirs of Pepys, is nearly ready
for publication.
" Vicissitudes in the Life of a Scottish
Soldier," written by himself, will soon ap-
pear, and is to contain some curious particu-
lars of the Peninsular War, not to be found
in works of more pretension on the subject.
The celebrated Author of " The Spy,'*
''The Pilot," "The Pioneers/' "The
Prairie," &c. has in the press a new work,
called " The Red Rover." It is said to be
another Tale of the Sea.
Burke's Peerage and Baronetage of the
United Kingdom is nearly ready. The new
edition, which has been very considerably en-
larged and improved, from communications
of the first authority, is to be infinitely the
most complete and important work of the
class ever published. It will comprehend
the latest alterations in the names -of the
542
List of New Works.
[Nov.
Baronets, nnd the titles find creations of the
new peers; and, with the convenience of an
alpha betieal arrangement, will form both a
Peerage ami Baronetage.
Mr. Murray has published his list of new
works in preparation for the present season ;
they exceed, including new editions, fifty in
number. Many of the new works have been
already announced.
The Memoirs of the Life of General
Wolfe. By Robert Sotithey. 2 vols. 8vo.
The Life and Opinions of John de Wic-
liffe, D.D. By Robert Vaughan. With a
Portrait, from the Original Picture of Sir
Antonio More. 2 vols. Svo
A History of the Life and Voyages of
Christopher Columbus. By Washington
Irving. 4 vote. Svo.
Journal of a Fourth Voyage for the Dis-
covery of a North- West Passage. By Cap-
tain William Edward Parry, R.N. With
Plates. 4to.
Narrative of a Second Expedition to ex-
plore the American Shores of the Polar Sea,
from the Month of the Mackenzie River
Easterly, to that of the Copper-Mine River,
from thence, by Great Bear Lake, to Winter
Quarters. By Doctor Richardson, accom-
panied by Lieutenant Kendall; and from
the Mackenzie River, Westerly, towards Icy
Cape, by Captain Franklin, accompanied by
Commander Biick. Illustrated with Charts
and various Plates, descriptive of Local
Scenery, and the more striking incidents of
the Expedition. 4to.
Proceedings of the Expedition to explore
the Northern Coast of Africa, in 1821 and
22 ; comprehending an Account of the Syrtis
and Cyrenaica; of the ancient Cities com-
posing the Pentapolis, and other various ex-
isting Remains. By Captain F. W. Beechey,
R.N., and H. W. Beechey, Esq. With Plates,
Map?, <fcc. cfec. 4lo.
Journal ot Travels over various Parts of
India. By the Right Rev. Reginald Heber,
late Lord Bishop oi Calcutta. With a Map,
and several illustrative Plates from the Au-
thor's own Sketches. 4to.
Journal of a Residence and Tour in
Mexico, in the Year 1826, with some Ac-
count of the Mines of that Country. By Cap-
tain George Lyon, R.N. 2 vols. post Svo.
The Life and Adventures of Giovanni Fi-
nati, Native of Italy. Written by Himself.
2 vols. post Svo.
The United States of North America, as
they are now in their Political, Religious,
axul Social Relations. Svo.
The Present State of the Island of Sar-
dinia. By Captain William Henry Smyth,
R.N., K.S.S., F.R.S., F.S.A., and Memb.
of theAstrou. Soc. of London. With nu-
merous Plates. Svo.
Historical Sketches of the latter part of
the Reign of Charles the First, including his
Trial and Execution. With several impor-
tant Documents, and numerous original Por-
traits. By W. D. Fellows, Esq. 4to.
Rise and Progress of the English Common-
wealth, from the first Settlement of the
Anglo-Saxons in Britain. By Francis Pal-
grave, Esq. of the Inner ' Temple. 2 vols.
4to.
The Present State of Hayti (St. Domingo),
with Remark? on its Agriculture, Commerce,
Laws, Religion, Finances, and Population.
By James Franklin, Esq. Post Svo.
The Annals of Jamaica. By the Rev.
George Wilson Bridges, AM., Member of
the Universities of Oxford and Utrecht, and
Rector of the Parish of St. Ann, Jamaica.
2 vols. Svo.
The Third Volume of the History of the
Late War in Spain and Portugal. By Ro-
bert Southey. 4to.
Description of the Circus situated on the
Via Appia, near Rome, with some Account
of the Circensian Games. By the Rev. R.
Burgess, Chaplain to the English Residents
at Geneva, and Domestic Chaplain to the
Right Hon. Lieut.-Gen. Lord Aylmer. Post
8vo.
The Wilmot Papers. Papers and Collec-
tions of Sir Robert Wilmot, Bart., some
time Secretary to the Lord Lieutenants of
Ireland. 3 vols. Svo.
Sir Thomas More. A Series of Collo-
quies on the Progress and Prospects of So-
ciety. By Robert Southey. With Engrav-
ings. 2 vols. Svo.
Statement by the Council of the Univer-
sity of London, explanatory of the Nature
ami Objects of the Institution. Svo.
Considerations on Miracles, &c. By the
Rev. C. W. Le Bas, M.A., late Fellow of
Trinity College, Cambridge, inscribed by
permission to the Lord Bishop of London.
Svo.
Elements of Rhetoric, comprising the
Substance of the Article in the Encyclopae-
dia Metropolvtana, with Additions, &c. By
Richard Whately, D.D., Principal of St.
Alban's Hall, and late Fellow of Oriel Col-
lege, Oxford. Printed uniformly with the
Elements of Logic. Svo.
Elements of Algebraical Notation and Ex-
pansion. By the Rev. George Walker, M. A.,
late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge,
Head Master of the Grammar School, Leeds.
12rao.
The Journal of a Naturalist. With Plates.
Svo.
A Treatise of Practical Surveying, and
Military Sketching, for the Use of Young
Officers and others, both Military and Civil ;
in which will be found complete Instructions
for every part of the process, from its com-
mencement on the ground, to the finishing
of a Plan, with various other useful particulars
connected with the subject of Topographical
Plan-Drawing. With Illustrative Plates.
Svo..
Mr. Blaquiere is about to publish a Third
Volume on the Greek Revolution, contain-
ing a detail of Military and Political Events
during the last three Years, together with
1827."
List of New Works.
543
some additional Notice of Manners and Cus-
toms in Greece.
A new work from the fertile pen of Ma-
dame de Genlis is said to be forthcoming'.
In the press, Memoirs of the Life, Writings,
nwl Character, Literary, Professional, and
Religious, of the late John Mason Good ;
with numerous Selections from his unpub-
lished Papers. By Dr. Olinlhus Gregory.
An Essay on Popular Premises, examined
in connexion with the Origin of Moral Evil,
n ml the Attributes of God. By Richard
Dillon, is in the press.
The History of Tom a Lincoln, the Red
Rose Knight, by the Author of the Seven
Champions of Christendom, will form the
Seventh Part of Mr. Thorns' Series of Early
Prose Romances.
LIST OF NEW WORKS.
CLASSICAL.
Virgil's JEneid, Book I. with an Inter-
linear Translation, on Mr. Locke's plan ; and
the Original Text, in which the quantity of
the doubtful vowels is denoted. 2s. 6d.
Parsing Lessons to Virgil, Book I. 2s. 6d.
Caesar's Invasion of Britain from the Com-
mentaries, with an Interlinear Translation,
<fec. 2s. 6d.
A Short Latin Grammar. 2s. 6d.
GREEK SERIES.
Homer's Iliad, Book I. with an Interlinear
Translation; and the Original Text, in
which the quantity of the doubtful vowels is
denoted. 2s. 6d.
The Odes of Anacreon, with an Interlinear
Translation, <fec. 2s. 6d.
Historical Essay on the Laws, tfec. of Rome,
8vo. 10s. 6d. boards.
Hovenden'sto Vesey, Jun.'s Reports. 2 vols.
8vo. 21. 10s. boards.
Statutes at Large. Vol. II. part 1. 4to.
11. 2s. boards.
Connell on Election Laws of Scotland.
8vo. 18s. boards.
Mr. Peel's Acts Alphabetically Arranged.
12mo. 5s. boards.
Palmer's New Law Costs. 4to. 8s. bds.
MEDICINE, SURGERY, (fee.
Introduction to the Science of the Pulse,
as applied to the Practice of Medicine. By
Julius Rucco, M.D. 2 vols. imperial 8vo.
21. 16s. boards.
Clinical Report of the Royal Dispensary
for Diseases of the Ear,<fec. By J. H. Curtis,
Esq. Surgeon to the Institution. 8vo. Price
Is.
Lectures of Sir Astley Cooper, with addi-
tional Notes and Cases. By Frederick
Tyrrel, Esq. Vol. III. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
boards.
Carus's Anatomy of Animals. Translated
by Gore. In 2 vols. 8vo. and a 4to volume
of 20 plates. 31. boards.
Practical Treatise on the Blow-Pipe. 1 8mo.
4s. boards.
MISCELLANEOUS.
A Treatise on the new Method of Land-
Surveying, with the improved Plan of keep-
ing the Field Book. Designed for the Use
of Schools, and for those who wish to be
Practitioners of the Science. By Thomas
Hornby, Land-Surveyor. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
boards.
Remarks on the Prevalent Desertion and
Want of Regularity amongst our Merchant
Seamen. By Lieut. S. Eborall, R.N. 8vo,
Is. 6d. sewed.
The Establishment of the Turks in Europe.
An Historical Discourse. Post 8ro. 5s. fid.
boards.
A Treatise on the Art of Music, in which
the Elements of Harmony and Air are prac-
tically considered, and illustrated by Ex-
amples from the best Authors. By the Rev.
W. Jones, M. A. F. R. S. Folio. 11. Is.
boards.
Mulamen and Callacles, or the Reigning
Principles of Astronomy Exploded, and all
the Phenomena Solved on Principles entirely
Xew, and in perfect Harmony with Nature,
Reason, and Common Sense. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
sewed.
Hints to Young Sportsmen on the Art of
Shooting Flying. 18rao. Is. 6d. boards.
Bolster's Quarterly Magazine. No. 7.
2s. 6d. sewed.
Letters on Early Education, addressed to
J. P. Greaves, Esq. by Pestalozzi. Trans-
lated from the German MS., with a Memoir
of Pestalozzi.
Shaksperiana. Catalogue of all the
Books, Pamphlets, <fec. relating to Shak-
speare. To which are subjoined, an Account
of the Early Quarto Editions of the great
Dramatist's Plays and Poems, the Prices at
which many Copies have sold in Public Sales.
8vo. pp. 09.
A Complete Collection of the Treaties
and Conventions, and Reciprocal Regula-
tions between Great Britain and Foreign
Powers as far as they relate to Commerce and
Navigation, &c. <fec. By L. Hertslet, Esq.
Memoirs of the Public Life and Adminis-
tration of the Right Hon. the Earl of Liver-
pool. 8vo. 15s. boards.
A System of Popular Trigonometry both
Plane and Spherical ; with Popular Trea-
tises on Logarithms and the Application of
Algebra to Geometry. By George Darley,
A.B. 12mo. Price 3s. 6d., forming vol. 3,
of the Scientific Library.
Dr. U win's on Indigestion. 8vo. 7s. 6d.
boards.
The First Lines of Science or a Compre-
hensive and Progressive View of all the
leading Branches of Modem Scientic Disco-
very and Invention. By James Mitchell.
7s, 6d. boards.
544
List of New Works*
-[Nov.
Practical, Moral, and Political Economy,
or the Government, Religion, and Institu-
tions, most conducive to Individual Happi-
ness and to National Power. By T. R.
Edmunds, A. B. 8vo. boards.
Notes on Cambridge Churches. 8vo. 6s.
boards.
Dermott on the Arteries. 12mo. 6s. bds.
Dermott on the Peritoneum and Plurae.
8vo. 4s. 6d.
Ackermann's Forget Me Not for 1828.
Price 12s.
NOVELS, &c.
The O'Briens and the O'Flahertys. A
National Tale. By Lady Morgan. la 4 vols.
postSvo.
Belmour. A Novel. A New Edition.
By the Hon. Mrs. Darner. 2 vols. post, 8vo.
Whitehall, or George the Fourth. In
1 vol. post 8vo.
Fashionables and Unfashionables. A
Novel. By Rosalia St. Clair. 3 vols. J2mo.
l(?s. 6d. boards.
The Mummy, a Tale of the Twenty-
second Century. 3 vols. post 8vo. 11. 8s.
6d.
Original, Serious, and Religious Poetry.
By the Rev. Richard Cobbold, A.M. of Ips-
wich. 12mo.
Professional Poems, By a Professional
Gentleman. 12mo.
Fitful Fancies. By. W. Kennedy, Author
of My Early Days. Foolscap 8vo. ds. boards.
RRLIGION, MORALS, <fec.
Claude's Essay on the Composition of a
Sermon. New Edition, 12mo. ids. 6d.
bds.
The Resurrection of Believers, and Christ
the Author of it: a Sermon, preached at St.
Cuthbert's Church on August 19, 1827, being
the Sabbath immediately after the Funeral
of Sir H. Moncrief Wellwood, Bart. D.D.
By A. Thomson, D.D. Is. 6d. sewed.
Jesus Christ the True God and Eternal
Life, by the concurrent Voice and Testi-
mony of the Sacred Scriptures. By T. F.
Churchill, M.D. 8vo. 6s., royal 8vo. 8s.
boards.
The Omnipresence of the Deity. A Poem.
Designed to illustrate the Presence of God
over the Works of Creation, and in Human
Life. By Robert Montgomery.
Phelan's Church of Rome in Ireland. 8vo.
I0s.6d. boards.
Jorgenson's — The Religion of Christ is
the Religion of Nature. 8vo. 10s. 6d. bds.
Sermons on the Truth of the Christian
Religion. By the Rev. William Malkin,
A.B. 1 vol. 8vo.
Parochial Psalmody, being Select Por-
tions of the New Version of the Psalms, for
the Use of Churches and Chapels, \\ith A
Comprehensive Index, and a Few Select
Hymns. By W. D. Snooke. 1 vo). 12mo.
PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.
List of Patents lately granted.
To Joseph Hall, and Thomas Hall his son,
Leeds, braziers and brass-founders for an
improvement in the making and manufac-
turing of metallic cocks for drawing off
liquids — Sealed llth October; 2 months.
To Elias Carter, of Exete r,upholsterer, for
a new covering for the roofs of houses and
other buildings.— llth October ; 6 months.
To Joshua Horton, of West Bromwich,
Stafford, boiler-maker, for a new and im-
proved method of forming and making of
hollow cylinders, guns, ordnance retorts,
and various other hollow and useful arti-
cles, in wrought-iron, in steel, or com-
posed of both those metals — llth October ;
6 months.
To Goldsworthy Gurney, of Argyle-
street, Hanover-square, surgeon, for cer-
tain improvements in loco-motive engines,
and other applications connected there-
with—llth October j 6 months.
To James Stokes, of Cornhill, merchant,
for certain improvements in making, boil-
ing, burning, clarifying, or preparing raw
or Muscovado bastard sugar and molassses
— llth October ; 6 months.
To John Wright, of Princes-street, Lei-
cester-square, engineer, for certain im-
provements in window-sashes — llth Oc-
tober j 6 months.
J827.] [ 545 ]
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.
THE EARt OF GUILFORD.
Frederick North, Earl of Guilford, Baron
Guilford, of the county of Surrey, Knight
Grand Cross of the Order of St. Michael
and St. George, High Steward of Banbury,
Chancellor of the University of the Ionian
Islands, Joint Chamberlain of the Exche-
quer Tally Court, D.C.L., and F.R.S., was
the third son of the celebrated Lord North,
many years prime minister of this king-
dom. His lordship was born in the month
of February 1766 ; and he succeeded his
brother Francis, fourth Earl of Guilford, in
January, 1817. Through his father's in-
terest he obtained the patent place of one of
the Chamberlains of the Tally Court. Some
years since, he was appointed Governor of
Ceylon, where he resided until he had ac-
quired an easy fortune. While there he
made the tour of the island, accompanied
by the Rev. Mr. Cordiner, who was thus
enabled to give the public an excellent ac-
count of Ceylon.
His lordship succeeded to the title soon
after his return to England. Subsequently
to that event, he was sent to the Ionian
Islands, on a mission from government.
His lordship, who had been some time in a
declining state of health, died on the 14th
of October. He was a nobleman of great
classical taste. Dying unmarried, he is
succeeded in his title by the Rev. Francis
North, son of the Hon. Brownlow North,
late Bishop of Winchester.
LORD ARCHIBALD HAMILTON.
Lord Archibald Hamilton, second son of
Archibald, the ninth and late Duke of Ha-
milton, by Harriet Stewart, daughter of
Alexander, seventh Earl of Galloway, was
born on the 16th of March, 1769. Having
been educated at Eton, he was brought into
Parliament for the county of Lanark, and
he immediately entered warmly into politi-
cal life on the Opposition side. His lord-
ship was an active and intelligent member
of the House of Commons. In 1804, he
published Thoughts on the late and present
Administrations, in which he warmly advo-
cated the cause of Mr. Fox. When the
charges, upon which an impeachment was
subsequently founded, were brought for-
ward against Lord Melville, he observed,
" that not one Scotch member had spoken
against the nefarious conduct of his coun-
tryman, and that he rose only for the pur-
pose of declaring that it was disapproved by
the Scotch nation." At the time of the in-
quiry into the conduct of the late Queen, he
was one of her majesty's warmest parti-
zans. He has more than once, we believe,
received the thanks of the county of La-
nark, for his independent conduct in Par-
liament.
His lordship had nearly recovered from
M.M. New Smes.—VoL. IV. No. 23.
an illness by which he had been some time
afflicted, and was making arrangements for
his departure for Scotland, when, unfortu-
nately, a severe cold, caught from a too sud-
den exposure to the air, terminated his life.
He died on the 4th of September, at his
residence, in the Upper Mall, Hammer-
smith.
LORD ENNISMORE.
The Right Hon. Richard Viscount Ennis-
more, eldest son of William Hare, Earl of
Listowell, by his Countess, Mary, only
daughter of Henry Wrixton, of Ballygibbin,
in the county of Cork, Esq. ; was born on
the 20th of March, 1773. His lordship sat
as member of Parliament for the borough
of Athenry, in 1798 ; and he afterwards
served as one of the knights of the shire,
for the county of Cork, in four successive
Parliaments. His lordship was a warm
friend of the existing constitution .in church
and state. He was accustomed to reside in
his own country, where his presence was
of the utmost advantage to the peasants and
his tenantry. Lord Ennismore married on the
10th of June, 1797, the Hon. Catharine
Bridget Dillon, eldest daughter of Robert
Lord Clonbrock. By that lady, who died in
1823, he had four sons and two daughters.
On the morning of September 15, his
lordship (then at his usual residence, Con-
vamore) arose in excellent health and spi-
rits ; after breakfast he proceeded to walk
about the demesne ; but, in a short time,
he felt indisposed, hastened towards the
mansion, was seized with apoplexy, and be-
came insensible. Every medical applica-
tion to restore him failed, and on the morn-
ing of the 19th he expired.
His lordship's eldest son, the Hon. Wil-
liam Hare, now Viscount Ennismore, was
returned M.P. at the late election for the
county of Keriy.
M. MANUEL.
M. Manuel, one of the most formidable
opponents of the French Ministry in the
Chamber of Deputies, was born at Barcel-
lonette, in the Department of the Lower
Alps, in the year 1775. He was educated
at the College of Nismes. In 1793, he -en-
tered as a volunteer in one of the battalions
of the requisition, and rose to the rank
of captain. After the peace of Campo For-
mio, he left the army, studied the law, and
was admitted a barrister at Aix, in which
capacity he soon acquired a high reputation.
In 1815, he was elected to the Chamber of
Deputies, convoked by Buonaparte, and,
after that ruler's abdication, he strenuously
contended for the rights of young Napoleon.
He also moved a protest against the force
which was employed by the.Allied Powers
to effect the restoration of the Bourbons — •
4 A
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
546
a measure which, of course, offended the
partizans of the ancient dynasty. M. Ma-
nuel, however, settled at Paris, and, in
1816, he made application to be inscribed
upon the list of Parisian barristers, that he
might be entitled to plead in the courts.
In the hope of finding something against
him, the Council of Discipline consulted
the members of the bar, at Aix, respecting
his character; but, although the answer
was favourable, the Council refused to com-
ply with his request. M. Manuel, there-
fore, practised only as a Chamber Council.
In 1818, he was elected a member of the
Chamber of Deputies by three departments ;
but was expelled in 1823, on the triumph of
the court party.
M. Manuel spoke extemporaneously with
great facility ; a talent possessed by few of
the French orators ; and, on that account,
he was generally put forward in debate by
his party, when any thing occurred requir-
ing immediate notice or answer.
M. Manuel's death occurred on the 20th
of August, in the house of his friend M.
Lafitte, at Maisons. His funeral proces-
sion, on its way to the cemetery of P£re la
Chaise, experienced, as in the case of M. de
Rochefoucauld, a serious interruption from
the police. The fear of popular commotion
was the pretext assigned for this interfe-
rence. More than 100,000 persons are said
to have attended the funeral ; and it was
with considerable difficulty that M. Lafitte
prevailed on the people not to resist the
military. Orations were delivered over the
grave by M. Lafitte, General Lafayette, and
M. de Schonen, counsellor of the court of
Paris ; and a public subscription has been
commenced to erect a monument to his
memory.
Cr G. KIESEWETTER.
Christoph Gottfried Kiesewetter, the cele-
brated violinist, born at Anspach, in the
year 1777, was the son of Johann Frederick
Kiesewetter, first violin at the Royal Chapel
of Anspach, and one of the best performers
of the school of Beuda.
C. G. Kiesewetter had, since the winter of
1821, spent much of his time in England,
where he acquired much popularity by his
concerto and solo playing. A competent
judge of the science has observed, that
" Kiesewetter was on the violin, what Mun-
den was in Comedy ; like him, he could
cither raise a smile by his comic skips and
eccentric roulement> or move the heart by
his touches of exquisite feeling." His first
performance in London was at the Philhar-
monic Concert, where his success was com-
plete. He was the first who introduced the
compositions of the celebrated Mayseder
into this country. In the season of 1824,
he performed at the Spiritual and other
concerts in London. Kiesewetter was en-
gaci'd at the late Leicester Music Meeting,
where he played once. He was also en-
gaged at Norwich, but the committee would
[Nov.
not suffer him to perform, in consequence
of the indisposition under which he was
labouring. Mr. Oury, leader of the ballets
at the Opera House, was fortunately with
him. From that gentleman he received
every attention. Mr. Oury brought him to
London, on the night of Sunday the 23d of
September, and never left him till he
breathed his last, at his apartments in
Great Portland Street, on the morning of
the following Friday. It is feared that
Kiesewetter's circumstances were not the
most flourishing. He has left an affection-
ately-attached widow, and eight or nine
children, in Germany.
JOSIAH SPODE.
Josiah Spode, born at Stoke-upon-Trent,
Staffordshire, in the year 1754, was the son
of a respectable manufacturer of earthen-
ware in that town. In the early part of his
father's time, the manufactories for this
now valuable article of commerce, were few
and small. The old gentleman produced,
in perfection, and with great success, the
blue printed table and tea services, which
had then been recently introduced ; and the
vitrified basaltes, or black Egyptian ware,
received from his efforts a valuable im-
provement. His success in business was
considerable, and he lived to see the manu-
facture of earthenware become a staple
source of national industry and revenue.
Young Spode was, from his earliest years,
remarked for intelligence and attention.
When taken from school, his father em-
ployed him occasionally to superintend every
branch of the manufacture, in which his
services could be available. At the early
age of nineteen, he mai-ried Miss Barker,
a daughter of a brother manufacturer. This
union, in which neither interest nor am-
bition had part, constituted the mutual hap-
piness of the parties, until the year 1797,
when the lady died in childbirth.
After his marriage, Mr. Spode's father
and father-in-law, found it eligible that he
should settle in the metropolis, where, by
the sale chiefly, of the blue printed table
and tea services, and also of every descrip-
tion of earthenware, he might greatly ex-
tend the connexions and interest of the
establishment. In this he so abundantly
succeeded, that, in one year, previously to the
death of his father, which occurred sudden-
ly in 1797, his net profits exceeded the sum
of ,£13,000. His liberality kept pace with
his success. Upon one occasion, he pre-
sented a diligent and confidential servant
with a donation of .£1,000.
On his father's death, he committed the
management of the London warehouse to
the conduct of his eldest son and of the con-
fidential servant alluded to, and settled his
family at Fenton Hall, in the neighbourhood
of his manufactory, at Stoke. The esta-
blishment was now greatly extended ; and,
to the manufacture of earthenware, that of
porcelain, hitherto obtained from Derby,
1827.]
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
547
Coalfort, and Worcester, was added. Mr.
Spode's celebrity as a manufacturer of por-
celain, may be" inferred from the circum-
stance, that, in 1806, his present Majesty,
then Prince of Wales, attended by the Duke
of Clarence, the Marquess of Stafford, and
several other noblemen, visited his pot-
teries, and appointed him potter to His
Royal Highness.
In 1803, Mr. Spode erected a splendid
mansion at the Mount, whither he removed
his family in 1804. There, at the Jubilee,
in 1809, he gave a splendid fete to all the
gentry of the district, and as handsomely
regaled the persons in his employment. In
1811, he erected a veiy large steam-engine
on his premises, and made many important
improvements. In 1823, having greatly
enhanced the value as well as the beauty of
his porcelain, he produced, as a specimen,
a large and superbly ornamented jar, of
such elegance in form and embellishment,
as to entitle it to the praise of a chef
d'ceuvre.
Mr. Spode's liberality to his servants was
proverbial ; and, at his death, those who
were in the more confidential offices, were
distinguished by substantial proofs of the
estimation in which they had been held.
Mr. Spode died, universally lamented, in
the month of July, 1827.
GEORGE DODD.
Mr. George Dodd, the projector of Water-
loo Bridge, was the son of Mr. Ralph Dodd,
a civil engineer of considerable merit, who
died at Cheltenham, about five years since,
in consequence of an injury which he had
received from the hot water from a steam-
engine, in the west of England, while it was
under his inspection.* He was born about
the year 1783, and, of the same profession
as his father, the public have profited by
many of his speculative schemes. A bridge
across the Thames from the Strand, is said
to have been first proposed by Mr. John
Gwynn, in 1766. Mr. Dodd revived the
idea ; and it was from his design, with very
slight alterations, that Waterloo Bridge,
which Canova pronounced to be the most
elegant and classical production of its kind
in Europe, was built. Mr. Dodd is said to
have received upwards of j£5,000 for his
services from the Waterloo Bridge Com-
pany. On account of his youth, however,
he was superseded by Mr Rennie, as prin-
cipal engineer ; Mr. Dodd being retained as
resident engineer ; and each of those gen-
tlemen receiving a salary of j£ 1,000 per
* Mr. Ralph Dodd was the projector of Vauxliall
Bridge, the South LondonWaterWorks,theThames
Tunnel at Gravesend, the Surrey Canal, &c. He
wrote an Account of the principal Canals of the
known World, 1/95 ; — Reports, with Plans and Sec-
tions, of the proposed Dry Tunnel, 17«8 ;— Letters
on the Improvement of the Port of London, &c.,
1799; — Observations on Water, intended to recom-
mend the metropolis being better supplied with that
article ;— and Practical Observations on the Dry
Hot in Timber.
annum. Mr. Dodd — on what account we
know not, but he was always improvident
— soon resigned his situation.
It was to Mr. Dodd that the public were
first indebted for the idea of steam passage-
boats from London to Margate and Rich-
mond ; but from that scheme, which was
carried on successfully to a considerable
extent, he derived little solid advantage.
In a short time he had the mortification to
see his plans, his anticipated fame and pro-
fit appropriated by others, on most of the
navigable rivers of Britain.
Amongst his more recent schemes, was
an invention, said to have been greatly ap-
proved of by many men of nautical emi-
nence, for extinguishing accidental fire on
board of ships at sea. However, not expe-
riencing the encouragement which he ex-
pected, the disappointment preyed upon his
mind, and ultimately produced an aberra-
tion of intellect. He was consequently re-
duced to a state of extreme want and
misery. On the 17th of September, this
unfortunate man was taken before the Lord
Mayor as a vagrant, having been found in a
state of drunkenness on the preceding night,
and carried to the Giltspur Street Conipter.
He requested permission to remain at the
Compter, till arrangements could be made
for his removal. The request was com-
plied with ; but, under the insane appre-
hension that poison would be administered
to him, he refused all medicine ; and, after
lingering until the morning of September
25, he expired. On the following day, an
inquest was held upon the body, and a ver-
dict returned of " died by the visitation of
God."
Mr. Dodd has left a son and a daughter to
lament his loss. From some family in-
fluence, Mr. Dodd was accustomed to take
an active part in the elections for Berwick.
He was diminutive in stature, obliging in
his manners, and of lively address.
LORD BANGOR.
Nicholas Ward, second Viscount Bangor,
Baroo of Castle Ward, in the con nty of
Down, Ireland, was the descendant from a
family of Norman origin, seated at Capes-
thorn, in the county of Chester. Bernard
Ward settled in Ireland in the year 1580.
Michael Wnrd.one of his descendants, M.P.
for Downsbire in J715, and one of the Jus-
tices ot'the King's Bench in Ireland, married
a co- heiress of James Hamilton, ofBangor,
in the county of Down. His eldest son,
Bernard, was created Buron Bangor in 1770,
and advanced to the dignity of Viscount in
1781. His eldest son, Nicholas, by Anne
Bligh, daughter of John, first Earl of Darn-
ley, and widow of John Hawkin Macgill, of
Gilford, in the county of Down, Esq., and
mother of Tbeodosia, Countess of Clanwil-
liam, was the second and late Viscouut. His
Lordship was born in 1750, and he succeeded
to the title on the 20th of May, 1781. He
died at Castle Ward, on the llth ol'Septem-
4 A 2
548
Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.
[Nov
ber. His Lordship is succeeded by Edward
Southwell Ward, Esq., eldest surviving son
of the late Honourable Edward Ward, next
brother to the late Viscount.
THE REV. THOMAS THIRLWALL.
The Rev. Thomas Thirlwall, some years
a magistrate for the county of Middlesex,
and well known as a Speaker at the India-
Hous3, was a son of the Rev. Thomas Thirl-
wall, Vicar of Cottingham. near Hull. He
took his degree of A. M. at Braze-nose Col-
lege, Oxford, in 1786. After he bad taken
orders, he obtained the curacy of Trinity-
church, in the Minories, subsequently the
curacy and lectureship of Stepney ; and, in
1814, he was presented to tie Rectory of
Bower's Giflbrd, in Essex, by John Curtis
Esq. He was also a magistrate of the coun-
ty of Essex.
Mr. Thirlwall appears to have been fond
of popularity; be frequently distinguished
himself as an author and as an editor; and
in his magistrative as well as in his literary
capacity, he repeatedly stood forward as the
vehement opponent of scenic exhibitions at
the Royalty Theatre. In 1792, he married
Mrs. Connop, the widow of an apothecary,
at Mile End. By that lady he had several
children. His eldest son, Thomas Wiggele,
is Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge ;
and his second, Connop, is Fellow of Trinity,
in the same University. Of the early genius
of this, his second son, be, in 1809, published
some specimens under the title of *' Primi-
tiae ; or Essays and Poems on various Sub-
jects, Religious, Moral, and Entertaining ;
by Connop Thirlwall, eleven years of age :
dedicated, by permission, to the Lord Bishop
of Dromose." Mr. Thirlwall was, at one
time, Minister of Tavistock-chapel, and
Chaplain to Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore.
He was favoured with that prelate's assis-
tance in preparing an edition of Bishop Jere-
my Taylor's works ; but, for some reason or
other, the intention of publishing was aban-
doned.
In 1795, Mr.Thirlwall published TheAlarm-
ing Situation of the Times, a Fast Sermon,
preached at Stepney ; in 1798, The Dawn
of National Prosperity, a Sermon; in 1802,
The Instability of Human Power, and the
Insufficiency of Human Means; and, in
1803, The Child Jesus, a Pattern of Early
Piety. In 1803, he also published a Diates-
«iron, seu Integra Historia Domini Jesu
Christi, Latine, ex Qualuor Evangelis. In
1804, he produced a Solemn Protest against
the Revival of Scenic Exhibitions and Inter-^
hides, at the Royalty Theatre ; in the same
year, a Candid and Dispassionate Address to
Sir Francis Burdett ; in 1808, a Funeral Ser-
mon, preached at Stratford, Bow, on the Death
of the Rev. W. J. French, Rector of Vange,
Essex, Chaplain to the Trinity House, and
Lecturer of Bow ; and, in 1810, he edited
the Theological Works of Sir Matthew Hale,
with a Life of the Author, in two volumes,
8vo. In 1817, Mr. Thirlvvall published " A
Vindication of the Magistrates acting in and
for the Tower Division, from the Charges
contained in a printed Work, entitled ' The
Report of the Committee, on the State of
the Police of the Metropolis, together with
the Minutes of Evidence, taken before a
Committee of the House of Commons.' "
This Pamphlet was considered a breach of
privilege by the Police Committee; and,
having been complained of by the Chairman,
its author was obliged to make his apology,
before the House. Mr. Thirlwall contributed
numerous articles to the Orthodox Church-
man's Magazine. He died at his rectory of
Bower's Gifford, on the 17th of March.
MRS. GENT.
This lady, celebrated for the delivery of
a course of lectures on the " Physiology of
the External Senses," <fec., a perfect model
of elegant composition and refined oratory,
was the wife of Thomas Gent, Esq., of
Doctors' Commons. She died there, after
a month of severe suffering, about the mid-
dle of August. A fine bust of Mrs. Gent, by
Behnes, was exhibited at Somerset-house
two seasons ago.
MONTHLY MEDICAL REPORT.
THE prevalent disease of the last month bas been fever, shewing itself in an unusual
number of forms. The intermitting and remitting type of fever has been seen in seve-
ral parts of the town, and more especially in Westminster. That this has had for its
more immediate or exciting cause, malaria, or air tainted by exhalations from the
earth, there can be no question. But when we take into our consideration the simul-
taneous occurrence of fever in several of its other forms, a reasonable presumption
exists, that, but for some peculiar state of atmosphere, favouring the diffusion of
such miasmata, ague would not have been so general. The extreme moisture of the
air during the last month is, no doubt, the principal of these accessory causes — to
which the uniform mildness of its temperature (averaging about sixty degrees of
Fahrenheit during the day) must also be added. In the treatment of this particular
kind of fever, the sulphate of quinine has proved very serviceable, and its claims to
the title of a most efficient febrifuge are certainly established beyond the possibility
of doubt or cavil. The Reporter is informed that in several parts of the country, espe.
cially in and around Cambridge, the ague has been very general this autumn.
1 827.] Monthly Medical Report. 549
The second form offerer which has lately appeared in London, is the true inflamma-
tory fever, or synocha. This disorder cannot reasonably be expected ever to become
epidemic in this climate—the range of atmospheric temperature being- too low for its
development. It can only occur, therefore, in persons of sanguine temperament, rich
blood, and general fulness of habit — such circumstances operating as accessory causes
in seasons characterized by the general prevalence of fever. The Reporter has met
•with several cases during the last month, to which these observations apply. One of
them, unhappily, proved fatal. It was ushered in by violent rigours, and excessive
irritability of stomach, lasting for four or five hours. To this succeeded swelling of
the parotid gland, and turgescence of the head and face, followed, soon after, by
excruciating pain of the forehead and temples. Delirium shewed itself on the fifth day
of the fever, and gradually increased in intensity : the pulse was frequent, strong, and
incompressible. On the seventh day, very severe pains attacked the arms and knees,
which were followed by cedematous swellings of those parts. The tongue, too, which
throughout the early stages of the disorder had been usually clean, now swelled, and
became dry and rough, like the rind of pomegranate. The most active treatment was
had recourse to. Bleeding was practised five times ; and the blood, on all occasions,
was cupped and sizy. The other parts of the antiphlogistic treatment were also vigo-
rously employed— purgatives, cold lotions to the head, &c. ; notwithstanding which,
the patient sunk on the ninth day.
The third, and by far the most common, of the several kinds of fever which have
lately prevailed, and which still continue to prevail extensively, is the common con-
tinued fever of this climate, so frequently alluded to in former Reports. Some of these
cases, though to appearance setting in with severity, admit of being cut short by
active evacuants — such as emetic, followed by a brisk cathartic of calomel and jalap.
Others run on, in spite of every effort, for two or three weeks — the crisis being so
obscure as hardly to be discerned, even by the careful eye of the physician. Among
the peculiarities of the fever of this season may be noticed a heat in the mouth, which
has proved a very general, and, in many cases, a most distressing symptom. One
patient complained to the Reporter of having flames of fire in his mouth, for which he
urgently desired relief. This symptom was always associated with proeternatural
redness of the tongue, and occasionally with superficial aphthous ulcerations of the
tongue and palate. There are not wanting those who would ascribe this form of fever,
equally with that which exhibits intermission and remission, to the influence of a
•malaria ; but the Reporter has in vain sought for facts to support such an hypothesis.
The two forms of fever appear in different situations, are attended by a different class
of symptoms, and, above all, are benefited by a different system of treatment. The
tonic plan is almost, if not absolutely, essential to the cure of the one j whereas the
other will subside perfectly under the continued use of remedies of an evacuant cha-
racter. Simplicity in theory is no doubt very captivating; but, on that very account,
it is apt to mislead. The sweeping generalizations of some modern authors, with
regard to the noxious influences of malaria, furnish, we apprehend, the latest, but
not the least striking instance of the truth of this reflection.
Measles and scarlet fever are both to be met with at the present time ; and, we regret
to add, that no diminution is yet perceptible in the quantity of small-pox, which con-
tinues to shew itself in all parts of the town, and to expend its virulence upon those
who have not secured themselves by vaccination.
Coughs and colds have began to shew themselves within the last few days, and cases
of more active thoracic disease are not wanting. Several instances of very acute
pleurisy have lately been seen ; and the lancet has been more in requisition than for
many months past. Bowel complaints were very frequent towards the early part of the
mouth, but are gradually on the decline.
GEORGE GREGORY, M.D.
8, Upper John Street, Golden Square, Oct. 23, X827.
MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
THE harvest throughout Britain, from north tosouth, may now be said to be universally
gathered and secured ; and the general average of corn, pulse, and root crops may
be pronounced most favourable. This may be safely understood to relate to both
quantity and quality j for if, in cold, damp, and exposed situations, part of the crops
have been affected by blight and mildew, and, during the harvest, have been drenched
with rain, and kept abroad by fogs and heavy dews— the consequence of which has
been a great quantity of discoloured and sprouted corn — on all our best and most pror
650 Monthly Agricultural Report. £Nov.
ductive soils harvest has been most speedy and propitious, and the products great and
estimable, both in quantity and quality. The wheat crop in Scotland is deemed a full
average, with the strange exception of the CARSE OF GOWRIK ; where they venture
to predict — we .hope from a splenetic rashness— that it will not thrash to more than
half the quantity of last year's crop. To the credit of the Scots, the practice gains
ground of dragging aud cleaning their potatoe grounds, preparatory to wheat
sowing.
During last month, the weather being so highly favourable, has doubtless urged the
cultivators of our best and most forward soils to a premature seeding of their wheat,
which was above ground almost immediately, and is even at present luxuriant. I'nless
checked by early frosts, the certain consequence will be a bulk of grass, which must,
in some degree, exhaust the roots, with the dangerous accompaniment, in the spring-,
of voracious slugs and grubs. However, our farmers generally sow thick enough to
spare a considerable portion of their plants ; sometimes so very thick, that, after fat-
tening their live stock of slugs and grubs, there still remains an unprofitable superfluity.
Wheat-sowing may be said to be completed on the pulse stubbles and fallows, and little
remains unseeded of the potatoe grounds — the whole performed under the happiest
auspices. It is, however, with regret that we have to state the fallows too generally are
so foul as to disgrace British agriculture. The late warm, moist, and favourable
weather has purified the turnips from mildew, and excited a very luxuriant degree of
vegetation, affording the prospect of a very considerable crop on real turnip soils.
The meadows and pastures luxuriate in a superabundant flush of autumnal grass,
sporting that beautiful native green, peculiarly English, the admiration of foreigners.
Never, indeed, was there a greater contrast in production and hue, than between the
appearance of the pastures some months past and at present. Men were then driven
to the necessity of sending their cattle many a mile in search of a bit of green food ;
whereas now, with many farmers, a field of grass is a tenement to be let. Winter tares,
clovers, and the variety of green crops for the support of sheep and lambs in the spring,
seem to rival the natural grasses in luxuriance. Large second crops of clover have
been cut. There is, perhaps, at present, the most extensive breadth of the green
crops ever before witnessed in England — one of the most important articles of provision
within the farmer's view. Clover-seed will make a poor return this year. It is said
—but of the fact we have no present means of judging — that the extent of land sown
with wheat is considerably less than that of the last year.
Home-made manure having necessarily been extremely short in quantity, every
article of that kind has been songht without, and purchased with the utmost spirit and
avidity by the cultivators of the most improved districts: as some recompcnce, the
present corn crops will afford a large bulk of straw. The great abundance of keep,
present and prospective, must soon have considerable effect on the price of store cattle
and sheep, though, at present, the rise is not of much amount. Wedders and lambs
find a ready sale on improved terms; while ewes hang on hand. Cattle advance gra-
dually ; and good milch- cows, which indeed seldom fail, meet great prices. Store pigs
are quoted somewhat lower; but they must be dear, at least, until after the spring.
Nothing need be said of fat stock of every description, since the public demand con-
tinues immediate and pressing. After all, the immense stock of animals, and of human
food of every description, demonstrates any thing rather than poverty in the country,
and inability for production. Good horses, according to the example of many years
past, command extraordinary prices; and their comparative paucity does no extraor-
dinary credit to the skill of our English breeders. The import from the Continent still
continues.
In this great fruit year, apples and grapes make a conspicuous figure. But the
breeders of apples seem to have subjected themselves to a reproof analogous to that
applied to the breeders of horses. Immense quantities of apples are thrown upon the
market, fit for no other purpose than to disgust the palate and gripe[the bowels of mortal
man. This is the consequence of our old and unimproveable stagers obstinately retain-
ing the vile sorts bequeathed to them by their grandfathers, instead of replacing them
with valuable stocks. But, in the view of improvement, we do not consent to abandon
the old pippin, rennet, and nonpareil, which, notwithstanding the fashionable objections,
might with care yet remain the glory of the British orchard. Landlords should look to
this. Great outcries are made in some parts of the country against the cowlady (lady-
bird, in Kent and the metropolis; golden bug, Essex), as issuing from holes in the
beans, the substance of which are devoured ; whilst, on the other hand, this lady is
strongly defended, not only as harmless, but friendly to the farmer, by feeding on the
aphides. Hops render a sufficient price, considering the improved quantity of the crop.
Wool, if not dead, yet sleepeth.
The wheat market gradually declines, though fine samples command a fair price, and
are in constant request. The best wheats seem to be held back, and the markets over-
1827.] Monthly Agricultural Report. 551
stocked with rough and cold-handed samples. There seems little doubt of a further
decline in price, though probably not very considerable, until the great question shall
have been determined. Barley has experienced a considerable reduction in price ;
for which the abundant crop may have been a sufficient cause, without recourse to the
new regulations, to which the maltsters have been subjected by the government — the
defenders of which assert that the sole motive of these additional regulations is the
proved impossibility of obtaining the whole of the duty, in the old mode of estimating
it. The case of the agricultural labourers, sufficiently deplorable throughout alt times,
whether of plenty or scarcity, seems now perfectly hopeless. It is a revolting subject.
There is such a bitter and indomitable spirit aroused, both in town and country, against
that system of ancient tyranny and ignorance, and of modern insanity and folly — the
GAME LAWS, — that they will, beyond all doubt or apprehension, in no great length of
time, be accommodated with a drastic purge. The liberalism of the present govern-
ment, Game Laws remaining in statu quo ante, would be mere quiz and pretence.
SmithfieM.—Beef, 3s. lOd. to 4s. lOd —Mutton, 3s. 8d. to 4s. 8d.— Veal, 4s.6d.to 5s.
10d.— Pork, 5s. (Dairy) to 6s. 6d. -Raw fat, "2s. 9il.
Corn Exchange.— Wheat (Old), 42s. to 66s. —Barley, 26s. to 35s.— Oats, 16s. to
30s. — Bread, 9|d. the 4 Ib. loaf. — Hay, 70s. to 110s.— Clover 90s. to 126s.— Straw,
30s. 6J. to 40s.
Coals in the Pool, 33s. to 43s. per chaldron.
Middlesex, Oct. 22, 1827.
MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.
Sugar. — There was an increasing disposition last week to purchase Raw Sugar;
there was more business reported ; the fall in the prices is from 2s. to 3s. per cwt. The
Sugar is to-day 7,589 hogsheads and tierces less than last year. Dry brown, which was
selling at 65s., is now 623. per cwt. The delivery last week short of the corresponding
week in 1826, is 419 hogsheads. At the conclusion of the market, the estimate sales of
Muscavudos were 700 hogsheads, prices unvaried. Refined Sugars gave way last
week ; Lumps being reported at 84s. to 85s. per cwt. Molasses, 2b's. to 27s. per cwt.
Coffee. — The Coffee market gave way materially. Old Jamaica descriptions were 2s.
per Ib. Lower Ordinary St. Domingos, 37s. 6d.
Rum, Brandy, and Hollands. — The Rum market continues quiet, and rather a heavy
appearance. Brandy is still held up with firmness : in Hollands, there is BO altera-
tion.
Cotton. — The Cotton market continues very dull, and no alteration in prices. New
Orleans, 6d. to 6j*d. per Ib. j Pernambuco, 8d. to 9£d.
Indigo. — The Company's sale of E. 1. Indigo, consisting of 6,784 chests, commenced
on the 3d instant, and finished on the 12th. Blue, 11s. 9d. to Itfs. per Ib. ; Blue and
Violet, 11s. to 12s.
Hemp, Flax, and Tallow. — The Tallow market very dull last week ; prices 37s. to
37s. 6d. per cwt. Hemp and Flax lower.
Cochineal. — 42s. to 43s. per Ib.
Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 3. — Rotterdam, 12. 3. — Antwerp,
12. 4. — Hamburgh," 36. 10.— Frankfort, 15. —Petersburg, 10. — Cadiz, 35^. — Barcelona,
35._Cadiz, 35.— Paris, 25. 35.— Bordeaux, 25. 60.— Vienna, 10. 6.— Gibraltar, 46.—
Naples, 38|. — Malaga, 35.— Lisbon, 47*. — Oporto, 471 — Bahia, 44. — Buenos Ayres, 44.
—Dublin, 11.- Cork, \\.
Bullion per Oz. — Foreign Gold in bars, £3. 17s. 6d. — New Dollars, 4s. 9df. — Silver in
bars, standard 5s. 9d.
Premiwns on Shares and Canals, and Joint-Stock Companies, at theOjfice of WOLFE
BROTHERS, 23, Change A'.ley, CornhilL— Birmingham CAXAL, 300/.— Coventry, 1250/.—
Ellesmereand Chester, 114/. — Grand Junction, 311 /. — Kennet and Avon, 29/. 5s.— Leeds
and Liverpool, 395/. —Oxford, 720/. — Regent's, 27/. — Trent and Mersey, 850/.
—Warwick «nd Birmingham, 295/.— London DOCKS, 90/.— West-India, 207/. 10*.—
East London WATER WORKS, 124/. — Gram! Junction, 65*. —West Middlesex, 68|/. —
Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE— l\ dis.— Globe 151/. — Guardian, 21J/. —
Hope, 51.— ImperialFire, 97^.— GAS-LIGHT, Westmin. Chartered Company, 55/.— City
Gas-Light Company, 167^.— British, II dis.- Leeds, 195/.
[ 652 ]
[NTov.
ALPHABETICAL LIST OP BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 22d of September
and the 22d of October 1827 ; extracted from the London Gazette.
[Keightley, junior, Hare-court, Temple ; Keight-
icy, Liverpool
Knight, T. Cole-harbour-lano, Surrey, smith.
[Holmer, Bridge-street, Southwark
Keogti, G. D. Cornhill, commission-agent, [Ho-
worth, \Varwick-street, Golden-square
Knott, R. and R. Turner, Sal ford, Lancashire.
Moscow and Spanish leather-factors. [Hurd
and Co., Temple; Booth, Manchester
Lubbock, W. L. Leamington-priors, Warwickshire,
bookseller. [Humphrys and Co., King's-arms-
yard, Coleman-street; Heydon and Co, War-
wick
Lawford, J. F. Newington, Surrey, ironmonger.
[Beetham and Co.,Freeman's-court, Cornhill
Lyne, W. and T. Sudell, Liverpool, merchants.
[Lowe, Southampton-buildings, Chancery-lane ;
Orred and Co., Liverpool
Morgan, T. Clifton, Gloucestershire, painter and
glazier. [Poole and Co., Gray's-inn-square ; Ball
and Co., Bristol
Morris, W. Lower Thames-street, potter. [Ja-
cobs, Crosby-square, City
Mayne, H. G. Copthall-buildings, merchant. [Croft
and Co.. Bedford-row
Ord, J. Regent-street, silk-mercer. [Scargill, Hat-
ton-court, Threadneedle-street
Pritchard, T. Footscray, Kent, surgeon. [Thomp-
son, Walbrook
Phillips, J. York-place, Old Gravel-lane, potatoe-
salesman. [Ivimy, Harper -street, Red -lion-
square
Pluckett, J. Thorn haugh -street, grocer. [Brough,
Shoreditch
Price, L. Park-street, Regent's-park, scrivener.
[Pullenand Co., Fore-street, Cripplegate
Powles, T. and J. JBeech-street, Barbican, hosiers.
Richardson, Ironmonger-lane, Cheapside
Potts, T. Rotherhitlie - wall, baker. [Chester,
Newington-butts, Surrey
Robinson, M. WoodhouseCarr, Yorkshire, dyer.
[Makinson and Co., Middle Temple; Foden,
Leeds
Ricket, H. Carthusian - street, Charter - house -
square, victualler. [Rushbury, Carthusian -
street, Charter-house-sqnare
Rushmore, M. King's-terrace, Commercial-road.
[Birkitt and Co., Cloak -lane
Rogers, S. Bristol, vinegar-merchant. [Baxter,
Thornbury ; Holme and Co., New-inn
Rodway.M. H.late of Swell's-hill, Gloucestershire,
butcher. [Slade and Co., John-street, Bedford-
row ; Mullings.Cirencester
Sommerville, R. H. Liverpool, hosier. [More-
croft, Liverpool; Chester, Staple-inn
Spark*. W. Chalk-farm, St. Pancras, tavern-keeper.
[Vandercom and Co., Bush-lane, cannon-street
Spencer, W. Manchester, grocer. [Hampson, Man-
chester; Ellis and Co. .Chancery-lane
Stone, S. Derby, ironmonger. [Adlington and Co.,
Bedford-row ; Law and Co. .Manchester
Stevens, G. Islington -green, victualler. [Hall,
Great James-street, Bedford-row
Stephenson, T. New Malton, Yorkshire, grocer.
[Smithson and Co., New-inn
Turner, J. Manchester, corn-broker. [Black-
Btpck and Co., Temple; Bardswell and Co.
Liverpool
Thomas, W. Upper King-street, Holborn, carpen-
ter. [Wright, Hart-street, Bloomsliury
Toone, J. Loughborough, draper. [Hatfield and
Co., Manchester ; Hurd and Co., Temple
Taylor, J. Manchester, timber-merchant. [Red-
head, Manchester ; Milne and Co. Temple
Verbeke, H. C. Adam's-court, Old Broad-street,
lime-merchant. [Price, Adam-street, Adelphi
Wheeldon, B. Manchester, cabinet-maker. [Ma-
kinson and Co., Middle Temple; Makinson,
Manchester
Wilson, R. Friar-street, Blackfriar's-road, hard-
ware-manufacturer. [Paterson and Co., Old
Broad-street
Wright, J. Princes-street, Leicester-square, smith.
BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.
Collins, W. Witney, Oxfordshire, blanket-manu-
facturer
Kirton, J. Durham, hatter
Moneymcnt, M. Swaffham, Norfolk, cabinet-
maker
Willmott, T. Manchester, wine-merchant
BANKRUPTCIES. [This Month 69.]
Solicitors' Names are in Brackets.
Ackroyd, J. Sheffield, draper. [Potter, Manches-
ter ; Milne and Co., Temple
Abbott, E. Leamington-priors, Warwickshire, ca-
binet-maker. [Burfoots, Kind's -bench -walk,
Temple ; Poole, Leamington-priors
Bnrdy, G. West Derby, Lancashire, glass-manu-
facturer. Leigh, Charlotte-row, Mansion-house ;
Leather, Clarendon-buildings, Liverpool
Breeze, R. junior, Great Yarmouth, ironmonger.
[Tolver and Pr«'ston, Great Yarmouth ; and
Stockerand Dawson,New Boswell-court
Bird, N. North Shields, earthenware manufactu-
rer. [Tinley, North Shields; Robinson and Co.,
Austin-friars
Boutle. E. Back-road, St. Georsje's-in-the-East,
builder. [Wright, Goodman's-tields
Burgis, G. Eton, currier. [Poole and Co., Gray's-
inn; Riches and Co., UxbriHge
Barber, S. and T. P. Hillary, Dowgate-hill, wine-
merchants. [Ogle, Great Winchester-street
Booth, W. \\ orksop, Notts, maltster. [Holme and
Co., New-inn ; Wake, Worksop
Collins, W. Witney, Oxfordshire, blanket-manufac-
turer. [Phipps, Weaver's - hall, Basinghall-
street
Clargo, J. Bucklebury,Berkshire,yeoman. [Holmes
and Elsam, Great James-street, Bedford-row ;
and Neale, Reading
Croad, J. M. Cheltenham, scrivener. [King.Ser-
jeant's-inn, Fleet-street ; Prince, Cheltenham
Collins, S. W. Witney, Oxfordshire, blanket-manu-
facturer. [Phipps, Weaver's-hall, Basinghall-
street
Cox, C. Newcastle-under-Lyne, common-brewer.
[Clowes and Co., King's-bench-walk, Temple ;
Tomlinson, Staffordshire Potteries
Clarke, G. B. Gerrard-street, Soho, wine-merchant.
[Spurr, Copthall-buildings
Dorvell, G. Marlborough-terrace, Walworth, auc-
tioneer. [Donne, Austin-friars
Duval, P. junior, Minories, carpenter. [Evitt and
Co., Haydon-square
Elliott, R. T. Ipswich, King's Lynn, and Norwich,
linen-draper. [Hardwick/Lawrence lane
Egan, P. Strand, bookseller. [Jay andCo.,Gray's-
inn-place, Gray's-inn
Edwards, J. Water-lane, Blackfriars, victualler.
[Bredger, Finsbury-circus
Field, W. Nutkin's-corner, Bermondsey, plumber.
[ Rattenbury, St. John's, Southwark
Frinder, J. Oxford, pastrv-eook. [Looker, Ox-
ford ; Miller, Ely-place, Holborn
Fenwick, G. Grosvenor-mews, Hanover-square,
veterinary-surgeon. [Goren and Co., Orchard-
street, Portman-square
Greenfield, W. Kirkstead, Lincolnshire, miller.
[Walker and Co., Spilsby ; Ellis and Co.,
Chancery-lane
Glover, J.'Newcastle-under-Lyme, grocer. [Ast-
bury, Stoke-upon-Trent ; Roe, Temple
Gai'lard, P. Billiter street, merchant. [Norton,
New-street, Bishopsgate
Gee, J. Nottingham, pawn-broker. [Enfield and
Co., Nottingham ; Holme and Co., New-inn
Gilbert, G. late of Burgh, Lincolnshire, maltster.
[Scott, Prince's-street, Bedford-row ; Bourne,
A 1 ford
Hart, G. West Ham, Essex, corn-mercbant. [Rixon,
Jewry-street, Aldgate
Hobson, C. Leeds, victualler. [Battye and Co.,
Chancery-lane ; Lee, Leeds
Humplebv, J. T. Abchurch-lane, dry-salting bro-
ker. [Tilleard and Co., Old Jewry
Haas, A. Manchester, merchant. [Perkins and
Co., Gray's-inn-square ; Lewtas, Manchester
Harrison, W. B. Manchester, cotton - dealer.
[Burgoyne and Co., Oxford -street
Whitelegg, J. Manchester, dyer. [Milne and Co.,
Temple , Knowles, Bolton-le-Moors.
1827.]
[ 553 ]
ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.
The HOD. and Rev. H. Watson, to the Living of
Kettering, Northampton.— Rev. J. W. Morris, to
the Perpetual Curacy of Llanychaiarn, Cardigan,
—Rev. W. Rock, to the Rectory of Herhranston.
Cardigan.— Rev. R. T. Tyler, to be Domestic
Chaplain to the Lord High Admiral.— Rev. J. R.
Holcombe, to the Rectory of Nash-cum-Upton,
Pembroke.— Rev. E. James, to a Prebendal Stall,
Llandaff.— Rev. C, Arnold, to the Rectory of Tin-
well, Lincoln.— Rev. A. Dallas, to the Vicarage of
Yardley, Herts.— Rev. W. Maughan, to the Per-
petual Curacy of St. Hild's, South Shields.— Rev.
Dr. Hugh Percy, to the Bishopric of Carlisle.— Rev.
J. Mais, to the Rectory of Tintern Parva, Mon-
mouth. — Rev. W. F. Hook, to be Lecturer of St.
Mary's, Birmingham. — Rev. G. Hough, to the In-
cumbency of St. Peter's, Earlsheaton, York. — Rev.
T. Allanson, to the Vicarage of Wistow, York.—
Rev. C. King, to the Rectory of Witchampton,
Dorset. — Rev. A. A. Colville, to the Vicarage of
Midsummer Norton, Somerset. — Rev. M. Barnes,
to be Minister of the New Church, Cheltenham. —
Rev. J. L. Senhouse, to the Rectory of Gosforth,
Cumberland. — Rev. J. Dornford, to the Perpetual
Curacy of Moreton Pinkney, Northampton. — Rev.
T. Lee, to the Lectureship of Huntingdon. — Rev
E. J. Shepherd, to the Rectory of Trostcliffe, Kent.
—Rev. T. Hilton, to the Rectory of Gaywood, Nor-
folk.—Rev. J. M. Edwards, to the Vicarage of
T owyn, Merioneth.— Rev. E. Evans, to the United
Vicarage of Llangrannog and Llandyssilo-gogo,
Cardigan.— Rev. I). T. Thomas, to the Vicarage
of Clydan, Pembroke.— Rev. C. Ingle, to the Liv-
ings of Osbaldwick and Strensall, York.— Rev. W,
T. Eiton, to the Reciory of Whitestauriton, in the
Diocese of Bath and Wells.— Rev. W. Spooncr, to
the Archdeaconry of Coventry. — Rev. C. V. H.
Sumner, to the Rectory of Farnborough, Kent. —
Rev. H. J. Oxenham, to the Curacy of White-
church, Hants. — Rev. C. Scott, to the Perpetual
Curacy of Stoke St. Gregory, Bath and Wells.—
Rev. H. Speke, to the Bectories of West and East
Dowlish, Somerset.— Rev. H. F.Williams, to the
Vicarages of Ardmire and Ballymacart, Lismore.
—Rev. R. Ryland, to the Vicarage of Kilmolash,
Lismore.— Hon. and R,ev. G. Bourke, to the Rec-
tory of Ardmire, and Precentorship of the Cathe-
dral of Lismore.— Rev. E. A. Brydges, fo the Rec-
tory of Denton, Kent.— Rev. G. P. Cosserat, to
the Rectory of St. Martin, Exeter.
POLITICAL APPOINTMENTS.
Lord Dudley and Ward, to be Viscount Ednam
and Earl of Dudley.
Lord Cawdor, to be Viscount Emlyn and Earl
Cawdor.
INCIDENTS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS, IN AND NEAR LONDON, ETC.
CHRONOLOGY.
September 25. — Third Emigration Report pub-
lished of the Secret Committee of the House of
Commons, by which it appears, from letters trans-
mitted by Sir P. Maitland, Lieut.-Gov. of Canada,
that the experiment made in 1825, has been at-
tended with considerable success, and that in the
space of one year, many of the new settlers had
been lifted from beggary to comparative affluence.
26. — Intelligence, by the Blanche, announced the
total rupture of negociations of peace between Bra-
zil and Buenos Ayres.
— A resolution for granting .£20,000 to the fa-
mily of the late Marquis of Hastings, for his ser-
vices in India; and one for giving Sir A.Camp-
bell a pension of ,£1,000 per annum, passed at a
Quarterly Court at the India House.
27. — Accounts from Stockholm announced the
news of a most destructive fire at Abo, which lasted
twenty-four hours ; the cathedral was totally de-
stroyed, as well as the university (the observatory
excepted); the academy, with its valuable collec-
tions and library of 40,000 volumes, the cabinet of
medals, the town-hall, and above 900 houses — 100
persons perished in the flames.
28, — Messrs. Spottiswoode and Stables, the new
sheriffs, were sworn in at Guildhall.
29. — Alderman Lucas elected Lord Mayor of the
City of London.
October 6.— The new suspension bridge over the
Thames, at Hammersmith, was opened without any
formal ceremony.
— Captains Parry and Franklin arrived at the
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 23.
Admiralty, within an hour of each other, from
their unsuccessful expeditions, by sea and land, to
reach the North Pole.
7. — Her Majesty the Queen of Wurtemberg em-
barked on board the Royal Sovereign Yacht, at
Deptford, for Antwerp.
10.— H.R.H. the Lord High Admiral reviewed
the Woolwich Royal Marines, Artillery, &c. &c.
when the Duchess of Clarence presented the ma-
rines with their new colours.
11. Despatches received from the Earl of Dal-
housie, Governor General of Canada, by which it
is announced that the grand canal between King-
ston and the Ottowa has commenced, employing
a large portion of the emigrants newly arrived
there.
12.— The Hon. Albert Gallatin, ambassador from
the United States to this country, embarked at
Liverpool with his family for New York.
15. — A meeting of maltsters, brewers, and others
concerned in the malt trade, was held at the Corn
Exchange Coffee House, for the purpose of memo-
rializing the Treasury to suspend certain clauses
of the act passed last session relative to the excise
on malt, when a deputation was appointed to
wait upon the Lords of the Treasury for that pur-
pose.
16. — The deputation from the above gentlemen
waited upon Lord Goderich, who admitted that a
fair statement had been made of the difficulties
arising from the act, and that he would take it
into his immediate consideration, and give as early
an answer as possible.
4 B
554
Incidents, Marriages,
[Nov.
19. — Parliament further prorogued to Decem-
ber 2'J.
20. — The Lords of the Treasury have suspended
the obnoxious parts of theNetv Malt Bill, for con-
sideration.
MARRIAGES.
R. Eden, esq., son of the late Sir F. M. Eden,
bart., to Emma, third daughter of the Hon. Mr-
Justice Park.— At St. James's, Rev.H. B. Wrey,
son of the late Sir B. Wrey.bart., to Miss E. M.
Toke.— At St. Pancras, T. K. King, csq., to Miss
Lovett. — At Mary-Ie-bonne, D. Pennant, esq,, to
Lady Emma Brudeuell, daughter of the Earl of
Cardigan ; C. Morgan, esq., son of Sir C. Morgan'
bart., to Rosamond, daughter of General Munday.
— At Kennington, J. Savory, esq., to Miss Oakey.
— G. J. Heathcote, esq., eldest son of Sir G. Heath-
rote, hart, to the Hon. C. D. Burrell, eldest daugh-
ter of Lord Gwydyr — At St. Martin's, Captain W.
Mudge, son of General Mudge, to Miss Rea. — At
Hackney, the Rev. W. Burgess, to Miss Joanna
Traish.— Rev. R. F. Fuller, son of the Hon. M.
Fuller, of Ashdown-house, Sussex, to Ursula Ma-
ria, daughter of Sir R. Sheffield, bart.
DEATHS.
At Banstead, 76, H. Howorth, esq., M.P. for
Evesham during tire successive parliaments. — In
Wimpole-street, Elizabeth, Baroness Fyffe.— In
Hertford-street, 83, Catherine, Countess Dowager
of Liverpool.— At Notting-hill, 75, Major General
J/. Burrell, of which 53 were spent in India in
active service. — At Kentish-town, 74, T. Hughes,
esq. — In South-street, 64, Lady Isabella Tumour,
fourth daughter of Edward, Earl Winterton.— The
Baroness Biel, daughter of J. Thomson, esq.,
M. P. for Dover. — In the Giltspur-street Compter,
Mr. G. Dodd, the celebrated engineer. — At Chel-
nea College, 107'. John Salter? he had been 90
years in the army, was present at the battle of
Culloden, 1/45, and at most of the battles in Ame-
rica. The Duke of York visited him, and made
him a present, just previous to his mortal illness.
—In Queen -square, S. Collinridgo, secondary of
the city. — Viscount Kennismore, M.P. for the
county of Cork. — In Berkeley-square, Lord F.
Montague, brother to the Duke ot Manchester. —
In Westminster, Mr. Capon, the artist, well known
for his talent in scene painting. — At Wilderness*
park, Lady Caroline Stewart, wife of A. R. Ste-
wart, esq., M.P. for Londonderry, and youngest
daughter of Earl Camden. — In Portland-place, 62,
Frederick Earl of Guild ford. —At Sablonfere's-
hotel, the Hon. Judge Giellerap, of the Danish
Island of St. Thomas.— At Guildford, 80, Mrs.
Smallpiece. — In Curzon-street, Lady Muncaster,
widow of Lowther, Lord Muncaster.— The Right
Hon. William Townshend Mullins, Baron Ventry.
MARRIAGES ABROAD.
At the British Ambassador's, Paris, Rev. W. A.
Shirley, to Miss XVaddington, of St. Remy, Nor-
mandy.—At Martishkin, near St. Petersburg,
Mr. C. Maynard,to Miss Maria Amosoff. — At Mal-
ta, the Hon. Capt M. Stopford, son of Lord Cour-
town, to Miss Cordelia Winifreda Whitmore. — At
Government House, Cape Town, D. M. Perceval,
fourth son of the late Right Hon. Spencer Perce-
val, to Mary Jane, eldest daughter to Major Gen.
R. Bourke, Lieut.-Governor at the Cape of Good
Hope.
DEATHS ABROAD.
Lately, at Potsdam, 66, M. de Bulow, privy coun-
cillor to the King of Saxony.— At Lawzanne, Miss
Gully.— At Lucerne, W. F. Hustler, esq.— At Pe-
tersburg!), Paul Brookes, esq., an indefatigable
traveller, in the pursuit of natural history. For
the last thirty years (two or three excepted when
he resided in the New Road, Mary-le-bonne) he
had been engaged in zoological researches in
France, Holland, Germany, Portugal, Russia,
Sweden, Lithuania, Lapland, as well as in Africa,
and North and South America. — At Paris, Miss
H. M. T. Bowes.— At Bagniers de Luthen, Py-
renees, W. A. Cunynghame, esq., son of Sir W.
Cunynghame, bart. — At Montreal, Mrs. Ogden,
wife to the solicitor-general of Canada. — At
Naples, Sir John Nesbitt, bart. ; Lieut.-General
John Skinner. — At the Cape of Good Hope, Oliver,
the spy. — Mr. Hill, formerly of Newcastle, in a
naval action between Lord Cochrane and the Turk-
ish squadron. — At Geneva, Maria, wife of Lient.-
Col. Vernon Graham.— Captain Grove (13th Light
Dragoons), and his lady, in India — At Corfu, En-
sign J. T. Probyn, son of the late Governor Pro-
byn, and grandson of General Rooke.— On his
passage to the Cape of Good Hope, Lieut.-Col.
A. Grant.— At Rome, Miss Margaret Crutwell.
daughter of Mr. Crutwell, of Bath.
MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES;
WITH THE MARRIAGES AND DEATHS.
NORTHUMBERLAND AND DURHAM.
The enthusiasm with which His Grace the Duke
of Wellington was received in the counties of Dur-
ham and Northumberland, as well as in York-
shire, could not be exceeded. Every whore his
progress had the appearance «f a triumph : and
public rejoicings hailed his presence. The Duke
arrived at Wynyard on the 24th, and, on the 2;th
of September, his Grace laid the foundation stone
of an arch, to be erected in Wynyard Park, called
" The Wellington Arch," on which is the following
inscription: — "The fir«t stone of tliis arch was
laid by England's greatest Captain, Field Marshal,
Arthur, Duke of Wellington, K.G., to commemo-
rate his visit to his friend, Charles, Marquis of
Londonderry, who served as his Adjutant-general
during his campaigns in the Peninsula. Anno
Domini, 1827." On the 28th, his Grace received
the freedom, and partook of a splendid entertain-
ment from the Corporation of Newcastle, and re-
viewed the yeomanry there. His Grace visited the
coal-mines of the Marquis of Londonderry on the
29th of September; Alnwick Castle on Monday,
October 1 ; Durham on the 3d, and Sunderland
1827.]
Northumberland, Durham, Cumberland,
555
en the 4th. It is quite impossible to describe the
nithusiasm with which he was every where re-
ceived,
A young gentleman residing at Newcastle, took
it into his head, a few days ago, to try his loco-
motive powers, and with that view started very
early in the morning to pay a visit to his friends
in Westmoreland, who reside within lour miles of
Appleby. He reached his journey's end, a distance
of about 70 miles, at 5 o'clock in the afternoon to
dinner. We suppose, had he gone on, he would
have supped at Lancaster.
The Directors of the proposed Rail-road from
Newcastle to .Carlisle have resolved to proceed
with that undertaking, as four-fifths of the esti-
mated sum was subscribed, according to the stand-
ing orders of Parliament. New surveys will be
made, and it is expected that all will be ready for an
application to the legislature in the next session.
A meeting has been held at South Shields and
We?toe Town-hall, for the purpose of applying to
Parliament, for leave to bring in a bill for light-
ing, paving, &c, the said townships, when a com-
mittee was appointed, and subscriptions entered
into.
At a meeting of the Newcastle, Shields, Sunder-
land, &c., Bible Society, October 4, it was unani-
mously agreed to withhold their support from the
British and Foreign Bible Society. Dr. A. Thom-
son said, "The London Society gave .£750 to the
Lausanne Society to publish a French Bible. It
was agreed that Ostervald's Bible should be fol-
lowed without any alteration. When it was fi-
nished, it was found that there were upwards of
fifty thousand alterations!!!"
Married*] At Durham, Mr. W. Edgar, to Miss
Ann Thwaites.— At Newcastle, Mr. G. Halbert to
3Hs«Innes; J. Anderson, esq., to Miss Purvis. —
At Heighington, Col. O'Callogan to Miss Simpson.
—At S't. Andrew Auckland, Mr. Dixon to Miss
S. Simpion.— At Wittori-le-Wear, the Rev. H.
Wardell to Miss Newby.
Died ] At Darlington, /6, Mrs. Adamson.— At
Newcastle, Mr. Ledsham ; George, the son of P.
l». Ellison, esq — At Skermingliam, the infant
daughter of W. Robson, esq.— At Durham, 86,
Henry Wheatley, one of the oldest freemen of
J»urham. — At Bishop Auckland, Mrs. Hodgson. —
At Newcastle, Mr. E. Bulman.— At ?t. Andrew
Auckland, 89, Abigail Ross.— At Croft, Mrs.
Bustler. — At Stockton, Mrs. Metcalf. — At Dur-
-, Mrs. Martha Millner, sister to the Countess
athmore.
CUMBERLAND AND WESTMORELAND.
The length of a marmeilade gourd, in Mr. G.
•ardine's garden, Carlisle, is 37 inches, and its
eadth 33 ; the plant is in a very healthy state, and
e fruit nearly at its full growth.
At. the Bazaar at Carlisle (recently held at the
)ot-hall for three days), for the sale of ladies'
>rk, produced no less a sum than .£720 15s., in-
iding «£126. Is. as subscriptions, for the pur-
ges of charity.
Married.'} Mr. Metcalf to Miss E. Dryden.—
r. Rodick to Miss C. Cornwell.— At Penrith, Mr.
undgett to Miss E. Furness.
Died.] A. Harrison, esq., of Penrith.— At Halt-
.ff,80, Mr. Carlyle.— At Harrington, Captain H.
ren. — At Cumwhitton, 68, Mr. A. Dryden, a
<scendant of the celebrated poet.— At Kendal, 90,
Harrison, esq.— At Kirk by Stephen, Rev. J.
•mbe.— At Carlisle, 71, Mrs. Stordy — At Pap
; tie, J. H. E. D. Mansfield, esq.
YORKSHIRE.
The newly-appointed vicar of Halifax has de-
manded of his parishioners the following dues--
" Easter offerings; surplice and other fees; mor-
tuaries; milk, the whole of every 10th day; agist-
ment ; foals ; calve* ; pigs ; poultry and eggs ;
pigeons (if sold); potatoes and turnips per acre;
gardens ; herbs ; small seeds ; rape ; flax ; hemp ;
fruits of trees ; bees, honey and wax ; corn mills ;
and all other small tithes." Three meetings have
been held in the parish church, &c. when it was re-
marked, that if the demand was granted, it would
amount to between .£30 and .£40,000 per annum!
It was determined to resist these religious claims
that have been lying dormant for so many hundred
years, in the persuasion that tithes were originally
only intended for the maintenance of the poor, the
building of churches, &c., not for the personal
emolument of priests! The demand now made
amounts to twenty-six times and a half more than
the late vicar ever demanded.
Sir George Cayley has sent in his resignation of
president of the Whig Club, York, saying, " that
it is time such idle distinctions were abolish-
ed."
An elegant and commodious new market hat
been opened at Leeds.
.£80. 4s, has been paid to the Bradford Dispen-
sary, being the produce of an evening's concert
held for its benefit.
The foundation stone has been recently laid at
Doncaster, for a new church, towards the building
of which Mr. Jarrat.a parishioner, has contributed
no less than .£13,000.
His Grace the Duke of Wellington arrived in
York on the 24th of September. He was met by a
grand procession, and escorted to the Festival Con-
cert Room, where the freedom of the city, in a gold
box, value 50 guineas, and an address from the
inhabitant?, were presented. He then visited the
Minster; and proceeded from thence on his jour-
ney to the north. On the 3d of October, he returned
through Yorkshire on his way to London. At
Ripon, he received addresses from the Mayor and
Corporation, and inhabitant?. At Doncaster, from,
the Mayor and Corporation,
The Yorkshire Horticultural Society held its last
meeting for this year on the 26th of September at
York. The shew of fruit was particularly fine,
also that of vegetables. This Society has done
much since its establishment in 1820, to improve
the horticulture of this county.
A mushroom was gathered in Sir W. Bagshawe'a
Park, the Oaks, near Sheffield, measuring 12|
inches in diameter, and 3 feet J of an inch in cir-
cumference.
Within a month, Mr. Richard Norton, of Eigle-
moyre-lane, near Cottingham, caught 215 snakes,
of various sizes, alive, in a hot-bed about six feet
square.
Married.'} At Rooss, the Hon. and Rev. H.
Duncombe, second son of Lord Feversham, to Miss
L. E. Sykes, niece to Sir Tatton Sykes, bart.— At
Hnddersfield, Mr. J. Lister to Miss Langley.— At
Hull, C. Wilkinson, esq., to Miss Gleadon.— At
Sheffield, J. Wade, esq., to Miss Allen.— At York,
T. Gregory, esq., to Miss Hodgson; J. T. Poole,
esq., to Miss Rawdon ; the Rev. J. Newzam to Miss
• Remington. — At Bridlington, H.Pearson, esq.. to
. Miss Coverley. — At Kirby Misperton, I. Haudon,
esq., to Miss Harrison.— At Leeds, W. N. Phillips,
esq., to Miss Martha Rhodes.— At Sulton, N. Wal-
4B2
550
Provincial Occurrences: Stafford, Salop, fyc.
[Nov.,
ton, esq., to Miss Gesney. — At Ackworth, Mr. Maw
to Miss Gee.— At Halifax, W. E. Hurst, esq., to
Miss Alexander.
Died.']. At Leeds, 100, Mrs. Eve Randall.— At
Ilcvi'ilt-y, 80, Lieut. Co!. Machell : lie had lost an
arm at the battle of Bunker's Hill.— At Bening-
brough-hall, 88, Mrs. Earle.— At Redcar, Mrs.
Peterson.— At Hedon, W. Day, esq.— AtDoncaster,
Mrs. Foljambe.— At York, Mrs. Hotham ; J.
Hedley, esq ,— At Blansley-park, near Pickering,
50, Mr. R. Allaiison, formerly of the Hermitage,
Near Malton; at which place his parents were
among the earliest supporters of methodism. — At
Dalby-hall, 80, Mrs. Ann Leybourne.— At Elliott-
house, near Ripon, Miss Wilkinson. — At Rich-
mond, Mrs. Taylor, a descendant of Addison.
STAFFORD AND SALOP.
At the Annual Meeting of the Trustees of the
Salop Infirmary, a sermon was preached, and the
collection made at the church doors amounted to
.£230. 18s. 2$d.
At the Animal Meeting of the Church Mission-
ary Society at Shrophire County Hall, it appeared
that the different sums sent from this branch to
the parent society had amounted, in the course of
the last year, with what was collected on that day,
to the ?um of nearly .£1,000.
October 15, the new charter for the Borough of
Stafford, was read at the Hall, in the Crown Court,
when 300 of the burgesses adjourned to the Assem-
bly Room, chose their chairman, and unanimously
agreed " that the charter be rejected ;" and while
this was passing, His Majesty's Commissioners
were administering the oath to the mayor.
Jlfarrifd.'] At Wolverhampton, Rowland Hill,
esq.,toMiss Pearson. —At Tixall, Sir Clifford Con-
stable, bart., to Miss Mary Ann Chichester; H.
Arundell, esq., to Miss Isabella Constable. — At
Rolleston, J. H. Leigh, esq., to Frances, daughter
of Sir Oswald Mosley, bart.
Died'] At Litchfield, 72, Rev. C. Buckeridge,
archdeacon of Coventry.— J. Jenkins, esq., late ot
Shrewsbury.— At Eaton Mascott, Mrs. Williams.
LINCOLNSHIRE AND CHESHIRE.
The foundation stone of a new bridge, at Ches-
ter, was laid October 1, by Earl Grosvenor, with
great pomp and ceremony. It is to be of stone,
200 feet span, and nearly 60 feet high.
The triangular bridge at Crowland, although it
has been erected 967 years, yet still exhibits no
appearance of decay, and is said to be the most
perfect ancient structure in the kingdom ; it was
erected A.D. 860 1
The Lords of the Treasury have allowed rums
to be bonded at Chester in future ; thus placing
it on an equality with the ports of London, Liver-
pool, and Bristol.
Married.'] At Chester, T. Dicken, esq., to Jane,
youngest daughter of the Hon. E, Massey.
Vied.] At Belton-house, Hon. Mary Cust, sister
of Lady Brownlow. — At Chester, C. Chilton, esq.
LANCASHIRE.
A father and his two sons, one aged 22 and the
other 18, were executed together at Lancaster, for
highway robberies of a most atrocious nature,
which they had carried to such a pitch, as to have
become absolutely the terror of the neighbourhood
in which they had lived.
The late Musical Festival at Liverpool has pro-
duced near .£5,000 for the public charities. Fif-
teen hundred persons attended the grand fancy
ball, in every variety of costume, indeed no other
provincial town in Europe ever exhibited such z
scene. It is calculated that as much as .£50,000
has been circulated, direct and indirect, on account
of this celebrated meeting.
At the annual cattle shew, held at the Cloth Hall
Yard of the Manchester Agricultural Society, no
less than 1,700 persons paid for their admission
into the yard, besides those admitted gratuitously ;
and the dinner was attended by upwards of 200
gentlemen, who received an accession to the Society
of 48 new members.
Married.'] At Preston, S. Horrocks, jun., esq.,
to Miss Eliza Miller.
Died.] At Clitheroe, 85, Mrs. I. Haldren.— At
Castle-park, 68, S. Bower, esq.— At Manchester,
Mr. Cresswell.
DERBY AND NOTTINGHAM.
A society has been formed at Nottingham qn-
titled " The Nottingham and Nottinghamshire
Schoolmasters' Association," for the relief of
aged members, their widows and orphans. The
committee solicit the patronage and benefactions
of the neighbouring nobility and gentry. Every
county in the kingdom ought to have a similar
establishment.
W. Soars, esq., Mayor of Nottingham, has given
notice that he will attend at the police office every-
day, Sunday excepted, to transact public business
— an example worthy imitation in all the great
towns in the kingdom, as leading to the prevention
as well as punishment of crime.
The Report made October 3, of the state
of the Derby Savings' Bank, informs us that
their cash in the hands of Government amounts to
.£94,113. 14s. 7cl.
Married.] At Newton Solney, the Rev. H. R,
Crewe, second son of the late Sir H. Crewe, bart.,
to Miss Jenney.
Died.'] S. Finney, esq., of Barley.— At Kiel-
ham, 101, Mrs. Alice Bates.— At Derby, 74, Mr.
Longdon.— At Alveston, Mrs. Churchyard.— At
Shirlpy, 77, Mr. Pegg.— 76, Mr. J. Harrison, of
Bradley Old Park.
LEICESTER AND RUTLAND.
The Michaelmas Fair at Leicester proved very
dull ; the universal complaint being the little busi-
ness done compared with former years.
A deputation has been appointed by the malt-
sters of Leicester, to wait upon the Lords of tne
Treasury with a memorial against the New Malt
Bill.
Died.] At Leicester, Mr. P. L. G. Price, eldest
son of Mr. Price, printer of the Leicester Journal.
80, Mrs. E. Hopewell, formerly ot'Lougbborough:
she died of a cancer in the heart— At Long Clav-
tou, 77, W.Doubleday, esq.
WARWICK AND NORTHAMPTON.
The Bazaar for the sale of Ladies' work for the
benefit of the Infant School, recently opened at
Birmingham for two days, produced as much as
.£302 (after deducting expenses), for the Infajit
Schools— the committee of whom have returned
thanks to the ladies.
At a numerous publjc meeting recently held at
Stratford-upon-Avon, the mayor presiding, it was
resolved that a library should be established for
persons engaged in trade and mechanics, and that
the subscriptions should be as low as possible to
attain the object.
1827.] Worcester Hereford, Gloucester, Monmouth, Sfc. 55T
The Northampton Savings' Bank has re- contain sittings for 1000 people, including 700 open
ceived from its first establishment in August, ones.
It appears by the Abstract of the Receipts and
Disbursements of the Gloucestershire Treasurer,
that from Easter Sessions 1826, to those of 1827,
the county expenses amounted to the sum of
.£33,932. 14s. 8d. It is to be remarked that out
of that sum .£13,586. 19s. 2d., was appropriated to
the building and repairing county bridges, and
.£4,500 for enlarging the gaol.
A serious riot has taken place at Gloucester^
occasioned by the discontent of the workmen at
being obliged to pay toll to pass Westgate Bridge
in their progress to and from work, in the erection
of a new bridge at Over. They destroyed the toll-
gates and the toll-house ; and it was with the ut.
most difficulty the collector and his wife escaped.
The mob afterwards paraded the city with exulta-
tion and triumph till a late hour. The military
were called in, and several of the ringleaders have
been committed to gaol. It has since been deter-
mined by the trustees to discontinue the tolls on
foot passengers after October 31, 1827, and all
other tolls after December 31, 1828.
1816, to the 3d October 1827, no less a sum than
.£284,238. 16s. 3£d. out of which .£134,571. 12s. 7$d.
have been repaid to depositors.
The bankers of Birmingham have presented a
memorial to the First Lord of His Majesty's Trea-
sury, complaining, that where the bankers pay
2s. 6d. for a stamp on their notes, the Bank only
pays 2£d., in consequence of their composition —
they therefore pray that all may pay like.
A repository for the sale of fancy works was
opened at Coventry lately, for defraying the ex-
penses of the enlargement of Bedworth Church,
when «£125. 13s. was produced on the occasion.
The Exhibition at the Birmingham Society of
Arts has closed for the season. The general ex-
cellence of this first exhibition has been universally
acknowledged, and a number of the paintings have
been sold.
At the Fourth Anniversary of the Brigstock
Friendly Society, October 5, a processional cere-
mony arid public dinner took place, when the ad-
mirable system of annuity for the aged was adopt-
ed. The promotion of such societies is much bet-
ber calculated to remove the evils of the Poor Laws,
and restore the characteristic pride, of the nation,
than any plan hitherto devised ; this is truly teach-
ing the people to feel for themselves.
Married.'] At Coughton-court, T. Riddel, esq.,
of Mary, niece of Sir C.Throekmorton, bart.— At
Hatten, S. Percival, esq., to Miss Jane Goodchild.
—At Northampton, Mr. Yates to Miss Haydon.—
T. Tryon, esq., of Bulwick-park, to Anne, daugh-
ter of the late Sir John Trollope, bart. -At Leam-
ington, T. Davies, esq., of Llangattock, to Maria
Selina, sister to Sir H. Willoughby, bart.— At
Newnham Paddox, Rev. H. Harding, to the Lady
Emily Fielding. .
Died.'] At Offchurch, 50, Mrs. Wise.— At Sut-
ton Colfield, Mrs. Cottrell.— At Warwick, Miss E.
Tibbifts.
WORCESTER AND HEREFORD.
A meeting took place, October 2, in the Shire-
hall. Hereford, for insuring the permanent esta-
blishment of the mail through Cheltenham and
Tewkesbury to that city, and extending the com-
munication to Brecon. Earl Somers presided, and
appropriate resolutions were adopted, and a sub-
scription entered into for the purpose of near
£2,000.
The fifteenth shew of the Ross Agricultural So-
ciety took place October 10, when there was an
unusual display of Pomona's treasures ; the num-
ber of plates of fruit being nearly 600; 380 bottles
sparkled with double dahliahs of great beauty. The
total number of specimens of fruits amounted to
988!
Married.'] T. Jones, esq., to Miss M. Norbury,
Droitwitch.— At Ross, Rev. S. Sincox to Miss
Louisa A. Chase.
T)ied.~\ At Worcester, R. Hurd, esq., nephew
of the late Rev. Dr. Hurd, Bishop of Worcester.—
At Twyning, W. Colwell, esn.— 74, Mrs. E. Smith,
of the Fair Oaks Farm, Castle-morton. — At Beo-
ley, 70, Rev. T. Cormouls. — At Shipstown-on-
Stour, 76, Rev. J. Jones ; he held that vicarage
38 years, and some years since married the Dowa-
ger Countess of Ashbrook.
GLOUCESTER AND MONMOCTH.
A subscription has been commenced for erecting
a free church for the parish of Mangotsfield, -to
Married.] T. P. Dunn, of Southfields, to Mar-
garet, grand-daughter of SirS. Wathen.— At Glou-
cester, F. Granger, esq., to Miss Couke.
Hied.'] At Cheltenham, 67, Sir Nelson Rycroft.
bart; 64, P. Justice, esq. — AtChepstow, Mr. Clay
—At Hillsbridge Parade, W. Bosville, esq.~At
Miserdeen-park, Catherine, daughter of Sir E. B.
Sandys, bart.— At Dowdeswell, Miss Haly, daugh-
ter of Lady Haly.— At Clifton,86, Mrs. Robertson.
— At Bristol, 17, Augustus, youngest son of the
bishop of the diocese. — At Gloucester Spa, Rev. G.
Trevelyan, third son of Sir J.Trevelyan, bart.—
At Bristol, Mr. W. Pritchard ; he had faithfully
served, as a journeyman, Mr. Heath, of Mon-
mouth, for 33 years!
BEDFORD AND BERKS.
James Clare, of Woburn, has been committed to
gaol for the sixteenth time under the Feudal
Game Laws. He said, on his last dismissal from
prison, " that he would rather go to gaol, where
sufficient food would be found him, than return to
his parish, where he must either pine away or re-
turn to his former ways I"
Died.] At Hartwell-house, the Rev. Sir G. Lee,
bart.— At Windsor, 82, Lieut.-Col. S. H. Showers,
—72, Miss Buckridge.
ESSEX.
At the Tenth Anniversary of the Romford Sav-
ings' Bank, the treasurer reported the numbe* of
depositors to be 2,239. The sum total invested at
the Bank of England is ^£40,018. 7s. 4d. Dur-
ing the last quarter 39 accounts opened ; and
.£1,487. 11s. and ll^d. received from the new
depositors.
Died.] At Harlow, 83, A. Parkin, esq, formerly
solicitor to the post office.
OXFORDSHIRE.
The expenses for this county from Michael-
mas 1826, to the same period 1827, have been
.£6,738. 5s. 10d., out of which sum .£3,337. 2s. lOd.
was paid for the gaol, criminals, and their inci-
dental disbursements, besides .£1,903. 13s. for
prosecutions at the assizes. The expenses of the
city of Oxford gaol were ^£680. 14s. 4d.
Married.] At Oxford, H. W. Towsey, esq., to
Miss A. Finch.— At Headington, Mr. Hancock t*
Miss Bryan.
558 Provincial Occurrences : Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridge, fyc. [Nov.
Ditd.] Catherine, third daughter of J. Fane,
eeq., of Wormsley, M. P. for this county. — At
Cuddesden, Mrs, Newlyn.— At Woodstock, Mr.
Haynes.
NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK.
The total receipts at the late Music Festival at
Norwich amounted to .£6,400., the clear profits of
which, for the hospital, will amount to about
.£1,800. The Corporation of Guardians, at Nor-
wich, have resolved not to attend in futuieto any
application which may be made to them for chil-
dren to be bound apprentices to chimney sweepers.
The Ladies' Bazaar established for the benefit
of the hospital at Bury, has been very successful.
The sale of the different articles, with the prices
-paid to the admission for two days, has been un-
usually productive, and has cleared no less a sum
han -£1,000".!
Married.] At Terrington, J. C. Morphew, esq.,
to Miss Goode.— At Norwieh, Mr. Tipple to Miss
Moll.— At Weeting, Rev. E. T. Bidwell to Miss
Powell.— At Lynn, Miss Sharp* to Ur. Redding*,
aged 150 between them.
Died.'] Miss Mary Duffield.late of Massingham.
—At Yarmouth, 70, Mr. Cobb.— At Comb's Rec-
tory, Rev. C. Lawson.— At Ipswich, 80, Mr. Park,
hurst.— 94, Mrs. Turner, of St. Peter's-pcr-Moun-
tergate.
CAMBRIDGE AND HUNTINGDON.
The improvements at Cambridge are still in pro-
gress—the most conspicuous of those already done
are th« new buildings at King's College and Ben-
net College. The additional square to the western
side of St. John's, which alone will cost upwards
of .£30,000. It were to be wished that the pro-
posed improvements in the celebrated drawing in
the Fitzwilliam Museum could be accomplished, as
it would form the grandest coup-d'oeil in the king-
dom—what an assemblage of beauty, King's Col-
lege, University Library, Senate House, Caius,
Trinity, and St. John's, all In one unhroken view I
The foundation of an Infant School was laid at
Royston October 5. This institution owes Its rise
to the patronage and encouragement which was
given to the Royston Bazaar in July last. The
site and ground for exercise has been given by
Lord Dacre. A brick each was successively laid
by a number of the children and ladies present.
Died.'] At Doddington, 90, G. Thornhill, esq.
HANTS AND SUSSEX.
Married.] At Southampton, J. Lyon, esq., to
Frances Harriett, eldest daughter of Maj.-General
Thewles.— At Milbrook, S. S. Taylor, esq., to Miss
H. M. Minchin.
Died.'] At Chichester, 82, Rev. M. Walker,
rector of St. Pancras and Rumbold's Wyke.— At
Walberton, Miss Salvin, sister to the Countess of
Shaftesbury.— Rev. W. B. Gattell, rector of Win-
nail.
DORSET AND WILTS.
The first journey of the royal mail through
Sherborne, was celebrated by a public dinner at
that place, Sept. 24.
Sept. 28, the new church at Sturminster was
opened ; it is built in the plain gothic style, com-
bining neatness with solemnity ; and the whole of
the expenses have been defrayed by the Rev. S.
Fox Lane, who has also erected and endowed a
commodious school-house for both sexes, as well
y an infant school-room, &c.
At Weyhili fair, at the dawn of day, no less than
150,000 sheep were presented to the view, and by
noon this astonishing flock was dispersed in ail
directions.
Married.] At Devizes, H. Earle, esq., to Mis»
S. A. Hughes.— At Cricklade, Mr. Taylor to Miss
Smith.— At Compton Bassett, T. A. Smith, esq., to
Miss Matilda Webber.
Died.] At Burton, 80, Mrs. Jackson, relict of
Dr. Jackson, canon residentiary of St. Paul's. — At
Piddletown, 82, Mrs. Candy.— 72, Rev. H. Pugh,
rector of Hinton M artel.
DEVON AND SOMERSET.
By the last report of the Wiveliscombe Dispen-
sary, it appears that since its commencement
15,721 patients had been admitted, of whom 10,633
had been cured.
The new bridge connecting the parishes of
Walcot and Bathwick, was opened September
28 with great ceremony. Admiral Robinsun
christened the bridge by the name of " Bathwick
Bridge." The first coach that passed over was
the Oxford mail— horses, postillion, coachmen,
guards, all decorated with blue ribbons; upwards
of 20,000 people attended.
The line of road from Bridgwater to Pawlett has
just been opened by the passage over it of the new
Bristolmail coach.
A new friendly society has just been established
for the Hundreds of Hartcliffe, Bedminster, and
Portbury. At the meeting for that purpose at
Failandlnn, upwards of .£300 were subscribed.
September 28, the new market was opened at
Exeter; and, Oct. 6, another at Moreton Hamp-
stead, the bells ringing merrily, and the town-band
parading the streets ; this is a precursoi to the
benefit of this hitherto neglected district.
At the quarter sessions for Devonshire, the
chairman, in his address to the jury, lamented the
eontinued prevalence of depravity and guilt which
the calendar exhibited. The number of prisoners
were greater than were ever known at Exeter.
Married.] At Plymouth, Capt. P. F. Hall to
Miss A. O. Wolfe.— At Exeter, C. Sugars, esq,, to
Miss Medland. — J. M. Paget, esq., of Nevvberry-
house, to Miss Doveton.
Died.] At Sheptou Mallet, G. Lambert ; he was
baptized in Doulting Church one hundred years
ago last June, and retained his faculties to the last.
—At Devonport, 83, M rs. Wyatt ; 8 1 , Mrs . Giggie ;
70, Mrs. Harris.— At Ea?t Teignmouth, 70, S.
Pierce, esq.— At South-hill, Colonel T. C. Strode,
esq.— At Bath, 75, Mr. Tozer.— At Cotham, Mr.
92, Mr. Woodward.— At Corsham, 91, J. Thomp-
son.—At Bath, S. M. Waring, esq., by a fall from
a gig; he was the author of "The Traveller's
Fireside," and " Sacred Melodies." — At Frome,
Rev. J. M.Byron. — AtUplime, J. Alfray, esq., the
oldest lieutenant in H.M.'s navy— 89, Mr. W.
Bendey, of Holloway ; at the last Bridgewater As-
sizes he gave evidence of events that occurred 84
years ago !— At Exeter, 74, Rev. R. Bartholomew,
late master of the grammar-school. — The venerable
G. Trevelyan, archdeacon of Taunton, and canon
residentiary of Wells.— At Bath, 74, Mrs. Meyler.
CORNWALL.
The French brig Argus, Latine, lately put into
St.Ives in great distress, and, alter being repaired,
set sail, when the tradesman, who had supplied the
materials, &c., got into boats and boarded the ves-
sel under way, and, after a scuffle, brought her
into port, and detained her until ample security
for payment waa given to the different claimant!.
1827.]
Wales, Scotland, and Ireland.
559
The Dutch galiot Trend* Sadskende, Bache,
wentdown, after having applied in vain to an East
Indiaman that was passing. Luckily a boat from
Breyher was near and saved the crew, and took
them to St. Mary's, Scilly.
Married,'} At Talland, Mr. Perrot to Miss
Soady.
Died.] At Woodhouse, 72, J. Handford, esq.— At
St. Hilary, 102, G. Harris, sexton of that parish.—
AtHolyhead, Mr. Pascoe, commander of the Ar-
row Packet..— At Penzance, 80, W. Baker, esq.—
At Bodmin, 82, Mr. Chappie, for more than half a
century governor of the county prison ; A. Ham-
bley, esq.— At Truro, Miss Frances Daubuz.
WALES.
The Rev. E. Davies, author of the " Celtic Re-
searches," &c., has presented 100 volumes, prin-
cipally on Celtic literature, to the library of St.
David's College, Lampeter.
Nearly .£80. were received by the productions
given by the ladies at Llandovery Bazaar, which is
to be appropriated to the benefit of the school
there.
At Pontypool there has never been a regular
post-office, although there are 30,000 inhabitants
within three miles of the town; but, on September
29, a postmaster was appointed, and in future, a
regular mail-coach will leave Abergavenny at
7 A.M., and pass through Pontypool to Newport in
time for the Milford Mail.
Thanks have been voted, at Carmarthen, to Mr.
Nash, for his plans of Sir Thomas Picton's monu-
ment, the new church, and other buildings, gra-
tuitously furnished by that gentleman to the
town.
A service of plate has been presented to G.
Meaves, esq., of Dolly's-hall, by the hundred of
Llanidloes, for his useful 'and impartial sendees as
an upright magistrate. A public dinner—bells
ringing all da) — an illumination at night— and
Mr. M. chaired home by the populace, were the
result.
By the recent Report of the Bridgend Savings'
Bank, signed by the Right Hon. Bir J. Nicholl,
treasurer, it appears that the sums invested with
the Commissioners for the Reduction of the Na-
tional Debt (including interest) amounted, Sept.
20, to .£20,761. 5s., to which are to be added
.£419. 9s. in the hands of the treasurer, and
.£62. 12s. 7|d. in those of the actuary, making alto •
gether.£21,243. 6s. 7£d.
Married.] D. Davies, esq., of Froodvale to
Miss Morgan. — T. Davies, esq. of Lllangattock, to
Maria Selina, second daughter of Sir C. Willough-
by.bart.— At Llangadock. C. Bishop, esq., to Miss
Gwinf'e.— At Llansaintfread, Rev. D. Parry to
Miss Herbert.— At Crickhowell, Mr. Howe to Mis*
Price.
Died.] 7?, C. Kenrick, esq., of Cefn-y-Gader-
liouse.— At Claesmont, Charlotte, 5th daughter of
Sir J. Morris, bavt. — At Llandilo, 106, Mrs. A.
Roderick.— .Mrs. Llewellyn, of Llangathen.— Mrs.
E. Davies, -of Llwynygarreg.— At Llanfair, 64,
Rev. E. Lewis.— At Denbigh, 84, Mrs. Holland.—
At Soughton, Mrs. Conway.— At Swansea, Rev. D.
Phillips.
SCOTLAND.
There were no two trades that suffered more
severely during the late commercial distress than
tanning and weaving. The weaving is very brisk
at present, every hand is employed, and goods are
on the advance ; but the wages are still so low,
that very few art abla to liquidate any portion of
the debt they contracted during the dulness. Slno«
the middle of April, the tanning has been in a
state of slow but progressive improvement, and at
present most of the old and established concerns
are so thronged that they find it difficult to get
their orders completed in due time. The unique
toast, "Cheap meal and dear leather," is a fa-
vourite with this body, and hence the intelligence
of the breaking off of the treaty between Buenos
Ayres and Brazil was heard with pleasure, as it
had the effect of raising coarse hides a penny a
pound, and increasing the previous vivacity of the
business. The society in Edinburgh has riot been
called on by a single "tramp" for upwards of a
month— a circumstance which indicates that the
country tan-works have their share of the pros-
perity of the business.
On the 18th of September a shoal of whales ap-
pearing in the offing, near Fitful Head, in Shet-
land, the fishermen immediately collected with
their boats, and succeeded in driving 27 of these
valuable animals on shore in Quendal Bay. One
of them, measured by the light-keepers of Sum -
burgh Head, was found to be 74 feet in length, and
17 feet between the forks or tips of the tail.
Died.] At Traquair-house, Peebleshire, 82, the
Earl of Traquair.
IRELAND.
It becomes our melancholy duty to announce
another murder in addition to the many horrible
ones that have already been perpetrated in this
unfortunate county (Tipperary), and which is un-
happily connected with the horrible murder of the
late Mr. Chadwick. It was rumoured that imme-
diately after his conviction, and while leading
from the dock, the guilty Grace said, "that before
May-day, every person that had a hand in his cou-
viction would be shot." If he made this declara-
tion, his prediction is being fulfilled. As three
brothers of Phillip Mara, who had the honesty
and manliness to prosecute one of the murderers
of the late Mr. Chadwick, and an apprentice, were
returning about seven o'clock in the evening, from
their work (being masons employed in building the
ominous police station at Rathcannon), they
were way-laid by twelve armed ruffians, not at all
disguised, who fired on them from behind a ditch,
between the place where Mr. Chadwick was mur-
dered, and the cross-roads at Bournacroosna. The
shots did not take effect. Two of the brothers im-
mediately ran off in the direction of Holy Cross,
and the apprentice made off, and pursued his way
to the intended barrack. Unfortunately, Daniel
Mara, the third brother, took refuge in the house
of one Kennedy, whick was close by. The mur-
derous ruffians having seen him enter, immediate-
ly proceeded to the house, smashed the windows,
and broke open the door. As soon as they entered
theyieized their unfortunate victim, in the midst
of Kennedy's family, and shot him dead — thus ef-
fecting their horrid and murderous purpose in the
face of a whole family, and in the midst of a vil-
lage ! The murder of this unfortunate, but honest
man, was effected almost in the centre of three
police stations, viz. at Rathcannon, Brasford, and
Holy Cross. The audacity of the murderers was
only to be equalled by their sanguinary dispo-
sitions.
[ 56Q
DAILY PRICES OF STOCKS,
From the 26tk of September to the <25th of October 1827.
Bank 3 Pr. Ct. * Pr. ( t. 3iPr.Ct. 3i.Pr.Ct. N4Pr.C.
Stock. Red. Consols. Consols. Red. Ann.
Long
Annuities.
India
Stock.
ndia Excli. Consols,
Bonds. Bills, for Ace.
tt
29
Id
Oct.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
IS
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
2154
MSI
21 5 j
2144.2154.
214~i
214 215;
215J
215$ i
215 ]
215J2K
87
93
10l
102|
19 7-16
7,1
19 7-16
,1
19*
19 9-16
9
9-16
9-16
9-16
I
255
2544.255
256J257
256
256
2564.257^
93p
92p
8790p
92p
93 94p
9394p
94 96p
949Gp
969/p
97p
lOOp
98 101 p
9799p
9798p
9698p
9798p
5861p
5659p
5558p
5355p
5367p
57 59p
5961p
61p
6062p
61 63p
6263p
62 63p
62 63 p
61 62p
61 64p
6365p
6465p
6365p
6064p
61 62p
61 63jp
61 62p
61 63p
87
%,
86* 87k
86l 87
87
y
I*
87
87
88
E. EVTON, Stock Broker, 2, Cornhill and Lombard Street.
MONTHLY METEOROLOGICAL REPORT,
From September 20th to 19th October inclusive.
By WILLIAM HARRIS and Co.. 50, High Holborn.
i
w
be
ce
a
Therm,
Barometer.
De Luc's
Hygro.
Winds.
Atmospheric Variations.
« •
.
1
ED
c
B
|
*
y,
a
B
9A.M.
10P.M.
3
PH*
9A.M.
10 P. M.
9 A M.
2P.M.
10 P.M.
en
rt
OJ
S
(55
o
20
28
-
48
55
49
29 65
29 80
91
88
S
ENE
Rain
Clo.
Clo.
21
51
64
54
29 71
29 55
90
90
W
WSW
Fair
S.Rain
22
55
64
49
29 46
29 40
90
85
w
WSW
Overc.
—
Fine
23
43
54
61
50
29 40
29 52
89
86
wsw
SW
S.Rain
Rain
_
24
57
62
52
29 54
29 61
91
85
sw
SW
Fair
Fail-
Fair
25
54
64
53
29 59
29 55
90
88
sw
s
Overc.
Fine
—
26
32
58
69
57
29 49
29 47
95
99
s
8E
—
Overc.
Rain
27
60
66
56
29 46
29 61
99
93
SE
SSW
Fair
Fair
Clo.
28
59
64
54
29 60
29 63
94
98
s
S
Clo.
—
_
29
46
58
61
55
29 53
29 59
95
95
SE
S
—
Rain
—
30
64
57
29 65
29 66
78
87
SW
SE
—
Fair
Fair
Oct.
-1
58
64
53
29 67
29 68
96
98
SSE
SE
Overc.
Clo.
Rain
2
54
63
52
29 77
29 96
100
93
SSE
SE
—
Fair
Fine
3
57
61
51
30 09
30 18
95
91
ENE
NNE
Clo.
—
—
4
52
63
51
30 24
30 27
96
95
NNE
NE
Foggy
—
"—
5
55
65
49
30 27
30 18
100
92
ENE
NNE
Clo.
— '
—
6
54
64
47
30 05
29 95
95
94
ESE
SE
Fair
—
—
7
49
58
48
29 83
29 71
95
95
SE
SE
Foggy
Foggy
—
8
54
62
53
29 54
29 34
92
95
S
SSW
Fail-
Fair
Rain
9
67
55
59
51
29 21
29 16
98
95
SSW
WSW
Rain
Rain
—
10
68
53
58
47
29 27
29 10
95
98
wsw
E
Clo.
—
—
11
7
60
54
48
29 13
29 15
90
88
w
WSW
Fair
—
Fair
12
61
57
43
29 24
29 43
93
86
WNW
W
—
Fair
—
13
f
43
46
44
29 40
29 44
89
89
W
w
—
, —
—
14
48
57
51
29 56
29 69
86
81
W
w
—
— .
«.
15
55
63
57
29 81
29 83
95
96
w
sw
Overc.
Clo.
Clo.
16
60
64
62
29 83
29 83
96
95
wsw
sw
_
Fair
Fair
17
55
63
48
29 76
29 71
95
85
ssw
s
Fair
_
—
18
53
63
55
29 65
29 65
98
97
SE
s
Foggy
_
Foggy
19
56
62
54
29 64
29 66
98
93
SSE
wsw
Rain
Rain
The quantity of Rain fallen in the month of SepUmbcr was two inches and 75-100ths.
THE
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOL. IV.] DECEMBER, 1827. [No. 24.
POPULATION OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND — THIRD REPORT
OF THE EMIGRATION COMMITTEE.
'«' Avec des tableaux biea chiffr6s, on prouve tout ce qu'on voudra."
EVERY inquiry connected with the problem of Population ; or, to
express the object of our discussion in this place more distinctly, every
inquiry bearing upon the business of adjusting the Supply of Labour, in a
country, situated and connected as England is, to the Demand; important
as it is to the welfare, if not to the safety of the community, stands yet so
hedged in on every side with difficulty and darkness, that it is not sue-
prising that the huge volume before us, the " Third Report of the Emi-
gration Committee," should be looked on, by the great mass of the read-
ing public, with something like a feeling of despair. The proposal of " Emi-
gration/'considered as it must be with a view to any thing like competent
explanation, or practical result, subdivides itself into a crowd of subordi-
nate or preliminary questions, which it would take us whole pages only
to furnish in detail a catalogue of. The measured extent of our country,
its present population, the nature of its soil, the degree of its cultivation,
its laws, its burthens, its moral and intellectual state, its wealth, the cha-
racter of its government, and, even more than all, its institutions — the
private divisions and liabilities of property in it — all these are points,
without which, upon a proposal of colonization, we cannot stir a step : it
is not an inquiry as to " Emigration;" but a question as to the condi-
tion, in all views, and subject to all directly or indirectly operating
agencies, of a kingdom. Does the Supply of Labour in the United King-
dom, at the present moment, exceed the Demand? Can that Demand
be increased, or does it appear likely still farther to diminish ? Can a
portion of our surplus population be sent abroad, with a prospect of advan-
tage to the individuals? Can we, by an act of the Legislature, raise the
money ; and is it expedient that we should do so, to carry such a scheme
of colonization into effect ? We leave out of consideration the seemingly
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV, No;?4. 4C
562 Population of Great Britain and Ireland — [DK c
obvious first inquiry — " Does our population exceed that amount which
the soil of our country could find capabilities to nourish?" — because
we take it to be foreign to the real purpose, unless so far as it bears
upon the ulterior question — " Can we, subject to the existing and arti-
ficial constitution of our society, bring fresh lands into cultivation ?"
and yet these numerous considerations which remain, present but a
sample of the questions connected with the subject which has en-
gaged the Committee ; and which even ten times the extent of the
six hundred folio pages of which its Report consists, might perhaps be
inadequate competently to discuss; Unhappily, too, this multiplicity of
collateral circumstances and inquiries, into which the subject of Emigration
branches, while it places the question taken in a true and sufficient light,
almost beyond the power of men's patience, or of their comprehension,
affords extraordinary facilities to any description of theorists, whose inte-
"rests or immature examinations incline them to mislead the public, or
deceive themselves : it is but leaving out of view (an omission, in such a
crowd, very far from being easily detected) any one of the material con-
siderations which should bear upon the subject ; and a most seemingly
unanswerable argument may be made up out of the remainder, upon any
side of the question which the writer or speaker finds convenient. Pre-
mising, therefore, that a Golden Conclusion — a plan which shall end all
happily (as a wedding, by prescription, terminates a play) — is not the de-
termination with which we start, we shall endeavour to point out some of
the difficulties which encumber the consideration of the subject, and some
of the circumstances which ought to be most carefully kept in view in dis-
'Ctissing it :— as well as (we think, certainly} to demonstrate, that the course
proposed by the Committee, upon the very evidence of its own Report,
is wholly inadequate and inefficient. If we should be compelled to finish
our paper without discovering any mode, by which — open to no objection
or inconvenience from any party, and tending to the gain and interest of
all — the existing difficulty can be got rid of, we shall at least have
•the consolation that our incompetency is not greater than that of our fore-
•fathers — who, for three hundred years past, have failed to come to any
satisfactory agreement upon this subject. Witness the discussions of the
• present year; which otherwise (we apprehend) would not be necessary.
To begin, then, with that portion of the subject upon which the least
difference of opinion is likely to arise — the undoubted effect of the evidence
.before the Committee, is to shew that, both in Great Britain and Ireland,
a heavy amount of population exists, for which the present circumstances
of the country afford no employment. Both in agriculture and manufac-
tures, the competition of labourers for work has reduced the average of
wages down to the very lowest point at which nature can be supported ;
and vast numbers of able bodied, willing individuals, even at this insuffi-
cient rate of remuneration, arc left without employment. This is the
state of things in England and Scotland : in Ireland, the want and desti-
tution are still worse. Low as the estimate of that which a man may
subsist on is in many pu'ts of England and Scotland, in Ireland the
allowance calculated for the same purpose does not reach one-third of the
same amount ; and, in many cases, whole crowds of families subsist noto-
riously by no other means than charity or depredation. In the British
manufacturing districts, the common opinion is, that, unless new markets
should arise — and of this, to any considerable extent., the witnesses see no
probability — the increase and improvement of Machinery must lessen the
1 8 2 7 .] Th ird Report of th e Em igration Comm ittae . ,163
demand for human labour every day. And to make this prospect still worse,
the Emigration of Irish labourers, of every class, into Scotland and the
northern districts of England, has, by the course of the steam navigation,
become so easy and extensive, that every chance of maintaining a differ-
ent rate of wages [^materially different^ in the two countries is at an end;
either the condition of the Irish workman must be improved, .or the Eng-
lishman who meets him in the market for labour must be degraded to
his level. .The short details which we shall extract from the evidence'in
the Report will establish these facts beyond question. And of tho
necessity of adopting some remedy, as far as any course of remedy can
be devised — especially to check the excess of the last-described evil, — there
can hardly exist a doubt.
The rlr»t witnesses examined before the Committee [we are now] upon
the Condition of the Labouring Classes] are —
Joseph Foster, and James Little, working " hand-loom weavers," of Glasgow,
and members of a society of artizans who are endeavouring to emigrate. These
persons give their evidence, which is of great length and interest, with the most
laudable temperance and good sense. They say that a hand loom weaver at Glas-
gow gets now, upon the average, from 4s. 6d. to 7s. a week wages : this is at
piece-ivork : and to earn so much, he must be employed eighteen or nineteen hours
a clay. — (Q. 15).* That oatmeal and potatoes, with a little salt herring, form the
principal diet of the weavers ; and that numbers have not a sufficient quantity even
of this. — (Q. 1G&). They attribute the want of demand for their labour, in a great
nieasure, to the introduction of the •* power-loom," which is getting more
improved every day, and, which they believe, must very soon di p ace the hand-
loom weaving entirely. — (Q. 58 to 61). They are tired of the apparent hopeless-
ness of their situation ; and great numbers wish, upon any terms, to emigrate.
Mr. Archibald Campbell, Member for Glasgow, confirms the evidence of these
witnesses, as to the state of their trade; but adds, that he believes, if 1000 work-
men weavers) were removed from Glasgow or Paisley to-morrow, the vacuum
would be immediately filled up by importations from Ireland — (Q. 219 .
Mr. Home Drummond, member for Renfrew, concurs in the opinion of Mr.
Campbell. He states that he has presented a petition to the House of Commons,
for aid in emigration, from 155 hand-loom weavers, at Balfron, in Stirlingshire,
whose earnings, for some time past, have averaged only from 4s to 6s. a week.
He adds that the Irish, in great numbers, are now driving out the natives in the
west coast of Scotland, by working at a cheaper rate than the latter, from the
more decent habits to which they have been accustomed, can afford to do. — (Q.
255).
The Rev. Mathias Turner states, that, at Manchester, and in several of the large
townships in Lancashire, the wages of the manufacturers are regularly, in a very
great degree, paid out of the poor-rates.— (Q. 531 to 537) The admitted calcula-
tion is, that a family cannot exist upon le>s than Half-a-crown a week per head;
and when that amount is not earned, the parish makes up the difference. Mr.
Turner sees no prospect of any fresh demand, which, looking to the force of the
power loom, can afford work for the hand-loom weavers. — (Q. 438).
The Bishop of Chester says, that there are in Bolton 8,000 hand-loom weavers,
the greater proportion of which, he believes, will never get employ again— (Q 2262).
His lordship speaks in the highest terms of the patience and good order of the
people under their privations.
Mr. Thomas Hunter, a master manufacturer at Carlisle, gives evidence to the
same effect. His facts happen to lie so condensed that we can make an intelligible
extract :
" Q. 2833. — What is the average rate of wages of an able-bodied hand-weaver,
by the week ? — I have taken out fifteen of my men ; five of them are employed at
the best work, and pretty constantly employed ; and I find their average nett
* The figures and letters refer to the number of the question in the evidence as
published by the Committee.
4 C2
584 Population of Great Britain and Irclmd — [DEC
earnings to be 5s. 6d. per week, deducting all necessary expenses of loom rent,
candles, tackling, &c.
" 2834. — How many hours a day must a man work to obtain those wages ? —
From fourteen to sijteen.
" 2835. — Is that rate of wages on the decline, or on the increase? — On the
decline.
" 2836. — Within how short a period has a reduction taken place ? — Within the
last week.
" 2837. — Can you describe to the Committee the diet on which this population
now subsist ? — I should think principally upon potatoes, and perhaps a little butter-
milk and herrings.
" 2838. — Do you happen to know, of your own knowledge, if they are in arrear
of rent for the houses they occupy ? — I believe nearly the whole of them.
" 2839. — How much rent do they owe, generally speaking, in Carlisle? — A year,
I may say confidently, but in many instances more.
" 2840. — Do they generally occupy a single room ? — Yes.
" 2841. — What is the rent they pay for a room ?— They generally take them
with a weaving-shop, with four or more looms attached ; that is, a shop for four
workmen ; and the price varies of course — I believe from 6/. to 8/. a year.
" 2842.— Then, in point of fact, they are at the mercy of their landlords, and
may be ejected at any time ? — Completely so.
" 2843.— Have they their furniture pledged in many cases ? — I dare say the most
valuable articles have been pledged for twelve months past.
" 2844. — Has the power-loom machinery been progressive lately, or can it
manufacture a species of goods, particularly checks, which it could not within a
very short time ? — They are making the attempt, though they have not succeeded
to a great extent yet : I have no doubt they will ultimately be enabled to manu-
facture checks by power looms. At present, they certainly excel in plain
cloths.
" 2845. — Is the fabric woven by the power-looms superior to that woven by
hand ? — They are obliged to use a better quality of yarns.
" 2846. — You being conversant with the trade, and knowing the facilities that
the power-loom gives for the manufacture of these articles, do you entertain a
reasonable doubt, even if the demand for manufactures increased, that the power-
loom could supply it, without the aid of hand loom weaving? — From the rate at
which it has increased of late years, I infer that it may certainly become equal to
the full supply of all the plain cloths, and probably, in a short time, to checks
likewise; that is,, to two-coloured patterns.
" 2847. — From your knowledge of Carlisle and its neighbourhood, are there any
other means of profitable employment open to hand-loom weavers, if they cease
to weave?— None whatever at present
" 2848. — Is not the rate of wages generally on the decline in that neighbourhood,
whether agriculture or manufactures?— I believe labourers' wages have been
reduced, in consequence of the number of hands thrown out of employ among the
weavers*"
In conclusion, this witness puts in a table of wages and expenses ; from which
it appears that the best hand-loom weavers in his employment are only able to
earn 5s. 6d. a week.
The witnesses who are examined as to the state of the English agri-
cultural population, state that the field labourers are in as bad a condition
as the manufacturers. The Bishop of Chester, in one part of his evidence,
intimates that their state is still worse. He says (p. 211) —
" Q. 2297. — Has your lordship turned your attention to the subject of emigra-
tion, as connected with the condition of the labouring poor of this kingdom ? — I
cannot say that I have; but another subject has been forced upon me since I have
become acquainted with the manufacturing districts; namely, the enormous dispro-
portion between the wages of the manufacturing and agricultural classes.
" 2298.— Could your lordship state to the Committee the great disproportion
that appears to exist between the two rates of wages ? — Yes. In the agricultural
districts, towards the east of England, it is considered that if a man and his wife
1827.] Third Report of the Enngndioti Committee.
and four children can earn ten shillings a week, he has no claim upon the parish for
relief: whereas, in the manufacturing districts, cases have been brought before the
Relief Committee as cases of urgent distress, where the same number of persons
have been receiving twelve shillings a week.
" 2299.— As a general position, you would think that the rate of wages in the
manufacturing districts is much better than the rate of wages through the agricul-
tural districts ?- That it was much better."
In another part of his evidence, however, his lordship sets this right.
lie says (Q. 23 1 8) that the house-rent which the manufacturer has to
pay is much greater: "A cottage which, in the agricultural districts, would
not fetch more than 31. a year, in the manufacturing districts fetches Si."
This increased rent exactly makes up the difference of 2s. a week — the
difference between I Os. and 12s. — to which his lordship before alluded.
It is farther admitted, that the labour and habits of the manufacturer render
a more expensive kind of sustenance necessary to him than will suffice for
the agricultural labourer: but the witnesses who speak to the condition of
this last class, make statements which admit of no equivocation, although
our limits enable us only to quote a few of them, and of the evidence of
these to give the substance generally, rather than the full examinations.
Mr. Walter Burrell says, that he is a proprietor at West Grinstead, in Sussex,
where the poor-rates, for the last four years, have been 12s. in the pound upon the
rent of the land. This is in defiance of an expenditure of 10,000/. upon one
work— a canal; undertaken, with other speculations, only to keep the people em-
ployed. From thirty to fifty able men are always, five months in the year, without
work ; and from seventy to seventy-five, three months. Boys and girls, from
twelve to sixteen years of age, are let out by the parish, at from 3d. to 9d. a week
each, and 40s. a year for clothing, given to those who will take them. In the
parish of Pulborough, at the present moment, the poor rates are more than Seven
shillings an acre upon the land ; and witness believes the distress through the
weald of Sussex to be pretty nearly the same. (Pp. 156, 137.)
Mr. Bradbury, overseer of the parish of Great Norwood, in Buckinghamshire,
fays, that in his parish the number of labourers is one-third more than can get em-
ployed.—(Q. 1216). The diet of the working-people is secondary bread, and tea
without sugar or milk. — (Q. 1243). It appears from this witness's account, that
Wages, properly so called, have— as a system of remuneration — altogether ceased.
Men work, in the mass, for any allowance that they can get ; and the parish gives
to each as much more as will make up the smallest amount that he can possibly
exist upon. A man with a wife and two children, has his wages made up to 6s. or
7s. a week.- (Q. 1246, 1247).
Mr. Thomas Lacoste says, that, in the parish of Chertsey, for the last seven or
eight years, about HO/, monthly has been paid to people who have no employ,
excepting in harvest. The labourers in general live very badly ; many get nothing
to eat but bread and potatoes, with tea.- (Q, 1603).
Mr. Samuel Maine, overseer of Hanworth, in Middlesex; Mr. James Taylor,
mercer, of Feltham; and a variety of other witnesses from agricultural districts,
state their parishes and neighbourhoods to be similarly situated.
We have marked the points from which these statements are taken, in
order that a reference to the Report itself may at once shew that they are
fairly extracted. But, if this appears to be a state of affairs sufficiently
distressing, the condition of the population of Ireland is incomparably
worse ; and, unfortunately, the time seems to be rapidly approaching,
when the condition of the labouring classes in the two countries — by the
rise of the one or the fall of the other — must be placed upon a level. The
steam-navigation — to use the expression of one of the witnesses — " has
become a flying bridge," established between Great Britain and Ireland.
The cost of passage seldom exceeds, from any point, half-a-crown or three
566 Population of Great Britain and Ireland— [[DEC
shillings; and it is in evidence that Associations are actually formed, and
in operation in Ireland, for the purpose of sending over the surplus popu-
lation of that country into Scotland and England. The Mendicity
Society of London states by its Report, that the number of applications
to them for relief from Irish paupers have been, up to only the 3]st of May in
the present year, 4,056 ; the amount of the applications in the whole of
the last year being only 2,994. And the evidence of Hr. Elmore, of Cork
(which we quote here for the purpose, a little out of its regular place), puts
an end to any surprise which such an increase of demand might produce;
for it avows the direct course, by which the augmentation has been
effected.
" Q. 4399.— What are you?— I was very largely engaged in the manufacture of
coarse linens and cottons.
" 4400.— Where ?-In Clonakilty, twenty five miles south-west of Cork.
" 4412. — Can you inform the Committee of any circumstances connected with a
subscription for the removal of any paupers in the neighbourhood of Cork, to any
part of this country ? — In the year 1826, from the immense falling cfi'of the linen
manufacture introduced in the neighbourhood of Clonakilty, where nearly one
thousand looms were employed — those linens were met in the market by a better
quality of linen made by steam machinery, here and in Scotland ; and theresult has
been that business declined — it was impossible that, working without machinery,
even at the lowest rate, competition could be maintained. I say at the very lowest
rate ; women and children working twelve hours a day for 2d. or 3d. ; weavers
working the same number of hou;s could only earn from 8d. to lOd ; even at that
modicum, their production could not compete with the production of the steam-
power. The result is, that the business has been entirely destroyed, or compara-
tively so; that out of one thousand looms employed, there are not now more than
thirty or forty. During the latter part of the last year, and the whole of this, the
poor weavers must have been supported by voluntary contributions. Finding it
impossible to continue that longer, it was conceived by a committee, formed at
Clonakilty, that it would be proper to enter into subscriptions to send them ove to
Manchester to seek employment ; anr\ fearing that, by sending them in large q-an-
tities, they might be 'i eturned, the mode pursued was to send them over by forties,
giving them money to pay their way, and support them a few days in Man-
chester."
The generally degraded condition of the Irish population — -with the
numberless causes more or less tending to that degradation — as detailed by
the witnesses, from Ireland generally, would require a greater extent of
extract to make it fully intelligible to our readers, than the limits of a
periodical can afford. From the mass of evidence, however, before us, we
shall select a few passages ; carefully, however, avoiding relations of par-
ticular cases of distress, arid quoting only those statements which apply to
the condition of whole classes, or at least of very large bodies, of the
people.
The first witness is Mr. Hugh Dixon,of Westmeath, who gives the following
answers to some of the questions of the Committee : —
" Q. 2470. — Are you a land-agent in the county of Westmeath ?— I am.
" 2471. — Is there a great deal of poverty among the peasantry in that part of the
country ?— Indeed there is.
" 2481. — What are the wages of labour in that part of the country ?— A labourer
is well contented if he gets what is called constant work with a gentleman in the
country, at eig ' t-pcnce a-day one part of t>te rear, and ten pence the other — •
Irish ; that is, about ninepence-halfpenny for one, and sevenpence-halfpenny for
the other half. He never complains.
" 2483 — Will you state any of those classes with regard to whom more distress
is found to exist?— [The witness describes, in the course of several answers, the
condition of the *' under tenantry" or tenants who hold of the landlord^ tenantry,
1827.] Third Report of the Emigration Committee. 567
at heavy rents ; being idle one half of the year, and coming to England for harvest
work during the other|half.]
" 2.502. — Considering the average price of food in Westmeath, and the quality
of the provisions which are consumed by this lowest class of persons ; considering
the nature of their clothing, and all their expenses together, what is the lowest
sum per head at which you would estimate the maintenance of a family, consisting
of a man, a woman, and three children, in the lowest class which you have
described ? — I dare say it would not be three pounds a piece. I do not think it
would take more than that, from the manner in which they live : in fact, they have
nothing but the potatoe." ^
Mr. David John Wilson, a proprietor in the county of Clare, confirms the state-
ments of the last witness, as to the misery of the peasantry, and the absence of
employment. He says that he can get labourers for sixpence a-day all the year
round ; and that the same men who work at that price will pay as high as from
Jive pounds to nine g tineas an acre for their potatoe-ground. — (Q. 2660). The
rent is made by the sale of a pig, which is fed on the offal of the potatoe ground,
and which is bought " upon time;" that is, not paid for until the time of sale. —
(Q. 2660). The food of these people is potatoes only, with a little milk in
summer.
Mr. Leslie Foster states (Q. 3156), that, in some parts of Ireland, population
is at such an excess, that nearly the whole produce of the land is applied to the
maintenance of the tenantry — leaving scarcely any available fund for the payment
of the landlord. This gentleman's evidence, as to the obstacles which the distribu-
tion of property in Ireland present to the reclamation of waste lands, is highly
luminous and interesting.
Mr. Jerrard Strickland speaks to the state of one property, upon which, within
a space of 23,77 1 Irish acres, the population amounts to 18,535 individuals. —
(Q. -3541). A great deal of this land is " grazing mountain," affording only some
pasture for cattle; and there are no towns upon it at all, or manufacture carried
on. The people hold small pieces of ground each, at extravagant rates of rent,
which they plant with potatoes or cabbage : and the rent — which it would be
impossible to pay out of the produce of the land — is made by the begging of the
family, or by the money which the owner comes over and earns in Scotland or
England.— (Q. 353 1 , 5532, &c.)
Mr. Markham Marshall says —
" Q. 4171 — Where do you reside? — In the county of Kerry.
"4172. — You have been resident on your property there for some years ? — I
have.
" 4173. — Have you any particular means of ascertaining the state of the popula-
tion with regard to the demand for labour? — I have observed that the population
very far exce d> the demand for labour.
" 4173. —Is considerable distress the consequence ? — It is; I carried on exten-
sive works last year; and as soon as it was understood that the works had com-
menced, hundreds flocked in to obtain occupation. Many of them had not tasted
food for two days before, they assured me ; and when at work, my steward informed
me, that the generality of them were so weak, in consequence of the state of starva-
tion that seemed to prevail among them, that I should be necessitated to fc d
them ; which I did for six weeks, before they could execute men's work.
" 4178. — Did you find, after the period during which you say it was necessary
to nourish them, that they were very good labourers? Very good.
" 4 179. — Were they persons chiefly having families?-*— I believe so.
" 4180.— So that there must be a great nun ber of persons beyond what you
employed dependent upon their work for support ? — Undoubtedly ; they were
much more numerous than I could give emyloy merit to.
" 4193.— What were the wages you gave?— Eightpence a day."
The evidence of Mr. Bodkin, Mr. Vandeleur, Dr. Murphy, and Dr.Elmore is to
the same effect : the most important point in the e :?imination of the last of these
gentlemen — the organized system of erni^ra;ion irom Ireland into England — we
have already referred to.
,'<>S Population of Great Britain and Ireland. [Dec.
Tho existence, then, of amass of pauperised labour in some parts of
Great Britain and Ireland, which is rapidly going on to degrade the whole
productive labour of the country to its level, we think may be assumed.
The Committee, in its Report, seems to address itself rather by preference
to the condition of the agricultural population of the kingdom ; but the
evidence of all the witnesses examined from the manufacturing districts
shews that the state of things there is no less deplorable. The question,
therefore, shortly is — the evil being proved — What is the remedy ?
In proceeding to this question, then, it becomes first necessary that we
should set out by understanding the nature of the evil which we have to
cure; and, with this view, we must call the fact to our remembrance, that
the Surplus with which we are dealing is not a Surplus of Population as
regards the capabilities of the land ; but a Surplus of Labour over and
above the wants and demands of the community. It is not that we have
more people than the soil can maintain; because in England, Scotland,
and Ireland there are more than ten million acres of land uncultivated;
full two-thirds of which is capable, according to the best authorities, of
being reclaimed, and which, being reclaimed, would produce food to
tain ten times trie amount of " surplus population" that the wildest scheme
of Emigration could ever be calculated to provide for. Nor is it — apart
from this fact — that the power of subsisting population in Great Britain is
at all necessarily limited by the cultivation or working of our land ; be-
cause every manufacturer probably in the country might find abundance
of employment to-morrow, if he were at liberty to accept the cheap corn
of Russia or of Poland in exchange for the cloths which he produces.
Therefore, we must distinguish. It is not the physical absence of means
to live, but the artificial institutions and position of society, which prevent
us from increasing our population, or oblige us to diminish it : we have not
more labour than we can maintain ; but we have more than the circum-
stances of the time afford a demand for : and the result is, that the lower
classes, whose labour is the only 'commodity they have to dispose of, are
ruined by its abundance, and the consequent diminution of its price.
In suggesting a remedy, therefore, for the evil, it is necessary to select
that remedy, not with a view to its powers or operation in the abstract, but
with a reference to those peculiar circumstances in the state of this coun-
try, subject to which, in practice, if adopted, it will have to be worked.
We must examine how it bears, not merely upon the incident of the sur-
plus population or surplus labour of the British empire, but how it may
work in conjunction with all the various vested rights and interests which
we must support : how it will suit and operate in connexion with the agri-
cultural interest that holds the property of our land ; with the foreign trade,
that gives subsistence to our manufactures ; with the public burthens and
customary religious dues, which, as long as the present system holds toge-
ther, we must pay ; and, last not least, with the arrangements and distri-
bution of all private property, and with the liens to which such property is
subject.
In the abstract, a choice of expedients presents itself. We may extend
our home cultivation : we may admit foreign grain, and increase the sale
of our manufactures: or we may do what it is now proposed to do — send
our surplus population abroad. And it is only necessary purposely to leave
out of sight any one collateral circumstance which ought to be referred to;
and in favour of any one of these courses — all opposite to, and striving in
1827.] Third Report of the Emigration Committee.
the teeth of each other — an argument may be made out which shall appear
unanswerable.
As a proposition of itself, nothing can be more plausible or more simple,
than that — If our population be too dense, we should reclaim the waste
lands, and find subsistence for it. At least, it may be said these lands will
produce food, for the number of hands employed to cultivate them ! Unfortu-
nately, to prove the truth of this is to prove nothing : for we cannot draw a
line in the law and regime which regulates our population ; and every aero
of land which is cultivated in this country must not only pay the labourer
that tills it ; it must go out of cultivation, or it must pay more. The man
who sows the field is riot, as society exists, the first who reaps the produce
of it: the church, the state, and the public creditor must all — with a host
of minor claimants — be satisfied before him. The land which now lies
•waste must pay, if cultivated, some rent — for it is the property of some-
body : some charge of improvement — were it only the maintenance «4'the
labourer, from the time of his commencing work until he obtains his
crop, and the stamp of the parchment that gives him his lease or title of
possession. The seed that goes into the ground must be paid : the farmer
cannot lie in a ditch, or under a hedge — the interest of capital upon build-
ing him a house to live in must be paid. Then the tithe must be paid ; the
poor-rates must be paid ; the king's tax, and the county-rate, and the rate
for building the church that a new village requires must be paid. And
«very one of these charges must be satisfied to the last farthing out of the
produce of any land — the moment we bring it into tillage — before the cul-
tivator can taste a single grain of wheat, or even a potatoe that has grown
upon it.
Thus much then for " the capability of the soil;" and as extremes are
said, especially in argument, to lie near one another, the next proposition
that we meet abroad — from the man next door to the waste land: cultivator
- — is that which insists upon finding food for our surplus population, by
freely admitting foreign corn. Our manufacturers are half fed, or starving,
with gluts of unsold cotton (and powers unlimited of producing more) upon
their hands. The people of Poland and Prussia are ill clad or naked, with
corn rotting, for want of consumption, in their lofts and warehouses. Can
any thing be more monstrous than a legislative enactment which denies
these parties the liberty of exchanging with each other? keeping the foreigner
without the manufactures which he is in want of, and our own industrious
manufacturer idle, and without food ? This proposition, which, moderated
and guarded, perhaps comes the nearest to possibility and policy, neverthe-
less proceeds directly to the arrangement of throwing old land out of cul-
tivation, instead of bringing new land into it ; and, moreover, it is a policy
which, adopted in its full extent, would produce a convulsion of property
that it is impossible to contemplate : it would beggar every landowner in
England. A fall of twenty per cent, in the price of corn to-morrow, would
reduce the rent or income of every proprietor in England by one-half.
If the whole reduction fell upon the land owner, his whole rent would be
absorbed ; but this would not be the case, because the general fall of prices
would assist him something, and the profit of the farmer would be pared
down to make up another portion of the deficiency. But still the reduc-
tion of his rent to one-half — and it would be reduced full a half — would
effect the landowner's certain ruin. It is an error to suppose that it loaves
him with half his original wealth . it leaves him a beggar : probably
poorer than a beggar : for here the private rights and vested interests of the
M.iVI. New Series.— VoL.\V. No. 21. 4 D
570 Population of Great Britain and Ireland — [DEC.
country stop in to cramp us in any attempt at change. All that the man
whose property was thus suddenly depreciated had to receive, under the
new state of things, would be diminished by one-half; but all that he
had to pay — the whole amount of his liabilities — would remain the same.
With only ten shillings of rent received from the farmer, he would still
have to pay twenty shillings of claim for the public defence, or for the
interest of the stockholder. His bonds, his settlements, mortgages, and
securities of every description, would remain in their full extent : his means
of meeting those liabilities (the rents upon the faith of which they had
been contracted) would be diminished by one-half: the result would be
that his estate would pass to his creditors — his person, if not protected by
privilege, to a gaol. This course (putting out of the question the abate-
ment of home trade, which the fall of the rents would occasion) would be
little else than to create one great mass of misery and ruin, in our endea-
vours or anxiety to get rid of another.
The truth is, that those persons who are so assiduous to convince two of
our contending parties, the agriculturist and the manufacturer, that they
are " brothers," carefully forget always that we have two classes of
manufacturers — those who supply the home market, and those interested
in the foreign : the latter of whom, in spite of all the logic of all the
schools, will feel and believe that their interests and those of the English
corn-growers — their immediate interests — are opposed. The home agri-
culturist, who would keep up the price of wheat, tells the home manufac-
turer truly — " We are brothers, and our interests are one. Pay me a high
money price for my corn, and I will pay you a high price for your cotton :"
the advantage of which course will be, that each receives a high price from
the public generally, and pays — upon a great body of particular claims — no
more than he must pay whether his general receipt were high or low. For
example : A, a landowner, has 3/. to pay (to the public defence, the pen-
sion-list, and the fundholder), in the shape of a tax upon his footman ;
and 3/. (to B, the manufacturer), for the livery which the footman wears.
Corn being at 60s. a quarter, two quarters pay the whole demand — 61.
But, if corn be reduced to 2/. a quarter, although the cost of the livery has
also fallen to 2L, still the landlord is a loser; for the tax remains where it
did. The livery and the tax together amount now to 51. ; and to pay that
he must give, not two quarters of wheat, but two quarters and a half. So,
again — B, the Home manufacturer, who pays 6s. to his workman, for
weaving a piece of cloth, and 4s. (to the fundholder) for duty on the raw
material, if he sells his cloth in the market for 12s. (the cost being 10s.),
gets 2s. — although wheat shall be 60s. a quarter — by the transaction. But
if wheat fall to 40s., and the market value of his cloth in the same propor-
tion to 10s., then, although his workman's wages have fallen to 5s., yet
the duty of 4s. remains the same, and he loses Is. of profit by the change.
Thus far, therefore, nothing can be more true than that the agriculturist, and
the home manufacturer are brothers : but here — and this is the point which
we are apt to lose sight of — here, in one moment, the mutual interest,
which has run so smoothly between the parties, is broken up. For
the manufacturer for the foreign market — for whom it is impossible to
make especial provisions and arrangements — is forgotten in this treaty, and
is starving. His customers in Germany and America will not pay him
high prices, because wheat is dear in England. Buying grain at 31. a
quarter, he is undersold in his market by rivals, who can buy it at I/. 10s. ;
and he says fairly to the English agriculturist, " You purchase none of
1 8 2 7. J Th ird Report of the Em igration Comm it tee. 571
my produce ; why am I compelled by law to pay an enormous price for
yours ?" Denied — as though chastisement were to impend upon injustice —
the very ruin that overtakes him, brings his revenge upon the back of it. His
vent abroad ceasing, he throws himself in the shape of a glut into the home
market; and cuts down the prices of his fellow dealers, and runs up the
poor-rates upon his opponents, (the landowners) ; on the one hand, with
his cheap unsaleable goods, and on the other with his chargeable unem-
ployed labour.
Dismissing, however, both farther cultivation, and farther importation
of food, from their minds, as impracticable under the burthens and circum-
stances of the country, the Committee, alter hearing an infinity of evidence
upon all sides, concludes by deciding to report in favour of " Emigration."
Our chief complaint against which course is, simply and shortly, that we
think it clear that the sort of emigration that they recommend, can tend to
nothing ; and that, if there be any truth in the data upon which their re-
commendation is founded, they might just as well — except for fashion's
sake — have concluded without any recommendation at all. As it is, we
shall beg the attention of our readers, while we examine, very shortly,
how far the expectations held out in the Report are likely to be realized.
Emigration being resolved upon as the most efficient remedy for the
admitted distress, the principal points which the Committee had to inquire
into were these: — First, the expediency of "removal," as regarded the wel-
fare of the individuals removed. Second, the extent to which such a
removal as its policy contemplated, would relieve the market of the surplus
labour that distressed it. Thirdly, the question whether any vacuum cre-
ated by emigration was, or was not, likely to be immediately filled up.
Fourthly, the means to pay the expenses of emigration — a topic which
divides itself into a variety of minor inquiries. And lastly, the position and
detail of the proposed colonization : matters which we shall not go into at
present ; because we doubt the whole case will break down before we arrive
at the point which would make their discussion necessary.
The first of the above five questions, then, although it has excited a
good deal of contest in some quarters, we are inclined to dismiss very sum-
marily. We are far from thinking that the lot of the Emigrants will be free
from hardship : but of this we are convinced — that the condition of a
pauper who emigrates, must be better than the condition of a pauper who
remains at home. The man who already digs in the earth, or spins in a
cotton mill, sixteen hours a day, for six shillings a week — whose bed is
straw, with at best a single blanket, and his food oatmeal or potatoes, and
even these in a quantity barely sufficient to sustain existence — this man
has not a great deal, go where he may, to apprehend from fortune. We
feel no apprehension ourselves as to the " unfitness of weavers for agricul-
tural pursuits." The weavers, during the war, made good soldiers: no
better: and men who could fell Frenchmen will be able to fell trees: if
they could open trenches to besiege fortresses, they can open trenches
to plant celery. Besides, this very trivial objection touches only a
handful of individuals. It neither affects the English or Irish pea-
santry ; nor yet (among the artisans) the hand-loom weaver ; who,
according to the evidence, united the trades of agriculturist and manu-
facturer ; generally adding to his cottage a comfortable garden, which
he cultivated, and which furnished great part of the daily sustenance of his
family. Therefore, upon this first question, we are ready to join issue at
4D2
572 Population of Great Britain and Ireland — [DEC;
once : the emigrants themselves, we think, will be benefited by emigra-
tion.
On the next point, however, examined by the Committee — the mode
in which the funds are to be raised for Emigration — we cannot get on so
fast ; and we rather suspec-t that a portion of their plan here, which takes up
at least 1 00 pages of room in the Report and evidence, will never, except
upon paper, take up any room at all. The first part of the proposal of the
Committee, in principle, and divested of the multitudinous figures and
calculations that encumber it, is — That the legislature shall borrow a cer-
tain sum of money, for the purpose of locating emigrants in foreign colonies,
and providing them at starting with such supplies as seem necessary
to ensure their success : this Loan to be afterwards repaid by the emi-
grant, in the shape of an annual rent levied upon the land allotted to him ;
the first payment of such rent commencing three years after his location,
and continuing until the whole sum advanced to him (with interest) is dis-
charged. As the principle here is all that is of consequence, we shall
just briefly state that the loan furnished to each emigrant — such individual
being " the head or master of a family of five persons" — is to be ()0/.
Distributed and laid out for his advantage, according to the following course
or table, on his arrival at Quebec, or any other port (specified) of our
North American colonies :— •
" Average estimate of the expense of settling a family, consisting of one man,
one woman, and three children, in the British North American provinces; dis.
tinguisbing the various items of expenditure :
Expenses of conveyance from the port of disembarkation to £. s. d.
place of location 10 0 0
Provisions (and freight), viz. 1 lb. of flour, and 1 Ib. of pork
for each adult per diem, and half that quantity for each
child; pork at AL a barrel, and flour at II. 5s 41 17 8
House for each family 200
Implements; consisting of four blankets, one kettle, one
frying-pan, three, hoes, one spade, one wedge, one augur,
one pickaxe, two axes, proportion of grindstone, whip-
saw and cross cut saw, freight and charges, in all do 318 0
Cow 4 10 0
Medicines 100
Seed corn , 0 1 6
Potatoes ditto 0 12 6
Proportion of general expenses: clerks, surveyors, &c. £c.... 250
Canadian currency £66 4 8"
Now thirty years are to be allowed the colonist for pay ing this advance
back, with the interest. And advantages are to be allowed him on pur-
chasing up the annuity at an earlier period ; and the rent is to be taken in
money or in produce, according to his convenience. And all this looks
plausihly upon paper ; and we are not at all prepared to say that even the
fact of its total hollo wness should stop the project of emigration — if that plan
be in other respects found advisable : but if we are to canvass the Report
of the Committee, and bind ourselves by a part of their conclusion — that
" they would not fa<z\ justified in recommending to the House a national
outlay of this nature, without the prospect of direct return' — then we
must confess that neither the facts nor the analogies upon which they
1827.] Third Report of the Emigration Committee. 573
found their belief of this " direct return," are by any means convincing
or satisfactory to us.
In the first place, there is something, as it were, staggering and over-
powering— something which alarms one's ordinary habits of belief — in the
appearance of a table occupying a whole page in folio ; closely figured
and printed ; and exemplifying the exact course of payments to be made,
all the way from North America, by persons now going out from England
to that country as paupers, so far in futurity as up to the years 1860 and
1861 ! The years 1860 and 1861 ! — why the world may end before that
time. Or the Canadas — an event perhaps less improbable — add them-
selves, "emigrants" and all, to the United States of America, The
mere looking through Time's telescope, for a space of thirty years,
diminishes every sovereign of the debt to the size of a spangle! Besides
which, we should doubt grievously that the cost of collection, at such a
distance, would swallow up all the proceeds of the settlers' rent. Pay-
ments in corn or cattle, made by scattered farmers in North America, to
be transmitted to England! How much per cent.— deducting the salaries
of collectors, receivers, and commissioners — not to speak of a whole host of
incidental expenses — would they be worth when they arrived? Moreover,
the Committee forget that they have counted here, as though they were
reckoning matters certain, upon the honesty, industry, and success — three
points each sufficiently questionable — of all these settlers. What security
have we against an " emigrant" — that is to say, a " pauper" — that ho
shall not receive his location money in May — grow tired of farming in
June — and hire himself as a servant (spending all he has, first) in July?
Or what pledge, that the man who has secured his bounty, shall not,
within a fortnight afterwards, sell all he has, and proceed with the money
across the boundary to New York • leaving the tax-gatherer, who comes
to levy on his land " three years after," to find the interest of his em-
ployer's loan, where he can find the principal ? Neither does the dis-
tinction taken by the Committee — that the present claim would " not be
a claim for rent of land" but for "the liquidation of a debt actually in-
curred, and charged with legal interest"— seem to us by any means
sufficiently to provide against those " difficulties, which the Committee
are aware have been practically experienced, both in Canada and the
United States, in obtaining the payment of the proceeds of land I" The
difference between u proceeds of land," and actual " produce*' demanded
from a settler, is one which we fear transatlantic minds would be slow in
comprehending ; and the table produced by Mr. Robinson to prove — from
the success of former emigrants — that future ones would have the means
of paying every thing demanded of them, seems chiefly calculated to shew
the distressing and dangerous extent, in which the settlers whose condition
he describes, and whom he " located," suffered from ague and fever in the
first year after their arrival. Our own impression is, that, so far from there
being a prospect of a " direct return" from emigrants sent out by this
country, the chances are ten to one that there never would be any «' return"
at all. But we shall leave this point. In discussing the question so far,
it will be observed we have spoken only of the cost or means of locating
the emigrants after their arrival in North America; the means of passing
them from Europe are to arise in another way, and from other sources ;
and, upon this second part of the plan, we doubt that the conclusion of
the Committee has been adopted even more rashly than upon that which
preceded it.
574 Population of Great Britain and Ireland — [DEC.
The view of the Committee, on the subject of the passage of the emi-
grants from Europe to Canada, is that that expense would be willingly
paid by the parishes or parties interested in their removal. It does not
seem to us that, especially as regards the great source from which the
emigration would be drawn — viz. Ireland — the evidence of the witnesses
justifies any such confident expectation.
To begin with Scotland. All the witnesses from Scotland (capitalists
and proprietors) are agreed upon the fact of the Surplus Population, and
the general distress : but the moment a subscription is mentioned to
remove the labourers, they " cannot hold out any prospect of contribution,"
and " think that any vacuum produced by emigration would soon fill up."
In England, where the state of the poor laws renders every unemployed
labourer a direct charge upon his parish, the case is different ; and the
witnesses here think, pretty generally, that, if parishes were allowed to
mortgage their rates for the money necessary, they would subscribe for a
removal. In the agricultural districts, no difference of opinion exists upon
this point; and, in the manufacturing, the only question is — which would
be the best way to get rid exactly of that quantity of workmen who are
chargeable to the poor-rate; and at the same time retain just such a num-
ber as will always keep down the price of labour in the market ?
But, in Ireland, which is the great and productive source of the evil —
and as to which the Committee declares it would be useless to think of any
emigration which did not proceed by carrying off great numbers of the
Irish people first — we have decided doubts whether any thing will be done
in the way of finding money, which is not done entirely at the expense of
the legislature.
For, in the first place, it is in proof, upon the evidence of all the principal
witnesses, that by accumulating population upon his estates to the very
farthest possible point — however the tenantry may be plunged into misery
and degradation — the Irish proprietor is often decidedly benefited. So
long as the population upon the land stops short of that ultra limit of
excess, when feeding on potatoes, and lying half naked in huts of mud,
they still consume all that the ground can produce ; in which case, of
course, nothing remains to pay the landlord ; so long as the population
falls short of that point, the enormous competition created by its excess,
raises the rent of the proprietors* land three or four times over that
which (if the tenants had to earn meat and clothes out of it) would be its
value. And, even beyond this, the maintenance of a political interest
(under the forty shilling freehold system) frequently makes it worth a pro-
prietor's while to sacrifice a portion of his rent • and keep up a greater
population on his ground, than the land is capable of adequately main-
taining.
Mr. Hugh Dixon says that the peasantry of Ireland pay rents which it is impos-
sible for them to raise out of the land. They live upon almost nothing ; and earn
part of the money that pays their rent bv working in England. He has no doubt
that the system of forty shillings freeholds tends materially to increase the excess
of population ; but the best landlords carry that system to the utmost to assist
their political objects. — (Q. 2551 to 2554). Mr. Dixon's opinion is by no means
favourable to the conclusion, that Irish proprietors, generally, would contribute
money to carry their poor tenants away ; there are cases, he says, in which it
would be contrary to their interest to do so.
Mr. Daniel Wilson, who states that as much as nine guineas an acre is paid now
in some places for land to be made into potatoe garden, though he admits that
rents are often lost by the poverty of the population, doubts whether proprietors
1827.] Third Report of the Emigration Committee. 575
would contribute towards their removal. Political objects, for one cause, may
disincline them to do so. Mr. Wilson says—
" Q. 2674. — You don't think the landlord will contribute towards the emigra-
tion of his tenantry, who cannot provide a check against their places being re-
occupied ? — I think the remedy always remains with the proprietors ; at the same
time there is one great inducement held out to the proprietor not to check it.
" 2675.— What is that?— It is the present system of elective franchise.
" 2676. — Will you state to the Committee the direct effect of that system? —
Each gentleman looks for a particular weight in his county : at least many do ;
and his political weight in the county must depend upon the number of forty
shillings freeholders he has. If he looks to have his rents paid in comfort, and
his property in an improved state, he will not have such a number of forty shil-
lings freeholders ; if he looks to a political interest, he must have a great number
of forty shillings freeholders on his property."
Mr. John Scott Vandeleur, doubts if any general disposition to contribute would
be found among the landlords. — (Q. 3128).
Mr. Leslie Foster concurs with the earlier witnesses, that under the existing
system the landlords of Ireland constantly receive rent beyond that which the land
is worth. — (Q. 3153). He thinks, however, that the alarm is now so great, from
the excess of pauperism, that contributions for emigration might be expected from
the landlords. His evidence, however, in another place, shews that the obstacles
in the way of allowing proprietors to charge their estates for this purpose (where
it was not convenient to pay money down) would be almost insuperable.
The accounts of Mr. Jerrard Strickland, and of Mr. Markham Marshall, upon
this point, are both important. Mr. Strickland says —
" Q. 3522. — Are you of opinion that in case a proprietor, whose land falls out
of lease, and who has had an opportunity of getting rid, upon the principle you
describe, of his extra tenantry, that that proprietor will materially increase his
annual receipt of rents by the operation of such a change? — At the present
moment, I believe he would lose rent. If merely the number of tenants that were
necessary for the cultivation of the land upon an improved principle were left
upon it, and all the rest were removed, in the first instance, the landlord would
lose rent. The small tenantry in Ireland pay more rent than any regular farmer
would pay ; and these pay it not out of the produce of the land, but out of the
produce of their labour in England. There is an unnatural rent paid to the land-
lords in the part of the country I am in, which is not derived from the produce of
the land ; and if those men were now removed, the landlord would lose rent.
" 3523. — Although that observation may be true in particular instances, it is
presumed that it does not apply generally $ — Undoubtedly not, I speak merely as
far as my own knowledge goes. That certainly does exist over a great part of the
counties of Mayo, Roscommon, and Galway.
" 3524.— The Committee are to understand that in those counties it is almost
the universal habit of the poor class of labourers to migrate into England for the
purpose of obtaining wages during harvests ! —It is ; and they bring from England
money to pay rent for land,/ar beyond the value of that land; and they actually
pay that rent.
" 3525. — Are the rents paid with punctuality?— They are; those common
tenantry will pay to middle men 20s. 30s. and 40s. per acre, for the privilege of
building a cabin on the skirts of a bog, and cultivating the bog : themselves earning
the rent by their labour in England."
Mr. Marshall follows.
" Q. 4221. — Do you not conceive that it is the well understood interest of
every proprietor whose estate is over peopled, in a pecuniary point of view, to
get rid of that surplus population, and let his ground in another manner than has
been usual in the south of Ireland?— I think ultimately undoubtedly it is; though
many resident proprietors are desirous of having a considerable population on their
estates, in consequence of the cheapness of labour, and the competition, and con-
sequent high rent offered for land: a rent, which though never paid, if money is
required, is generally discharged by means of labour."
The Irish witnesses are thus divided as to the question whether Ian downers
would contribute voluntarily to remove their tenantry ; and the weight of
576 Population of Great Britain and Ireland — [E>EC;
their inclination seems to us to go to the negative — that they would not. But
apart from personal opinion, the state of the facts is pretty nearly sufficient
to demonstrate, that all assistance afforded to emigration must be given by
some public act — must come from the legislature or from the crown.
Because the interests of all individuals, in a measure like this, will not bo
alike, or in common ; and, on the contrary, as soon as the scheme of
removal began (by personal or local contribution), each man would aim
at being benefited — if the course of removal produced benefit — by tho
operations of some other. The disposition (as far as any exists) to con-
tribute toward the charge of emigration, is to arise out of the necessity
which any given landlord feels for clearing his estate of its surplus
tenantry ; joined to the fear that such tenantry, finding no refuge else-*
where, will be driven into acts of desperation or open violence. The
Committee asks Mr. Daniel Wilson, speaking of the process of eject-
ment— " You do not think that the proprietors would be withheld by a
feeling for the consequences to the party ejected, from exercising their
right of ejecting the tenant ?" The answer is — " No ; I think that
in many cases they would not !" That which the landlord does, it is admit-
ted that he does from fear ; from a fear that the tenants, left wholly
without resource, will be driven to despair. But as soon as by the clear-
ance of the estate of A, the ejected tenants of B had a prospect of locating
themselves on the grounds of his neighbour, the alarm of B, a? to the con-
sequences of the despair of these tenants abates ; and (having no more
money than he very well knows what to do with) he takes advantage
of the opening that has been made, and ejects — without paying any contri-
bution towards the emigration project- — immediately. In fact, this principle
not only must come into operation, but it is in operation already. Mr. Wil-
son states that, on a certain occasion, he cleared part of the useless popula-
tion off a particular farm. And the Committee asks — " What became of
them?'' And the answer is the simplest in the world — " They are residing
on land adjoining it ; they have taken small houses from cottier tenants."
So in the evidence of Mr. John Bodkin — the witness states that he dis-
possessed a number of tenants, giving up a year's rent, £790, that they
were in arrear. The question is asked — "What became of them ?"
And the answer is — '* They went on the different properties of the neigh-
bourhood." And again, Mr. Markham Marshall, being asked what
became of 1,100 people whom he ejected, says — " They went upon the
estates of the adjoining proprietors : but having no means of earning an
honest livelihood, they have been necessitated to resort to thieving and
vagabond habits for support." Were it from the operation of this circimv
stance only, we should say that the Committee is infinitely too sanguine in
its expectations of assistance, unless by a general legislative measure, from
the Irish proprietors. The greater part of these are, practically — whatever
their nominal properties may be — distressed men ; and many of them will
be anxious to avoid every expense, not compulsory, in which it is attempted
to involve them. Some — unless aid is directly voted by Parliament — will
be content to keep their tenants : they make them pay, not as farmers, but
as voters. Others will delay their ejectments, until room shall be made
on the lands of their more liberal neighbours. But — strongest of all — we
think there is this answer to the assumption of the Committee — that Irish
landholders will come forward voluntarily to furnish the means of removing'
a portion of their excessive population. — Can we expect the Irish pro-
prietors, unless upon compulsion, to contribute jive pounds ahead (for
1 827.] Third Report q/ the Emigration Committee. 577
this is the sum demanded) to carry their surplus tenantry as emigrants
to Canada, when, fora twentieth part of that amount— and under a systora
already organized, and in operation — they can pay the expenses ot their
emigration into England?
Unfortunately, however, it is not merely upon these points of detail •
sufficiently important, perhaps, as some of them may fairly be called—that
we are disposed to quarrel with the Report of the Emigration Committee.
Supposing the expectations which we have discussed to he founded in
error, a change of arrangement is all that is necessary to set them right.
But our main difficulty is the belief we have — we may almost say the
conviction — that, supposing every expectation of the Committee, as to the
details of their plan, to be realized, the project itself is wholly poor and
feeble — inadequate to cope for a moment with the evil against which it is
directed.
The means which the Committee suggest, to prevent the filling up of
that vacuum which emigration may create, seem to us — especially as far
as Ireland is concerned — to be of very doubtful efficacy. A disposition
among some proprietors to draw the greatest amount of rack-rent from
their lands; among others, a desire to keep the rate of labour low; and
among others to use their estates as much for purposes of political jobbing
as for agricultural production, will still be constantly uniting in Ireland to
keep the population in excess; and that disposition to excess, the instincts
of the people themselves will always be at hand to second. This is the
first stumbling-block which a system of emigration, however well imagined,
has to surmount; and it is one which the doctrine of Mr. MaUhus (how-
ever he may lose his way in some of his endeavours to surmount it)
admits the difficulty of, fully arid distinctly. Neither law, nor argument,
nor any check short of want and mortality, will, certainly and effectually,
stop the people's increase.
One Irish witness is asked—" It has been stated that early marriages
are the chief cause of this excess of population in Ireland — is it not the
miserable condition of the people — that they are hopeless of all improve-
ment, and so careless of consequences — which induces them to marry without
provision?" And he answers — with great likelihood of truth — " That he
believes that it is." A second is asked— "But, if they marry so fast,
now they have neither food nor employment, to maintain them or their
children, will not a prospect of getting food and employment make them
marry faster?" And this witness cannot deny that the possibility is as is
described. A third witness, who is asked the same question — answers, we
are afraid, more to the purpose than either — "They will marry," he says,
<4 any way : when they are going to marry, they never stop to consider
any thing at all/'
Are you not of opinion, says the Committee to Mr. Malthus —
" Q. 3374.— Are you not of opinion that much which concerns the happiness
and interests of the poor, might be produced by disseminating among them expla-
nations of their real position, couched in such language as they might perfectly
understand ? — I think that such explanations might be extremely beneficial to
them.
" 3375. — Do you not admit that if it could be once impressed upon their minds
that it was their duty not to put themselves in a situation to produce a family
before they had the means of supporting it, any idea of harshness involved in the
refusal of pecuniary assistance to an unemployed labourer would be done away ?
— I think, in a great measure.
M.M. New Senes—Voi. IV. Xo.24. 4 E
578 Population of Great Britain ami Ireland — ['DEO.
" 3377. — If cheap tracts were written and given to the poor, and in some
instances taught in the schools, explaining the doctrines you have just laid down
with respect to the condition of the poor, do you imagine they would be able to
understand them, and that they would apply what they learned to their own case?
—I think they are not very difficult to be understood: but they are perhaps rather
difficult to apply"
Before we talk of " tracts" in Ireland— and our readers will have the
goodness to recollect that it is to Ireland peculiarly, according to the
Report of the Committee, that onr attention, in this work of abating popu-
lation, should be directed — before we talk of " tracts" in Ireland, we
must at least have a population sufficiently instructed to read them. But
it is cant, or error, to talk at all of "the principle which more or less
operates tmong the higher classes, through all grades," of not marrying
without the means of providing for a family. In a case like this, the
greater part of the labouring classes, if they see any thing, must see that, if
they were to attend to that principle, three out of four of them would
never marry at all. We never can hold out to the lower orders that
inducement to caution which operates on the class of society above them ;
nor have they the same facilities for enduring the restraints which the
advisers of abstinence suppose. The vices of ploughmen are not dignified
with public approval, or clothed in silk or satb. The Tread-mill is their
" public instructor," which steps in to check such lapses from propriety as
the lectures of the pulpit may by any chance have failed to place in a light
of fitting abhorrence. To a beginning tradesman, the question of early mar-
riage may be a question of fortune in life, or of failure : to a farm labourer,
or a weaver, it is a question whether the parish shall or shall not pay him
a pittance, in addition to the wages which he receives from his master.
The competency of emigration to act as a remedy at all for such an evil
as surplus population, or surplus supply of labour, is almost less than
problematical. Without some checks to the filling up, and powerful ones,
all experience shews that it is— like " tapping" in the dropsy — a remedy
valueless, unless where it can constantly be repeated. The hundreds of
thousands of soldiers whom we took from Ireland, Mr. Leslie Foster
observes — (this was emigration) — did not sensibly check the tide of popu-
lation. The conscription in France, Mr. Maltbus says, did not sensibly
diminish the population. The scheme for preventing marriages, spoken of
by Mr. Hunter, in the Island of Coll,* may do (as many experiments
succeed on a small scale), confined to one property ; but let every land-
owner attempt to protect himself in the same way, and we should have a
revolution in the country in a fortnight. The only check, within the
application of man to population, we are afraid, is that suggested by Mr.
Malihus himself; — the letting those people, who have no means of employ-
ment, starve to death ; but we object to that gentleman's scheme of
adding a little fresh impetus to the machinery for that purpose, which is
already, though with a more restrained energy, in motion.
At length, however, we reach the last, and the most material point in
the Report of the Committee — the Plan of Emigration. And, as we have
already had occasion to challenge the soundness of some of the views
developed in this document, so we are compelled to confess its conclusion
* The whole island is the estate of one proprietor, who expels all persons that marry
without his consent.
1 827.] Third Report of ike Emigration Committee. 579
strikes us as a most entire and signal failure. Whether it wes that the
Committee doubted the possibility of doing any thing effectual, but thought
it necessary, for form sake, to conclude by proposing something; — or
whether they flattered themselves that the difficulty would work its own
cure, while the suggestion of the Report covered the operation ; certain it
is that, at the end of our long 600 pages, just where it took us up, the pro-
ject that they conclude with sets us down. The reader is in the situation
of the prisoner described in the Neapolitan story, who, after cutting his way
through an oaken door of enormous strength, in the confidence of obtaining
his liberty — finds an iron one on the other side of it.
The Committee set out (p. 15 of the Report) by laying the ground-
work for their suggestion or recommendation — describing, generally, the
over burthened condition of the country. With a cautious regard, very far
from blameable, to the character of the advice which is to follow, the
extent of the mischief (in the Report) is not very formally laid down : but
as we perceive that the Committee's knowledge of it is gained from the
evidence before them, we shall endeavour to shew, according to that source
of information, what it really is —
The first witnesses (whose evidence for other purposes we have already
noticed), Foster and Little, the deputies of the Glasgow Weavers' Committee,
think that the "removal of 500 or 1000 men from Glasgow and Paisley only"
would not be sufficient to leave competent work, at fair wages, for the remainder.
— (Q. 161 to 165).
Mr. Archi aid Campbell produces the " last Report" (dated 15th Feb 1827)
of the " Committee for the Relief of the unemployed in the county of Renfrew :"
which states the number of families then dependent on the Committee to be
1245.—(Q. 185).
Major Moody states (date of evidence, 24 Feb. 1827) that 7,900 persons are
then weekly relieved in Manchester, who are able to work if employment could be
obtained. — , Q. 296).
The Rev. Jno. Mathias Turner, Rector of Wilmelowe, in Cheshire, does not
believe that any plan of emigration, of which he has ever seen an outline, could
subtract a sufficient number of hands from the market to raise the labourers' wages.
— (Q. 508).
Thomas Bradbury, overseer of Great Horwood, in Buckinghamshire, says that
the number of labourers in the neighbourhood where he resides is one third more
than can get employment.
Mr. W. H. Wyett's evidence states that, in Blackburn, of a population of
150,000 weavers, there is not employment for more than one hal'.— (Q. 2338).
Mr. Hugh Dixon thinks that there would be labour enough in the county of
Westmeath, if o e hat/the lower class of labourers (that would be about a fourth
part of the population) were removed.. He fiiids Ireland generally, as far as he
knows, in the same situation — (Q 2521, 2591).
Mr. Daniel Wilson, of the county of Clare, says — " generally speaking, the
demand for labour is very small, as compared with the population"— (Q, 2620).
A large portion of the lowest labourers are without employ : but he thinks not
a half.
Mr. Bodkin's evidence is to the same effect with Mr. Wilson's.
To Mr. Malthus the question as to any extent of emigration is never put Haifa
million from Ireland only, is once thrown out as a hint.— (Q. 5588 >
Mr. Marshall's evidence we have already quoted at considerable length. This
gentleman, it will be recollected, got rid of 1,100 persons off his own estate only
at once. His opinion is that the population of the county of Kerry exceeds the
demand for labour very materially.— (Q. 4173).
Now it may be too much to say, definitively, that from a part we
should judge of the whole; but certainly all this evidence seems to go to
the general state of the country. And it will be recollected that this i*
* 4 E 2
Population of Great Britain and Ireland— - [DEC.
the Third Report of the Committee ; the first having been devoted almost
wholly to exhibiting the mass of pauperism that we have to contend with;
and containing evidence upon that subject of the most powerful character, if
our limits would pern-lit us to refer to it. However, to take the mischief in its
least formidable light : — Ireland (which forms the root of the evil) — to ab-
stract from her population of seven millions, half a million instantly, after
the evidence which has been given : this certainly would not be too much !
From \\\Q fifteen million, population of En gland /Wales, and Scotland, to
remove another half million, would be touching matters almost with too
light a hand ! But what is the plan proposed by the Committee ? Is it
to carry away this million without loss of time ? Is it to carry away
(according to the hint dropped to Mr. Malthus, in speaking of 'Ireland
only} live hundred thousand? No; it is neither of these. The plan —
encumbered with a crowd of details into which we shall not enter — is
to organize an emigration of ninety-five thousand persons! and this not
immediately, but between the present time and the year 1 831 !
Now this plan seems something of kindred to the famous project for
emptying the river Thames with a tea-spoon. " Flesh, flesh, how art thou
fishified !" The abstraction of 95,000 persons from Ireland alone, would
produce no sensible effect upon her dense population ; but still less, accord-
ing to the very doctrine which the Committee, in their own Report, quote
so triumphantly from Mr. Malthus, can it in the slightest degree better
the condition of the people who are left behind! If there are 150 per-
sons to work — this is Mr. Malthus's proposition — and if there is work only
for 100, the competition for that work will bring down wages, to a price
ruinous to the labourer. And, even if, from the 1 50 workmen, we take away
25, and the amount of work remains fixed at 100, the competition still con-
tinues ; the 25 per cent, of surplus labour acts as mischievously as the
50 had done ; and the lowest rate of wages only will be given even to the
100 by whom the employment is obtained. This principle, in the outset
of their Report, the Committee take great pains to establish. They parade
Mr. Malthus's opinion as to the power of a very small quantity of surplus
labour to keep down wages in the market ; and for no other purpose one
would think — looking to what follows — than to demonstrate clearly to all the
world, that the 95,000 emigrants removed from England are removed purely
for their own advantage, and with no view to the benefit of the labouring
classes at large ! But, by some strange error, or fatality, which we
cannot understand, the anxiety of the Committee that the country
should experience no relief- — that is to say, obtain no diminution of
its existing surplus labour or population — by the proposed emigration, does
not stop hero. It goes farther; for the plan actually provides that
the people who are to emigrate, shall not be removed at any thing like
the same rate, that, in the ordinary and current course of population, they
will be replaced ! For the 95,000 emigrants, our readers will recollect,
when all is provided for them, are not to go away immediately. They
are to depart in three shipments; the last removal to take place four
years hence, in the year 1 83 1 . Now the fact is, that the present popu-
lation of Great Britain and Ireland, being taken at the lowest estimate —
twenty-three millions — and increasing at the lowest supposed ratio — that
suggested by Mr. Mai thus—a rate at which it would double itself in fifty
years — the increase gained at this rate of augmentation upon our twenty-
three millions by the year 1831, will be more than ten times greater than
the number which, in the same time, the Committee will have carried
IS27.] Third Report of the Emigration Committee. 531
away! The atFair, put into figures would stand thus : — Our population,
taking it at Christmas next, (1827) to be 23,000,000,— supposing it to
double itself in fifty years — by Christmas 1828, will have increased (in
round numbers) 32*1,000; and the Committee will have removed 20,000.
By Christmas, 1S29, it will have increased .'325,000 more, making an
advance of 646,000 ; and the Committee will have carried away 30,000
more, making a diminution of 50,000. By Christmas, 1831, the popula-
tion will have increased 604,000 more, making altogether an increase of
1,310,000; and the Committee will have removed 45,000 more, mak-
ing altogether an abstraction of 95,000. So that we should have out of
this project —
Total of increase within the time stated, supposing a rate of £ i *u 414
increase such as would double the population in fifty years > ' »
Total of diminution by emigration 95,OOO
Increase of our population (and consequent difficulty) in ~)
1831 —as far as the exertions of the Committee are > 1,216,414
concerned )
Now our readers will observe that the in crease here quoted has nothing what-
ever to do with the alleged impetus, which the abstraction of any portion of
the inhabitants of a country of its own act gives to population [Mr.
Malthus, Q. 3386.], and against which it is'part of the duty of those who
Organize an emigration to provide : it is merely the ordinary increase
which is inevitable, at the rate at which our population is, and has been,
believed to be augmenting. We are perfectly aware, too, that these esti-
mates as to the rate in which population does increase, both in England
and Ireland, stand generally upon very unsatisfactory data. Mr. Mal-
thus, who has devoled great attention to the subject, says — that he
believes the average increase of the people of Ireland to be such as would
double the population in forty years: judging from a calculation made
upon the actual increase which the census of 1821 shewed to have taken
place in the last thirty years, over the census or estimate of Dr.
Beaufort in 1792: but of the accuracy of Dr. Beaufort's census of
1792, on which the whole truth of his own estimate depends — Mr. Mal-
thus knows nothing ! Still, in taking the average of 50 years as the rate
of increase in which the whole kingdom would double itself, we have
taken the lowest rate given by any witness — indeed a rate considerably
lower than any witness suggests ; and even halve that increase ; divide
that half again ; say the increase is such as would double the population
in 1 00 years — or in 200 years ; still either the fallacy of half the premises
upon which the Report proceeds must be monstrous, or there is no conceiv-
able rate of augmentation that can go on so slowly, but that the diminu-
tion provided by the Committee will be behind it! And, unless that
body are prepared to shew — that of which certainly no word of proof
appears in their Report — that they have some means for holding this
great and increasing population suddenly at a stand still — their whole
scheme (according to all the data on which they have founded it) is just
as hopeless and extravagant, as that of a man who should propose to stop
the filling of a cistern by opening a half-inch pipe to run out on one
side, while a six-inch pipe (drowning him and his philosophy together)
was running in on the other !
i. - •
582 Population of Great Britain and Ireland — [Duo.
In fact, it is scarcely possible to doubt that the Committee themselves
have intended this project as a sort of tub to the whale : a medicine which
the patient shall be amused with mixing up and swallowing, while nature
herself (as she produced the complaint) applies the real remedy. The
day for emigration, upon a profitable and effective scale, is gone by : if
we might burst (with no interference from our neighbours) upon Spain
Or Portugal, massacre the inhabitants of those countries, establish our-
selves upon their lands, and in their homes, this would be emigration to
some purpose ! but the spirit of the age will not allow this ; and we cannot
send millions of men to the distance of Canada or New South Wales.
The emigration proposed by the Committee will cost a million aud a half
of money, and benefit (to this we fully agree) 95,000 men who are to
emigrate. But.it will do nothing to relieve this country from the surplus
labour, a surplus population, which is declared to be oppressing it — unless
the Committee have lights and views upon that subject, which can hardly
be deduced from the evidence given before them, and which certainly are
not glanced at in their Report.
Our own object, as we stated in the commencement, is to point out this
failure in the enterprize of the Committee, rather than to attempt any theory
which should supply the gap which it has left. The complaint of surplus
labour, or surplus population, is not a new one : in this age of active
inquiry, such an evil excites more attention and discussion than it did
formerly : but it is not because we see the mortal tendency of the disease,
that we are always able to apply the remedy. Half the improvements
which science and the exertion of individuals, everyday are opening upon
us, have a direct tendency to produce the mischief which we are now eu-
deavouring to remove — to raise the rates of increase upon our population.
Every increase of morality in our habits ; every fresh discovery in the
treatment of our maladies; every improvement in the purity and whole-
someness of our cities ; are all so many engines labouring directly to
augment our population. In opposition to the working of all these causes —
and of an hundred others — besides the grand one> which neither force nor
argument will ever overcome — each theorist — to set all right — has his
single specific! One man cures all by freely importing corn: forgetting
that (independent of present mischiefs) if we did freely import corn
to-morrow, no importation could keep pace with an unchecked population,
and that thirty years would place us again in circumstances of difficulty.
Another speculator would cultivate more corn at home : never noticing
the man who cries that he is starving, because we cultivate too much
corn — too much inferior land — already. A third tithes, the mere
increase upon our existing numbers, by " emigration to Canada," and calls
that " practical relief and diminution." And a fourth, enraged to see the
labouring classes working almost to death for bare subsistence, proposes
to revert to our old usage (no longer practicable) and allow the magistrate
to fix a minimum of wages. It is curious to observe, in the evidence of
Mr. Wills and Mr. Wright, members of a " Society for bettering the con-
dition of the labouring classes," how completely abstract propositions
blind men to possibilities, as well as to results. Nothing can be more
plausible, or more honourable to their dispositions, than the arguments of
these gentlemen ; and yet it seems almost wonderful how they can be so
perfectly im penetrable as to the progress of their own mistake. The
labourer" — this is their position — " cannot stand in a worse situation than
1 827.] Third Report of the Emigration Committee. 583
he does. Let the magistrate fix his rate of wages, and always at that sum
which will purchase him two bushels of wheat per week : which is the
amount that he received in the last century. If he does work, let him not
work for less than a subsistence ; as the matter stands, his low priced labour
does hut produce a glut of merchandize, which, acting in its turn, sinks the
demand, and renders those low wages perpetual." Now nothing can be
more true than a great part of this statement : and we will even admit (for
the argument's sake) that it is better that a man, who cannot get two
bushels of wheat weekly for his labour, should die of hunger, or be main*
tained by the industry of others, than that he should work for a bushel
and a half. But, will the capitalist and the labourer consent to this ?
And is it possible, in a country where men possess ordinary freedom, to
make any law which shall bind them to consent ? The capitalist is desi-r
rous to employ the labourer upon low terms: the labourer, rather than
starve, or be ill maintained by the parish, is anxious to work upon low
terms; how shall we keep these parties asunder? The "shop system,"*
Mr. Wells and his friends must know, negatives every provision to such
an effect in an instant : and that system no law can reach. If it be contrary
to law for a master to pay his workmen with " orders" — say even upon any
shop ; what is to prevent his employing no workmen but those who happen
to deal at a particular shop? — with the owner of which he has an under*
standing, which every body knows may exist, without the possibility that
proof 'of it could be obtained. Or to conclude the question in a shorter way
— what even could stop the "Cottage system" — in action, according to the
evidence of witnesses before the Committee already ? a scheme by which
masters, investing part of their capital in building or purchasing cottages,
let them to workmen weekly : and — for the rate and question of r^n/—
employ no hands but such as will occupy them ?
Perhaps the nearest approach to advantage would be in a partial and
combined application of all the cures devised ; excepting always the last,
that of fixing a minimum of wages : to which objections enough exist (if
it were necessary to name them) besides the fact of its being impracticable*
To adapt the supply of labour in any country — with even a remote
approach to constancy or proportion — to the demand, is utterly impossible ;
to population there can be but one effective check, under whatever
name that check may be attempted to be disguised — the impossibility
of obtaining sustenance. We may maintain a greater number of people^
or a lesser ; but we shall always have more than our wants can well
dispose of: we shall no more get rid of misery by any course of
human caution or arrangements than by any code of law wre can get
rid of crime. .Something, however, may be done — we may palliate
where we cannot cure — towards preventing an excess of one as of the
other. To provide employ and subsistence for the greatest possible
number of persons that circumstances can maintain, is our duty, less with
a view to the advantage of individuals, than to the benefit of the state.
The diminution, by all available means — (this is an ungrateful subject,
and an old one, but we are compelled to return to it)— of those public*
* A scheme of paying labourers by orders for provisions upon a particular shop,
&c. kept by the master, or in which he is interested ; where the prices charged being-
high, or the commodities inferior, the large profit obtained lowers the real amount of
the labourers' wages.
584 Population of Great Britain find Ireland, [DEC.
charges and burthens which cramp the industry of the couniry, agricul-
tural and manufacturing, and render its exertion too expensive; the
adoption of such a system of general commerce, and especially of regulated
trade in corn, as may enable our population to command, in the fullest
possible extent, the foreign market for their manufactures ; these are
courses suited at once to aid the means of subsistence of our existing num-
bers, and to increase the amount of population for which we can provide
in future. For the scheme of Emigration, that system may be of so much
advantage to us : it will not relieve the country ; but it may aid our
strength at some period to have command over a population abroad, which
could not have remained in existence at home. In the main, however,
for the difficulty which it has been the object of the Emigration Com-
mittee to treat, we believe there is hut one alternative — either want (and
the mortality which it causes) must thin a population, or prudence must
check its increase : this is an unpopular doctrine, we are aware : but we
believe it to be the true one. In aid of that process of restraint, or as a first
step towards the chance of approaching it, education is the grand measure
on which we should rely. That process which teaches men to think, may
sometimes lead them to place their reason as a barrier against their passions :
we expect no miraculous results from the expedient ; but it has one recom-
mendation— it must do some good, and it can by no possibility do mis-
chief. There is scarcely any other course that we have seen suggested —
or that suggests itself to us — that is not either pregnant with mischief, or
impracticable. There have been systems recommended — like this before
us, of carrying away twenty thousand people, while we produce a hundred
thousand — which are of no efficacy or avail. And others, which might be
of avail, but which all our feelings of common policy, as well as of morality
and decency, unite to hunt out of discussion. And lastly, not least, came
the scheme of Mr. Malthus; which the reverend gentleman seems to
think feasible even still ! the plan of refusing parochial assistance after a
given date to every able bodied labourer — thus furnishing the state with an
army of thieves and beggars, instead of paupers — for that ploughmen out
of work would lie down and die (even to affirm Mr. Malthus's theory),
can hardly be expected ? What was to be gained by maintaining men in
crime rather than in poverty; making the prison the refuge of those who
were destitute of employment, instead of the poor house, and their Com-
mittee of Emigration the common jury at the Old Bailey, it is not easy
to perceive : but it is some proof of the difficulty of treating the real ques-
tion, that such a scheme, with all its wildness, was not entirely without
supporters. In conclusion, it should be kept in mind distinctly, that the
utmost effect of the Report and evidence is to trace the distress existing
among the lower classes to the presence of a surplus supply of labour in
the country ; not at all to the existence of a surplus population. Lord
Clarendon's Letters of 1685 were written when the population of Ireland
did not exceed probably half its present amount; and they describe the
want and misery of the Irish peasantry, almost in the very same words
used by the witnessses before the Committee.
1827.] [ 585 ]
THE FOCKtiT HOOKS.
THE success of these annual volumes is almost without precedent in the records
of Stationers' Hall. It is scarcely five years since the first, Mr. Ackermanns
" Forget-Me-Not," made its appearance ; and now we have six, published in Lon-
don only, contending for precedency ; and, in spite of the increase of numbers in the
market, the demand for each work rather increasing than diminishing. The truth is,
that the speculation originally was a well imagined one ; and its very popularity has
given it means of bidding for popularity which no other position could have afforded.
Nothing short of the immense extent of the editions sold, could enable the pub-
lishers to bring out the books at their present price. A volume, for instance, which
costs 700/. (to use the phraseology of trade) to " get up/' is sold for twelve shil-
lings ! For this sum we have four hundred close pages of letter-press; exquisitely
printed, upon the finest paper, and in the finest possible type; independent of
twelve engravings, of which impressions, purchased separately, would cost consi-
derably more money than the price paid for the entire work. Our business, how-
ever, is with the merits of the particular books upon our table, rather than the
general advantage of the class of productions to which they belong ; and, amidst
so much competition for preference, with claims very nearly equal, the task of the
critic, although commendation be his cue, is not an enviable one.
The " Forget- Me-Not," which claims precedence as the original publication, is
not quite so happy in its embellishments this year as we recollect to have seen it.
The plates are all from good pictures, and engraved by excellent artists; but with
the exception of three—" The Bridal Morning," (the frontispiece), " The Bridge
of the Rialto," and " The Triumph of Poetry,"— they have not exactly the live-
liest interest, as to subject, that might be desired for a volume of this character.
Mr. Ackermamrs book, however, must not be dismissed lightly. " The Bridal
Morning" is a delightful picture— and quite sure to be a popular subject. And it is
illustrated by L. E L, — who is the very Queen of the Annuals ; and only not the
star of any, because, like the moon— as poetical and as inconstant — she shines on
all alike. The poetry of this illustration is very sweet and flowing ; but we like
another, and a shorter piece, by the same hand, " The Sword/' still better. It is
spirited and feeling in the highest degree, and almost as good as that exquisite bit,
" The Forsaken/' — published, if we recollect right, in one of the Pocket Books
two years ago. " The Sword" itself has so much merit that we make no apology
for extracting it : —
THE SWORD.
TWAS the battle-field, and the cold pale moon
Look VI down on the dead and dying,
And the wind pass'd o'er with a dirge and a wail>
Where the young and the brave were lying.
With his father's sword in his red right hand,
And the hostile dead around him,
Lay a youthful chief ; but his bed was the srountf,
And the grave's icy sleep had bound him.
A reckless rover, 'mid death and doom,
Pass'd a soldier, his. plunder seeking ;
Careless he stept where friend and foe
Lay alike in their life-blood reeking.
Drawn by the shine of the warrior's sword,
The soldier paused beside it ;
He wrench'd the hand with a giant's strength,
But the grasp of the dead defied it.
He loosed his hold, and his English heart
Took part with the dead before him,
And he honour'd the brave who died sword in hand,
As Avith soften'd brow he leant o'er him.
" A soldier's death thou hast boldly died,
A soldier's grave won by it ;
Before I would tuke that sword from thine hand
My own life's blood should dye it.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV, No, 24. 4 F
586 The Pocket Books. [DEC.
" Thou shalt not be left for the carrion crow,
Or the wolf to batten o'er thee ;
Or the coward insult the gallant dead,
Who in life had trembled before thee."
Then dug he a grave in the crimson earth
Where his warrior foe was sleeping,
And he laid him there in honour and rest,
With his sword in his own brave keeping.
The " Amnl' t" of this year- (the next in order we believe)- -contains pieces in
prose and verse by most of its old contributors ; with several new names, which
form an addition to its strength. Some of the plates do great credit both to the
selection of the editor and the talent of his artists. Among the best may be ranked
" The Shepherd Boy," engraved by Rolls, from a beautiful painting by Mr.
Pickersgill; " The Lady of Ilkdale" (a portrait, we rather think), from a picture
by Jackson; " The Gipsey Child," by Howard; and " Strafford and his Secretary,"
from Vandyke's picture, in the collection of Lord Fitzwilliam. The Autographs
of Guy Fawkes and the rest of the conspirators in the gunpowder-plot, too (with
the superscription of the letter to Lord Monteagle, which disclosed the conspiracy),
form a unique and interesting document. The literary portion of the " Amulet"
is not inferior to the embellishments; and the volume is "brought out" superbly :
the printing, binding, and indeed the embellishment in general, are of the most
costly order, and in the most admirable taste. As our limits will only allow one
extract, we select a short poem, by our popular and delightful friend, Mrs. Hernans.
And, by the way, we really think that the ladies alone ought to write these Annuals
among them, without the aid of the grosser sex at all : they are quite competent to
it. Or, at least, they should have a Pocket Book of their own ; published for their
particular benefit, and in which no writer shewing a beard should be allowed to
interfere.
THE WAKENING.
How many thousands are wakening now 1
Some to the songs from the forest-bough,
To the rustling of leaves at the lattice-pane,
To the chiming fall of the early rain.
And some, far out on the deep mid-sea,
To the dash of the waves in their foaming glee,
As they break into spray on the ship's tall side,
That holds through the tumult her path of pride.
And some — oh ! well may their hearts rejoice -
To the gentle sound of a mother's voice ;
Long shall they yearn for that kindly tone,
When from the board and the earth 'tis gone.
And some in the camp, to the bugle's breath,
And the tramp of the steed on the echoing heath,
And the sudden roar of the hostile gun,
Which tells that a field must e'er night be won.
And some, in the gloomy convict-cell,
To the dull deep note of the warning-bell,
As it heavily calls them forth to die,
While the bright sun mounts in the laughing sky.
And some to the peal of the hunter's horn,
And some to the sounds from the city borne ;
And some to the rolling of torrent-floods,
Far 'midst old mountains, and solemn woods.
So are we roused on this chequer'd earth,
Each unto light hath a daily birth,
Though fearful or joyous, though sad or sweet,
Be the voices which first our upspringing meet.
But ONE must the sound be, and ONE the call,
Which from the dust shall awake us all !
ONE, though to sever'd and distant dooms —
How shall the sleepers arise from their tombs ?
1 827.] The Pocket Books. 687
The " Bijou," and the " Keepsake," come forward with pretensions to be very
high and mighty. They begin the world by rating themselves nine shillings a
volume above other people ; and both are to be distinguished by the elegance
of their pictorial accompaniments. The " Keepsake" must pass for this time.
Jt comes out of Bond street, we believe — and, therefore, is last by prescription :
but it has not come yet ; if it brought all Bond-street to back it, we would not
delay our paper five minutes longer. The " Bijou," however, if it promised largely,
has certainly in some sort redeemed its pledge. " The Child and Flowers;"
and " the Boy and Dog,"— both by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and engraved by
the same artist, Mr. Humphreys — are exquisite specimens both of drawing and
engraving. Perhaps the pictures may rank among the very best that the distin-
guished painter ever executed; and the engraver has done them ample justice.
" Sans Souci," and " Haddon Hall," in another style of painting, are not less
attractive ; and the " Picture of Sir \Valter Scott and his Family" would be attract-
ive, were it only from the details and associations connected with it. '1 he con-
tributors to this work stand very high in name. The Letter of Sir Walter Scott
" about himself," displays all the power with which that extraordinary writer can
adorn the most common-place topic. Coleridge's " Wanderings of Cain" also is
a splendid rhapsody: equal, we think — as far as it goes — to the best of his produ-
ctions; and only leaves us to lament that so great a power to accomplish should
have accomplished (and bid fair to accomplish) so little. " Beau Leverton" is a
clever paper; one of the liveliest that the Annuals of this year have produced.
The author's name is not given ; but, at the hazard of running onr short limits
close, we give the following specimen of its quality : —
" To Thomas Sheriff Macdonald, Esq., at Long's Hotel, London,
" I cannot — I grieve to say it — be trans-atlantic with ye to-morrow evening, Tom.
You must smoke your cigars at peace without me. Do not, however, affront thyself and
thy brother Sachems, at my apparent desertion ; but bury your tomahawks in the veni-
son quietly, and forget so poor a man as Harry Leverton.
" Shall I tell thee what has kept me thus amongst green corn and withered oak-
apples ? Shall I, turning philosophical, betray to thee how the loadstone - 1 have half a
mind to commit violence upon the three virgin sheets of paper which lie sleeping beside
me, and inscribe my adventures upon them, for thine especial benefit. It shall be thus ;
so listen !
" I was satisfied, as thou know'st, with London ; although the dog-star reigned,
although the face of every (surviving) friend was baked, the ice-cellars empty, and the
month of July at hand. But my Lord Bridewell would be at once peremptory and per-
suasive ; and I had, I must confess to thee, reasons for not despising his suit. He came
to my domicile, as he threatened, on Tuesday last ; armed with spurs, and attended by
two gardes-du-corps, a travelling chariot and coach, four postillions, and the warrant
(to which was the sign manual) of Lady Cecil Dartley, to take the body of Henry Lever-
ton, and him convey, &c. to her ladyship's court, which is at present held at the Grange>
in Sussex.
" I will spare thee the tediousness of our journey. It is enough to tell thee, that we
survived almost fifty miles of English dust — passed in triumph over four pigs, who made
outrageous protestations against our proceedings — ' took' (as my lord called it) a post —
missed children of all ages (one a succulent) — refreshed at F , and arrived, without
further mischief or matter, at * The Grange.' The place is pretty enough : a little hill —
a lawn— a shrubbery— a fish-pond or two (they have capital stewed carp), and a modern
sort of antique cottage-villa, where Vitruvius and Palladio, Greek, Goth, and Sir John
Vanbrugh, flourish in united absurdity. This is all well. But the utter demolition of
my toilette-equipage is a calamity for life : for some of the trifles were unique— and
Burgess (my chamberlain) has been unable to procure anything beyond the most alarm-
ing instruments at I forget its horrid name — the nearest market-town. You know
that I indulge in some little niceties on these points. What wouldst thou think of my
undergoing a course of brushes and shears of as rude a— Bah! I sent the former into the
stable without delay, and reserve the latter for sheep-shearing, whenever I shall arrive at
my aunt Slatterns pastures in Devon,which a villainous asthma (that provokes longevity)
has kept me out for the last twenty and five years !
" Well, Tom, — The earl bowed, and looked grim and wise, and mumbled out his
patrician welcomes (which were too ceremonious by half). The old countess, who paints
as thick as a door, laboured to be alluring ; and Lady Cecil out-looked all the roses
which went scrambling about the drawing-room windows. Bridewell was busy in the
4 F2
The Povkcl Books. [DEC.
stable, and left me to make my way with his family as well as I could. And, in truth,
baslifulr.ess is not my vice, as thou kno.wcst, Tom. Accordingly, after a brief refuge in
my dressing-room, 1 descended, and found a mob of indifferent appearance, all prepared
to invade the reg'ons where eating and drinking are honoured, borne of our friends (is
that not the word, Tom ?) were there, male and female, coupled together like pigeons.
One fair hand was, however, reserved for me (by the grace of the countess mother) —
and it was that of the blooming Cecil !
" But I see that thou art dying to know who are my agreeable cotemporaries ; — and
I will tell thee.
" In the lint place, then, behold our ' noble' family : — The earl, aadull as a drum, and
tedious beyond even the privilege of parliament ; the countess, a. line old enamel, as I
have said, but a litda cracked, and somewhat out of drawing : Cecil Darticy, always
couleur de rose; and her sister Selina, a languid plant; their brother (Bridewell), the
son and heir of all the Trumpingtons ; and Colonel hartley, a brother also according to
law, but, in other respects, a thing between png and monkey, that is hung round with
blue and scarlet, a,nd dances through ' the La,ncers,' or to the tune of ' Money in both
Pockets,' till Fanny Dartley is ready to die with admiration. Then cometh Fanny herself,
a cousin of the family, who, a la Turc, siaineth her fingers inch deep (with ink), and is
a true specimen of that little female indiscretion, an authoress. Thou wouldst expire,
my good friend Tom, if thou couYist behold her in her morning garments— they are so
flowing, so oriental, so scornful of all shape and fashion, and withal so utterly covered
with dusky hieroglyphics, that one can scarcely distinguish between the sweep of hey
stylus and the broader impress of her thumb. All is in learned confusion, like a country
library ; but incomparably less cleanly. Yet, 'tis a goodnatured chit, and laughs and
talks (O Gad ! Tom), and invites the women to drink wine ; and argues like a syllo-
gism ; and is very odd, — and a little tedious. Next to her, was a Sir Somebody Some-
thing, the county member ; and his lady, trussed arid tucked up like a Christmas turkey,
of the county also, and indigenous ; their son, a apare thing, of six feet high, whose per-
son hath outrun his wit ; while by his side sate, full of scorn and languor, the Lady
Selina Dartley. Then came Snapwell, the barrister ; one of the young Froths, a pretty
thing, but as insipid as plain broth ; old Moidore, the Ministerial merchant, and (an inex-
pressible person !) his wife ; descended from the tribe of Levi, — but converted. Then
followed a Squire Huggins or Higgins, a proprietor of acres in these parts ; then another
Froth, not so pretty as the last, but with an exquisite propriety of shape ; then Lord
Saint Stephens, the new orator ; and an odious fellow from the most northern part of the
north, a Mr. John Mac Flip, an author, a critic, and a reporter, and a politician to boot ;
possessing little, however, that need be mentioned beyond an incredible portion of assur-
ance, and an appetite that surmounts all fable. By him (well matched) sate a little black
female barbarian from Shetland, or the Orkneys ; then came a ' Mac' of some endless
descent; then that immoderate simpleton, Garnish, —Lady Di. Flarish, and her detest-
able sister,— and, finally, young Gabbleton, from Oxford, who has travelled in Greece,
and what is worse, hath written his travels, and still talketh his travels, till the fish
(which he helpeth) is cold. These are nearly all, except our ' ancient' Childers, the fox->
hunter — Jack Sitwell (Bridewell's Newmarket chum) — a physician, and a Lord of the
Admiralty ; a burgess or two from the neighbouring Borough, and a rubicund figure,
somewhat like a pipe of wine (called the Vicar of the village), which tolls out grace
before dinner as regularly as the clock (but louder) — i'faith, and after dinner also, I
believe, unless he chance to go to sleep over the entremets.
" And now farewell, Tom. If thou art but half as fatigued in reading this as I in
writing (and I am not without hopes but that thou wilt be) , thou wilt bid me hencefor^
ward discontinue sending thec any more of the adventures of thy most faithful
" HARRY LEVERTON."
This letter of Mr. Leverton's takes up more room than ought properly to be given
to it; for it compels us to dismiss the two last candidates upon our table briefly.
The first, " The Friendship's Offering," has been produced under disadvantages.
It was begun late — or rather transferred to the present management late — but it
stands its ground fairly ; and is dedicated, by permission, to the Princess Augusta.
The plates may, many of them, challenge comparison with the boldest of their
competitors ; and the subjects are all interesting. We may venture to direct
attention particularly to the very pleasing picture, " The Orphans," — an old
fisherman seated at his cottage-door, and watching the features of two beautiful
young children. To " The Italian Wanderer" — a boy with a dancing-dog — the
children that are looking on at the shew are very cleverly conceived. " The
Sylph," — " The Captive Slave," — and *' The Cottage Diorama," have also each
1827.] The Pocket Books. 589
of them considerable merit. The binding of this work too— like that of the
"Amulet," — is rich and well devised: the embossed and gilded cover has the
advantage of being durable as well as handsome. We must find room for one
specimen; some pleasing verses of Mr. Hervey's: —
STANZAS.
SLUMBER lie soft on thy beautiful eye !
Spirits, whose smiles are — like thine— of the sky,
Hay thee to sleep, with their visionless strings,
Brighter then thou — but because they have wings !
— Fair as a being of heavenly birth,
But loving and loved as a child of the earth !
Why is that tear ? — Art thou gone, in thy dream,
To the valley far off, and the moon-lighted stream,
Whore the sighing of flowers, and the nightingale's song,
Fling sweets on the wave, as it wanders along ?
Blest be the dream, that restores them to thee,
But thou art the bird and the roses to me !
And now, as I watch o'er thy slumbers alone,
And hear thy low breathings, aud know thee mine own,
And muse on the wishes that grew in that vale,
And the fancies we shaped from the river's low tale,
I blame not the fate that has taken the rest,
While it left to my bosom its dearest and best.
Slumber lie soft on thy beautiful eye !
Love be a rainbow, to brighten thy sky !
Oh ! not for sunshine and hope, would I part
With the shade time has flung over all — but thy heart !
Still art thou ah" which thou wert when a child,
Only more holy— and only less wild !
The " Winter's Wreath" (at last we are through our list) is a volume got up at
Liverpool, and devoted to a charitable purpose. It is a neat book, and contains
some ingenious papers ; but has not the advantage, in general, of well-known
names in its list of contributors. The engravings are all well executed, and by
London artists.
Upon the whole, we may fairly congratulate the Annuals upon having gained
ground, rather than lost any, in the present year. The books ought to be good
indeed, if we might augur from the aggregate amount of contributors :— Sir Wal-
ter Scott, Mr. Lockhart, the Ettrick Shepherd, Miss Landon, Mrs. Remans, and
Miss Mitford ; Mr. Southey, Mr. Coleridge, Barry Cornwall, Mr. Horace Smith,
Mr. Thomas Moore, Mr. Thomas Campbell, Delta and Titus of Blackwood's Ma-
gazine, Mr. Thomas Hood, Mr.Crofton Croker, Miss Roberts, Mr.Neele, the edi-
tors, personally, of four of the volumes, &c. &c. Some names might no doubt
be added, which are not so well known to the public; and some which are not very
likely to become so : but the array of talent, taken altogether, is a very splendid
one.
[ 590 ] [DEC.
THE MAN WITH THE APPETITE :
•
A CASE OF DISTRESS.
To the charitable and humane, and to those whom Providence has blessed with affluence. — CRITIC.
CHARCBS XII. was brave, noble, generous, and disinterested — a com-
plete hero, in fact, and a regular fire-eater. Yet, in spite of these qualifi-
cations and the eulogiuras of his biographer, it is pretty evident to those who
impartially consider the career of this potentate, that he was by no means
of a sane mind. In short, to speak plainly, he was mad, and de-
served a strait-waistcoat as richly as any straw-crowned monarch in
Bedlam. A single instance, in my opinion, fully substantiates this, I
allude to his absurd freak at Frederickshall, when, in order to discover how
long he could exist without nourishment, he abstained from all kinds of
food for more than seventy hours ! Now, would any man in his senses
have done this ? Would Louis XVIII., for instance, that wise and ever-
to-be-lamented monarch ? Had it been the reverse^ indeed — had Charles,
instead of practising starvation, adopted the opposite expedient, and endea-
voured to ascertain the greatest possible quantity of meat, fruit, bread,
wine, vegetables, &c. &c. he could have disposed of in any given time —
why then it might have been something ! But to fast for three days! If
this be not madness — ! Indeed, there is but one reason 1 could ever con-
ceive for a person not eating; and that is, when, like poor Count Ugolino
and his fnmiliy, he can get nothing to eat !
Charles, now, and Louis — what a contrast ! The first despised the
pleasures of the table, abjured wine, and would, I dare say, just as soon
have been without "a distinguishing taste" as with it. Your Bourbon, on
the contrary, a five-mealed man, quaffing right Falernian night and day ;
and wisely esteeming the gratification of his palate of such importance, as
absolutely to send from Lisle to Paris — a distance of I know not how many
score leagues — at a crisis, too, of peculiar difficulty — for a single pate!*
" Go," cried the illustrious exile to his messenger ; " dispatch, mon enfant!
Mount the tri-color ! Shout ViveleDiablel Any thing! But be
sure you clutch the precious compound ! Napoleon has driven me from
my throne; but he cannot deprive me of my appetite!" Here was cou-
rage ! I challenge the most enthusiastic admirer of Charles to produce a
similar instance of indifference to danger !
There is another trait in the character of Louis which equally demands
our admiration, and proves that the indomitable firmness may be sometimes
associated with the most sensitive and — I had almost said — infantine sen-
sibility. Of course, it will be perceived that I allude to the peculiar ten-
derness by which that amiable prince was often betrayed, even into tears,
upon occasions when ordinary minds would have manifested comparative
nonchalance. I have been assured that Louis absolutely wept once at
Hartwell, merely because oysters were out of season ! — a testaceous
production, to which he was remarkably attached ;f so much so, indeed,
* Ireland's « Hundred Days."
f Whence his cognomen of Des Huilres—by corruption, Dix-huit.
1827.] The Man with the Appetite. 59 1
as to be literally ready to eat them, whenever they were brought into his
presence.*
The foregoing reflections have originated, I regret to state, in a retro-
spect of my own unhappy case — a case so peculiarly lamentable in its
nature, that I am compelled, in defiance of the dictates of my pride, to
submit it to the Public, and, through the medium of this excellent miscel-
lany, solicit aid. Know, then, I am that singularly-unfortunate and cala-
mitously-situated individual, whose uncommon appetite of late has so
much engrossed the attention of the faculty ; and who is generally supposed
to have generated (by some unaccountable phenomenon) an animal of the
wolf genus in his stomach or abdomen. Men speak of Louis! What
were the gastronomical feats of Louis compared with mine ? What would
five meals a day be to me, who have a sixty-alderman power, and could
digest an elephant? Talk of Milo, indeed! Pah! what's an ox at a
sitting ? I could eat Milo after the ox — horns and all ! Wish I'd the
opportunity !
Excuse me, gentle reader. The cormorant within ; he gnaw —
gnaw — gnaws ; and, unless I instantly sacrifice a hecatomb of mutton-
chops to his insatiate maw, there is no knowing what may happen !
There! and now, while the beast is feeding: — —
It will naturally be asked to what I attribute this " devouring rage ;"
or, rather, this " rage for devouring?" I beg leave most respectfully to
state, that, from strong internal evidence, 1 am induced to believe that the
propagator of the monster now within me is neither more nor less than that
diabolical, malicious, and appetite-creating imp, yclept HALF- PAY !f Say,
thou malignant and unreasonable restorative! thou worse than Tantalian
torturer, and accursed cause of the unappeasable pangs which consume and
distract me ! — Say! ere I knew thee — when soup, and fish, and flesh, and
fowl — the wines of France, the preserves of the West, the fruits of Sicily,
and though last, not least, " in our dear love," th* cooling and exquisitely-
refreshing ices of her hoary JEtna ! — when all these, ye gods ! in the most
gratifying abundance, daily wooed my acceptance, and tempted the fasti-
dious palate— say ! did I not regard them with the most stoical indiffer-
ence ? Nay, was I not even constrained — O mirabile dictu! — to rouse
my idle organs into actions, and, by the use of strong stimulants, actually
compel them to perform their cus^pmary functions ? Yes, yes, alas ! such
was then my enviable — my halcyon lot ! But now — Centre sans gris! —
Bear with me, gentle Public ! My heart is in our mess-room at Valetta,
and I must pause till it come back to me !
In appealing to the well-known generosity of the British Public, and
more particularly to the feelings of that service to which for so many years
I had the honour to belong, it would be ill-judged to weary them with a
circumstantial detail of the gradations by which I have arrived at the
alarming and destitute condition in which I now find myself. Suffice it :
after exhausting the hospitality of a numerous acquaintance, who soon —
too soon — alas ! discovered, in despite of all my forbearance and discre-
tion, that, contrary to the received maxim, one in a family did make a
difference, when that one happened to be myself; and were, in conse-
* It is said that this worthy descendant of the Good Henri used to put a barrel of
Colchester oysters daily, hors de combat, merely to give him, an appetite.
t The physicians, indeed, will not allow this 5 but, in some cases, the patients are
the best judges.
592 A Case of Distress. [DEC.
quence, constrained to cut me — I was eventually thrown upon my own
resources, and, for some time past, have subsisted entirely upon my half-
pay, which, I regret to state, is at present mortgaged for the next two
years to my butcher — a highly-respectable man, with a large family, who
has at length been compelled to intimate to me, that it will be impossible
for him to supply me any longer upon credit without considerable detri-
ment to his affairs.
Thus circumstanced, I fearlessly throw myfclf upon the liberality of my
countrymen, in the full assurance of obtaining that immediate assistance
which my unhappy situation requires. But, should this hope prove falla-
cious; should I unfortunately be doomed to experience the chills of neg-
lect, and the blighting mildew of indifference, I must, alas ! resort to the
only expedient in my power, and close with Mr. Cross, of Exeter Change,
who has offered me a considerable annuity and elephant's allowance, if I
will consent to exhibit my unparalleled powers for the amusement of the
Public.* Oh, Heavens! that ever I should live to be classed with the
Bonassus and the Living Skeleton ! — " Here ! walk up, ladies and gentle-
men— the most extraordinary sight — the man with the wolf in his belly !
devours a baron of beef every half-hour ! Admittance, two shillings while
the beast is feeding !"f But why thus needlessly alarm myself? Secure
of the general sympathy, I rest satisfied in the conviction that I shall
never be reduced to appear in so horrible — so disgusting a
Ha! more mutton-chops! Quick — quick — quick! He eats — he
gnaws to my very
Your pardon, generous patrons- — your pardon ! This rascal — my other
self — he . As Dominie Sampson says, " Woeful man that I am !
who shall deliver me ?"
JOHN HUXGERFORD CUKTIS,
Late of His Majesty's — • — Regiment of Foot.
95, Swallow Street, 0
where the smallest donations will be thankfully
received — whether in specie or provisions.
N. B. Public dinners attended at the shortest notice.
* P.S. Speaking of Mr. Cross and Exeter Change, puts me in mind of the " Beef-
eaters" that stand at the door of that establishment ; and, thence, by a natural transition
of mind, to the subject of " Beef-eaters" in general. As it is perfectly clear, notwith-
standing the absurd attempted derivations from " Bufetier" — " Boire-faiteur' — (side-
board-keeper, and cup-bearer) &c.— that " Beef-eaters" (I speak of the genuine
" Palace" ones) were originally appointed foi; the express duty of eating teef; thereby
representing in a manner, and illustrating occasionally for the instruction of foreigners,
the peculiar powers of the English in that department of exertion— -taking this to be
indisputable, I would venture to suggest the propriety of my own appointment to the first
of these situations that may become vacant. As I shall undertake — subject to penalty in
case of failure— to perform the work of any six existing " Beef-eaters" — be their talentfe
what they may— a considerable saving would accrue (in salary, cloathing, and so forth) to
the public service from my nomination : and as it is the concentration of value in the indi-
vidual, in any national display which is always aimed at— as of muscle in the Champion
of England, or fat in the Prize Ox — the reputation of the country, I apprehend, would be
better sustained by my employment— as well as my own necessities (without further
trouble to the community) provided for.
t That this process may be witnessed, and the curiosity of the visitors fully grati-
fied, Mr. Cross proposes tbat an aperture, of convenient shape and dimensions, neatly
framed and glazed, be made in my abdomen ; an operation which the medical gen-
tleman wha so cleverly cut up poor Chuney has kindly volunteered to perform. He
assures me, that I shall feel uopain but that inserted by the glazier.
1827.] [ 593 ]
A DISSERTATION ON BEARDS, HISTORICAL AND LITERARY.
BY AN EMERTTUS PROFESSOR OF SHAVING.
Beatrice. — Lord! I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in the
woollen.
Lconatus. — You may light upon a husband that hath no beard.
Beatrice.— What should I do with him? Dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting gen-
tlewoman ? He that hath a baard is more than a youth— and he that hath no beard is less than a man ;
and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, 1 am not for him.
Much ado about Nothing. Act II. Scene I.
I HAVE often thought that the history of fashions would form a very
curious and interesting volume. It would give us a more direct insight
into the manners and customs of our ancestors in domestic life, than we
can ever hope to attain by viewing them in the trim and formal habits
with which historians have invested them. It would enable us to trace
with accuracy the variations of taste in different generations, and would
serve as a barometer, to determine the degrees of civilization, at which they
had arrived at different periods of their progress from barbarism to refine-
ment. As their dresses changed from skins to silks, we should see their
manners changing from brutality to elegance; and we should thus hold
up to the philosopher and to the tailor a new and instructive view of
human nature. I despair, however, of seeing such a history, written as it
ous;ht to be, because the mind of the philosopher, and the eye of the tailor,
seldom centre in the same individual. To be a tailor by trade, and an
author by profession, is a destiny which has not befallen many of our
species. Mr. Place is the only living person within my knowledge, who,
writing with the pen in one hand, and stitching with the needle in the
other, has been equally sharp and pungent with both. If he would under-
take the work which I have suggested, the world would be his debtor;
and, as the researches into which j£ must inevitably lead him, would tend
to his improvement, both as a fashioner of books and as a fashioner of gar-
ments, he would suffer no loss by the employment, but might return, at
the completion of it, with redoubled zeal, to his usual occupation of patch-
ing up the costume and the constitution of his country.
It is my misfortune not to be a tailor. If I had ever had the honour of
sitting cross-legged on a shop-board, I would have myself attempted the
task, which I now call upon Mr. Place, if he has any love for the works of
the thimble, to execute without delay. Had I been brought up at the
feet of some illustrious fabricator, amid the steaming odours of goose and
cabbage, I would have taken pattern by honest Stowe, and would have
chronicled the/uffs, and tufts, and taffetas of former beaux, in all the pomp
of historic narrative. I would also have endeavoured to catch some of the
indescribable graces which my friend B — , who manufactures cashmeres
and criticisms for the blue-stockings of Paris, has thrown over his erudite
history of shawls ; and, though I might not, like him, have gained success
by my performance, I would have deserved it, like him, by industry and
perseverance. But alas ! I repeat again, I am no tailor. I am there-
fore, utterly unqualified to describe the strange, and numberless, and
evanescent shades in the alteration of fashions, and am consequently
unfit to immortalize the daring fancies and creative needles of the Places
and Stulzes of former generations. But, though I cannot perform all
that I wish, I will not shrink from contributing all that I can towards the
historic labour which I have just projected, and which, I trust, some
MM. New Series.— VOL. IV^. No. 24. 4G
594 A Dissertation on Beards, [DEC.
future coat-collector, as rich in obsolete wardrobes as Dr. Meyrick is in
worn-out helms and hauberks, will hereafter worthily and successfully
accomplish. I will note as scientifically as I can the variations of fashion,
which have fallen within the sphere of my own particular profession, and
will thus prove to the world, that I am' myself ready to act upon the
exhortations which 1 have voluntarily come forward to deliver to
others.
I expect to bo rejected as a contributor to the Monthly Magazine, when
I avow that I am nothing more than a retired pogonotomist. Yes, I, who
have taken, without trembling, the boldest men in this empire by the nose,
now faint with terror, as I confess, anonymously, to an unknown editor,
that, though I now make flourishes on paper, as an author, with the pen,
I commenced my career in life by making flourishes on beards as a barber
with the razor. 1 might conceal from the public the cause of so won-
drous a change in my avocations ; but I scorn all unnecessary disguise ;
and therefore declare without hesitation, that, during the speculating
mania which pervaded the land a few years ago, I disdained to deal any
longer in bubbles of soap and water. 1 forsook my business to dabble in
bubbles of nobler promise ; and when those bubbles burst, discovered that
my business, in revenge, had forsaken me. I was not, however, disheartened
by the discovery, because I found out, upon winding up my accounts, that
I had realized, by my speculations, a sum on which I could retire to a
spruce little cottage in the Hampstead-road, for the enjoyment of that
suburban repose, of which we metropolitans are so deeply enamoured.
After I had rusticated there some weeks in all the dignity of a new-made
gentleman, want of occupation converted me into a glutton of books.
The same cause led me, at a later period, to try my hand at concocting
puns for the Post, and paragraphs for the Herald; and I am now, in
spite of nature, and education, and early habits, become, I know not how,
a regular scribbler. As my thoughts, by a very natural process, often
recurred to the subject-matter of my past latherings, I determined that the
first production of my studies should be a history of the various vicissitudes
which have attended pogonotomy in different ages and in different coun-
tries, and of the savage controversies and the sanguinary wars which they
have occasionally excited. That production is now completed; and I
feel as much rapture in having brought it to a close, as Gibbon describes him-
self to have felt in traversing his terrace at Lausanne, after penning the last
sentence of his " Decline and Fall," and as Bruce may be supposed to have
felt, after accomplishing his journey to the previously undiscovered foun-
tains of the Nile. I expect, however, to be told, that my subject is not
worth the labour which has been bestowed upon it; and if I am so told,
I will not presume to gainsay the assertion. On the contrary, I will chime
in with every objurgation that may be directed against me for wasting
my time upon trifles 'Might as hair" instead of applying it to matter of
graver importance. I will even abstain from defending myself, by the
example of a thousand writers of high authority and reputation, who have,
each in their day, taken pride in exalting the low, and amplifying the
little — and will suffer my reprovers to take judgment against me by
default, provided they will permit me, in return, to try a trick of my
trade upon their chins the first time they may -visit the vicinity of
Hampstead. If they will only vouchsafe me that honour, I will pro-
mise them that they shall not in a hurry stand in need of the services of
another barber. My revenge shall be as sharp as my razor; and if my
1827.] Historical and Literary. 595
razor do not cut as deep as their sarcasms, it must Lave lost its edge by
disuse, and have become as blunt as a common oyster -knife.
I might here dilate upon the various purposes for which nature provided
man with a hairy appendage to his chin, were not such a task rendered
quite superfluous by the three hundred and sixty -nine closely-printed folio
pages, which Marcus Antonius Ulmus, a physician of Padua, published on
the subject about three centuries ago; and by the erudite and ever me-
morable quarto, which Pierius, a priest of Rome, dedicated to Clement the
Seventh about the same time, in praise of its beauty, dignity, and unde-
niable holiness. Pagenstecher, the learned jurist of Steenvord, will
enlighten those who are anxious to inquire into its political merits and
judicial rights, and will prove, out of the mouths of mystics, moralists,
philosophers, theologians, arid historians, that it is given to man as a signal
ornament and distinction, and is denied to woman, on account of the
innate loquacity, dicacity, and garrulity of the sex, which keep her jaws
in such perpetual motion, as to afford no leisure time for a beard to sprout
thereon. I shall avoid all such speculative discussions, as unworthy of the
barber and the scholar; and, contenting myself with the humble fame of
an industrious compiler, shall seek nothing more than to form, out of the
slight and scattered fragments of history, a concise and curious, and I
hope not uninteresting, account of the decline and fall of the once bushy
honours of the human beard.
If there be one people on the face of the earth whom I detest more
cordially than another, it is that people of opposite and contradictory
qualities, the Jews.* Obsequious and obdurate, superstitious and irre-
ligious, straining at gnats and swallowing camels, constantly amassing wealth,
and as constantly Jiving in the most squalid filth and beggary, they are at
once the humblest of slaves, and the most imperious of masters, to every
community in which they can obtain a footing. As I wish to get rid at
once of every disagreeable recollection, and as the very thought, much less
sight, of a Jew, excites my spleen and raises my disgust, I will begin, since
they trace back their history to times of which we have no other records
but theirs, by emptying my common-place book of all it contains relative
to their manner of decking and docking the beard. From their first
appearance, down to their final dissolution as an independent nation, they
held it in high respect and honour. The beard of Aaron, which streamed
like a grisly meteor to the wind, is always mentioned by their writers in
terms of hyperbolic praise — as is also that of John the Baptist, who is
extolled by more than one of them for never having allowed a razor to
approach his throat. In imitation of these their prophets and their priests,
the Jews permitted their beards to grow to great length, and were fastidious
to a fault as to the mode of cutting and adorning it. Their history affords
a singular instance of their nicety of feeling on this point. When Hanun,
the Lord of the Ammonites, shaved off half the beard of David's messen-
gers, in derision of their master, the insult was felt to be so unpardonable,
that David made the shavelings tarry at Jericho till it had grown again,
being afraid lest their appearance with a board so marred and mutilated
* For this dislike I have high authority. In Calvin's case [7 Rep. 17. a.] Lord Coke
says, "All infidels (among whom he reckoned the Jews, 2 Inst.507)are in law per-
pctui inimici, perpetual enemies; for the law presumes not that they will be converted,
that being" renwta pofentia, a remote possibility : for between them, as with the
devils, whose subjects they be, aud the Christian, there is perpetual hostility, and can
be no peace."
4 G 2
596 A Dissertation on Beards, [DEC.
should stir the people up to some sudden act of mutiny and outrage.
During their occupation of Judea, they cut off the beard, when suffering
under heavy calamity— but at present, as 'Change Alley, the constant
witness of their griefs, and gains, and glories, can testify, they reverse the
custom, and let it grow, probably in imitation of Mephibosheth, who left
his own untrimmed from the day that David departed in trouble and
sorrow from Jerusalem, to the day that he returned to it again triumph-
antly in peace.
If I turn from the Jews to the Greeks, I find that in that early period
of their history, which is styled the heroic age, the beard flourished in
undoubted honour. There are several passages in Homer which shew,
that, if a vanquished enemy could succeed in touching his conqueror's
beard, the rude laws of war, which then prevailed, compelled him to give
quarter to the suppliant, who so demanded it. Young men were also
accustomed to cut off the first hair of their beards, and to dedicate it, with
great formality, to the gods, as a mark of their gratitude for the divine pro-
tection, which they had received during the numerous dangers of infancy
and childhood. This practice prevailed universally in Greece till the
beginning of the Pelopormesian war, when the razor first came into use,
and brought devastation to the blooming honours of the chin. At that
time, however, shaving was considered the index of the most unblushing
and profligate effeminacy of manners ; and the sneers which were cast
upon Cleisthenes, who first practised it, have survived all other accounts
of that dandy of antiquity. Aristophanes took every opportunity to
denounce the innovation, which was thus introduced into the costume of
the face. In his political comedy of the Knights, he makes one of the
characters, who is appointed general reformer of abuses, say, " that he will
allow no man to speak in public whose chin is not bearded ;" on which
another of the characters immediately asks. " Where then are Cleisthenes
and Strato to exercise their oratory ?" In his Ecclesiazusaa, where the
women disguise themselves as men, and, like our female reformers of
1819, attend political meetings, one of them is made to speak in terms of
great praise of the beautiful beard of Epicrates, and to ask whether it will
be possible for any body to take her for a woman, after she has tied as
large a beard under her chin. Agyrrius, she says, remained undiscovered
under the massive beard of Pronomus ; and yet the wretch was formerly a
woman, though he is now the greatest man in all the city. In his
Thesmophoriazusse, the poet stickles as strenuously for long beards as
ever parson stickled for heavy tythes. The fun of two or three whole
scenes depends entirely on the reluctance, which one of the characters
exhibits to be shaved. Euripides is introduced upon the stage in dreadful
alarm, in consequence of information which has just reached him, that
the women of Athens had entered into a plot to take away his life, in
revenge of the sneers and insults which he was perpetually casting upon
them in his tragedies. He requests his friend Agatho to appear in their
assembly as a woman, and to speak boldly in his behalf. Agatho, natu-
rally enough, asks, " Why the tragic poet cannot appear there in the
same disguise himself." Euripides replies : —
" I'll briefly state my reasons —first, I'm known,
And then, I'm old, and grey, and wear a beard.
But you, my friend, are handsome, young, and comely,
With smooth-shaved beard and trim ; — besides, your voice
Sounds shrilly like a woman's, whilst your gait
1827.] Historical and Literary. 597
Is soft, and delicate, and mine'd so finely,
That, on my life, they'll ne'er discover you.
Ag. — Euripides !
^Eur.— Whatis't?
Ag. — 'Twas you that sung, —
" Thou deem'st life to be precious — cans't thou not
Believe thy father deems it precious, too ?"
Eur. — The verse is mine— what then ?
Ag. — Why never dream,
That we shall volunteer to bear for you
Your adverse fortune — we were mad indeed,
And worse than mad, to think on't— Firmly then
Resolve to meet the fate you cannot shun.
Agatho, having thus refused, Mnesilochus, fired with a generous indig-
nation at his treachery towards Euripides, offers to go in his stead. Euri-
pides bids him strip. Mnesilochus strips willingly; hut when Euripides
proposes to shave him, and borrows a razor for that purpose from Agatho,
lie makes a very strenuous effort to retract his offer. Euripides will not
let him — but forthwith shaves one side of his face, in spite of his many
cries and struggles. Mnesilochus attempts to run away. Euripides
threatens to knock him down if he does riot immediately stop both his
bawling and his running. The wretch is frightened, and submits to have
the other side of his face shaved, but not without exclaiming long and
loudly against his unhappy destiny. The dialogue then continues : —
Eur. — Tush, man, ne'er fret yourself for such a loss,
But see how spruce, and trim, and brave you look.
Say— shall I bring a mirror ?
Mn. — If you please.
Eur. — Why, there it is, then— dost thou see thyself?
Mn. — By Jove, not I — 'tis Cleisthenes I see.
Eur. — Rise up, and let me singe these hairs away.
Mn. — Alas ! Alas ! he'll scald me like a pig.
Mnesilochus, being thus shaved, is sent into the assembly of women.
When he has taken his seat among them, and has begun to congratulate
himself upon the success of his stratagem, and is listening with silent satis-
faction to the smart tales which they are telling of each other, under the
idea that no male is present, the chorus starts up, and bids them cease
their chattering — for a woman " fiery red with speed," is approaching the
place of their meeting; whereupon Cleisthenes immediately makes his
appearance, and thus addresses them : —
" Dear dames of Athens, sisters of my soul,
How fondly I adore you, let my cheeks,
My beardless cheeks, proclaim — you know I love
To ape the woman, and I madly dote
On all your quaint devices. I have tidings,
Tidings which near affect you— shall I tell them ?
Chor. — Speak out, my boy — for boy I needs must call thee,
Whilst thus thy chin is cheated of its beard.
He then informs the women of the trick which Euripides has put upon
them through the agency of some paltry scoundrel, who has submitted to
be shaved, and then come among them as a spy. Mnesilochus boldly
affirms that the story of Cleisthenes is incredible : —
« Say — can you credit such a tale as this
When told by such a thing ? Lives there a man,
So lost to all the feelings of a man,
As would for any bribe that wealth could give,
598 A Dissertation on Beards, [Dfcc.
Submit to the dire shame of being shavM ?
By the dread goddesses, I'll not believe it !"
There is a great deal more to the same effect, which I purposely abstain
from translating. Indeed I should not have quoted so much as I have
done, had I not been anxious to refute the universally-received opinion,
that Alexander the Great was the inventor of shaving. Chrysippus was
the author of this fiction. Atbenseus gave it currency and circulation in
his Dinner Philosophers ; and it has been regularly repeated, without any
examination into its truth, by every author, who has written on the beard
from his time down to the last written article on the subject in the Ency-
clopedia Britannica., The story has therefore gained some authority by
prescription ; but no prescription can stand against the facts which I have just
cited, and which, by-the-by, are by no means of an isolated description.
It is upon record, that Dionysius the tyrant, who died some years before
Alexander was born, taught his daughters the use of the razor, in order to
avoid the risk of exposing his throat to a republican barber. The Ephori,
on entering into office, regularly issued an edict, forbidding the Lacedae-
monians to nourish their beards ; whilst the Byzantines and Rhodians
absolutely inflicted punishment on those who did not shave them away.
There is also a story told of Phocion, which militates strongly with the-
probability of Alexander's claim to the original discovery of shaving.
Plutarch informs us, that, on some public occasion, Phocion called upon
an individual of the name of Alcibiades, who was distinguished for the
prolixity of his beard, to corroborate a statement which he had made.
To curry favour with the people, Alcibiades, instead of corroborating,
flatly contradicted it. Phocion walked slowly up to him, and taking hold
of his beard, as if to smooth it down, said, in the hearing of the assembled
people, " You should have shaved off this symbol of an honest man,
before you set up the trade of a shameless liar." That the fashion of
dispensing with the beard had become very prevalent in Greece in the
time of Alexander, seems probable from the obstinate attachment which
Diogenes, who loved to run counter to the vulgar, displayed to his own.
It appeared to him to be as ridiculous to deprive a man of his beard as a
lion of its mane — and he wore his own, he said, that he might never forget
that he was a man, endowed with a thinking soul. He considered the
act of shaving as the outward expression of an inward willingness to over-
turn the law of nature, a notion, which explains his object in once asking
a smug-faced fop, whether he did not blame nature for making him a man
instead of a woman. The philosophers, who succeeded him, acted in
conformity with the same notion for several generations, after the rest of
their fellow-countrymen had renounced all barbal honours. A long beard
and a tattered cloak were the outward and visible signs of a lover of wis-
dom, even so late as the beardless days of Plutarch, who, in one of his
moral treatises, remarks, that something more than these two ingredients
is wanted to constitute a real philosopher. Lucian, in his Eunuch,
observes, that, if those who have the longest beards are the wisest
philosophers, he-goats are the wisest philosophers in the world. A
writer in the Anthology has embodied the same idea in a Greek epi-
gram, and hence arose the proverb, " I see the beard and cloak, but
wish to know where is the philosopher." It would have been well
for these soi-disant sages, if they had nourished their beards, for the
excellent reason of the old Laconian, who, when he was asked why
lie let his white beard grow to such a length, said, that it was in hopes
1827.] Historical and Literary. 599
that the continual sight of it would prevent him from committing any act
that might disgrace its whiteness. Had the philosophers of Greece been
influenced as a body by such virtuous motive?, her comic writers and her
historians would have had less cause to accuse them of fraud, and avarice,
and treachery, and almost every other vice, that degrades and defiles the
purity of human nature.
Before I take leave of my friends in Greece, I cannot help noticing
a singular phenomenon, which is said to have occurred in one of its-
colonial dependencies, and which Alexander Sanderson — the "Alexander
ah Alexandro" of Waverley — has noticed, in his "Genial Days," without
stating how he came by the knowledge of it. T have hunted for it in
vain in various classic authors, and therefore partly suspect it to be an
experiment made by my friend Sawney, in one of his drunken moments,
on the credulity of his readers. " It is a singular fortune," says he,
"which attends the priestess of Minerva, at Halicarnassus. As often as
any misfortune is going to befall the Amphictyan colonists, who are settled
in that country, a large beard sprouts upon her chin, and, by its magni-
tude, gives warning of the extent of mischief which is to follow. A simi-
lar phenomenon is not uncommon in Caria; the inhabitants know, that,
when the females, who are dedicated to the service of the gods, have hairs
growing in their cheeks and chins, they are capable of divining future
events." How the Carian ladies came by this strange qualification, or
how they lost it, I pretend not to say. Sawney may have learned the
story from some of their descendants, who sailed in a sieve from Aleppo
to Scotland — for the witches, who unfolded the secrets of futurity to Mac-
beth, must have been of the same complexion and clan, if we are to credit
the language in which he addresses them : —
-You should be women !
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.'*
But T abstain from saying more on bearded women at present, as I
intend to dedicate a page to their honour, before I bring this historical
compilation to a close.
It is evident from several passages in the most esteemed Latin authors,
that the early Romans were as averse as most other savages to the use of
the razor. The large white beard of Xuma is extolled more than once
by the complimentary muse of Virgil : and the honest beard of his sub-
jects is "familiar as household words" in the mouth of the caustic Juvenal.
Indeed that satyrist assures us, that the first inhabitants of Rome looked
upon the beard with so much honour, that they visited with condign
punishment any disrespect shewn to it by the junior members of the com-
munity. The same feeling prevailed for more than five hundred years
among their descendants, and led them to burden the chins of their gods
very lavishly with these hairy appendages. With the exception of
Apollo, all the images of their gods were well bearded — and, strange as it
may appear, even the images of two of their goddesses were sometimes
similarly decorated. It will perhaps excite a smile in the unlearned reader
to be informed, that Venus was one and Fortune the other of these .extra-
ordinarily gifted female divinities. Macrobius has left us a description of
the former, and Augustine of the latter, with the additional information,
that she was invoked for no gift so often as that of a prolix and handsome
beard. We learn from Persius, that when a devotee particularly wished
600 A Dissertation on Beards, [DEC.
to propitiate his gods, he gave them a beard of gold — an honour which
sometimes exposed their godships to very awkward accidents and predica-
ments. ^Esculapius had his beard twice torn up by the roots in Sicily ;
and, if we are to credit Lucian, the cloud-compelling Jupiter, in spite of
the thunder with which he was plentifully armed, was craven enough to
submit in quiet to a similar indignity. When beards were thus mixed up
with the religious feelings of the country, it does not appear strange that
a man without a beard, or with only a small one, should have been looked
upon almost as a curiosity. One of the ^Emilian family acquired the nick-
name of Little Beard, and figures away in Livy as Quinctus J& mill us
Barbula. It would have been fortunate for the senators, who witnessed
the sack of Rome by Brennus, had they deserved a similar appellation — but,
unfortunately, they were so bountifully provided with beard, and so scantily
with brains, that they could not brook the unintentional insult offered to
the bearded dignity of their colleague Papirius by an admiring barbarian,
and so got themselves all murdered at one fell swoop in a hopeless attempt
to avenge it. The Roman, who first attempted to bring his countrymen
to a smoother state of chin, was P. Ticinius Mena, who, in the year of the
city 454, introduced into it a troop of barbers from Sicily. His efforts
were attended with partial success ; but no Roman, if Pliny's authority
is entitled to belief, dared to shave every day until Scipio Africanus, who
had no occasion to fear the charge of effeminacy, set them the example.
A remarkable revolution shortly afterwards ensued in the Roman face.
The reign of long beards passed away, and though Cato endeavoured to
restore it along with the republic, the fortune of the razor was triumphant,
and the whole Roman world by the time of Augustus consented to be
shaved. It must not, however, be concealed, that, even after shaving had
become the rule of fashion, and not the exception, the "lords of human
kind" suffered their beards to grow when they were suffering under severe
calamity. Julius Caesar, on hearing of the massacre of the legion which
he had placed under the command of Titurius, vowed not to shave his
beard until he had avenged it. Mark Antony, after the battle of Actium,
neglected his hair, and allowed a thick heavy beard, 1 translate the words
of Plutarch, to droop upon his bosom. It is recorded in the life of Cali-
gula, that, on learning the death of his sister Drusiila, with whom he had
been incestuously connected, he was so overwhelmed with sorrow, that he
retired suddenly from Rome in the night, and returned to it some days
afterwards with a long beard and dishevelled hair. Indeed these were the
symptoms of deep mourning even in the early ages of the iron rule of
Rome. They are mentioned as such by Livy, when he is describing the
mode in which the people expressed their grief for the fate of Manlius,
and again when he is noticing the very curious manner in which the cen-
sors treated an impatient fellow, who had taken in sad dudgeon a hasty
vote of censure, which the sovereign people had passed against him for his
conduct during his consulship. It appears that this coxcomb — Marcus
Livius was his name — gave up, in consequence of it, all interference in
public affairs for eight years, and almost banished himself from decent
society. In the consulship of the celebrated M. Marcellus, he was lured
back to Rome by that fortunate and victorious general. As he dressed,
himself in tattered clothes, and went about the streets with matted hair
and an enormous beard, and exhibited in his countenance and demeanour
a deep sense of the injury which he conceived himself to have received ;
the censors, to prevent mischief, compelled him not only to dress con-
1827.] Historical and Liter art/. 601
sistently with his rank and fortune, but also to submit to a salutary
shaving, and, after dragging him into the senate house, made him consent
to discharge several important public duties, which they imposed upon
him. It must have been an amusing spectacle to have seen the censors
seizing on the ex-consul, stripping him of his rags, and forcing his patrician
throat under the razor of a plebeian tonsor. What would I not give to
see a similar scene enacted in the streets of London. Why did not tho
respectable alderman, who incurred the indignation of his fellow citizens,
a few years ago, for telling them that half their London was burnt, when
not even a chimney was on fire — why did not the sagacious Atkins retire
immediately to his seat in Surrey, and meditate, in solitary moodiness,
upon the malice of mankind, ainid the sympathizing sorrow of cabbages
and cauliflowers? By this time his beard would have grown into a curio-
sity, and would have filled the coach of any magisterial Marcellus, who
might have endeavoured to lure him back to the citizens of Walbrook.
Methinks I see him, on his restoration, wandering slowly past the Man-
sion-house, the very image of a distressed old clothesman! Even now
the censors of the city — the marshals, and their men — are taking him into
custody, and dragging him, a reluctant victim, to a radical shaver. The
suds are already on his face — the razor is already drawn across his cheek,
and nothing is wanted to complete his purification for higher city prefer-
ments, except the descent of Gog and Magog from their pedestals to witness
and enjoy it. Even they are near at hand. Guildhall is expanding its gates
to give the giants egress, and, conscious of returning glory, is determined
not to close them till the cry of "fire, fire!" is once more heard within its
walls, and Atkins is again proclaimed dictator over all the tradesmen and
turtles in the city of London.
I must not, in my enthusiasm, forget to mention, that the striplings of
Rome dedicated the day, on which they first performed the important
ceremony of shaving, to feasting, and banqueting, and other important
solemnities. It was the same epoch in their lives that coming of age is
in ours, and was celebrated with all the pride and pomp of circumstance
becoming such an event. Nero gave to these festivals the name of " Ludi
Juvenales;" and when he kept his own, put the crispings of his beard
into a vase of gold, and after adorning them with pearls of the purest
whiteness, dedicated them to the Jupiter of the Capitol. Apollo and Venus
were sometimes honoured with similar offerings; and Chaucer, in his
knight's tale, rigidly adheres to the practice of antiquity, when he makes
Arcite devote his beard to Mars, in the following manner:—
" And eke to this avow I will me bind;
My beard, my hair that hangeth low adown,
That never yet did feel offencyoun
Of Rasour ne of Sheer, I wooll thee yeve." (give.)
From the curious amalgamation which he repeatedly makes of the man-
ners and customs of different ages and countries, and from the constant
anachronisms of which he is guilty, I should be inclined to suspect that
he did not so much regard the practice of antiquity in this passage, as
that which the monastic orders of his time had borrowed from it. When-
ever an individual became a member of them, his beard was blest with
great formality, and then cut off and consecrated to God. Both the
Greek and Latin churches had a service for such consecration in the early
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 24. 4 H
602 A Dissertation on Beards, [DEC.
oges; and if I may take the word of a writer in the Encyclopedia Britan-
nica, it still retains its place in the Euchology of the Gree'ks.
From the time of Augustus down to that of Hadrian, none but the philo-
sophers, as they styled themselves, wore beards. With the reign of
Hadrian the beard resumed its former dignity, as if to convince the world
that fashions were as liable to change as either weathercocks or women.
Just as Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Anjou; invented shoes with inordi-
nately long points, to conceal an excrescence in one of his feet ; and as
Charles the Seventh of France introduced long coats to hide his ill-made
legs; and as Duviller, an eminent professor of my own art, in the days of
the Spectator, created full-bottomed wigs to conceal an awkward eleva-
tion in the shoulder of the Dauphin ; did the Emperor Hadrian revive the
fashion of retaining the beard to conceal certain ugly excrescences in his
chin. His example was imitated by all his successors, save Caracalla,
Heliogabalus, and Justinian, and, as may naturally be supposed, was
followed by their admiring courtiers and loving subjects. Antoninus par-
ticularly distinguished himself by the patronage which he bestowed upon
the beard. Spartianus mentions, as a mark of that emperor's policy and
probity, that he never gave a centurion's commission to any man who was
not robust in person and respectable in character, nor a military tribune-
ship, which is equivalent to a colonel's command at present, to any officer
who was not adorned by a full and flowing beard. Whether Constantino
judged of the merits of his officers by the same criterion I do not pretend
to know ; but I have every reason to believe that he took pride in the title
of n»yw»«Tflf, or Great Beard, which his soldiers conferred upon him. It was
perhaps owing to a sudden sight of that hairy prodigy, that, early in the
reign of his son Constantius, a woman gave birth to an infant, which had,
on its entrance into the world, a stiff black beard, to say nothing of two
mouths, two small ears, two large teeth, and four moderate-sized eyes,
which the philosophic Cardan assures us it possessed. The Emperor
Julian, along with the dominions, inherited the admiration of his ancestors
for the beard ; and what is more to my point, wrote a learned and witty
treatise in defence of it. The inhabitants of Antioch, whose refined habits
taught them to bear the inconvenience of shaving for the comfort of being
shaved, used every effort in their power to bring the imperial beard into
contempt and disrepute. Forgetful of the respect due to legitimate power,
they libelled his imperial majesty, when he entered their walls, by saying
that a butcher of victims ($vniv), and not a king, had come to take up his
residence among them. They even gave him the nickname of " Goat,"
and swore that his beard was fit for nothing else than to be twisted into
ropes. Though the philosophic emperor disdained to take corporal ven-
geance on these insolent caitiffs, he did not let them off entirely scot-free.
He wrote his Misopogon, or Enemy of the Beard, in which he lashed
their intemperance, impiety, and injustice, at first with lively irony, and
at last with serious and bitter invective. As his work, which is seldom
read even by scholars, has never to my knowledge been translated into
English, I may perhaps be excused, considering its natural connexion with
the subject matter of this article, for inserting a short extract from it, not
so much as a specimen of the style in which its author retaliated on his
licentious and effeminate accusers, as of his personal appearance, habits,
and character. The extract, which I have selected, possesses some
interest, not merely because it contains a distinct summary of all the
annoyances which beset the heroes of the beard, but also because it is the
1 827.] Historical and Literary. 603
very passage which the friends of the Abbe de la Bleterie adjured him,
in the name of the French nation, not to translate, on account of its
extreme offensiveness to their fastidious notions of delicacy and decorum.
To render it intelligible, I ought to premise that, throughout the work,
Julian's method of attacking the people of Antioch is by accusing himself
of folly and incapacity in not adopting their customs, which he " defends
after a sort," as praiseworthy and excellent. The extract is as follows: —
"There is no law which prohibits a man from either praising or blaming
himself. Now, though I am very anxious to praise myself, I find it
impossible; but, when I strive to blame myself, 1 iind a thousand ways in
which I can do it. I will begin first with my face. As it is not, I think,
either very handsome, or very comely, or very youthful, I have added to
it, out of pure churlishness of temper, a long thick beard, taking that ven-
geance upon it for no other cause than its want of beauty. For the same
reason I let the lice disport themselves in it, just like animals in a forest,
and I disable myself from either eating largely, or drinking greedily — for
I must needs be always on my guard, lest 1 unintentionally eat my beard
along with my bread. I care not a straw about it on the score of kissing
or getting kissed — and yet the beard appears to have this as well as other
inconveniency, that it does not permit its possessor to fasten a smooth lip
on the soft, and therefore sweeter, lip of woman, to borrow an expression
from a poetical eulogist of Daphne. You say. however, that ropes
ought to be made of it. I am willing to let you try to make them, pro-
vided you can extract its hairs, arid are not afraid that their rough edge
should break the skin of your soft and delicate ringers. Do not however
fancy that 1 am vexed at your scoffs — for I give rise to them myself, by
keeping my chin bearded like a goat, when I might have it, I suppose, as
smooth as that of a lad, or of a woman, on whom nature has bestowed her
most bewitching attraction. But you, even in your old age, imitate your
own young sons and daughters, and owing to the refinement of your lives,
and to the simplicity of your manners, carefully polish your chins, display-
ing your manhood by your features, and not, as 1 do, by my beard. But
not content with the magnitude of my beard, I take no pains in cleaning
my head — I seldom cut my hair — 1 let my nails grow long — and I have
my fingers generally dirtied and blackened by ink."
So frank a confession takes away our surprise at the peremptory dis-
missal, which he gave to the thousand barbers of the palace at Constanti-
nople, immediately after he became master of it. Marcellinus's account
of the immediate circumstance, which brought about that sweeping
retrenchment in the imperial household, is amusing. It happened that, on
one occasion, when Julian had sent for a barber to cut his hair, an officer
entered his apartment, ambitiously and sumptuously drest. On seeing
him, Julian was astonished, or as Gibbon says, in direct contradiction to
the writer from whom he got the story, affected to be astonished. " It
was not," said he, " a receiver-general of the finances that I wanted, but
a barber." He questioned the man, however, concerning the profits of
his employment, and was informed, that, besides a large salary, and some
valuable perquisites which he had derived from presenting petitions to
the emperor, he enjoyed a daily allowance for twenty servants and as
many horses. Think of that, ye barbers of the present day, and mourn
in obscurity over the diminished gains and glories of your ancient profes-
sion. Julian, concludes Marcellinus, was so indignant at this waste of
the public treasure, that he turned this fellow and all his crew out of the
4 II 2
601 A Dis&ertation on Beards. [DEC.
palace, together with the cooks and other servants, who had been accus-
tomed to receive the same enormous emoluments. I am a great admirer
of the achievements of Julian, but I cannot, as a barber, commend his
unjust treatment of the gentlemen of my profession, nor, as a man of taste,
applaud his indiscriminate cruelty to the anatomists of the kitchen. Rut,
as a nameless archer avenged their wrongs in the plains of Sogdiana, I am
willing to obliterate this blemish from his character, in deference to his
many rare and memorable virtues.
Up to this stage of our history, there has been but little ink and no
blood shed either in defending or attacking this ornament — shall I call it,
or deformity — of the human countenance. But I am now come to a
period pregnant with controversies of various descriptions, and not without
its controversy on this particular subject. On the death of Julian, the
triumph of Christianity was securely established, and the religion of the
fishermen of Galilee became the religion of the Roman world. Its
adherents, no longer under the necessity of struggling for existence with
the powers that were, began in the fourth and fifth centuries to quarrel
with each other about forms and ceremonies, perfectly insignificant and
indifferent in themselves. No question was more fiercely battled than
that which related to the beards of their clergy. A text in Leviticus
expressly commanded the Jewish priests not to mar the corners of their
beards. It was urged by one set of theologians, that the command in
this text was confined to the Jewish priesthood; and by another, that
it extended to the Christian priesthood also. St. Jerome was a staunch
advocate of the latter doctrine, and declared a priest without a beard to
be a foul and disgraceful nudity. The point was referred to the decision
of two general counsels, held at Carthage, in the years 410 and 418; but,
unfortunately, we have no means of ascertaining how they decided it.
One party gives the words of their judgment thus— " Clerici neque comam
nutriant, neque barbam" — than which nothing can be more clear and
explicit. The other, however, comes forward with an old MS. from the
Vatican, and gives us the same words, with the addition of another, which
entirely alters their meaning — " Clerici neque comam nutriant, neque
barba,m radant" The history of the church does not afford us any col-
lateral help, by which we can affirm either of these versions to be incorrect.
If we suppose that these counsels proscribed the beard, we must either
conclude that their authority was demurred to by the individuals whom
its proscription affected, or disbelieve the story of Paulus Diaconus, that
one of the imperial prefects persecuted the monks by smearing their
beards with wax and oil, and by then setting them on fire for his private
amusement. If, on the contrary, we suppose thai they favoured its growth,
what are we to do with the story of Pope J oan, and all its extraordinary
incidents ? " If priests had been compelled to wear beards in the early
days of the church," says Pierius, "the chair of St. Peter would never have
been filled by a profligate woman." Nor, I may add, would Pasquin have
had occasion to write his alliterative verses, in commemoration of her
imprudence and infamy: —
" Papa, Pater Patriae, Papissae pandito portum
Pro Petri porta peperit Papissa Papellum."
If we look to later decisions of the church for assistance in these our doubts,
we find them to be equally dubious and uncertain. The rescript of Alex-
ander the Third to the Archbishop of Canterbury, on this subject, is liable
1827.] Historical and L iterary. 605
to similar disputo. Beyond all doubt, that rescript orders the clergy, who
nourish their hair, to be shaved, in spite of all their remonstrances, by their
archdeacons. But the question is, whether the original rescript did not
extend the shaving powers of the archdeacons to those who nourished their
beards too. It is said to be thus worded : " Clerici, qui comam et barium
nutriunt, etiam inviti, a suis archidiaconis tondeantur." It is contended
that the words I have printed in italics are the interpolation of some lite-
rary beard-scraper, like myself; and Pierius is very indignant that any
scholar should venture to defend them as genuine. Leaving curious eritics
and pious polemists to settle this question as they may, 1 shall merely
observe, that whatever might be the practice of the Greek clergy in the
east, it was a settled point among the Romish clergy of the west of Europe,
in the tenth and eleventh centuries, if not earlier, that beards were a secu-
lar vanity, and ought to be left as such to the laity alone. In proof of this
assertion, I refer to the report which Harold's spies brought him from the
Norman camp, that William's army consisted chiefly of priests — an opinion
which it is supposed that they formed from a sight of his archers, whose
beards were shaved off to allow them to draw their bows more conveniently
in time of battle. In the reign of Henry the First, both the French and
English clergy ventured to reprobate the wearing of beards even by laymen.
All the different monastic orders which were formed at that time, or in a
few years afterwards, followed the example of the regular clergy, with the
exce'ption of the Cistercians. These latter monks clung with the most obsti-
nate attachment to their beards, and were, on that account, sometimes
called " Fratres Barbati," or the Bearded Brotherhood. Their conduct,
in this respect, excited the indignation of the other monks, and gave rise to
several satires and lampoons against them, which have survived to our
times. I subjoin a rough translation of one of them, which is written in
rhyming Latin hexameters, as a specimen of the theological venom "of the
twelfth century : —
" Attend : I'll paint you a Cistercian monk.
With well-kempt beard reclining on his breast,
He wanders forth, a shagg'd and frightful monster —
In looks, in words, in deeds, a very goat ;
And, 'cause he finds the gale of public favour
Blows kindly on such men, he moulds himself
Into an image of sour gravity,
And speaks like sage and solemn oracle.
Observe the caitiffmeet the foolish lord
Of numerous acres ! like a snake he crawls
And coils around his victim — then exclaims,
' The grace of God be with you, my fair son !
Our order fondly loves you, and each day
Repeats its pater-nosters for your welfare.'
And then he sweeps the pavement with his beard,
Making a hundred congees, which he swears
Shall cost his wealthy worship each a ducat.
Shun you, my friend, this hollow hypocrite —
This canting, cogging, servant of the Lord !
This lecherous, treacherous, sighing, lying knave !
Who only seeks your friendship for your ruin ! '
To such attacks as these, the Cistercians replied by declaring that their
assailants were distinguishable from the laity by their shaven beards, but
blended with them by the profligacy of their lives. The Templars, who
were more monastic than military in their origin and institutions, were,
606 A Dissertation on Beards. £DEC.
notwithstanding, distinguished by the prolixity of their beards. This is
proved by a letter of safe-conduct, which Edward the Second granted, in
the year 131J, to his valet, Peter Auger, who, having tirst made a vow
not to shave his beard, and having then been foolish enough to keep it,
was afraid lest its great size should lead the populace on the Continent,
where he was going as a pilgrim, to take him for a Templar, and to punish
him at pleasure, for the various crimes then generally attributed to that
warlike order. The facts which I have just quoted are sufficient to shew
that the learned Hospinianus is mistaken when he says, in his history of
Monachism, that the custom of shaving the beard did not creep into the
church till about the year J200, and that it then came in with the porten-
tous doctrine of transubstantiation, which innocent the Third succeeded in
establishing about the same period. Though I feel obliged to notice this
slight chronological error on his part, I cannot refrain from joining in the
ridicule which he casts on the grave reasons assigned by the priests for sub-
mitting their beards to the razor. "They said that one of them was
founded on their fears lest, in the sacrifice of the mass, their beards should
dip in the sacred blood of our Lord, or should retain some portion of his
body, by coming in contact with the consecrated wafer. On account of
this danger, silver tubes were formerly invented, and let into the chalice, to
enable the laity to draw the blood from it without polluting it. Wonderful
saints ! They sell this sacrifice of theirs to all comers for three farthings,
and yet tremble with pious fear lest any part of it should contract
pollution, by adhering to their beards! Is not this straining at a gnat,
and swallowing a camel ? By the course, however, which they adopted,
they not only prudently obviated the danger which they apprehended, but
also usefully consulted the interest of the barber, who is in general a
favourite with their reverences, on account of the valuable assistance he
can lend them in their pleasures." I know that rigid Catholics will set me
down, as well as Hospinianus, for an impious blasphemer, in consequence
of the opinion which I have just quoted, and will give very different
reasons from those, which have just been assigned, for the conduct of their
priesthood. As I have no wish to turn polemic, I shall turn from their
invectives with the single observation, that it is an undeniable fact, that,
for some centuries before the time mentioned by Hospinianus, the mode in
which the Roman priests had divested themselves and their saints of beards
had formed a ground of schism between their church and that of the Patriarch
of Constantinople. There is a sarcasm in the Facetiae of Poggio, which
illustrates aptly enough the distinction between the ministers of the two
churches in his time. A Greek cardinal — so Poggio calls him — came to the
Holy See, adorned with a long beard. The courtiers of the Roman Consistory
wondered that he did not follow the custom of the place in which he lived,
and shave it off. Cardinal Angelotti, on learning their surprise, said, " The
cardinal knows well what he is about, and sees that, among the many she-
goats of Rome, a he-goat is sure to find a comfortable residence." A
little later — in the papacy, I believe, of Clement the Seventh — a simul-
taneous effort was made, by a considerable portion of the Catholic clergy
in different parts of Europe, to obtain the sanction of the Pope to their
resumption of the beard. Pierius then wrote his celebrated apology for it.
The work is able and erudite, but produced no effect upon the Pope, who
recollected that what infallibility has at one period declared incorrect,
infallibility cannot, at another period, declare correct. He, therefore,
denounced the innovation, and consigned the sacerdotal beard, as before, to
1S27.] Historical and Liiemry. 607
the unsparing operation of the barber. Francis the First of France turned
the stir thus made among the priesthood to his own advantage. Under
pretence of carrying into effect the canons of the church, he, though a
restorer of the beard among the laity, issued an edict that the beard of
every churchman should be forthwith cut off. He gave them, however, to
understand that they might blunt the edge of this exterminating edict by
paying a certain sum into his exchequer ; and it is said that, by that device,
he brought from their coffers into his own a very considerable treasure.
The parsons of England displayed, at the same time, a similar partiality
for this secular vanity : for, at a visitation of Oriel College, Oxford, made
in 1531, Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, was obliged to order one of the
fellows, who was a priest, to abstain, under pain of expulsion, from wear-
ing a beard and pricked shoes like alaic, and from taking the liberty of insult-
ing the beardless chins of the venerable governor and fellows of the society.
The Reformation, however, shortly afterwards carne to England, and,
with the Reformation, the beards of the clergy. The bishops of James
the First's day paid as much attention to the points of their beards as to the
points of the puns and epigrams in their sermons ; and even the Assembly
of Divines, which sat at Westminster in the next reign, seemed impressed
with the opinion of the learned Dr. Bulwer, that, " as the beard is a sin-
gular gift of God, he who shaves it away aims at nothing more than to
become less than man." I can almost fancy that I see Philip Nye,*
shaking his thanksgiving-beard in approbation of the doctrine, and admo-
nishing the people that for man " to labour to extirpate so honest arid neces-
sary a work as the beard is, is an act not only of indecency and injustice,
but is also a practical blasphemy, most inexpiable against nature, and
God, the Author of nature, whose work the beard is."f
It is worth while to observe how the Catholic priesthood endeavoured, at
different times, to revenge themselves upon the beard, which they were
forbidden to wear. In Turpin's Chronicles, they gave it to the Saracens,
to render them frightful and odious. In the old moralities and mysteries,
which were got up under their superintendence, they gave it to the devil —
perhaps in imitation of Virgil, who has so equipped the infernal ferry-
man : —
" Terribili squallore Charon, cui plurima mento
Canities inculta jacet."
In the mystery of Mary Magdalene, one of the stage directions is — " Here
enters the prynse of the devylls, with a berde, and with hell onderneth the
stage ;" — an entree which must have been deeply interesting to those who
witnessed it. In the " Nigramansir, a moral Interlude and a pithy, writ-
ten by Maister Skelton, Laureate," and printed by Wynkin de Worde in
1504, there is a similar direction : " Enter Belzebub with a berde." And
yet, in spite of priests, and Saracens, and devils, the common people, both
in France and in England, retained their admiration for it, and parted with
it reluctantly, even when it was banished from the face of kings and
princes — as I hope I shall be permitted to shew in another number.
H. W.
* Philip Nye was a friend of Hugh Peters and John Goodwin, and, like them, one of
the Assembly of Divines. He had exerted himself during the rebellion so actively against
Charles the First, that, at the restoration, it was once intended to exempt him from' the
act of amnesty. Hudibras, in his letter to the widow, makes memorable mention of the
" great art and cunning" displayed in the trimming of " Philip Nye's thanksgiving beard."
f Vide Dr. Bulwer's " Artificial Changeling."
[ 608 ]
ON DUST.
•^ Dust long outlasts the storied stone;
But Thou— thy very dust is gone!"
LORD BYRON.
Such, and so many, have been the changes in the heart and suburbs of
this great metropolis, within the last quarter of a century — aye, within the
last five years — that if the entombed dust of the greatest peripatetic that
ever perambulated it, could be revivified, and that, in the shape of Mr.
Mogg, who, while the great destroyer levels cities with the dust, is still
adding his parallelograms to the Chart of London — I say even with such
an advantage, I think [he would be at a loss to find his anterior locality.
In every direction the wand of the enchanter has been extended. Tunnels
and aqueducts, roads, bridges, and canals, have started into existence,
presenting objects of novelty in themselves, and connecting situations,
previously remote; while the magnificence of rising temples, palaces,
and gardens, obliterate the impressions of the past by their more beautiful
and grand associations. Leaving these loftier mutations, let us descend to
the detail of the more humble metamorphosis in the vicinage of Gray's-Inn-
lane. Nay, check your smile — deem it not vulgar — for, know, it once had
pretensions to a mineral conduit, under the patronage of no less a person
than St. Schads! where, for the consideration of sixpence, journeymen
tailors, and other such Athenians, used to take their draughts of chalybeate
on Sunday mornings ; until a rise in the article, or, rather, a rise in the
price of admission, tended at once to cut off all further communication be-
tween the saint and his votaries ; and he now remains in the situation of
most of his fraternity, well nigh forgotten.
Nearly opposite to St. Schads' Wells stood — not Troy, but what might
have given a faithful representation of its ill-fated humiliation — Smith's
Dust Hilll " Black it stood as night," an accumulated mass, unutterable,
undistinguishable — the combination of a city's waste and refuse — an amal-
gamation too baffling to analyse, although an attempt may not be alto-
gether useless or unamusing ; for, however dry it may appear, I hope it
will not be found dull. To begin with the beginning : as Rome was not
built in a day, so neither was this sable Olympus raised in so ephemeral
a period, but required years to complete its elevation.
Dust, than which nothing can, upon a superficial view, be considered
more insignificant, was, a few years back, of very considerable value, far
surpassing the value of many things acquired by difficulty and danger, and
for which the breadth of oceans are traversed, through storms and tempests.
Perhaps a cruize to the Gold Coast, with all its drawbacks and contin-
gencies, is scarcely so profitable as the returns on the quantity of dust
collected in the city of London, during the time necessary for the voyage,
and its accomplished return. About the period I allude to, the parish of
St. Luke received no less a sum than between one and two thousand
pounds a-year for dust collected, which, being placed to the parish
account, tended in a great measure to keep down the poors' rates. In
addition to its value, no kind of property is better secured ; as will be
evinced, when the reader is informed that his present Majesty, George
IV., whou he was Prince Regent, lost an action for the recovery of the
value of dust, carried away from the palace, by his servants, to be used
as manure. In order to a further illustration of the subject, it is neces-
sary to inform the reader, that what has hitherto been considered is but a
1827.] On Dust. 609
part of that incongruous combination, the contents of a dust cart — the very
last residuum — the matter called "brize;" previous to which, by the
result of much labour, of picking, raking, sorting, arid sifting, a very
pretty property is collected by the various shareholders of this joint-stock
company, as a recent case that was brought forward at the Bow-street
office will suffice to convince us.*
Perhaps the reader may have never witnessed the ejection of a dust cart :
presuming he has not, I will endeavour to give htm a general outline of the
ceremony ; together with all the circumstances attending it, and a sketch
of the group and foreground. Suppose an eminence of about five or six
feet already collected, in a circular form; on the heap is a man raking
about, and a little child playing with a small brown shaggy mongrel of a
dog, with a community of pigs battening on the acclivity ; a youth below,
with spade and axe, is supplying three women with stuff — if women they
may be called, who, of all the progeny of old Mother Nox, seemed most
the resemblances of age, misery, and want ; I say seemed, for when one
was called — " one of three" — I beheld, as she raised her dilapidated
Dunstable, a face, where beams of pensive beauty struggled through dusty
darkness, and which mantled to a smile at the sound of notes whistled to
the tune of — " In Bunhill-row there hVd a Maid" — indicating the
approach of Jue — for it was his cart: — the dying cadence now gave way
to the gee-up ! uttered in deep bass, accompanied with a smart smack of
the whip, to urge the horse up the ascent. Joe was a decent sort of boy
enough for his avocation, not to be ranked among those who " troop under
the sooty flag of Acheron ;" but a clean, square-built fellow, with a
broadish face and forehead, blue eyes, nose rather short, expanded, and
inclined upwards, and tinted with that imperial hue that indicated his
knowledge was not confined to dry measure ; this, with a mouth a little
elongated, formed a countenance, upon the whole, full of mirth and good
humour. This piece of device was surmounted by a hat of the usual pro-
fessional form — a domed piece of felt, with a most prodigious margin : he
wore a good stout flannel jacket, and waistcoat ; his shirt collar fastened
by a leaden brooch, in the shape of a heart, deviating from the general
costume. His continuations were of white drill ; but, mark the vanity !
short enough to display a pair of hoppers, otherwise gaiters, of the same
material; these, with a stout pair of ancle-Johns, completed his outward
man, of an order " simply Doric."
At Joe's approach, all was stir and bustle ; the pigs, to the third and
fourth generation, moved " in perfect phalanx," not " to the Dorian
mood of flutes and soft recorders," but to their own equally inspiring grunt;
varying from the shrill treble to the deep-toned bass. Jowler, too, ran
barking; but with less interested feelings : and his little patron ran to take
the whip.
A few interrogatories on each side, a joke, and its accompanying laugh,
occupy brief space : when, suddenly, a general rush proclaims the load
is strewed upon the ground! a chaotic mass — "old hats, old wigs, old
boots, old shoes, and all the tribe of leather," remnants of all things, the
* It was a dispute between a dustman and a sifter, as to which had the most right-
ful claim to a five-pound note, found in the ashes: and certainly nothing could be
more impartially decided ; for as their claims, or rather their non-claims, turned out to
be equal — that is, in point of law — it was retained by the presiding magistrate in
trust. In the course of the inquiry, it appeared that the sifier had realized sufficient
property to enable her to be proprietress of three houses.
M.M. New Series— VOL. IV. No. 24. 4 I
6 JO O/i Dmt. [Dec.
ends and the beginnings, horticultural fragments and broken crockery,
the bunter's bone and the beggar's rags, pilfered lace suspected, and the
stolen jewel, the lost gold, and the mislaid spoon: and, for a climax,
rejoice ! gentle reader — for when the designs of the crafty are defeated by
inadvertence, or otherwise, with the weird sisters, " we should rejoice !
we should rejoice!" — a bill for fifteen pounds, drawn by a lawyer for
expenses, and which was taken to the acceptor by the dustman, for
which he received a considerate remuneration. Complicated as this mass
appears, it is all reduced to the most perfect order, and each portion arranged
according to the purposes intended for. Thus, the vegetable matter, so
eagerly seized upon by the pigs, contributes to keep up a supply of dairy-
fed pork and Epping sausages: the bones are laid aside for the purposes
of making hartshorn and phosphorus, dominoes and apple-scoops, &c.
The old boots and shoes, with the tribe of leather, after a slight examina-
tion of their utter inefficiency, find their way, though divers passages to
the glue-pot. How fractured bottles, and broken glass of every descrip-
tion, is disposed of, is easily seen through — to the furnace : and how the
old iron is appropriated, is not hard to guess. The old woollen, if per-
chance any should exist in the shape of a pair of innominables, after
exploring the pockets, and a sigh for their insolvency, are unceremo-
niously cast aside along with the worthless remains of rags of every
description, string, paper, &c., &c., to pass through the operation neces-
sary for making brown paper. What still remains, of coals, arid cinders
unconsumed, the dustman's perquisite, are measured first, " thence hurried
back to fire :" the wood, the sifters take. Broken tiles, bricks, delf,
crockery, with a variety of substances, and etceteras, go towards the
formation of roads. J had almost forgotten the crowning item, viz. old
wigs ! Towards the close of the last century, so much were they in
request, that the supply was scarcely equal to the demand. Yes, in the
days of Beau Tibs, every street bad its corner and every corner its shoe-
black, and to every shoe-black might be traced an old wig, sometimes
two. In those days of ruffles and etiquette, when a well-formed leg was
advantageously displayed in whole silk stockings, shoes, and buckles, it
was the custom with pedestrians, when making a call, to have their shoes
wiped and touched up at the corner of the street nearest the place they
were going to visit : and what so efficient for the purpose as an old wig ?
nothing. But, alas ! those days are gone ! and Beau Tibs is gone ! and,
if we question where ? only Echo answers. But what becomes of the
old wigs? is the question at issue. Alas ! again, such is the degeneracy
of modern days, that, instead of being used as an appendage to tbe toilet,
though humble,. I fear they will be traced to the vulgar bricklayer and
plasterer, to be mingled with mortar, and " patch a wall, to expel the
winter's flaw." Now, I believe, every particle is accounted for ; and
any little article, in the shape of a bijou, is the perquisite of those pickers-
up of unconsidered trifles, the sifters.
From such collections, a mount arose, like
" That mighty heap of gathered ground
Which Amraon's son ran proudly round ;"
and, from the terrific incidents connected with it, perhaps as full of in-
terest. On account of its immense height, it was necessary to form a
road, a quarter of a mile long, on an inclined piano, which continued to
wind round it in a spiral direction ; and two horses were always requisite
1827.] On Dust. 611
to draw a load to the top. On more than one occasion, it is recorded in
the " lane," the load, with cart, horses, and driver, fell from the highest
point of a«cent, and were precipitated down to " bottomless perdition."
What a catastrophe ! [ can scarcely conceive any thing that would im-
press the mind with ideas of deeper sublimity: not the fall of Mulciber :
" from morn
To noon he fell — from noon to dewy eve —
A summer's day ; and, with the setting sun,
Dropt from the zenith, like a fallen star,
On Lemnos, th' J3gian i.-,le."
This is too splendid — the mind is lighted up with too bland an imagery
—there is an ecstacy in which it is suffered to languish — and, finally, it
expires in the dissolving beams of a declining sun : and, if any sensation
is left, it is a pleasurable one, for he falls on Lemnos. How different the
circumstance, the soil, the clime, from our " black Gehenna." The dark
and deep descent — the overwhelming rush — the murky cloud that fol-
lowed— the scream — the crush — and the annihilation! Another catas-
trophe, which can be authenticated, is the following.
The sleeping partner of a Mr. Cooke dreamed one night that her son
was buried in the dust — a circumstance which she communicated to Mrs.
Garret, who, like a kind neighbour, bid her think nothing of it; and, as a
means of furthering her good intentions, proposed a glass of the waters of
oblivion ; that little wave, which overs weeps all terrors. About two years
after, a friend casually dropped in, and wondered Mrs. Cooke had not
heard of the accident. What accident? Why, the men in taking away
the dust, undermined it so much, that ! * Enough — memory, never
treacherous in evil, rushed foremost. " She fled, and day brought back
her night." In two minutes she was at the fatal spot: it was, indeed, her
son; whom they were endeavouring to extricate ; and, in so doing, unfor-
tunately struck" him in the side with a pickaxe, thereby affording an
incident which further illustrated the dream, " making the cold reality too
real." Nevertheless, he was thus rescued from death, not materially in-
jured ; and was thus restored to his mother, " like Alcestis from the
grave."
" And who is Mrs. Garret ?" said I to my informant. " My missus,"
replied the sweep, who was her eldest apprentice, and who, if he was not
equal to Corporal Trim in eloquence, was equal to La Fleur in sympathy ;
further, he possessed authority, but disdained to shew it ; he had power,
but scorned to use it; and to the little blighted being he could crush, his
harshest mandate, given in a soote voce, was, " Come Bob, be alive, and
be sure you scrape the pot well out,"
These instances are but the extracts of an Iliad : not that it was all
terrors ; for fame has made it sacred to the muses, it having always been
called by the classic appellation of " Pig's Boarding School." The base
was a sort of Campus Martius, where the youth of Battle Bridge practised
the civic games of boxing, wrestling, racing, and throwing the discus—
occasionally, a mad bullock was driven up. In short, its fame might vie
with that of Ida, or Olympus. When carted away, it yielded many
thousand chaldrons, which produced to the proprietor many thousand
pounds ; finally > it had stood fines, and as my informant emphatically
observed, " It beat all the dust-heaps that ever he'd see'd."
4 I 2
612 On Dust. [Due.
Now all is vanished — and to me, who am one of the veriest of cocknies,
who have never crossed the Andes or the Alps — who have never seen the
«•' Peak of Liakura unveiled," or traversed the Pindus Chain — to me who
have never seen a mount other than Mount Pleasant, it is^a loss consider-
able in amount.
The memory of Mr. Smith is so closely connected with the subject,
that to notice it is imperative ; indeed, the omission would appear invidious,
and I am sorry my information on this head is so very slender. Of what
his pretensions were at the Herald's College, I cannot say ; but the inge-
nious Master Verstegan, in his derivation of names, hath it thus set
down:
" Whence coraeth Smith, albeit knight or squire,
But from the Smith that forgeth at the fire ?"
His biography, I am sure, would be on the side of virtue; and judging:
from the number of persons who are " thankful unto him, and speak good
of his name," he must have been a man of great urbanity. One instance :
of his interference in favour of the recreations of the poor, is the following.
— On Easter Monday, it was the custom to throw off the cares and the
restraints of business, to indulge in such recreations as were congenial with
the various tastes of the parties assembled on the occasion : thus, while
some were diversifying the caricature of their physiognomies, by grinning
through a horse-collar, others were making themselves equally amusing by
jumping in sacks ; of a third group, a pig with a soapy tail was allotted to
him who could " tiensferme\" others again were riding with their faces
tailwards, in a donkey race, for a Cheshire cheese ; and a foot race by the
ladies, was crowned with a presentation to the winner of that which should
be the whitest article of female apparel. On the occasion alluded to, the
sports were interrupted by the stern authority of the law. What was to
be done? Were the poor to be robbed of their amusements, because by
the more fastidious they were deemed vulgar? — No! Application was
made to Mr. Smith, who, with ready acquiescence threw open his field for
their diversions ; and thus the day finished with eclat, their hearts filled
with gratitude and joy ; and their pots (for pints were not in requisition)
with pledges to the health and happiness of their benefactor. Now all is
changed ! Mr. Smith is gone to the tomb of all the Smiths, and the dust
is converted into bricks ; and on the site has been erected, a very elegant
and extensive building, destined for a horse bazaar. The lane, compared
with former days, is less agonistical — not but it must be a dull Sunday
indeed, that does not afford a bit of bruit, a game at hockey, or such like.
Last Whit Sunday, a fine young bull was turned out, under the recom-
mendation of his being mad ; and after being driven two or three times
up and down, with all the provocatives, " appliances, and means to boot,"
that a Munro or a Warburton could desire, to establish a statute of lunacy,
ho was turned in again, to the general mortification of the numerous ama-
teurs, and the day went poorly off, with a game at foot-ball. To con-
clude— the lane has had its. zenith, and, like the Roman Empire, must look
for its decline. 7 am going to move.
J827.] [ JUS ]
A DAY AT THE CAMP OF ST. OMER.
IN these " piping times of peace," when a camp has long ceased to bo
a common place, a description of the most extensive and complete one that
has been formed for many years past may not be without interest — espe-
cially to English readers of the present generation, to whom a camp is a
thing known only by name. In the midst of a line and richly-cultivated
country, lying to the south of St. Omer, in the department of the Pas-do-
Calais, two ranges of hills rise parallel with each other, and between them
runs an agreeable valley, watered by the Aa. On the summit of the
second of these ranges of hills, the Camp of St. Omer is formed. We
would engage the reader's imagination to accompany us thither, step by
step, through one of the late grand field-days which were got up on the
occasion of the King's visit — since a distinct and picturesque idea of any
particular set of objects which address themselves to the sight, can by no
other means be obtained, through the intervention of the pen alone.
We will start from our resting-place at St. Omer by day break, that we
may see the object of our visit under all its aspects ; and, in passing out of
the city-gates at this early hour, we may gain as distinct a notion as the
uninitiated can gain, of what is at once the most curious, interesting, and yet
unintelligible of the inanimate sights connected with war and its affairs —
namely, the immediate outskirts of a fortified place, forming what are
understood generally by the fortifications.
Imagine, first, a double gateway, opening into an archway of solid
brick-work, thirty feet thick. It is dark even at mid-day; and our voices
descend and seem to press upon us as we pass through, as if the place were
one not made to talk in, since the very first step into it excites sensations
and associations that silence alone can fitly entertain. This archway opens
at the outer extremity on a causeway traversing an immense fosse. Paus-
ing here for a moment, we look upon a kind of view that resembles and
reminds you of nothing else whatever, except that from the corresponding
spot of any other fortified place. Behind you is the black, dungeon-like
archway, joining on either side to perpendicular walls, rising so high as to
shut in all appearance of buildings, and of every thing but the tops of the
trees with which the ramparts are occasionally planted. Then the water
of the fosse itself, and, on the opposite side to the walls, numerous per-
fectly bare mounds of green earth, rising shelvingly to nearly the height of
the opposing walls, and moulded into angular forms, each of which has
some unintelligible correspondence with, or opposition to, some other
mound, of the seconds? third line of fortifications that you are presently
to pass. The spot on which you stand is a wooden platform, attached by
chains to huge beams over-head, and forming the first draw-bridge, which
is so constructed that the beams above nearly correspond in weight with
the platform below them, and the additional weight of one or two men is
sufficient to move in a moment the whole cumbrous fabric, and swing it
up from its bearings, till it hangs against the archway and the wall above,
arid leaves open the great gap formed by the fosse — so that nothing can
pass either in or out by that entrance. The rising end of the drawbridge
rests (when down) on a causeway, which, at the point where the above-
named mounds of earth meet it, is terminated by another gateway, joined to
the rising mounds by palisades, and opening to another drawbridge similar
to the above. On reaching this, the view on all sides is as singular as it
was from the first, but somewhat different — since now you look on nothing
614 A Day at the Camp of St. Omer. [Dec.
but iho endless green mounds forming the fortifications, and on the second
fosse, which divides one set from the other.
Not to lengthen out a description which can scarcely convey any very
distinct notions of the scene described, the above is followed by a third, and
sometimes by a fourth gateway, bridge, fosse, mounds, &c. &c. and the
whole, when seen from above, presents an appearance, and produces an
effect to the eye of the uninitiated, that may perhaps best be compared
with that of a set of Arabic characters, every one of which has we know,
some hujden meaning, but which no unassisted study or reflection, can
possibly enable us to comprehend or expound.
Quitting the gates of St. Omer, (which, however, at this early hour, we
can only do by virtue of a silver passe partout,) we enter upon a very
agreeable country, interspersed with villages, very pretty looking (at a
distance,) and intersected by good roads, flanked by noble lines of trees.
Mounting the first ascending road that we reach, and after a little descend-
ing, on the other side of the first range of hills mentioned above, we turn
on the right, into a green lane, and presently reach* the foot of the rude and
romantic looking defile, which must be mounted to gain the Camp.
Nothing can offer a more appropriate preparative to the extraordinary
scene we are about to visit, than this extraordinary approach to it — which
presents as determined a contrast to all about it, as the most unbroken bar-
renness, to the most luxuriant cultivation. The range of hills is of great
height ; rising almost perpendicularly on the plain, and as far as the eye
can reach, of endless extent, and the whole seems to be composed of solid
chalk, bearing a short, dusky, green turf. On labouring up the above-
named defile, and reaching the summit of the hill, it needs no connoisseur-
ship in Camps, to perceive that the situation is most admirably adapted to
its present purpose, whether as a place of parade, &c. to play at soldiers
upon, or as an actual gathering place for the large body of troops that now
occupy it. The top of the hill is a sort of table land of immense extent,
such as scarcely ever occurs at an equal height above the ordinary level of
the surrounding country. It overlooks and commands all the approaches
to it, and is on its south side, fringed by a fine wood, reaching at some
points to the plain below.
There are several other approaches to the Camp, besides that which we
have chosen ; but there is no other so well adapted to our purpose of gain-
ing a precise and picturesque notion of the scene we are about to examine.
On reaching the summit of the hill, we find ourselves in about the centre of
the front of the Camp-— at a. bowshot distance from the first line of tents,
and in full view of the whole scene. Let us look at it in detail, now that
it lies still, and as it were dead before us, in the fresh air of the early morn-
ing, and before even the sun has reached it, to rouse its earth-pillowed
inhabitants from their not very luxurious slumbers. On the right of us,
far in front of the tents, and nearly on the brow of the hill, rises a spacious,
circular pavillion of blue cloth, ornamented with silver, which joins by a
covered coriidor to an oblong erection, forming an inner tent, &c. The
whole of this, is the tent of the commandant, and serves for the reception
of the king when he visits the Camp. On the left, at about an equal dis-
tance from us, rises an altar, which is reached by several steps of turf, and
^covered by a canopy. Before this, the whole camp is assembled every
Sunday morning, to perform mass. Beside each of these erections centiriels
are pacing, even at this early hour. Passing forward a little from the spot
we have hitherto occupied, we see before us the whole general C£,mp; each
1827.] A Day at the Camp of St. Omer. 615
tent lifting its snow white form from out the green earth, like some fairy
tenement, and the lines of them stretching away to the right and left, in-
terminably, till the distant points are scarcely distinguishable from tlie grey
sky, against which they seem to rest. The space thus covered, cannot be
much less than two miles ; and the only object whtch breaks the beautiful
uni fortuity of the scene, is a windmill which rises from the very centre of
the camp, and seems to give it a connection, which it would otherwise
wTant, with the scene of rural life that we have left in the plain below.
The sun having by this time reached the heights, and given a new ex-
ternal character to the scene, by the bright glow which it has cast on the
tents, and the long shadows which flow from each of them, into the great
open space in front, we will approach them nearer. We English, if we do
not at present undervalue the courage of the French soldiery, have no very
prepossessing notions of their other moral qualities. Those who are in the
habit of connecting causes and effects, will at once get rid of any unworthy
prejudices that they may have acquired in this respect, the moment they
set their foot among the tents of the French troops now encamped at
Saint Omer. It is difficult to imagine any artificial arrangement of inani-
mate things, from which more might be gathered, in regard to the charac-
ters, feelings, habits, and even modes of thought, of the parties from whom
the said arrangement has proceeded. Here are thousands of human dwel-
lings, wanting every comfort for the attainment of which human dwellings
are erected — even those of common shelter from the winds and rain ; and yet
there is not one of them that does not present some indications of something
amiable or praiseworthy, in one or other of the humble beings who are sleep-
ing beneath its slight shelter. In most, this indication shews itself in the form
of a little garden, occupying the trifling remains of space allotted to each tent,
and not actually covered by it. There are hundreds of these little gardens
— no two alike — and every one evidently attended to with the most
diligent care. In some you see nothing but flowers — in others, trimly cut
evergreens, rising out of smooth turf — in others, low growing herbs, sown
so as to form initials, devices, &c. — in others, little arbours with seats and
tables of turf beneath — in others, fountains, streams, waterfalls, grottos,
temples, &c. That all this is on a scale so diminutive, as to correspond
only with a child's baby-house, assuredly adds to, rather than diminishes
the interest attached to it, and the value of the indications that may be
drawn from it, when it is recollected that all is the voluntary occupation, or
rather the cherished amusement, of persons whose business and duty it is
to cut the throats of their fellow creatures, and who have seldom been
known to fail in that duty, when called upon to perform it.
The most amiable of these indications of personal character to be found
in the Camp at Saint Omer, are undoubtedly the gardens above named.
But there are others quite as indicative and characteristic. In many, the
little space in front of the tent is occupied by models of fortifications, or
military trophies, or loyal devices, or poetical inscriptions, or triumphal
arches, each no doubt representing the predominating idea of the maker,
on the particular subject sought to be illustrated ; and each more or less
indicating his bias of mind. One, for instance, who piques himself on his
little budget of knowledge in military history, faces the entrance to his tent,
by a model of some fortress, the defence of which is famous in military
history. (It would be curious to meet with an English common soldier,
who had ever heard talk even of the battle of Poictiers!) Another, whose
interests and feelings keep nearer home, erects a trophy to the plain, or
616 A Day at the Camp of St Omer. [DEC.
bridge, or defile at which he first or last distinguished himself. Another,
still less restricted in his notions of the achievements that merit immortality,
raises a pillar bearing the name (utterly unknown or unremembered but by
himself) of the village, or wood, or way-side, where he first heard an
enemy's bullet whiz by him, without being moved by it more than a pass-
ing panic ! Others display at once their politics and their poetical genius,
in loyal couplets or quartains. If we are to believe the inscriptions to be
met with at the Camp of Saint Omer, there never was a race so " be-
loved," and "desired" as the Bourbons — never any at once so great, so
gracious, and so good — and never even a Bourbon so "beloved," "desired,"
great, good, gracious, and what not, as that particular Bourbon who now
lills the throne of his ancestors : neither was there ever so loyal a race of
subjects as the present military, who serve and honour him ! The truth is,
Frenchmen have an instinctive love for kings, whether of the Bourbon or
the Buonaparte class; and a most lively ingenuity in contriving to connect
themselves with the objects of their admiration. " Un serjeant du 6e.
Regt. de la ligne rend homage au petit-fils d' Henri IV." Such is the
mode in whi^li their amiable self-love contrives to place its happy possessor
in imaginary contact with two kings at a time.
The various devices, &c. which wre have glanced at above, form the
private ornaments of the camp of St. Omer, and if not so imposing as the
public ones, they may be regarded as much more curious and worthy of
notice, because they are spontaneous and sincere. The official ones con-
sist of a nearly similar set of objects; namely, trophies, pillars, triumphal
arches, busts, medallions, miniature gardens, &c. one or other of these occu-
pying the, centre of the front of each division of the lines of tents, or each
street as they are called. Of these streets there are an immense number,
running from end to end of each grand division of the encampment, and
again at right angles, from the front to the rear ; so that the scope for the
display of taste and ingenuity, united with patriotism and loyalty, is suffi-
cient to satisfy, if not to exhaust, even French enthusiasm, in these parti-
culars. And, to say truth, the results are, (in detail at least) sufficiently
puerile and affected. But assuredly they are ten times better, both in their
source and their effect, than that which would take their place in an
English encampment. There, as here, every required duty would be well
performed ; and perhaps from the same feeling, namely, that they must
be so performed. But beyond this, all would be drinking, brawling, and
blackguardism.
Passing into the body of the camp, (down the centre avenue, for in-
stance,) we presently come upon a line of erections, not tents, but little
open hovels, solidly built, arid forming the kitchens of the camp — each line
of tents, from front to rear, having one allotted to it. In the rear of these
are about as many tents as in the front, the rearmost one being of a different
form from the rest — oblong, instead of conical — and allotted to the officer
of the line of tents reaching from thence to the front.
Passing from this division of the camp, towards the left, we find it sepa-
rated from the other divisions by a wide space, (where the windmill stands),
which is occupied by the caissons of the artillery, by which the camp is
fortified at every approachable point of the hill ; each point having a fort of
turf, mounting one cannon, and these forts extending all along the open
brow of the hill. Boyond the windmill is a second, and beyond that a
third division, answering in extent, and in most other details, to that de-
scribed above.
1S27.] A Day at the Camp of St. Omer. 617
As it is riot our purpose to penetrate into the arcana of a camp, but merely
to glance at its external features, we need not pay much more attention to
mere details, especially as by this time the scene has acquired a new and
more enlivening general character, by the presence of most of its late
slumbering inmates, who are now up and about, passing hither and thither,
on their ever- repeated routine of fetching and eating rations, polishing gun-
locks and cartouch- boxes, whitening belts, and blackening shoes; the whole
interspersed with about an equal variety of chansons, setting forth the merits
of those three only, and universal themes of camp worship, war, women and
wine ; for, in regard to the last named particular, a Frenchman is temper-
ate in his palate alone ; he gets tipsy as often in imagination, as the inhabi-
tants of other nations do in fact
The scene of perfect and almost preternatural stillness, which we en-
countered on reaching the camp at day-break, is now entirely passed away,
and all has put on an air of lively and active preparation for the grand day
that is to ensue. The soldiers, as we have seen, are at their daily duties,
the officers are seen here and there, looking forth from their tents half
attired ; the wandering vendors of refreshments are reaching the heights one
by one; and a few of the spectators have already arrived, and are looking
about wistfully at the immense extent of the scene before them, a3 if they
were not a little puzzled as to the choice of a position.
We cannot chuse a fitter moment than the present, for taking our morn-
ing's meal, at one of. the numerous suttling booths that are erected at the
back of the camp, for the entertainment of the visitors, &c. ; we will chuse
the best-looking external appearance, being, in these cases, (as in most
others,) the surest criterion of that which accompanies it. The scene we
meet with in the restaurant of the Trocadero, falls in very aptly with that
without, and may, therefore, be worth a glance, while our cafe au lait is
preparing. At the bar (as usual) sits a piquante and lively Frenchwoman,
doing nothing but act the amiable to her guests as they enter; while her
husband takes upon him all the other duties of the place. On a side table
is set out every variety of patisserie that the French cuisine affords , and
the rest of the long and gaily ornamented apartment is furnished with
tables and seats for the guests : which latter are as various as the varied
productions and prices of a French cafe usually get together, to the great
scandal of those of our countrymen who are afraid to be seen in any but
" good " company. At the first table on the right, sit a couple of anciens
militaires, sipping their demi-tasses of cafe noir, at the " short and far-be-
tween " intervals permitted by their irrepressible volubility : for their game
tfecarte, at which they are playing, in no respect interferes with their
desire and determination to settle the affairs of all the states of Europe,
before they have finished their breakfast. They are overlooked in their
game, and assisted in their discussions by a third, who has just looked in
from his duties at the camp, and is on the wing to be off every moment
that he stays. Opposite to these sit two other militaires, of a higher
grade, (though younger) and of a very different school and style. In their
ears the loud and reckless tone of their comrades opposite, (to say nothing
of an occasional twist in the subject matter, or its treatment) smacks too
much of the late mode, to sound either palatable or polite; and it may be
questioned whether their opposite neighbours have not guessed as much,
and are " aggravating their voices " accordingly : for none are so accus-
tomed to commit the unpardonable rudoness of talking at one another, as
" the politest people in the world." Close beside the two erect and fasti-
MM. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 24. 4 K
618 A Day at the Camp of St. Omer. [DEC.
dious looking persons just named, are sitting, or rather spreading their lank
forms abroad in all directions, a company of paysans from some of the
neighbouring villages, lingering over their second bottle of Eierre Mottss-
euse, with an empty gravity peculiar (in this country at least) to the class
to which they belong. The next table is occupied by a knot of persons
who evidently belong to the bourgeoisie of St. Omer ; we may safely fix
their residence at that town, for there is no other within several miles of the
camp ; and to suppose that a French shopkeeper would take the trouble of
going a dozen miles from home to see " a sight," would be to do him great
injustice. It is true, " shews " are as necessary to the French people aa
" bread :" but they must be brought home to their doors, or go unattended
to. Though it costs but a few sous to go from Dunkirk to St. Omer by
the barque that navigates the canal, not half-a-dozen additional passengers
arrived by it, during the two days previous to that on which was to take
place, what everybody said (and truly), would be one of the finest sights
of its kind that ever was witnessed ! If the same scene had taken place on
Salisbury Plain, all the idle and half the busy of London, would have been
there to see it.
But what is that bustle at the bar, and at the door of the salon, whic h
attracts the attention of all the above-named parties, and silences for a
moment even the indefatigable tongues of the ecarte players themselves ?
— It must be the arrival of nothing less than either the king, or a coach-
load of English ladies and their chaperons. It is the latter — I see where
they enter, attended by a rustling of silks, a flapping of Leghorn bonnets,
and a flying about of whispers, that for the moment arrest all other sounds.
-.—They cannot of course breakfast in the public salon ; — for, whatever the
younger members of the party may think, there is an elderly one who
insists that it would be highly " indecorous/' And luckily the entrepreneur
of the place has anticipated the arrival of such guests, and has provided for
them a cabinet particulier, into which they are presently ushered ; and
for the next ten minutes all is preparation for their refection. — But, hark !
the drum is beating to roll-call ; so that we have no more time to spend
upon collateral matters, but must turn our attention, at once, to those grand
military movements which chiefly brought us here to-day, and which aro
now about to commence.
The manoauvresof the day are to consist of a general attack and defence
of the camp, — the attacking party consisting of a large body of troops
which are stationed at St. Omer, arid the neighbouring villages; and the
defending one, the encamped troops themselves. — The latter are now all
drawn up in line, in front of their encampment; end the magnitude of the
after movements of the day may be judged of by the fact, that though the
plain on which the defending troops are drawn up, is nearly a dead level,
the extremities of the line cannot be distinguished by spectators standing
opposite the centre. — In order to gain any thing like a clear and intelli-
gible notion of what we are now to see, we must take the pains to imagine
something of what we do not see. It will be worth while for us to do so ;
since by this means the scene will be made to differ in no material respect
(but its innocence of bloodshed) from the one which it is intended to repre-
sent.— The encamped troops then, are supposed to have been called to
arms, from information just received that the enemy is approaching to
attack the camp : and as soon as they have been drawn up in line, as wo
have just seen them, they are marched off, drums beating ond colours flying,
to await and repel the attack in the plain below, — Following the last of
1 827.] A Day at the Camp of #/, Onter. 6 i 9
them as they pass us, we, at the end of near a mile, gain the brow of the
hill, arid perceive the whole continuous line, winding down the steep accli-
vity, except that the head of it is already seen stretching away into the
open plain. In a few minutes more, the whole has reached its first desti-
nation, and each regiment has taken a separate position, to await the attack.
The point on which we now stand overlooks an immense space of open
country, undulating, and richly cultivated, and through the centre of which
runs, diagonally, the great road to the capital, lined on either side by a
noble avenue of trees. The troops who have just been marched from the
camp are lying on their arms in five or six great divisions, near to the left
extremity of the open country before us. Presently drums are heard
faintly, at a distance, beyond the great road, on the right, and from a
situation which, from the nature of the ground, is not visible even from the
eminence on which we stand. In an instant, the drums of the defending
party are heard aloud, the soldiers are at their quarters, and what was the
moment before a scattered body, consisting of thousands of members, each
moving at its own will, becomes a single and compact one, actuated as if
by one mind alone, and like Wordsworth's great cloud,—
" Moving all together, if it move at all."
Meantime, the drums of the approaching party sound nearer and nearer,
behind the rising ground on the right; a few scattered shots are heard from
the villages in that direction ; and presently a great body of troops-
cavalry and infantry — rise from behind the high ground — their arms and
armour (for some of the cavalry are cuirassiers, who wear polished steel
back and breast-plates) glittering and flashing in the sunshine. Their
appearance is the signal for a general attack on both sides ; and, instantly,
the batteries along the brow of the hill begin to play, and are answered
by the light artillery of the advancing party ; while the whole body of
infantry, on either side, open a heavy fire upon each other. All this,
which lasts incessantly for at least half an hour, probably as an object of
sight and sound merely, differs in no respect whatever from what it would
appear if the action were real, and presents a rpble commencement of the
movements of the day. The effect, too, is greatly aided by a continued
running fire of musketry, indistinctly heard from the villages behind the
rising ground, where a detachment of either party are engaged ; and, also,
by the continued passage, hither and thither, in the distance of staff offi-
cers, attended by their suites, aids-de-camp bearing orders from one part of
the field to another, the bugles, and quick movements of the light com-
panies, &c. &c.
The scene is now about to undergo an entire change — the fire of the
defending party slackens, and at length ceases ; and they form themselves
into columns and retreat : — some mounting the hill on which the spectators
are situated, but the greater part retiring round the base of it, and gaining
the adjacent villages — through which they are immediately followed by
the other party ; and another general attack commences there — the effect
of which is most picturesque and striking : for, by changing our position,
the whole of the scene lies beneath us. The spot, with the exception of
glimpses of the red roofs and white chimnies of cottages, here and there—-
and an occasional opening into narrow winding lanes, is so thickly wooded,
as to have all the appearance of a rich grove of trees ; and, through the
breaks of these, the various uniforms and plumes of the troops, their glit-
tering arms, and the volumes of smoke that rise above, or obscure them,
4 K 2
620 A. Day, at the Camp of St. Omer. [DEC.
present a picture than which nothing can be more characteristic. The
incessant firing, too, both of musketry and artillery, and the ten-fold echoes
of it, all among the surrounding hills, complete the reality of the effect.
After the above scene has continued to attract, and fix the attention for
.another half hour, we gradually lose sight of all the troops, who take their
way (one party retreating, and the other following) round the base of the
hill. Following the slackening sound of their fire in the same direction,
but still keeping our commanding position on the heights on which the
camp is situated, we presently gain sight of another plain, still more exten-
sive than that on which the movements of the day commenced. The first
object that attracts the attention is, the brilliant body of horsemen who are
gallopping through the skirts of the village, on the left of the plain just
named, and have now gained the open country, and are making their way
towards a height that rises abruptly on the opposite side. This is the king
and his suite, who have hitherto been occupying some spot out of sight of
the spectators on the camp hill. By the time they have gained the height
opposite to that on which we are standing, the troops have defiled through
the village into the open plain ; and, in the course of half an hours inter-
regnum, the whole scene puts on a new appearance, and represents the pre-
paration for a general battle on level ground, in which the cavalry and
artillery are also brought into action. The first manoeuvre is more grand
and striking than anything we have seen yet, as it brings all the infantry
into view and action at the same moment. It consists of drawing up the
opposing parties in two lines, at musket -shot distance, and making each
receive the other's fire for a considerable space of time, during the whole
of which the artillery are also playing over the heads of their own party,
and upon that line which is posted nearest to where we stand. In the
midst of this scene the cavalry reach the field, and then, after a variety of
other movements, the effects of which, though very striking to look upon,
are not susceptible of a precise description, one of the parties forms itself
into those solid squares, of which we have heard so much in connection
with the battle of Waterloo. In this form, and with the angles of the
square turned towards the point at which the cavalry approach, they re-
ceive and repulse the charges of the latter, reserving their fire till the
cavalry reach to about half gun-shot distance, and then receiving them
with vollies which turn them at once. This movement is repeated many
times ; and nothing can be more beautiful in its way than the effect it
produces, seen from the height and distance at which the spectators are
placed. The bodies of cavalry form opposite to the solid squares, but at a
considerable distance, and advance towards them slowly at first, and in-
creasing their pace as they near; till, at rather more than about a gun-shot
distance, they press into a full gallop, and seem as if they were about to
overwhelm the little phalanxes upon which they are advancing. But as
the latter are on the point, as you expect, of being scattered in all direc-
tions by the seemingly resistless force that is bearing down upon them, vol-
lies of tire and smoke burst out from every point of their motionless body,
and the attacking party wheel round in an instant, and hasten to regain
their former position. This movement takes place in several parts of the
field at the same time ; and probably its effect on the distant spectator in
no material degree differs from that of the actual charges of the French
cuirassiers on the English infantry at Waterloo.
The imitative movements of the day being now completed, the whole
body of the troops that have been engaged in them arc formed into columns
1827.] A Day at the Camp of St. Omer, 321
(to the amount of near twenty thousand), and march off the field together,
towards St. Omer — which they enter with bands playing, and colours fly-
ing, at the head of each regiment, and thus closes, perhaps, one of the
most effective exhibitions of its kind that was ever seen.
It will be observed that, though the King of France was present during
the whole of the above scene, accompanied by the Dauphin, the Prince of
Orange, and several of the highest officers of the state, we have not been
tempted to pay any more than a passing attention to them. They served
very well as accessories, to add to the illusion of the scene, by representing
the general and his staff, moving hither and thither, according to the dif-
ferent changes in the movements of the troops. But as mere individuals,
the king and his suite shared but a very small proportion of the interest
excited by the general scene. The day was half over before the great body
of spectators on the hill, seemed to recollect that there were any such per-
sonages present; and, when their attention was called to the fact, by see-
ing the body of horsemen pass along the great public road to gain an opposite
height, not one in fifty left their own favourable position to follow the
cavalcade.
There must be a real and absorbing interest attached to that scene, in
which kings and princes take an active part, and yet pass but as secon-
dary objects of attention and curiosity, even in the eyes of the idlest spec-
tators.
•
.
;
THE BIRTH OF CERVANTES :
A SPANISH LEGEND.
GALLANT lords, and ladies gentle,
Finest of the superfine —
- If you love the sentimental,
List ye all a tale of mine :
It is not of English misses,
Waltzing till their brains are boiling,
Till the blood within them hisses,
Down the burning ball-room broiling j —
Till the sudden peep of morning
Glancing through the steaming air,
Gives the waltzing maidens warning
That their beauty wants repair ;
That the loveliest rouge alive
On the loveliest cheek grows mellow,
Letting certain tints survive,
Hinting that the fair one's yellow.
But my tale's a tale of love,
As love ought to be, half frantic,
As my hearer soon shall prove,
If he knows the true romantic :
Not a thing of country toasts, —
Romping, red-cheeked, blue-eyed charmers;
Melting fruits of Britain's coasts ;
Passion's soothers-care's disarmers !-
622 Tha Birth of Cervantes ; [DEC,
But a story true of Spain,
All of love— fond, fiendish, furious,
Brought in three ships o'er the main:
Listen, all ye tender curious !
Don Rodriguez was a Spaniard,
With a skin— the stoutest leather,
Browned in Cordova's best tan-yard,
Never more scorned wind and weather.
And he had an eye— ye skies,
Be ashamed of all your stars !
E'en the last new comet dies
Before thy optics, man of scars !
Then his bosom— human target —
Every Moor that had a bullet
At this bulPs-eye would discharge it :
Coolly out the Don would pull it !
When he rode, his armour's clank
1 Woke the world some leagues before him ;
Where he trod, the high road sank —
Saints, preserve the beast that bore him !
Bridges where his foot was set,
PlumpM headforemost in the water;
Half a Moorman was his whet —
Dinner, was the wife and daughter !
Love his mighty heart subdued,
Every day his cheek grew whiter ;
Lastly, he fell off his food-
Woman came to bite the biter.
For the Don loved Lady Zara —
Prettiest damsel that wore green
'Twixt Arragon and Albuera, —
('Twas said a daughter of the queen,.
I from my soul abhor all scandal.
Though what I know I know like others;
I hate the world's edge-tools to handle,
So shun all talk of wives or mothers.
The master of the ceremonies —
A fellow great in snuff and whisker ;
(Yet all the fact by mortals knpv/n is,
His pocket suddenly grew brisker).
Until his Majesty — Saints bless him !
With horsewhip, kick, and bamboo cane,
Took heart one ev'ning to confess him ;
At least so runs the tale in Spain ;
At least there was no ceremony
Between them on that high occasion ;
One kept the wife — one kept the money :
The better bargain, saith Vespasian.
Sweet Zara, like a water-lily,
Qrew up in beauty day by day,
Making the wisest Moors look silly
(The oldest cats with mice will play).
Her cheek, though not much given to blushes,
(The climate dealing in brunettes^,
Yet had its own delightful flushes,
That neither eye nor heart forgets.
1827.J A Spanish Legend. 658
The rose inlaid upon the white,
Provided that the rest is pretty,
To rae's a most delicious sight,
Now seldom seen — the more's the pity ;
And yet, I own, I like a cheek
On which the sun has set his tinges,
Lit by a pair of eyes that speak
Just what they like beneath their fringes.
Those sweet, soft, silken, sable fringes
(I hope comparison's no sin),
Just like a temple-portal's hinges,
Op'ning to shew the shrine within;
Or, like the dewy twilight veil,
That dropt upon the cheek of Even,
While all below is sweetly pale,
Rises to shew the lights of Heaven; —
Or, like the Peri's flowery wings,
That on the Indian air unfolding,
As to his love the Spirit springs,
Shew gems that blind'us in beholding !
I'll never dwell among the Caffres ;
I'll never willing cross the Line,
Where Neptune, 'mid the tarry laughers,
Dips broiling landsmen in the brine.
I'll never go to New South Wales,
Nor hunt for glory at the Pole —
To feed the sharks, or catch the whales,
Or tempt a Lapland lady's soul.
I'll never willing stir an ell
Beyond Old England's chalky border,
To steal or smuggle, buy or sell,
To drink cheap wine, or beg an Order.
Let those do so who long for claret,
Let those, who'd kiss a Frenchman's— toes ;
I'll not drink vinegar, nor Star it,
For any he that wears a nose.
I'll not go lounge out life in Calais,
To dine at half a franc a-head ;
To hut like rats in lanes and alleys—
To eat an exile's gritty bread.
To flirt with shoeless Seraphinas,
To shrink at every ruffian's shako ;
Without a pair of shirts between us,
Morn, noon, and night to smell tobacco;
To live my days in Gallic hovels,
Untouched by water since the flood ;
To wade through streets, where famine grovel*
In hunger, frippery, and mud.
Yet had I Zara's pair of sapphires,
By love or marriage made my own,
I'd live and die among the Caffres —
Nay, even take lodgings in Boulogne.
The Don felt all their fatal glances
Through every pore in all his skin ;
He felt them, in his midnight trances,
Through all his brain and marrow spin.
024 The Birth of Cervantes. [DEC,
He caught her slender hand— made speeches-
Nay, e'en for once the poets quoted —
Forgotten since he first wore breeches ;
In short, he fairly proved he (looted.
Sweet Zara first rebuffed his passion —
Laughed, frowned, grew angry, smiled, coquetted,
(Such is, since Mother Eve, the fashion),
Until the Don was fairly netted.
The settlements at length were settled ;
The bridesmaids were with clothes provided ;
The lover came, high dressed, high mettled;
The fair stood blushing to be brided.
Her caftan was as white as milk,
Made by a milliner from town —
Lovely and long the tresses silk,
In ringlets on her cheek flowed down.
The cheek was like the glowing grape,
The neck was like a statue moulded;
And round the bosom's lovely shape
Lay gems in gold and silver folded.
Rodriguez led her to the altar,
The sweet perfection of the toilet : —
But here my pen begins to falter —
The pen of Homer's stlf would spoil it.
What man could paint the pretty creature —
The smiles, the sighs, the charming shyness !
(The women have it all by Nature,
From Joan the milkmaid to her Highness).
But into chapel bounced a villain,
As black as any in Algiers ;
His language shewed him no civilian —
It shocked the Christian people's ears.
He swore that Zara was his minion ;
In fact, the Moor began to swagger :
The Don quite differed in opinion —
Whereon the Moor pulled out his dagger.
Rodriguez drew his famed toledo,
Three yards, with several more to spare :
One slash foreclosed the Moor's bravado ;
The head flew off' to — Heaven knows where !
This comes of hurting people's feelings !
The man who thinks of stopping banns,
May make up his account for whealings
From woman's hands, if not from man's.
Some saw the head go through the attics,
Some saw it vanish through the wall ;
Some, by the help of mathematics,
Swore that 'twas never there at all.
The Moor was earthed — that is, the trunk —
The head, from January to June,
None knew if 'twas in ocean sunk,
Or turned to green cheese in the moon.
At last the head too would be buried —
(A Pope himself the fact averred) ;
And every night the lovers flurried,
. Insisting it should be interred.
1827.] A Spanish Legend. 625
Sweet Zara scarce could loose her laces,
When on her toilet bounced the head;
Making a hundred odd grimaces —
Then danced before her to her bed.
The Don could scarcely touch his pillow,
When in his face lolled out the tongue;
And ne'er were broached, on shore or billow,
Worse words than those It said and sung.
The horridest abominations
That ever startled human ears
Composed the regular orations
Of that same rascal from Algiers.
The thing too was so mixed with joke,
It almost split their sides with laughter;
Till, when the tardy morning broke,
Their brains were scarce worth looking after.
Then, calling them all sorts of names
(The vulgar tongue was fairly rifled),
The head would make its bow in flames,
Leaving the couple all but stifled.
Till, lastly, grown more impudent,
It paid its visits in the day —
Leaving the same infernal scent,
And talking just the selfsame way.
The Don might take his morning walk,
The lady take her evening tea ;
Before the warrior's foot 'twould stalk,
And perch upon the lady's knee.
The story reached the king of Spain,
Who thereon called his council privy,
Who pozed some months, of course in vain,
(Though bulls and asses spoke in Livy).
The friar brought his salt and water ;
The bed, the toilet, all were sprinkled:
Sweet Zara lisped the charms he taught her —
Weak charms to what her two eyes twinkled !
Till came one night, in shape a maiden,
With not a touch of Earth's dull weather,
But such as might have danced in Eden,
With tongue of silver, toe of feather.
" Get up," said she, " you pair of fools !
The head, behind the bed you'll find it ; —
Don, bid the sexton bring his tools —
Why, any nose on earth might wind it;
Except, I own, a Spanish nose —
True nation of the true snuff takers— -
On them no matter what wind blows."
The spirit moved them both like Quakers !
They found the head— in earth 'twas moulded;
But with it all their mirth departed.
The lady pouted, pined, and scolded —
The Don was plainly broken-hearted.
They dug it up with one consent;
That night they nearly died with laughter;
Morn, noon, and night were merriment —
CERVANTES came just nine months after !
M, M. New Series.—Voi,. IV. No. 24. 4 L
[ 626 ] [DEC.
NOTES FOR THE MONTH.
THE battle between the Turco-Egyptian fleet, and the squadrons of the
allied powers, at Navarino, has been the only event of foreign political
interest in the last month : and, although we regret that such an affray
should have taken place, it does not at all alter our opinion as to the eventual
pacific termination — ("pacific," as far as the peace of Europe at large is
concerned) — of the Greek contest. The Turks probably, ever since the de-
claration in favour of Greece was made, have doubted whether England,
their old ally, would seriously go to war with them upon such a question.
Moreover, according to the constant principle of their policy, they would
exert themselves to get ridoi the quarrel, if they could not hope to beat us
upon it : to evade our object, if they could not defy it, by all possible means
of equivocation and delay. And it could scarcely be any great circum-
stance of wonder, if a fierce and obstinate people, compelled to trim, and to
dissemble, where they would be incomparably better inclined to fight, were
urged, when they found negotiation would serve their turn no longer, into
some act of sudden and partial hostility. We still confidently believe however
that these hostilities will be only transitory, and that there is not the slightest
chance that Europe will be involved in war. Even the blind fury of the
Turks, accustomed as they have been to misapprehend the cause of their own
existence in Christendom, will stop short before it leads them into a course
so certain to produce their entire destruction. This, however, is a considera-
tion rather for the future ; and, be the event what it may, nothing can be
more certain than that we had no choice, at Navarino, but to act as we have
done. Independent of all commendation for bravery or naval skill, the
sound judgment of Admiral Codrington's conduct is undoubted. Our inten-
tion as to Greece- — be its policy good or bad — had been declared : time
had been allowed for consideration : no definitive answer was made to our
demands ; and in the meantime our object was being evaded, and our power
getting into some danger of being despised. This .was a state of affairs
which could not continue : it became necessary either to act decisively, or
to abandon our declared policy, aud determination altogether ; and between
these two courses, it would have been impossible for the commander of the
British fleet to balance for one moment, without the most criminal and
infamous betrayal of his duty.
For the immediate quarrel which led to hostilities, arose, it will be
remembered, on the part of the enemy; whose fire upon our flag of truce
was — a course, no doubt, for themselves to judge of — but certainly an in-
sult, which no commander of an English force could overlook. It may be
possible, as has been urged, that this fire was a " mistake " — and an unau-
thorised proceeding ; but, at all events, it was a most irregular and dange-
rous mistake ; and we venture to predict that it was such a " mistake " as
will not occur again. We regret, as we have already stated, that the
result of this contest should have been so serious to the enemy : and see
no ground .for national triumph in a victory which our arms have gained
honourably, but which would have covered us with shame and disgrace
not to have achieved : but we repeat that we are not surprised that some
proof that Europe was in earnest should have been necessary to expe-
dite the arrangement of the Greek question. The chuck under the chin
which the Porte has received in the affair, has been severe : but no doubt
it will prove a lesson — and it is one which certainly they have long stood
in need of — to convince our friends, the Ottomans, that our habitual defe-
1827.J Notes for the Month* » 627
rence proceeded from an inclination for their alliance, not from an apprehen-
sion of their strength. In the mean time, while we are on the subject of
correcting mistakes — we see some indications in the old quarter, of an at-
tempt at another u Greek Loan." This is waste of pains : the thing wont
do, the parties may depend upon it. It will not even do, so far, as to raise
the price of the old Greek Bo/ids in the Market.
Protestantism, it seems agreed upon all "hands, is gaining ground consi-
derably in Ireland. It gives us great pleasure to state this fact: as, after
the entire freedom of Catholicism, the next good that we should desire,
would be the extinction even of the memory of it. It seems a pity that tho
inhabitants of that country could not amend their tempers along with their
faith ; but that seems past hope : the "game has begun " with Sir Anthony
Hart, the new Chancellor, already.
lf Sworn Appraisement." — Mr. Barber Beaumont, of the County Fire
Office, has brought an action against the Morning Herald newspaper for
taking away his character. And the jury found a verdict for the plaintiff,
Damages — a shilling !
We have taken occasion once or twice to ridicule the absurd commenda-
tions bestowed upon a number of our inferior actors and actresses in the
course of their recent exhibition at Paris; we pray heaven we don't perceive
some symptoms now of a little traitorous design, to smuggle over some of
these (i French goods " — these transmarinepretensions and reputation — into
England ! Mr. Kean, junior, who (with a box of comfits) should beyond
doubt be committed to the care of the housekeeper at Drury Lane theatre,
and from thence back to school, as suddenly as possible, is announced, from
one or two quarters, to be "deeply engaged in studying Ro?neo f" in which
character his appearance is only " deferred" that he may *' be assisted by
the extraordinary powers of Miss Smithson, on her return from Paris, in
the part of Juliet." Now — we should like just to set this matter right. The
French critics can know nothing about English acting ; and most of them
have sufficiently proved that they do know nothing about it ; but, besides
this, it remains to be observed, that the criticisms — such as they are — which
appear in the French newspapers, are, two thirds of them, jobs of the most
impudent description. Our readers wrill recollect, not more than a few
weeks since, an exposure of the whole system, which was published in the
Paris journals; when some gentleman, who had notoriously sold his
applause for years, was beaten by a performer whom he abused, and who
did not think fit to pay the amount of money demanded from him;
And in fact, French puffing (to which we shall some day give a little
notice) is becoming a regular course of advertisement among the minor
dealers in English literature. This is a subject — as regards the actors — not
worth pursuing; and perhaps we may be mistaken — there may be no such
folly proposed at Drury lane, as we allude to. In fact it is difficult to con-
ceive the existence even of the thought of humbugging the London public
with such trash, as u the ravishing talents" of Mr. Abbott and Miss Smith-
son, in Jaffier and Belm'dera! not to speak of those *' evinced" by
Mr. Mason, in Pierre ! Since we are upon the subject however, we may
as well give our readers a notion of the sort of "English, that these distribu-
tors of English fame and reputation write and speak. The extract is from
the notice of the play of Venice Preserved: and the writer quotes a speech
by Belvidera,
" New then kill me.
While then I cling about the cruel-neck,
Kiss the revengeful lips, and die in joys
Greater than I can guest hereafter."
628 Notes for the Month. [DEC.
Now, in four lines of English, here are five blunders.* The critic has
obviously written by ear, from the pronunciation of the actress. There are
no doubt, abundance of Englishmen who would make almost as had work
as this in writing French. But we should think it too much, if an English-
man who did so, talked of reversing — upon any point of French criticism
or taste — the judgment of the public of Paris !
An Absent Witness. — A man of the name of Abrahams, afew days since,
brought an action in the Court of King's Bench, against a horse dealer,
named Kenrick, for some assault and misconduct about the hire of a chaise.
The case was opened : and the jury, after hearing the evidence, found a
verdict, with some small damages, for the plaintiff. Mr. Gurney, however,
•who was for the losing man, told the court that Mr. Abrahams succeeded
merely by accident : for he should have produced the defendant's hostler,
who would have contradicted the plaintiff's whole case — if, unluckily, his
witness had not, two days before, been convicted, at the Old Bailey , of
Felony !
The61 Cloud King."— Our Friend, Dr. M'Culloch— he of the " Malaria"
— who goes about terrifying all the world with fables of fog, and pestilence,
and vapour — is involved this month in a very odd contradiction with his
allies, the editors of the " Quarterly Journal of Science and Literature."
The learned M. D., whose book upon " Miasma " we noticed some months
ago, and described as eminently calculated to drive every body who read
it out of Great Britain, and into the hydrophobia, seems to have got a little
conscientious about the horrors that he was spreading in every direction :
and in a paper published in the last " Quarterly Journal of Science," refer-
ing to his terrific work, says : "Lest I should be accused of wishing to excite
unnecessary alarm, E desire to state that, if we take the whole of Eng-
land, there is not perhaps one acre in a hundred thousand where there is
danger from malaria."
Now this is rather a staggering declaration about the effect of a book,
which, if it proves any thing at all, proves much more nearly that there is
in England scarcely one acre in a hundred thousand where a man would
be free from the danger of malaria. And moreover it comes oddly from
a gentleman, who, in the very next paragraph to that in which it appears,
challenges the pestilential qualities of five of the counties on our Eastern
coast of England only — Kent, Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Lincolnshire.
But luckily, to spare us the trouble of taking out the Doctor's book, or turn-
ing back to our own magazine, for a revival of the murderous propensities
of "Situations near water, and situations away from water;" — " Positions
near trees, and positions in want of trees;"" — " Meadows that are un-
drained, and the drains made by draining meadows," &c. &c. &c. — the
Doctor's book itself is reviewed (something late) in the very number of the
Journal in which he is writing : and — let us see what his friend the reviewer
makes of those "proofs," which "leave only one acre in a hundred thou-
sand in England, subject to the danger of malaria?"
" It is shewn," this Reviewer says (by Dr. M'Culloch) (< That a// places
where water is present in such a manner as to act upon vegetable matter,
must produce malaria; and the chief positions of danger are the following :
" The rushy, swamps of high moorlands, however small the extent."
* — Now tlieii kill me
While thus I cling about thy cruel neck,
Kiss thy revengeful lips, and the in joys
(ireuter than I can guess hereufter.
J 827.] Notes for the Month.
" Woods and coppices, little suspected in England, yet shewn to be the
cause of fevers in Sussex, probably every where else." <4 Meadows and
moist pastures, whether onjiat Lands or elevations?' " Rivers, or all flat
rivers at least, — which are among the causes not suspected in England."
" Our author also notices," the reviewer proceeds, " canals, mill ponds,
and all other pools and ponds." " Ornamental waters/' including " the
basin in St. James's Park, and the pond in St. James's Square. ' He
concludes this list of clear and undoubted causes, with the unsparing excom-
munication of*' moats, lakes, drains, ditches, marshes, fresh or salt;" with
reference to all which, " it is the same, as to the production of disease,
whether the marsh \sfoot square, or a mile." And from thence goes on to
comparatively obscure or disputed cases ; such as " flax and hemp ponds,
sewers, dunghills, winds from the coast of Holland, tide harbours, and
bilge water :" " the evidences," nevertheless, even as to these, concludes
the reviewer, " being amply sufficient to make good the assertion !"
Now this forms a pretty stout list of dangerous localities — for a gentleman
who has meant to show that only "one acre in a hundred thousand " through
England is liable to peril. But we give up the Doctor here to follow his
Malarian reviewer, whose commentary, in point of terror, distances the text
of his author hollow ! " Only as late as in the last autumn," this writer
assures those readers who may have been sceptical as to the doctrines of Dr.
M'Culloch — t( in all the well known tracts in Lincolnshire, Norfolk, Suf-
folk, Kent, Essex, Sussex, and so forth, there was scarcely a house without
one or more inhabitants under fever I" Nearer London, the same horrible
pestilence existed — without our even being aware of it. u Throughout
the range of streets which extends from Buckingham Gate to Chelsea," it is
said, " almost every house had a patient or more under fever." Thus it was
also about " Vauxhall and Lambeth : and among all that scattered mixture
of town and country which follows from Whitechapel, from Bishopsgate,
and particularly along Ratcliffe- Highway, including Rotherbithe." And
again proceeding to Deptford, Greenwich, Woolwich, and Piumstead!
Want of breath, joined to sheer apprehension, compels us to fly from the
pestilential state of things about " Lewisham ;" in which there were " in
one house nine patients under fever!" Ditto, as to " Dulwich, Ful-
ham, Ealing, and the other villages along the Thames, as far as Chertsey,"
including even " Richmond, where there was one house" known to the
writer, " where ten individuals, at one time, were suffering under this
disease !" The whole of this dreadful mortality, as we have already stated,
having occurred only in the last autumn. And with the horrible prospect,
moreover, delivered to us — -that " Whatever was the pestilence last year^ it
promises to be much greater in the present one"! ff
We are sorry to hear this gentleman state that "Lambeth" is among the
unwholesome districts; because we should say that (otherwise) there
exists an establishment in that vicinity peculiarly suited to the complaint
under which he labours. But, what a strange dilemma does this review
of Dr. M'Culloch's book place Dr. M'Culloch in — bound up, as it is, in
the very same yellow cover with his last statement — that " Not one acre
in a hundred thousand, in England, is subject to malaria at all!" Not one
acre in a hundred thousand subject .' We are like the Irish physician —
tell us where there is an acre that is not subject — unless Dr. iVl'Culloch's
own friends most wickedly misrepresent him — that we may go and end
our days there !
The most curious part of the doctor's personal article in the " Journal
Notes for the Month. [DEC.
of Science," is bis account of the state of the country between Chatham
and Brighton. He says, ;< Incredible as it may appear, between Chatham
and Brighton, including every town and sin git house, and Sittingbourne
among the rest, the ague affects the left hand of the turnpike road, or
northern side, and does not touch the right side, though the road itself,
forms the only line of separation!" We give abundant credit to Dr.
M'Cullocb for the activity and ardour with which he collects his facts, and
still more for the candour and boldness with which he often states them,
even when they are opposed to his own theory : and this certainly is a
most remarkable fact — if it be perfectly well authenticated. The single
bouses are the points that touch us ; because they have no dense mass,
like the opposite side of a street, to give them even a semblance of protec-
tion. The hypothesis of the Doctor himself, that " a hoar frost, or a dew,
will sometimes be found to be most accurately limited by a definite line,
stopping for example at a particular hedge, and reaching to a certain alti-
tude upon a tree, &c." does not seem to us to help the difficulty; because
it is we in this case that must have hit the line, not the malaria or
vapour. Taking the fact to be fully ascertained, as stated, there seems to
be no means of avoiding one of two conclusions — either that there is some
unknown property in a turnpike road — exist where it may — as witches of
old were held unable to cross a running stream — which fog or malaria can-
not pass : or that, through a line of road extending twenty miles, in all
its numerous and irregular turnings and windings, we have happened to
hit by chance, all the way from beginning to end, the very line to which
the malaria which produces agues, from wherever it came, naturally ex-
tended J But we should like to have a great deal of very strong testimony
as to ihefact itself, before we went far into any long investigation of
the causes of it.
With all our disposition to admire " improvements," and all that we
have said about Mr. M'Adam's road-making, we are afraid that on this
point we must at last succumb, and admit that the necessity of pacing
some of the more heavily frequented througbfares of town, is not entirely got
over. The state of New-Bridge street, this year, looks very ominous of a
return to granite. During the late wet weather, it has been — from the
Obelisk to Chatham Place — literally one continuous canal of mud. And the
bottom (when you got there) more broken and uneven than ever we recol-
lect it, even in the worst condition of the stones. For the Squares and
more open situations of the West, ihe plan is still admirable: but, unless some
of the more recently converted streets have been done clumsily, it will not
do for the heavy draught of the City. The new style of stone pavement
in Fleet-street, is very pleasant, if it answers its purpose in other respects.
We doubt, however, whether, especially in hilly situations, the very even
surface will not be impracticable for horses in winter. Between Bouverie-
street and Fleet-market (going towards St. Paul's) it is difficult to pull up,
with the weather as it is.
New books have been abundant in the last month ; and, as usual, of
unequal value. Lady Morgan's novel — " The O'Briens and O'Flaher-
tys" — is a clever work, and ought to be very successful. Her ladyship's
" Fashionable Conversations" are the best " upon Town," the liveliest,
and the most like nature. Females indeed, in general, manage this de-
scription of writing better than the " Lords" of the (literary) creation.
Lady Morgan, Miss Edgeworth, and Mrs. Ferrier, all do the thing ex-
tremely well, the fact is, their women ate always lightly and easily thrown
1 827.] Notes for the Month. 631
up. Sir Walter Scott, in his "St. Roman's Well,-' attempted the same
sort of thing, and failed entirely ! his coxcombs and fine ladies were all
hard and wooden. The moment he got to nature — the old Scotcli landlady
~-he was at home (and triumphant over the world) again. " Whitehall,"
and " The Mummy," are meant for " satirical" publications : both arc
miserably bad. The attempted ridicule of science in " The Mummy," is
extravagant and stupid ; 'and it is difficult to discover, what is meant by
the notices of living characters in the other work — " Whitehall. The
wit about the Duke of Wellington — if it be wit — is totally incomprehen-
sible. And the attack upon Mr. Colburn, the publisher, is utterly point-
less and absurd. The writer obviously knows nothing of a great London
publisher's mode of doing business ; and appears never to have seen either
the place, or the parties, that he affects to describe. " Satirical" novels in
general, ought to be attempted with great caution. The annual publica-
tions are out, and will be found noticed, under a distinct head, in our present
number. Their embellishments, upon the average, surpass what has been
produced in former years. The literary matter is not so good as we have
known it ; but there are some excellent papers : and this is a description of
value that must rise and fall. In the way of a word of gentle advice — we
wish the editors would not, in prospectuses and prefaces, abuse one another.
This sort of squabbling is bad enough in Magazines and Reviews; but it
is too bad in pretty little volumes, which are printed only to lie upon the
work-tables of young ladies.
The Anniversaries of " The Popish Plot," and " Lord Mayor's Day,"
have been celebrated since our last, with the usual festivities. This
Popish Plot, by the way, we beg to assure our readers was a " Plot," and
" Popish ;" notwithstanding that which some rash papists of the present
day pretend to say to the contrary. It was a plot, and popish ; and the
people were hanged, and properly : this is our creed, in which we propose
" to live and die." On the late anniversary, fewer enormities seemed to
be committed than usual : this was probably in consequence of one or two
of the firework makers having blown their houses up — as our readers may
recollect — (by mistake) before the proper day — some wrong reckoning —
the " Old Style" perhaps — we don't exactly know what. We heard of no
material entertainment — except that one baker's boy sneaked a squib into
the boot of a hackney coach, which, setting the horses off, and the hay on
fire, the vehicle ran at full speed along the Strand, astonishing and delight-
ing the foot passengers. Some said it was a Guy Fawkes upon a grand
scale ; for the flames caught from the hay in the boot to the hamrner-
ctoth, and the coachman sat — with three hats on — enveloped in fire ! Others
thought it was the new " Steam Coach," that is to run between London
and Bristol, finished, and starting for its first trip. And others were just
swearing, that it was the "Portable Gas," laid on for the lamps, and that
the reservoir had burst; when the vehicle, passing the New Church, took
another coach along with it, and both were overturned just opposite the
" Sphynx" office, with a terrible explosion, upon which a wag who was
passing, looked back, and said, he had been expecting a " blow up*'
there, for some time past. No mischief, however, as luck would have it,
was sustained by any body, The coachman's " three hats" fell off in the
scuffle ; which was construed by some elderly people into a symbol — as
happening at such a time — that there were no hopes for Popery : but that
was all. The " Lord Mayor's Accession," did not go off so fortunately, for
the lamps above the banquet table fell -down, arid discomfited the Lord
032 -Notes for the Month. [DEC.
Mayor, and the Lady Mayoress, and several other persons (covering them
with oil moreover) exceedingly. Some jokes abotvt " Lords," and being
" anointed," and so forth — as the wine was good (a circumstance un-
paralelled in the Annals of Guildhall) — restored the order of the feast —
when the alarm was over, pretty tolerably : but so heinous a piece of care-
lessness on the part of the city lamplighter, we trust, for example's sake, has
not been allowed to remain unpunished.
A little book, after the manner of Mr. Accum's " Death in the Pot"— -
.Mr. Wright's *' Dolphin" — and one or two other works, assuming to shew
.up iniquities, called " The Wine and Spirit Trade Unmasked," is astonish-
ing a great many people in town, who have been used to fancy, that, like
Desdemona — "The wine they drink is made of grapes." Let the world
be on its guard ! This affair seems to us to be a recondite humbug : got up
by some mine merchant ' We will never believe that " port wine " is made
of half such wholesome materials as the expositor describes. Some amus-
ing papers upon the i( Frauds of Trade " — chiefly crucifying the "ticket"
linen-drapers — have also appeared in the Times. The imposture of these
varlets is a crying one; but there is no remedy for it ; and if there were,
the practice of selling inferior goods is not entirely confined to the " cheap
shops." It sometimes happens, we are afraid, that a stranger buys at a
high-priced shop, precisely the same article for a guinea, which — bad
enough as it is at any price, it would have been better for him to have
bought at an advertising shop for twelve shillings. The lustres, moreover,
and looking-glasses, -and marble pillars, of the " higher dealers," (not to
speak of their dandy shopmen,) are really too fine for plain people, and
must keep some away. Every body feels that the expense of all this rub-
bish must be paid, in some shape, by the customer ; and a silk handker-
chief, bought in the Strand or Holborn, out of a shop where the master
•himself stands behind a common oak counter, serves a reasonable man's
purposes, just as completely as though it came out of an' " Establishment"
on Ludgate Hill, or in Regent-street, where the shopman that sold it wouM
be dressed like a "mock lover1' in a pantomime, and the fittings-up of
the place in which it was purchased have cost three thousand pounds.
The Alexandrine extent of our first article this month, compels us rather
to curtail the " fair proportions" of our last. It matters little that we have
much more to say, when we have no more paper to say it upon. This
circumstance compels us to omit all mention, for the present, of a vast
number of curious arul important matters, which we had intended — looking
-to our customary limit— to discuss ; as — Mr. Williams's wholesale " burial"
proposition ; His scheme for relieving good Christians from the dangers of
" resurrection men," by confining the attacks of the latter peculiarly to the
Jews ; Mrs. Fry's speculations upon the state of Ireland ; A minor
Samaritan upon the " Watch Houses" of London and Westminster; The
Order in Council to repress Greek piracies; The " Slave Grace;" The
race between the Mail Coaches, and the Sun newspaper — and Phoebus
victorious, &c. &c. &c. All of which, with many others too numerous
to mention, must pass for this December number; but may perhaps
rise again on the first of January, if the world and the life of perio-
dicals endure so long.
J827.J [ 633 ]
MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.
The O'Briens and the ffflahcrtys. 4 vols.
By Lady Morgan; 1827.— With all Lady
Morgan's powers — observing well, and
painting well— with truth and vigour — often
fixing, and rarely wearying — with all the
warmth of her countrywomen, and dealing
with the heated spirits of her countrymen
— she does not take — to the extent we
think she deserves to do. Of this failure
there are some obvious causes — Ireland,
and her rights and her wrongs -the fa-
vourite subjects of Lady Morgan's muse —
are not popular with the classes which sup-
ply the novel writer with readers. Besides
this, she is a radical in politics, a liberal
in theology, and a materialist in metaphy-
sics ; and there are readers who shrink
from allowing the merit they cannot but
feel, through fear of being suspected of ad-
miring what is at least neither very fa-
shionable, nor perhaps very feminine.
The production before us, however, is a
performance of much too a high a character
not to break through the impediments which
are thus thrown in the way by its fair crea-
tor. The O'Briens and the O'Flahertys,
have for generations been connected in love
or in hatred. They are Connaught fami-
lies, and, by the common fate of the coun-
try, have both been ruined by forfeitures.
The representative of the O'Briens emerges
from pauperism, and becomes a thriving
Protestant attorney. The heir of the O'Fla-
hertys was a general in the French service.
The attorney detects a flaw in the claims of
the possessor of the O' Flaherty property ;
and himself finally makes good his claim to
the barony of Annanmore — but the estate is
gone beyond recovery ; and, in grasping at
the shadow, he loses the substance he had
laboriously gathered in the practice of his
profession. He relapses to Catholicism,
and takes his first vows among the Jesuits.
But the drama opens properly at a review
of the Irish Volunteers, where we are in-
troduced to the leading characters of the
vice -regal court — and of the novel. The
court is plainly that of the Rutlamls. The
Knockloftys are a family of overpowering
influence, and high in the confidence of the
government — the Earl, indeed, is the lead-
ing personage in the management of Irish
affairs —on the orange principle of course.
Of the ladies on the ground, the most con-
spicuous is the Countess Knocklofty, a very
charming and fascinating woman— a mix-
ture of coquetry and romance — none of the
youngest - driving a pair of splendid greys
in a beautiful curricle, and drawing the at-
tentions of the young officers, and dispensing
distinction and delight, by her smiles and
her levities, on all around her. Beside her
sits a rival beauty, nearly her equal in
charms, and her superior in wit — at least
Af.M. New Series.— VOL. IV, No. 24.
in readiness of speech. In the course of
the review, Lady Knocklofty is struck with
the appearance of the young gentleman who
commands the University Corps, and her
inquiries to discover who he can be are all
in vain. She manoeuvres to keep near him,
and by degrees catches his attention, and
at last his services, by contriving to drop
her shoe, which he of course picks up, and
wins the privilege of putting it on again.
By a dextrous move, during the sham fight,
he gains a particular position, and with it
the approbation of the commander-in-chief ;
and, before the day is over, the lady's greys
take flight at an explosion, and the young
hero of course rescues her from destruction.
In the evening, in his way to college, he
gets into a row ; the military are called out
as usual ; a shot is fired— no body knows
by whom, and he is taken to the guard-
house. Towards midnight, however, a mes-
senger arrives with an order to take him
forthwith somewhere or other for examina-
tion ; and this messenger he follows, through
long-winding passages and noble apart-
ments, some dark and some light, till sud-
denly a door is thrown open, and in an in-
stant they are in the midst of a magnificent
saloon, full of company — the vice-regal
drawing-room in short ; and his guide,
throwing off the disguise, proves to be Lady
Knocklofty herself. This was one of the
freaks of the castle. Astounded as the
young gentleman is, he — as the hero of the
piece— is not driven from his propriety ; he
acquits himself admirably, and the vice-
queen treats him with the courtesy that be-
came her. The youth turns out to be the
Honourable Murrogh O'Brien, the heir of
Lord Annanmore. He is introduced on all
sides ; and among others, Lord Walter
Somebody — that is, Lord Edward Fitz-
gerald, not at all disguised— makes hand-
some speeches, and overtures of friend-
ship.
In the midst of these exhilarating atten-
tions, comes in the Lord Lieutenant, in a
state of ebriety, with his bottle companions,
and the prisoner is obliged to be smuggled
off, but not before Lady Knocklofty con-
trives to put a ring of remembrance on his
finger. The officer, under whose super-
vision it is understood he is to place him-
self, is out of the way ; and he, in the
meanwhile, throws himself on a bench,
where, indulging in a reverie on the amaz-
ing events that had occurred through the
day, he drops into something like a nap,
from which he is at last awakened by a
strange tingling sensation about the fingers,
occasioned partly by his having made a pil-
low of his arm. As he wakes, a tall gaunt
figure and a sedan are still in view.
The officer now makes his appearance j they
4 M
634
Monthly Review of Literature,
[Dec.
proceed towards the guard-room, where, to
his utter amazement, he finds the ring, given
him by Lady Knocklofty, changed to one
with the signet of a death's head, and a warn-
ing motto. This is past all explanation.
The next day comes an order for his dis-
charge ; but, though dismissed by the civil
power, the university is not so easily satis-
fied. He had been already a marked man.
He was a member of the Historical Society,
and distinguished there for his eloquence
and boldness ; he had written political
pamphlets, and given himself great liber-
ties of speech everywhere. He was no
raw unfledged youth. From the age of six-
teen he had been in the Austrian service—
an aid-de-camp of the Prince de Ligne, and
a protege of Marshal de Lacy- a relative,
and finally broken for challenging a supe-
rior officer. At the age of twenty- five he
had returned to Ireland, with the resolution
of devoting himself to the service of his
country. His father had recovered his
title, and he was enabled to enter the uni-
versity as filius nobilis. In the row of the
evening of the review his clothes had been
torn nearly off his back, and Lord Walter
had lent him his great coat, and in this coat
were certain papers of a seditious charac-
ter. The said coat was taken out of his
room to be brushed, and the papers found
their way to the fellows. He was expelled
chiefly on the evidence of these papers.
After his expulsion he returns home to
his father's residence — an old tumbling-
down house in one of the back streets of
Dublin, but can learn nothing of his father.
Without, he discovers a sale had taken place
that very clay, and within he finds nothing
but an old chair and a table ; but on the
table were symptoms of some one having
recently left the apartment. An illumi-
nated MS. lay on the table, with his own
portrait not completed— the MS. proves to
be the fruits of his father's antiquarian
labours. While engaged in reading it, he
is surprised by the sudden appearance of
the tall figure he had seen in the castle be-
fore the sedan, who turns out to be his fos-
ter-brother, and the person who had fired the
shot in his defence. The poor faithful fel-
low was in a state of starvation ; and, while
O'Brien was pouring a drop of brandy down
his throat, in bursts a file of soldiers with
an officer at their head, Lord Walter, and
others — to seize the said tall gaunt figure.
Such was the crazy state of the building,
that the floor sunk under the accumulated
weight, the walls followed, and O'Brien and
the whole party narrowly escaped with life.
In the midst of the confusion appeared a
lady in imminent peril, of whom no one
knew any thing, who was rescued, and car-
ried off, no body knew whither, by the fos-
ter-brother.
Left now apparently to his own resources,
Lord Walter introduces him to his political
get, and he is forthwith admitted an United
Irishman in full assembly — pledging him-
self to the furtherance of their views with
the exertion of all his energy. From the
meeting with Lord Walter, he goes, in the
guise of a pilgrim, to Lady Knocklofty's
masquerade, wltHI^ ftC meets with a nun,
who holds him long in animated conversa-
tion. She is a mysterious personage, sharp,
shrewd, and witty — full of French and Ita-
lian ; knows all Murrogh's movements ;
reminds him of scenes at Florence, gives
him sundry hints about his present engage-
ments, and on quitting him puts a letter in
his hand — forbidding him to open it before
he leaves the house. Lady Knocklofty cuts
him dead ; and he quits the gay and glit-
tering scene in a state of agony and morti-
fication.
The letter was from his father, an-
nouncing himself to be in a condition of
absolute indigence, and then waiting a last
interview with him in the burial grounds
of an hospital. Shocked at this intelli-
gence, he flies to the appointed spot, where
he finds him apparently dying with hunger,
and half naked. The old man is a little
mysterious, obscure in his communications,
and solicitous only to obtain a pledge from
his son to go with him where he pleases,
and as soon as that pledge is given, con-
ducts him to a carriage, at a sholrt distance.
They travel all night with the utmost speed,
and at length arrive at Cong Abbey, a
Jesuit institution — where a few elderly gen-
tlemen appeared to be residing, at the head
of whom was his great uncle, the well-
known Abbate O'Brien. In the agony of
his sensations, O'Brien had thrown open
the carriage windows to catch the night
breezes, but unluckily caught nothing but
a fever. He was for some weeks in a state of
delirium, during which his aged father died,
and was buried with the honours due to his
dignity, and himself attended by a sceur grise
— the nun of the masquerade. On his reco-
very, he finds himself obliged to quit his
asylum sooner than he intended — his uncle
had discovered he was an United Irishman,
and his residence could be no longer tole-
rated. He now resolves to beat up the
quarters of his aunts, tne Miss MacTaafs,
two primitive maidens, who had declared
him the heir of their property — to stir up
the natives, and further the views of the
society, of which he was a sworn member.
Here, at a grand festival, given by his aunts
in honour of his arrival, and on the broach-
ing of a hogshead of claret, he encounters
the nun again ; and Lady Knocklofty once
more. Again he rescues her ladyship from
impending destruction, and accompanies her
home. Explanations take place, and the
affair of the ring is partly disclosed. In a
tour round the neighbourhood, the Coun-
tess and her friends and O'Brien visit a
nunnery, under the protection of the Jesuits,
the abbess of which proves to be again the
veritable nun. The mystery is intolerable
to him, and he forces a private interview,
and she tells him part of her story. She is
Domestic and Foreign.
1827.]
an O' Flaherty, his own cousin — who has
long been his guardian angel, and by the
aid of his foster-brother, has rescued him
from more than one danger, moral and
physical. He is now desperately in love
with her, and resolves to break away from
the seductions of Lady Knocklofty. In the
meanwhile, a pamphlet he had written at
Cong during his convalescence's published,
and a wan ant issues for his arrest. While
evading the tip-staffs — though fully intend-
ing to surrender on the trial — he encoun-
ters Lady Knocklofty, on the mountains, in
the dead of uight. • She proposes to screen
him from danger, and he insists at all
hazards on seeing her home. She beguiles
him to a secluded spoi ; his better resolves
vanish ; and he is finally surprised in the
lady's bower, and safely lodged in Kihnain-
ham gaol.
Lady Morgan had advanced thus far with
her story, and found herself at the end of the
fourth volume, and was of course obliged
to compress. The Eclair cissement follows
some years after. O'Brien, it seems,
escaped by the aid of the abbess — entered
the French service, attained high rank, and
finally married his vivacious and ubiquitous
cousin.
Though unequal, there are capital scenes
in the novel — particularly the review — the
drawing- room — and the claret feast.
The Roman History, by G. B. Niebuhr ;
translated from the German, by F. A.
Walter, one of the Librarians of the British
Museum, 2 vols. Svo. 1827. — This history,
which was published in Germany about fif-
teen years ago, Niebuhr is said to have
lately revised, or rather he is stated to have
remodelled the whole of his very sagacious
and elaborate performance. The necessity
for some revision every man at all acquaint-
ed with the work — with its obscurities and
general unconnectedness — must forcibly
feel. He is said also — now that he is a
counsellor of state — to have done so for the
purpose of changing the general tone of it —
of lowering the high and ardent sentiments
which mark the writer's former zeal for the
welfare of mankind, and which form, per-
haps, the main value of his volumes. This
purpose we are unwilling to credit. If ever
writing carried with it marks of deep feel-
ings and firm convictions, Niebuhr's does ;
and to find such a man flinching, to please
the great, would be one of the most morti-
fying events that can well be imagined. Of
this revision of Niebuhr's, however, of what-
ever character it may be, a translation has
been for some time announced ; but the one
before us of the original edition, by Mr.
Walter of the British Museum, is a work so
ably executed that it would be an act of po-
sitive injustice to pass it by, in expectation
of what may never appear, and" may not be
better, without the commendation due to
its unquestionable merits. The translation
£35
of such a work — BO full of intricate criticism
— of profound views in politics, and sub-
tile speculations in metaphysics — writ-
ten in a style of unusual complication, and
with an abruptness of manner that frequently
misleads, is itself a task of no common dif-
ficulty; and to have successfully overcome
such difficulty, and then to have the labour
lost, is exceedingly vexatious. For such
disappointments there is, however, no re-
medy. If the second work prove the supe-
rior, the first must be abandoned ; and Mr.
W. must be content with the credit of good
intentions, and the merit of doing well all
that was in his power to do.
In the perusal of Niebuhr's history — now
that we have a translation — the general
reader will be Avoefully disappointed ; and
the Quarterly Review, which first excited
the public attention in its favour, must
answer for that disappointment — for com-
mending it, we shall not say, extravagantly,
but undistinguishingly — for awakening ex-
pectations, winch the woi'k is not calculated
to gratify. Niebuhr's history is the produc-
tion of a scholar, and addressed to the in-
telligence of scholars ; it is full of discus-
sions, in which the general reader will not,
and cannot, take an interest. He will find
him too — to his farther disappointment —
more ready in pulling down than in building
up. In the conflictions of evidence, to attain
any high degree of probability is rarely pos-
sible, and in the confusions of fable and fact
scarcely less so ; but to exhibit incompati-
bilities, and expose absurdities, is generally
no difficult matter. To make ruins, in short,
is the easier labour ; and ruins Niebuhr
has made in abundance, and made them re-
lentlessly— not that he is incapable of re-
construction— for he is a man of the highest
reach of ability, of extraordinary research,
and of boundless ambition. He has no
rival in criticism and classical attainments
in this country — accompanied as they are
with a warmth of temperament, an active
and yet disciplined imagination, and a saga-
city and power of combination rarely paral-
leled.
The history before us extends to the year
416 of tne eternal city, when the constitu-
tion of Rome may be said to have been per-
fected by the Licinian law, which opened
the consulate equally to plebeian and patri-
cian. Through this long period the thread
of Niebuhr's narrative is scarcely traceable
— so perpetually is it broken by critical
inquiries and episodical matters — never en-
tirely irrelevant, but sometimes not very
intimately connected. In general he gives
— not the results of his researches, but the
researches themselves — and these, what-
ever may be the effect in the mind of the
scholar, familiar with such discussions, will
as often confound as enlighten those who
run as they read. The early history of
Rome is full of obvious fable ; nobody se«
riously credits the thousand and one events
4 M.2
636
Monthly Review of Literature,
[DEC.
that aro manifestly out of the course of raent from the tribunes to exasperate the blind
experience. To have swept these away, and ra?e of the people. We might excuse him if such
left us the probable, or at least the less im- expressions were given merely as those of an ora-
probable skeleton of facts, would to any tor> or of tl'e senate as a body. When this is the
ordinary mind have seemed all that was
practicable, and indeed all that was requi-
site ; but Niebuhr looked deeper and fur-
ther— to the growth of the constitution—
to the operation of laws and manners — and
aimed at tracing the progress of a rude
people to empire by natural and consecu-
case.it would be unreasonable to blame him if the
bitterness of the other side had only been made
equally intelligible to the reader, and dwelt upon
with equal impartiality ; he would on the contrary
deserve our praise, because the indolent or inex-
perienced reader cannot present to himself in a
lively view, from the mere development of the
tive means. The full extent of his hopes 'I1*8' thc ***** dispositions awakened by party
*_ flfVlrif. nor nnceihlv nnnrAAlnfa tlimv aimpo-ntis* ;»•»_
and aims, he is far from realizing ; but he
has scattered to the winds much of the
chaff of the common story7, and has given
spirit, nor possibly appreciate their energetic in-
fluence. Popular harangues expressing the inter-
nal feelings of the orator, exhibit these develop-
ments more forcibly ; but not only are such exhi-
•i f .. _ ~ MiwMva IUVAV rwiciuij , uui nut uuiy tut; eucu CAUl-
much Of it a new aspect, and opened up bitions of plebeian feeling very rarely interspersed,
sources of mqmry and suggested others, but thc hardest juj ti prononnced as tho?e of
that will eventually, either by his own fu- the historian himself; and from this period, during
ture researches, or the ardour of others,
lead to more satisfactory and intelligible
results.
Of the people, the plebs, of Rome, the cians, whose rapacity and violence he cannot con-
the following two centuries of the first decade,
Livy's opinions are consistent respecting the inter-
nal commotions; he decidedly favours the patri-
reader will gain an entirely new concep-
tion. The greatness of Rome is traced to
the formation of the plebeian order in the
ceal, in opposition to the plebeians, even while
compelled to admit their forbearance and long-
suffering. Tliis partiality painfully excites the
State, and the union of patricians and pie- displeasure of the leader who judges for himself,
beians in centuries by Servius. But for his ""* ;" nflw"rtI"1'-««' "<""1" f" "^mU •>- -— «•- '• —
efforts the free people would too probably
have been depressed by the patricians to the
and is nevertheless ready to admit an excuse, from
his love to this great historian. Livy was not a
statesman either by dispositioi\or habits of life;
co; d:tirn of clients : " for "the free people !lis very carliest y°uth was Past in turbulent times ;
j_-_^- ^ F .1 -,. ., he had seen the commonwealth when yet scarcely
were distinct from the clients— the common
notion that every patrician had his clients,
and every plebeian his patron, is plainly an
idle tale. It was through the aid of the
clients that the patricians so long and so
successfully retarded the struggle of the
people to the full attainment of political
rights.
Nor less novel will be the general ap-
pearance of the tribunes and the Agrarian
laws. Their persevering efforts to enforce
these laws will prove to have been directed
— not to pluck from the great to distribute
to the poor — not to tear from the patricians
their private estates, but to break their
monopoly of the public lands. These Agra-
rian laws, in short, always bore solely upon
the public lands. The blunders of Machia-
velli and Montesquieu on this subject are
well exposed. Equally felicitous has Nie-
buhr been in illustrating the real condition
of the Equites, and distinguishing the privi-
leges of theComitia — Tribute, Curiata, and
Centuriata. He has also boldly thrown off
all blind respect for authority, and fearlessly
examined all pretensions ; and with a learned
spirit in human dealings, detected the bias
of the writers he consults. His reviews of
Dionysius and Livy are admirable speci-
mens of his power of exhibiting charac-
ter, and of estimating the value of testi-
mony.—
Livy (says he) at one time admits that the more
moderate patricians held the pretensions of the
people to be reasonable, while again lie designates
the Agrarian law as a poison of the tribunes, and
their opposition as thc hindrance of the public
weal ; aud he deckles that it required no exeitc-
licanism with the aristocratical party>
because the republic was subverted by that which
called itself the democracy. Livy was a partizan
of Pompey, with purely speculative feelings, for,
when still a young man, the parties were no longer
in existence. And from this attachment, the less
he distinguished between things bearing the same
names, he invariably took the part of the senate
and the aristocracy in times of old, as according
with his own prepossessions, not recollecting that
the latest aristocracy had grown out of that which
he affects to despise in earlier times as the popular
party, and which he therefore detests, because he
makes it in the days of his fathers answerable for
all the calamities which it brought upon the re-
public in his own days. The plebeians of the
third century must atone for those who were called
soin the eighth ; their tribunes for Saturninus and
Clodius ; the Agrarian law of the early common-
wealth for that of the Triumviri. Thus a man of
the most amiable dispositions became unconscious-
ly, and in opposition to his natural and best feel-
ings, unjust to a good cause, and partial to a bad
one.
In another place, Niebuhr speaks of
Livy —
He who was so keenly alive to the old poetic nar-
ratives, who also wrote history admirably when-
ever he had sure guides, was little inclined to
weigh thc consistency and possibility in the con-
fused periods of the middle age ; he arrayed the
firat form that presented itself in a mantle of cap-
tivating narrative. The errors into which he has
thus fallen, betray thc man, who had learned to
view history not in the light of the forum, or the
camp, but merely in his own municipium. Per-
haps all that Asinius Pollio meant to designate by
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
637
the charge of Patavlnity, was this deficiency,
which, in later periods also, frequently breaks out
to stagger us in his military descriptions, and the
language of his speeches, occasionally glittering,
and ill suited to the times and persons of the
the speakers, draws rather from literature and the
school, than, like those of Thucydides, from the
fullness of real life.
A large part of the first volume is taken
up in canvassing the origin and extent of
the nations or tribes, which occupied Italy
before and about the period usually as-
signed for the commencement of Rome.
The scattered accounts of these nations are
full of contradictions, and when collected
present a chaos, the analysis of which re-
quires no ordinary courage to attempt.
Niebuhr's searching glance lias occasionally
detected connections before unobserved, and
shewn how dextrously he can thread a
labyrinth. If the reader have patience with
us we will give him a specimen — and one
that will, we think, make good our asser-
tion, that Niebuhr's book will disappoint
him. It is a book to be studied — dwelt on
for weeks and months, not glanced at in an
idle hour. Our specimen concerns the
CENOTRIANS. We shall very much com-
press it, and strip it besides of a multitude
of authorities, and illustrations, and collate-
ral matters.
Pherecydes (in Dionysius) states the
CEnotrians to have taken their name from
(Enotus, one of the twenty-two sons of
Lycaon, and emigrated from Arcadia into
Italy seventeen generations before the Tro-
jan war — according to Pausanius, the ear-
liest colony, Greek or barbarian, of which
any record has been preserved. Apollodorus
gives a dilFerent genealogy — making no
mention of CEnotus ; and represents the
CEnotrians, Thesprotians, Maenalians, and
other Arcadian races, as descending from
Pelasgus. But who was Pelasgus — or rather,
who the Pelasgi ? An enigma — the solution
of which those who study most, despair of
most. They were not Greeks, in language
at least — that is proved ; — the earliest in-
habitants of Thessaly and Peloponnesus
were Pelasgi ; many transformed themselves
into Greeks — that is, we may suppose, they
mingled with the Greeks, and lost all trace
of their origin. The Epirotes, probably,
in the fullest extent — reaching to the
western shores of the Adriatic, were Pelasgi
—the Dodonscans certainly. Dionysius,
indeed, calls them Greeks, but that is his
ignorance. They spoke a broken Greek.
It was the same with other — perhaps all
Pelasgic tribes. In very remote times the
Peloponnesus itself was not Grecian ; but
the CEnotrians were probably kindred of a
Greek stock — for any thing that appears,
this is said quite gratuitously.
The CEnotrians however — come imme-
diately from what quarter they may — from
Peloponnesus, or from Epirus, or even from
the Siculi— those who were so called, we
mean by the Greeks — formerly occupied
Bruttium and South-eastern Lucania. The
period of emigration is fixed by Philistus
eighty years before the Trojan war, and by
Thucydides, probably following Antiochus,
125 years after. But this emigration refers
to the ancient settlements of the CEnotrians
in those western districts (Campania) after-
wards possessed by the Ausonians, who
were themselves expelled by the Sabines.
It refers also to some in litruria — for ap-
parently the whole range of the west coast
was occupied by a people at least related
to Epirotes — thai is Pelasjric.
But the CEnotrians to the Roman History
are wholly unknown. They belong indeed
to the brilliant ages of Magna Grajcia, of
which scarcely any traces exist. Cato ap-
pears not to have mentioned them in his
early history of Italy — judging from Diony-
sius's account. When the Romans carried
their victorious arras into Southern Italy,
the CEnotrians were extinct, and their place
occupied by Lucanians and Bruttii. The
Greek settlements, according to Strabo,
which began upon that coast previous to
the commencement of Roman chronology,
met with no nations but Siculi, or Itali, or
Chones- neither CEnotrians nor Lucanians.
The CEnotrians therefore must come some-
where between the Greek settlements and
the Lucanian invasion. These Lucanians
were Sabines. Antiochus of Syracuse,
writing about the year of Rome 329, speaks
as a cotemporary of the CEnotrians, and
mentions neither Lucanians nor Bruttii.
The Lucanians therefore had not appeared
then. About the middle of the second cen-
tury of Rome, the Metapontines were at
war with the CEnotrians, and took from
them a part of their territory. The Luca-
nians, about 362, invaded Magna Graecia,
and ruined its splendour; and the CEno-
trians fell at the same time, and were
blended or lost among the invaders.
But Niebuhr is taking up too much of our
space. The reader will see there is no
want of learning or labour — all but the
scholar and the critic will cry cut bono.
The volumes however contain lessons of
the profoundest cast for the statesman and
the political reasoner.
History of the War in the Peninsula under
Napoleon. By General Foy. Translated
from the French. 2vols. Svo. ; 1827. — This
history of the war in Spain and Portugal
was left in a very imperfect state by the
author. The first volume, however, pre-
sents us with a sketch — and a very ani-
mated one it is — of the political and mili-
tary state of France, England, Portugal, and
Spain, which constitutes indeed the real
value of the work. It is executed with
decided ability and fullness of knowledge.
Here it is that he reviews the character of
Napoleon, and deals out his praise and his
censure — his admiration for the depth of
his genius, and the fire and vigour of his
638
Month)/ Review of Literature,
[DEC.
soul — for the skill of the warrior, the saga-
city of the statesman, and the energy with
which the sovereign swayed the wills of his
cotemporaries ; — his profound contempt —
rather than a liberal allowance — for the
foibles of the man, whose vanity made him
pride himself on the gentility of his birth-
take the tone and insignia of a legitimate
despot — ally himself with an ancient dy-
nasty— make kings and queens of his bro-
thers and sisters. Here it is that he ex-
hibits the military system of Britain, with
a correctness of detail, beyond the usual
reach of a foreigner, and with a severity of
judgment which none but a foreigner is
ever likely to exercise. " In the eyes of an
English general," says he, " the perfection
of the art consists in bringing into the field
fresh and well-conditioned troops, in post-
ing them advantageously, and there coolly
waiting for the enemy's attack. Yes,
doubtless, he continues (glancing at the
Duke of Wellington) the instinctive deter-
mination which, even when it errs, is bet-
ter than skilful hesitation ; the strength of
mind which no danger can appal, the te-
nacity which carries off the prey by sticking
to it to the last — these are rare and sub-
lime qualities, and where these are suffi-
cient to secure the triumph of national in-
terests, it is but justice to load with honours
the privileged possessor of them. But the
thinkers of all ages will not take upon trust
the exaggeration of a glory so confined ;
they will point out the interval, which sepa-
rates the man of the profession from the
man of genius. Great generals were al-
ways great, without accessories, without
attendants [this no doubt is miserable tran-
slation— but we have not the original at
hand,] and they will remain great in spite
of adversity : they borrow not their lustre
from institutions which existed before them,
and which will live after them — quite the
contrary, it is they who infuse lofty ideas
into the minds of the multitude. Equal to
themselves in the display of all the powers
of the human mind, no species of elevation
escapes from their immensity ; such ap-
peared, with different destinies, Hannibal
and Caesar among the ancient, Frederick
and Napoleon among the moderns."
There is sound observance as well as
good satire, in the advice which was ironi-
cally given to the commander-in-chief in a
volume entitled — " Advice to the Officers
of the British Army." " Nothing is so com-
.menclabls as generosity to an enemy. To
.pursue him vigorously after a victory would
be taking advantage of his distress. It is
enough for you to shew that you can beat
him whenever you think proper. You
should always act openly and candidly with
both friends and enemies. You should be
cautious, therefore, never to steal a inarch,
or lay an ambuscade. You should never
attack the enemy during the night. Recol-
lect what Hector said, when he went to
fight with Ajax — * Heaven light us, and
combat against us.' Should the enemy re-
treat, let him have the start of you several
days, in order to shew him that you can
surprise him when you please. Who knows
if so generous a proceeding will not induce
him to halt? After he has succeeded in
retreating to a place of safety, you may
then go in pursuit of him with your whole
army. Never promote an intelligent officer ;
a hearty boon companion is all that is ne-
cessary to execute your orders. Any officer
who has a grain of knowledge beyond the
common, you should look upon as your
personal enemy, for you may depend upon
it he is laughing in his sleeve at both you
and your manoeuvres."
Of the war itself, General Foy's history
extends only to a few months of the first
year. That period embraces the invasion of
Portugal by Junot, who took possession of
Lisbon on the 30th of November 1807, to
the battle of Vimiera, on the 21st of August
1808, and the immediate evacuation of Por-
tugal. The cotemporaneous events in
Spain are also detailed, from the entrance
of the French armies in the spring of 1808,
to the defeat of Dupont at Baylen, in July,
and the consequent retreat of Joseph to-
wards the Pyrenees. The details are greatly
too much those of the soldier to be very
agreeable to the unprofessional reader. It is
too full of the minutiae of warfare, and of
the employments and conduct of particular
and even subordinate officers. The author
shews himself and his opinions at every
turn. He is an uncompromising republican,
and more inclined to condemn Napoleon,
and give all his policy the worst construc-
tion, than any French officer whose writings
we have hitherto met with. His antipa-
thies and prejudices respecting England and
its government are occasionally quite absurd,
and altogether unworthy a man of so en-
lightened a cast as Foy undoubtedly was.
There is notwithstanding a general fairness
in the history, and a fullness and particu-
larity, and accuracy of information, very
rare and very valuable, and which nothing
but personal acquaintance can give; but
most readers, we believe, will turn with
more pleasure to the more judicious and
quiet, though diffusive, and perhaps par-
tial statements of Southey's Peninsular
War.
We are tempted to sketch the military
career of the writer, which was one of sin-
gular activity. Foy was born in 1775, and
educated in the military school of La Fere,
and made sub-lieutenant of artillery in
1792. He was present at the battles of
Valmy arid Jemappe, and, in 1793, obtained
a company— promotion was rapid in those
days. In all the subsequent campaigns he
was actively employed under Dumourier,
Pichegru, Moreau, Massena, &c. In 1803,
he was colonel of the 5th regiment of horse
artillery, and refused, from political prin-
ciple, the appointment of aide-de-camp on
Napoleon's assumption of the imperial
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
639
throne ; but was still employed, and shared
in the victories of the short but brilliant
campaign of Germany in 1804. In 1806 he
commanded the artillery of the army sta-
tioned in Friuli, for the purpose of occupy-
ing the Venetian territory incorporated by
the treaty of Presburg with the kingdom of
Italy. In 1807 he was sent to Constanti-
nople to introduce European tactics in the
Turkish service -but the object was de-
feated by the death of Selim, and the oppo-
sition of the Janissaries. On Foy's return,
the expedition against Portugal was pre-
paring, and he received a command in the
artillery under Junot, during the occupation
of Portugal, and filled the post of inspector
of forts and fortresses. He was severely
wounded at the battle of Vimiera. On the
capitulation he returned to France, and
with the same army proceeded to Spain ;
and, subsequently, under the command of
Soult, again went into Portugal. When
commanded to summon the Bishop of
Oporto to open its gates, he was seized and
Stript by the populace, and thrown into
prison, and escaped with difficulty. The
same year he was made general of brigade.
In 1810 he made a skilful retreat at the
head of 600 men, in the face of 6,000 Spa-
niards, across the Sierra de Caceres ; and
at the head of his brigade was wounded in
the battle of Busaco. Early in 1811 he
was selected by Massena to convey to the
emperor the critical state of the French
army before the lines of Torres Vedras.
This commission, though one of great peril
—the country being in a complete state of
insurrection — he successfully accomplished,
and brought back the emperor's instructions,
for which service he was made general of
division. In July 1812, Foy was in the
battle of Salamanca, and was one of those
who, Avhen Lord Wellington raised the
siege of Burgos and retreated to the Douro,
hung upon his rear, and took some prisoners
and artillery.
On the news of the disasters in Russia,
and Lord Wellington's consequent resump-
tion of offensive movements, Foy was sent
with his division beyond Vittoria to keep
the different parties in check ; and after the
battle of Vittoria, at which he was not pre-
sent, he collected at Bergana 20,000 troops,
of different divisions, and had some success
in skirmishes with the Spanish corps form-
ing the left wing of the allied army. He
arrived at Tolosa about the same time with
Lord Lynedoch, and after a sanguinary con-
test in that town, retreated upon Irun —
from which he was quickly dislodged, and
finally recrossed the Bidassao. In the affair
of the passage of the Nive, on the 9th of
December 1813, and the battle of St. Pierre
d'Irrube on the 13th, Foy distinguished him-
self, and in the hard fought battle of Or-
thez, on the 27th February 1814, he was
left apparently dead on the field. Before
this period he had been made count of the
empire, and commander of the legion Of
honour. In March 1815, he was appointed
inspector general of the fourteenth military
division ; but on the return of Napoleon,
during the 100 days, he embraced the cause
of the emperor, and commanded a division
of infantry in the battles of Ligny and
Waterloo, at the last of which he received
his fifteenth wound. This terminated his
military career. In 1819, he was elected a
member of the Chamber of Deputies, the
duties of which he discharged till his death
in November 1825 ; and from his first en-
trance into the chamber, was distinguished
for his eloquence, and quickly became the
acknowledged leader of the opposition.
Emir Malek, Prince of the dssassins,
an Historical Novel of the 13th Century.
3 vols. 12mo.; 1827. — With not a par-
ticularly catching title; no puffery — no
name— and, for any thing that appears on
the face of it, a first production ; the book
stands little chance of being read but
through the notices of the reviews. The
writer confidingly presumes his work will
make its own way. This is a mistake, in
days, when so many manoeuvres are worked
for catching the public eye, and nothing
does catch it without these manoeuvres-
— a little paragraph-puffing is indispen-
sable. Whatever the judgment, however,
shewn in bringing it out, the book de-
serves to class respectably. The writer
has considerable capabilities - a competent
acquaintance with the times and scene of
his story— is no novice in composition — •
apt at contriving critical positions and
describing them with vigour and effect,
with some felicity and occasional pathos.
The story is essentially a romance — mean-
ing by romance an exhibition of over-
mastering passions, with few or no modi-
fications, with little or nothing of every
day life and every day events — requiring1
slight knowledge of mankind, as men ap-
pear in society, and in our own times, but
much as they shew in books — where the
reins are given to the imagination — and
where actions flow not from complicated
but single motives— if such be the character
such is the conduct- and where of course
men's actions seern regulated more by the
rules of geometry than the laws of hu-
manity.
The hero of the piece is a prince of the
Assassins— of a set of people, with whom a
writer may take great liberties, for little or
nothing is known of them, on which any
reliance can be placed. To suppose a so-
ciety of 70,000 persons, as wild and as fero-
cious as tigers, spread over immense dis-
tricts from the Caspian to the mountains of
Lebanon, wholly and solely devoted to the
will of one man, even to death at command
— because that man has given each indi-
viduala foretaste of a Mahommedan paradise
— in an earthly heaven of- his own creation
— and all this for the purpose of employing
them perpetually in the office of assassins-
610
Monthly Renieiv of Literature,
[DEC.
tion — and this delusion or employment
lasting1 for nearly a couple of centuries,
from successor to successor — this is a de-
mand upon our credulity, which history
may indeed make, but which the very fond-
ness of fiction can never make us pay. The
story of Emir Malek is however rather
private than public— more concerning him-
self than his tribe. He was an Egyptian
prince, expelled from his country, and after
a variety of marvellous adventures, en-
listed among the Assassins, and finally the
Souba's lieutenant on the hills of Lebanon.
In the execution of his responsible office,
he is any thing and every thing to carry his
master's views — or his own— into execu-
tion. In his boyhood he was furiously at-
tached to his lovely cousin, who from some
reason or another was insensible to his
fur}\ Like himself, however, this cousin
was driven from her country, but falling
into the hands of Lusignan, king of Cyprus
and Jerusalem, became a convert to Chris-
tianity. This conversion explodes her vol-
cano cousin, Ilderim ; and the story opens
with Vadilah's renunciation of Moslemism
in full assembly, in the splendid cathedral
of the metropolis of Cyprus. While in the
act of repeating her new profession of faith,
a voice from the crowd bids her beware,
and presently a dagger, forcibly flung,
pitches between her and the archbishop.
None could see from whence it came —
Vadilah makes a shrewd guess, but COIHHMJ-
nicates not.
The tumult occasioned by this event is
calmed, and even forgotten, by the arrival
of Sir Roger de Mowbray and Gilbert de
Clare, Earl of Gloucester, on an embassy
from Prince Edward of England, then en-
camped before Ptolemais, 1271, to invite
the new convert to visit the Princess Elea-
nor; and before she is ready to embark,
De Mowbray, a gallant and youthful knight,
falls desperately in love with her— and she
nothing loath. But this brings Ilderim on
the scene in new disguise. His angry feel-
ings are now exasperated by jealousy, and
he takes a speedy opportunity of planting a
dagger by the side of De Mowbray while
sleeping, by way of a warning— just to
prove to him too how easily he could have
struck it into his bosom. Vadilah herself
has a visit from him — his ubiquity and
stealthiness are past all comprehension — he
can creep through a key hole; he com-
mands her to return to Moslemism, and
upon her refusal, gives her very plain hints
that her days will be shortened, and appa-
rently is only prevented from finishing
them at once, by the approach of stran-
gers.
Vadilah and the ambassadors now set sail
for Syria, and land at Tortosa. The hills
in the rear of Tortosa were occupied by the
Assassins, and extraordinary precautions
became necessary. The parties separate —
the princess under the protection of De
Clare, and De Mowbray convoys the pil-
grims. The princess reaches Edward's
camp in safety, but De Mowbray encoun-
ters the Maronites, and has a personal con-
test with the chief, who proves to be Ilde-
rim. Ilderim is getting the worst of the
fray, when being suddenly summoned from
the field by the peremptory signals of his
superior, the Souba, he is forced to with-
draw—but not without a pledge to fight it
out near Ptolemais.
These Assassins had become the pest of
the country — and of all parties, and steps
are taken by the hostile Christian and Ma-
hommedan princes to extirpate them. The
Souba, and his lieutenant Ilderim, whose
official name is Malek, determine, in con-
sequence, on despatching Edward, as the
person whose death was most likely to
break up the alarming combination. While
at Cyprus, Malek had seduced one Guyon,
a bastard of Simon de Monfort's, who was
himself intent upon nothing so much as on
taking vengeance on Edward for the dis-
grace of his father, and readily falls into
Malek's views. An English lady, one Eli-
zabeth de Rous, of high family and fortune,
whose reputation was reported to be a little
singed, and who had met with some slights
from Edward's belief of the report, is, like
the rest, panting for revenge, and she throws
herself into the arms of Malek, and stimu-
lates him, who scarcely wanted the stimulus.
Malek has some conscience — his object is
to extinguish Christianity and obey his
chief, only indulging his own vehement
hatreds by the way, and with something
like fairness ; but Miss De Rous is a per-
fect daemon — she not only wishes for the
death of Edward for the slights he had put
upon her, but stipulates with her paramour
for that of Vadilah, simply because she
learns Ilderim had loved her. De Guyon's
revenge is confined to one object, and very
little would probably have diverted him
from that, but he was poor, and Edward
was the cause of his poverty — and no one
appeared likely to enrich him.
Matters arrange themselves thus. De
Guyon undertakes to get an interview
with Edward aud slab him ; and Miss de
Rous, by some manoeuvres of her own to
#et Vadilah into her clutches De Guyon,
under the guise of a priest, Edward's own
confessor, penetrates iiito Edward's apart-
ment, and holds a long1 dialogue with him
— a very Mathews iu mimickry we must
suppose— but just as he is grasping his
dagger, his arm is caught by an attendant
knight, and his purpose frustrated. INJiss
De Rous is somewhat more successful—-
under the character of a Zing-aree, she
does get Vadilah into her power — aud
great difficulty has the poor lady in escap-
ing1. In the meanwhile, De Mowbray and
Malek meet to have out their fight, and
Malek is left on the field for dead. He,
however, is tenacious of life as an eel,
and, though his brains seemed beaten out,
]827.J
Domestic and Foreign.
641
he recovers, and very soon after contrives,
on learning1 De Guyon's failure, to get
into Edward's presence, and actually
stabs him in the arm with a poisoned dag-
ger, but is finally overcome by Edward,
and an end put to him and his murderous
course. De Mow bray is now in pursuit
of the lost Vadilah, and luckily catches
her just as she was flung- down the whirls
of a cataract; and so, after all their perils
and escapes, they return to England with
Edward, and marry, and live, and love,
and die, the happiest pair in Christendom.
Elements of tke History of Philosophy
and Science, by Thomas Morell, Author
of "Studies of History," fyc. ; 1827.—
Though a very dry, and here and there
intolerably meagre, this is not a useless
compilation. Fuller histories of particu-
lar branches of science and literature are
numerous enough, but we know not where
to turn for a general sketch of the pro-
gress of the whole. Mr. MorelPs is an
attempt to supply the deficiency, by com-
pressing into a moderate compass the lead-
ing and more prominent facts in the his-
tory of philosophy and science, from the
earliest records to the commencement of
the eighteenth century. He follows the
established division of physical and intel-
lectual science, and divides the whole
series of ages into four great periods — that
of remote antiquity, confined of course 10
the oriental nations— that of the Greeks
and Romans — that of the middle ages, and
that of the revival of letters to the days of
Locke and Newton. The writer stops at
this point, because, subsequently, he says,
" the ramifications of human knowledge
(of what other knowledge might he be
thinking ?) have become so numerous, as
to require a series of volumes for even the
most cursory review, and especially be-
cause a variety of small elementary works
already exist, in which the later improve-
ments of science are accurately and mi-
nutely described."
Of his first general period, the literary
history is subdivided geographically, that
is, according to the relative positions
which the several nations occupied in the
map of the world— its records scarcely
admitting of a different classification. Of
the second, the history takes a chronolo-
gical order, and scientific discoveries and
philosophical systems are more distinctly
marked. Of the third, the progress of the
sciences is separately sketched, under the
two great divisions of matter and mind ;
and of the fourth, when the names crowd
and accumulate, not only are physical
and intellectual sciences distinguished,
and notices given of individuals, who con-
tributed to their advancement, but their
productions are analysed, and the influence
M.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No. 24.
of their writings estimated, immediate and
remote.
The first part, which is a sort of review
of oriental philosophy, under the heads of
Assyria, Babylon, Chaldea, China, India,
Persia, Arabia, Egypt, and Phoenicia, was
a severe trial on our patience — opening
as it does with some miserable conjec-
tures on the state of science before the
flood. He starts with telling us, with
great solemnity, that the book of Genesis
is the "most ancient historical document
the world has ever known," and then
from its contents infers so much, that we
are driven still farther to infer, that,
in such a state of advancement, there
must have been many a one before. Be-
sides, we attribute the book to Moses —
nobody does to any one earlier — and he
was indebted for his learning — for his
ability to write at all — to the Egyptians ;
— therefore they had learning, and books,
and doubtless "historical documents," long
before. For the oriental nations, general-
ly, Mr. Morell trusts almost entirely to Sir
William Jones, who was manifestly — mani-
festly we mean to such as are not dazzled
by names — to say the least, very adven-
turous, and to Dr. Morrison, whose judg-
ment we may, we believe, be allowed to
distrust. Speaking of the Egyptians, he
says, " they were most famous for magic."
" It cannot be doubted (he cautiously
adds) there was much of juggle and arti-
fice in this pretended science ; yet, from
what is stated in the book of Exodus, of
the successful imitation of some of the
miracles of Moses, it is evident the magi
of Pharaoh must have possessed a greater
knowledge of some of the latent proper-
ties of natural substances than was known
to their descendants." This remark is of
course copied, without consideration ; — >
no man who had recently glanced at the
said miracles— as it was the writer's duty
to do, when he chose to talk about them —
could have prated of any " knowledge of
latent properties." For what did these
magicians do ? Produce a serpent a piece,
colour some water, and find a few frogs.
What knowledge of latent properties is
here? In truth, if the whole volume were
written with as little of a critical spirit as
the first part, we should have pronounced
it worthless ; but the other periods are
more carefully executed ; and the book is
a very good one for a general glance, not
only as to the progress of science, but the
particular steps made by particular indi-
viduals. Enfield, Playfair, Dug. Stewart,
and Bossuet, are his chief authorities.
The causes of the decay of literature
are very neatly and accurately stated.
After describing the more obvious and
immediate causes— the rise of the Sara-
4 N
642
Monthly Review of Literature,
[DEC.
cenic empire, and the consequent dis-
persion of the Alexandrine school, he
adds—
There were also many more remote or collat ral
causes contributing to the same event, some of
which preceded, and others were cotemporary
with the preceding. Such were— the disorganized
state of society, and general corruption of man-
ners, in the later periods of Roman history — the
prejudices entertained by many of the fathers of
the Christian church against heathen literature—
the progress of superstition— the rise of monastic
institutions — the ambition, ignorance, and vices of
the clergy — the imprisonment of the works of the
ancients in monastic libraries, whence they were
seldom permitted to emerge, and where they were
disregarded and forgotten [this is put in too un-
qualified a manner]— the exclusion of the laity,
however exalted their rank and station in society,
from the advantages of education, and all other
means of intellectual improvement — the disuse of
the Latin and Greek languages, as the medium of
communication between men of letters — the despo-
tism of a few names, such as those of Aristotle and
Augustine, whose works alone were sanctioned by
the ecclesiastical rulers, &c.
And the same may be said of his account
of the revival of literature —
- Among the political causes of this intellectual
phenomenon may be enumerated the fall of the
eastern empire, and the conquest of Greece by the
Turks; the effect of which was to disperse the
men of learning, who resided in those provinces,
through the continent of Europe, but more espe-
cially to enlighten those countries which lay con-
tiguous to the Ottoman Empire — the gradual de-
molition of the feudal system, and consequent ele-
vation of the lower orders of society to wealth and
importance — the study and practice of jurispru-
dence, by which the administration of justice was
secured, and civilization promoted [this is loosely
said, and without due discrimination] — the into-
lerable oppression of the papal hierarchy, which,
though tamely submitted to during many ages, at
length became so galling a yoke, that both princes
and their subjects stood prepared to shake it off —
and finally, the consolidation of the civil govern-
ments of Europe, under the administration of more
enlightened princes, who became the zealous pa-
trons of learning and science.
The literary -and moral causes are equal-
ly well stated.
Notes to Assist the Memory in various
Sciences ; 1827. — The author in his pre-
face says — " The following1 notes were
originally collected to assist a most stub-
born and capricious memory, which re-
tained nothing if studied systematically,
or by any tedious process, yet could readi-
ly apprehend distinct facts and principles,
if disencumbered of all superfluous words,
and subsequently, by a sort of mental re-
action, connect and digest them."
" Had the author," he continues, '* in pre-
paring them for publication, adopted the
method which he practically found most
beneficial, he would have arranged them
at cross purposes, making each successive
note a perfect contrast to its predecessor.
On each note the reader will of course
pause, draw his own inferences, and ac-
quiesce or dissent, according to the de-
gree of conviction they impress on his
judgment. Some have been inserted more
to stimulate curiosity and promote discus-
sion than as established truths ; for a
valuable hint may be thrown by one in-
capable of forming a regular system."
This, therefore, is not a school-book
professedly, though perhaps not the less
calculated on that account to operate as a
useful stimulant to the mind of young
people, by a process nearer to nature than
the usual systematic ascent up the hill of
learning. We love detached truths — we
grasp them with all our mind — and we
grasp them unsuspiciously. Some betake
themselves to one kind of truth — some to
another; but the veriest system-mongers
that exist, are devotedly attached to cer-
tain species of fact on which they build
their theories. Certainly it must be felt
by most persons who have passed over
their first youth, that facts are the only
really substantial mental possessions that
exist — the only possessions which we can
be sure are not deluding us with false
colours, nor prompting us to wear out our
thoughts in erroneous courses, which we
may painfully have to retrace.
But it may be said, people possess quite
as strong a propensity to frame and fol-
low systems as for individual facts. So
they may ; but we still contend, that to
every disposition indiscriminately, that is
the safest and the most sterling pursuit,
and one of which we can never repent.
The general lover of fact cannot do better
than run away from systems which de-
mand a process of reasoning above his
powers; the lover of classification cannot
do better than fly from the seduction of
premature conclusions to those inquiries
which will more and more fit and prepare
him for arriving at just ones; and whether
he succeed or not in obtaining any results,
his collection of facts will ever preserve
a certain and independent value for busi-
ness or communication. But wherever
we have lent our minds to systems, for a
while believed and then exploded, we
have lent them in pure waste.
The book contains a large mass of mis-
cellaneous information on every science
and subject, couched in the briefest and
clearest language. The moral and meta-
physical portion exhibits a complete free-
dom from prejudice — presenting no state-
ment, which a sane understanding can
resist. The volume is not intended, or
recommended, as of a nature by any means
to supersede regular or systematic study ;
but for persons of a certain degree of in-
formation, who are grown up, and desire
to keep their minds on a par with the
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
643
generality of their fellows, we think it
might serve very amusingly to fill up va-
cant or weary minutes — while, to the
quite young even, it is a perfectly safe,
and might be a very beneficial present.
Notices relative to the Early History
of the Town and Port of Hull, by Chartes
Frost ; 1827. — These local histories,
though in themselves of no general in-
terest — a truth established by the well-
known fact of their circulation being
limited to the immediate neighbourhood
of the places described— yet, when well
got up, by individuals of real industry,
and real love for antiquities, are well cal-
culated to minister to the stock of useful
information, by contributing to more cor-
rect conceptions of more general and more
important matters. The facts that illus-
trate one spot, or one memorable event,
may illustrate others — especially where
all are of the same country, or of the same
age — among a people of similar manners,
and under similar institutions. The topo-
grapher, while extending his researches
on every side to elucidate the obscurities
of his particular subject, lights upon docu-
ments, of the existence of which (he world
was wholly ignorant, and which, though
nearly inapplicable, or altogether so, to
his immediate object, are applicable to
others, and fitted perhaps for more gene-
ral purposes — not to say, that the bring-
ing to light the early state of one town
may shew, in some respects, the cotempo-
rary condition of the whole country — may
elicit the sentiments of the times, and
clear away the clouds that envelope the
mysteries of ages. If Hull, for instance,
were a place of great traffic —of consider-
able export and import, some centuries be-
fore it is supposed to have been, that fact
will and must modify the impressions we
have of the general commerce and activity
of those earlier times.
Of this character is the History of Hull
before us— edited evidently by a man
capable of great exertions in the way of
research, which he has pursued in the
midst of professional occupations not
usually leading to such pursuits. He is
an attorney of the town ; and had, the
preface tells ns, for some years the sole
management of the defence of a suit insti-
tuted for the recovery of tithe throughout
the township of Melsa, or Meaux, in the
neighbourhood of Hull, which had former-
ly belonged to an abbey of the order of Cis-
tercians, \\hose possessions included the
entire soil on which the town of Hull now
stands. The facts which came under his con-
sideration, in the course of investigations
necessary for conducting the said defence,
confirmed an opinion started by Macpher-
son in his Annals of Commerce, that Hull
was a place of opulence and note to the
date assigned to its existence by histo-
rians.
The town takes its name — Kingston — as
every body knows, from Edward I., or, as
every body guesses, from some king or
other. He was not, however, as has been
precipitately supposed, the founder of the
town. Uuder the name of Wyke, or Hull,
it existed long before, and belonged to
the monks of Melsa j but in the year 1293,
it, together with the manor of My ton, was
surrendered to Edward, at his especial de-
sire, in exchange for other lands. The
place was, in consequence of this transfer,
elevated to the rank of a royal borough,
and the citizens invested with numerous
privileges. It thus grew rapidly into
higher importance; but it owed the sun-
shine of the king's favour to its previous
significance ; and that it was a place of
such significance, Mr. Frost by his re-
searches has indisputably proved.
The language of the citizens and the
king has misled the fathers of English
topography j — iu a petition presented to
the king, within a few years of the trans-
fer, the citizens, in the phraseology of
adulation, or perhaps of gratitude, speak
of their town as that laquele notro so-
veignr. le roi ad foundee et faite ; and the
king naturally accommodates his reply to
the same tone, and talks of novam villam
uostram de Kingston sup. Hull. This
may exonerate Leland, and Camden, and
Speed, but will not annihilate facts.
Wyke is not mentioned in Domesday-
book, though certainly within a century
of that record it was a considerable port.
It was however no borough, but parcel of
the manor of Myton; and Myton is de-
scribed in the record. This omission in
Domesday is common to many other parts
— as that of Wimbledon in Surry, in con-
sequence of its being included in Mort-
lakej and Chedingford and Haslemere, as
being in Godalming; and again of Roy-
ston, as lying in the lands of neighbouring
manors.
Among the documents relating to Wyke,
the earliest is a grant of lands del Wyke
dc Mitune made to the monks of Melsa,
about 1160, by Matilda, daughter of Hugh
de Camin. That monastery was founded
a few years before by Wm. le Gros, Earl
of Arlebemarle, the proprietor of the Isle
of Holderness, in commutation of a vow to
go to the Holy Land, and was liberally
endowed by him, and other neighbouring
barons. In Matilda Cumin's grant, the
town of Myton is spoken of. This, how-
ever, is no longer traceable, and was pro-
bably, says the author, absorbed by the
growing town of Wyke. There is still
some confusion not cleared up about My-
ton, Wyke, and Hull ; the same town has
been successively thus described, or two
4 N 9
Monthly Review of Liierature,
[Dfcc.
may have become one, as the writer sug-
gests— or perhaps the three. A chapel of
the place was destroyed by the monks of
Melsa, for which atonement was made to
the amount of 100 marks, in the reign of
John.
Bnt the importance of Hull, both as a
town and a place of trade, is testified by
a petition, fifteen years before Edward's
purchase, from the abbot of Meaux, pray-
ing that he and his successors might have
a market on Thursdays, at Wyke, near
Mitten upon the Huile, and a fair there
in each year, on the Vigil, the day and the
morrow of the Holy Trinity, and on the
Iwelve following days. The annual value
again of the property of the monks in the
Hulle, which was made over to the king,
being as high as £78 14s. 6^d., shews its
importance — and they not the sole proprie-
tors—the canons of Watton Abbey, arch-
bishop of York, and the family of Sutton,
and others, were also proprietors. But to
take the more direct testimonies. Tn 1198,
Gervasius de Aldermannesberie accounted
to the exchequer for 225 marks for 45
sacks of wool taken and sold there ; hence
it may be inferred, that not only was it a
seaport, but also one of the chosen places
from which the great native commodity of
wool was allowed to be exported. In 1205,
in the pipe-roll, there is a charge in the
sheriff's accounts, made under the autho-
rity of the king's writ, of 14s. lid. for
expenses of carrying the king's wines
from Hull to York — that is, wines brought
into that port. But comparison is here
perhaps the best criterion. A document
exists — the compotus of Win. de Wrote-
ham and his companions — which shews
that at the commencement of the 13th
century, it was not only superior to York
in the extent of its commerce, but actually
exceeded all the ports in the kingdom in
mercantile wealth and substance except
London, Boston, Southampton, Lincoln,
and Lynn. According to that document,
the receipts at the customs was, in Lon-
don, £837., and at Hull, £334., while at
Yorke they were only £175. On an
average, also, of four years before Ed-
ward's purchase, the duties received at
Hull amounted to nearly one-seventh of
the aggregate through the whole king-
dom.
These and numerous other facts and al-
lusions establish the certainty of the im-
portance of Hull as a place of trade, and
a principal port, long before the period
usually assigned — namely, the date of
Edward's exchange with the monks of
Melsa, and the subsequent patronage of
Michael de la Poolc — a townsman of
Hull.
Practical Instructions for Landscape
Painting.— Mr. John Clark, the ingenious
inventor of the My riorama, the Portable
Diorama, and several other highly curious
and interesting scientific toys, has pro-
duced a new book, entitled Practical In-
structions for Landscape Paintingy the
object of which is, to supersede the ne-
cessity, in acquiring the art of drawing,
of employing a master. The work, which
is divided into four parts, and embellished
with fifty-five coloured quarto engrav-
ings, explains the whole principle, and
illustrates the practice, of landscape paint-
ing, from the more limited sketch, to the
most highly finished subject j and this in
a manner, although simple, so complete
as to detail, that every separate gradation
of the task is perceptible to the learner.
The book is very splendidly got up ; the
engravings (many of which possess con-
siderable merit), being separately mounted
on card-board, and inclosed in cases, in
imitation of coloured drawings. And, al-
together, it is only justice to observe, that
it proves at once an extremely useful work
of instruction, and a very elegant circum-
stance of embellishment to the library, or
drawing-room table.
A Treatise on the New Method of Land-
surveying^ with the improved Plan of Keep-
ing the field Book, by Thomas Hornby*
London : Baldwin ; 1827.— A merely su-
perficial acquaintance with the theoretical
elements of any branch of knowledge,
seems to be considered, at the present
day, sufficient to entitle the possessor to
write upon the subject, and to rank among
its most luminous expounders, provided
his ignorance either be veiled in felicity
of diction, or accompanied by extravagant
pretension. We have loquacious barris-
ters mystifying the public on philosophy,
the vocabulary of which they had acquired
in youth, and amateurs of science, still
green from their colleges, dogmatizing to
experienced men on the construction and
use of apparatus, of which they are
scarcely familiar with the appearance, or
conversant with the application. Of the
degree of useful knowledge likely to be
diffused by these means, any rational man,
may easily judge j and the result, we can
assure him, has fully justified the expec-
tation. But while the public has thus
been trifled with by individuals, who, by
their severity to others, have forfeited ail
claim to mercy for themselves, several
practical works have appeared from the
pens of men whose reputation entitles
them to confidence, and whose professional
character is a pledge of ability to com-
municate information in the line of their
business: in this class the present volume
is to be ranked — comprising within itself
all that the experience of a long life has
shown to be requisite to complete the
education of a surveyor in the most ex-
tended sense of the term, or to facilitate
his subsequent operations, expressed in a
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
645
clear intelligible style. We feel certain
that its merits will be appreciated -when-
ever it becomes known to the public, and
shall be glad if any notice of ours can
contribute to that effect.
Chronicles of the Canongate, by the
Author of Waverley, fyc. 2 vols. ; 1827. —
The Chronicles of the Canongate is a title
about as expressive of the contents, as that
of « Tales of my Landlord.' One Mr.
Chrysal Croftanger plays the part of Jede-
diah Cleishbotham ; but in changing the
machinery, there is this advantage, that a
new personage gives occasion for new de-
tails ; and half a volume is thus happily
occupied in developing future plans — in
settling preparatory matters. Mr. Croft-
anger was, in his youth, a Scotch Laird, of
considerable property, which a few years
of dashing scattered to the winds. A con-
sequent exile of twenty or thirty years
enabled him, in some measure, to repair
the waste of early extravagance, and he
at last returns to his native country, with
just sufficient to make him comfortable for
the rest of his mortal sojourn. Being,
however, a man of no profession, with some
remains of activity, he is miserable for
want of something to do, and after long
debating, finally resolves on a literary
course — proposing to furnish a publica-
tion * which should throw some light on
the manners of Scotland as they were, and
to contrast them occasionally with such
as are now fashionable in the same coun-
try.' For this purpose, he takes up his
residence in the Canongate, induced by
some tradition of family connection with
the spot 5 and trusts to his own researches,
but mainly to the contributions of his
friends, for filling projected volumes.
Among the acquaintance on whom he pro-
poses to levy contributions, is an elderly
lady, near eighty, indeed, of extraordinary
vigour of intellect, whose personal recol-
lections extend to <l forty-five," and whose
hereditary treasures stretch backward to
another century — giving her the advan-
tage of a cotemporary of long by-gone
days — so much so, that you were as likely
to ask her for anecdotes of Mary or James,
as of the young Pretender. The portrait
of this old lady is a very agreeable one,
and sketched in Sir Walter's happiest and
most discriminating manner — a well-bred
woman of family — no stranger to foreign
manners — retaining some of the stateliness
and formality of Scottish ladies of olden
times, but relieved by some conformity
with modern relaxations. Unluckily she
dies in the midst of the author's projects,
but she leaves him a bundle of written
communications, and from these is ex-
tracted the first tale— called the Highland
Widow.
Touring in the Highlands, the old lady
was shewn a poor woman sitting under an
oak, in stern and deep melancholy, where
she had sat for years — the object of mingled
terror and veneration to her neighbours.
She, it appears, was the widow of a High-
lander> of the old stamp, who thought it a
disgrace to want what could be taken by
force. He finally fell in a marauding ex-
cursion, and left behind him a boy, whom
his fond mother looked forward to as the
successor to his father's hazardous profes-
sion, and the upholder of his fame. The
state and condition of the country, however,
in the meanwhile, rapidly changed, and the
boy, as he grew up, discovered, though his
mother could not, that his father's once
honourable employment had lost something
of its dignity, and he turned a deaf ear to
her exhortations and remonstrances. Per-
severing, however, in her hopes, and perse-
cuting him with her taunts, he at last fled
from her importunities, and enlisted in a
regiment of Highlanders, then raising by
the government for America ; and obtain-
ing a few days furlough, he returned to take
leave of his mother. Like a tigress, she
received the intelligence ; but after the first
storm of passion and upbraiding was over,
and she had exhausted the eloquence which
rage and disappointment prompted, she
cooled ; and appearing to acquiesce in what
seemed irremediable, she cast about for the
means of preventing his return. That re-
turn was fixed under the penalty usually in-
flicted for desertion — to be lashed like a
hound, as the mother phrased it — and the
boy was intent upon returning to the time,
not only from wrath, but for conscience
sake — his honour was pledged. On the eve
of the furlough's expiration, she made him
drink a potion, which laid him asleep two
whole days, and he awoke only to the
wretched conviction, that return was all too
late, and his honour lost. He refused to be
comforted — he refused to escape; he re-
solved to abide the consequences ; and soon
came a Serjeant's guard to arrest him. He
stipulated for exemption from the lash — the
Serjeant could answer for nothing— the
youth had his firelock in his hand— his
mother urged — peril was imminent ; he
fired ; the Serjeant fell — and his compa-
nions disarmed the miserable boy — and he
suffered the fate of a deserter — and a mur-
derer. The violence and energy of a wilful
woman, the author has always delighted to
exhibit — and he never was more successful
than in the Highland widow.
The second tale — one of far inferior in-
terest and inferior execution — is entitled
The Two Drovers. One is a Highlander,
the other a Yorkshireman ; business brings
them frequently together, and, though
nothing congenial exists between them,
mutual interests make them friends. Be-
fore starting with a drove for England, an
old spaewife, his aunt, in a fit of mountain
inspiration, protests against the journey, for
she sees blood upon his hand, and English
blood too— and snatching his knife, refuses
646
Monthly Review of Litertttwe,
[DEC.
to return it. He laughs at her warnings,
but finally consents to put the knife into the
keeping of a friend who is going the same
road, and on the same errand, though not
for some hours after. On arriving at a
place where he and his friend the York-
shireman propose stopping for the night, it
so happens that they hire the same field for
the accommodation of their cattle, one from
the owner, the other from the bailiff. The
Englishman loses temper, on being obliged
to give way, and reproaches the Highlander
with underhand doings. High words en-
sue, and nothing but a turn-up, or set-to,
whatever the boxing phrase is, will satisfy
the Yorkshireman. The Highlander is no
boxer, and has no desire to fight ; but being
still urged and insulted, he proposes the
broadsword. The broadsword is of course
no weapon for a man who confides in his
fist Backed and prompted by the party,
the Yorkshireman at last brands him with
the name of coward, and knocks him down ;
and though the pluck of the Highlander
impels him to return the blow, he proves
no match for his practised opponent. Rest-
less at this defeat and disgrace, he rushes
forth to find the man who possesses his
knife, and recovering it, he flies back to the
inn, calls upon the Yorkshireman to come
forward, and in the presence of the assem-
bled party, plunges it in his bosom. On the
trial, a long rigmarole of subtile distinc-
tion is made by the judge, to shew that the
Italian with his stiletto, and the Highlander
with his knife, are two very different cha-
racters. The one does the deed boldly, the
other secretly. The one advances in front
of his foe, and the other steals upon him.
But the distinction is not worth a rush ; for
the man who was struck, and who stood up
at the assassin's summons, had no appre-
hension of attack — to him the blow was as
unexpected as if it had been given by
stealth — and was, in effect, so given.
These two tales are, indeed, illustrative
of Scottish principles ; but the third, which
occupies the whole of the second volume,
has little to do with them. The author has
ventured to take his people to India— a
country of which he, of course, knows no-
thing but by the reports of his friends, and
the intelligence of books. He has, how-
ever, prudently confined himself to matters
of pretty general notoriety — still something
coming more within his own purview is ex-
pected from such a person as Sir Walter
Scott. We can only glance at the tale of the
Surgeon's Daughter. — A lady, suddenly and
mysteriously introduced to the surgeon,
whose daughter is the heroine, in a small
Scotch town, is delivered at his house of a
child, which, on her recovery, is left in his
charge. He knows nothing of the parties,
but corresponds through a banker with the
lady's supposed father. With the consent
of this grandfather, the boy is brought up
to his protector's profession, though but
little disposed to sit down quietly to a
country practice, or any other humdrum
employment. His ambition has been
awakened, and he is panting for distinc-
tion— the old nurse has fed him with tales
of his possible importance— that though his
father was unknown, he must have been
somebody of eminence, &c. The youth,
however, goes through the usual routine of
probation for his profession, in company
with another young man, of nearly his own
age, both of whom are attached to the sur-
geon's daughter ; but the one of mysterious
birth, who takes the name of Middlemas,
carries her affection. On coming of age,
he receives about 1,000/., and taking leave
of the surgeon, and his lovely daughter,
proposes to go into the world and carve his
own fortunes. He flies immediately to a
young man, whom he had known as a law-
yer's clerk, and who was now a captain in
the East-India Company's army, and crimp-
ing for their service, who prevails upon him
to join the corps — engaging to procure him
a commission. With this person he goes
to the dep6t in the Isle of Wight, where,
plunged in a state of ebriety, he is robbed
and plundered by his friend, and, on coming
to his senses, finds himself in the midst of
scores of miserable and profligate wretches
in the hospital, — from which deplorable
condition he is speedily rescued by Hartley,
his fellow-apprentice at the surgeon's, now
in the Company's service, with the diploma
of M.D., and visiting the hospital officially.
Through his influence with the general, then
commanding, whose children he had saved
in the small-pox, he rescues his friend, and
procures him redress ; and in the course of
the transaction discovers the general and
his wife to be the parents of Middlemas,
who was illegitimately born, and whom he
endeavours to serve from affection for the
surgeon's daughter, rather than motives of
friendship — for they had been very indif-
ferent friends. Though resolved not to
acknowledge his son, from concern for his
wife's honour, the general consents, on the
intreaty of his wife, to an interview, before
his departure for India. In this interview
he makes some remark that cuts the poor
lady to the soul ; she faints — is removed to
her own room — flies for relief to the piano,
and dies, like a swan, in a stream of music
little less than heavenly. Maddened by his
loss, the general — he had had a coup de
soleil in the east — breaks out into bitter re-
proaches against his son— who seems, how-
ever, to care little for reproaches — his whole
mind being absorbed in considering how
he may recover what appear to him to be
his rights. Balked of his purpose, though
impeded by no squeamishness, he sails for
India, and the doctor also. In India, his
insolence and profligacy soon get him into
scrapes ; and he kills his commanding offi-
cer in a duel. He betrays the government,
and enters the service of the native princes,
and finally stipulates for reinstatement to
his rank in the Company's service, by offer-
1827.]
Domestic and Foreign.
647
ing to betray his employers. He has per-
suaded the surgeon's daughter to follow him
to India, and he bargains with Tippoo for
the government of Bangalore, on putting
the beautiful girl into his possession. Hart-
ley discovers the intrigue, and, by command
of Hyder, Middlemas is finally crushed un-
der the paw of an elephant. The young lady
never recovers the shock of her lover's
treachery — Hartley dies in the pursuance of
his vocation — and she returns to her native
country, and plays the Lady Bountiful, with
the means which Hyder had conferred upon
her.
Worthy as much of these volumes is o£
the distinguished writer — surely, surely —
names and prejudices apart — it is mere ex-
travagance to place him at so immense an
interval from all competitors, as many of
our cotemporaries do — half a dozen might
be mentioned as treading close upon his
heels.
MONTHLY THEATRICAL REPORT.
THERE are rumours of fierce attacks on
the Minor theatres. We put no great faith
in these rumours, inasmuch as they have re-
gularly made a part of the menaces of every
season, during the last half-dozen years,
and they have always sunk without effect of
any kind. But what could be more absurd,
than that they should produce any effect ?
Why should the dramatic shillings of any
man be eompellable into the pockets of the
two great Winter theatres ? or, why should
not every man be allowed to use his money,
his time, and himself just as he may please,
Avithin the natural limits of avoiding injury
to others ? We altogether doubt that the
Minor theatres do any injury to the Major.
Their effect upon the population of the
suburbs, in which they chiefly exist, is pro-
bably to produce a theatric turn, which even-
tually directs itself into the treasury of the
great theatres. These Minors are, in fact,
outposts, from which regular communica-
tions are maintained with the two principal
fortresses of the drama : they are colonies,
which are always looking back to the mo-
ther country ; they are ventures on foreign
speculation, which regularly come back, in
one shape or other, to the same market of
Bow-street and Brydges-street. Let the
Leviathans shew anything worth shewing,
and they will have all the gazers crowding
from north, south, east, and west, to see
their gambols. Let them be stupid, and the
dwellers on the Surrey side, the remote in-
habitants of the Minories, and the demi-
civilized of Tottenham-court-road, will stay
within their native regions, and leave the
Leviathans to gambol in solitude.
We doubt the common imputation, that
theatres necessarily increase the vices of a
metropolis. Unfortunately, that increase
depends on matters very little within the
control of human regulation. We must first
extinguish the misery that leads to vice, the
wretched vicissitudes of fortune, in a com-
mercial country ; we must restrict the num-
ber of counting-houses and their clerks, the
large establishments of trade in its lower
branches, the conflux of the young into the
great place of wealth, the crowd of sailors,
the intercourse with foreigners. Without
the slightest idea of palliating popular vice,
it must be obvious that its superflux, in this
immense city, arises from circumstances in-
terwoven with the general state of society ;
incapable of being put down completely by
any magisterial effort; and as little to be ex-
cited by the theatre, as it is to be extin-
guished by the police-office.
But the Minor theatres are undoubtedly
productive of one evil — a degraded taste in
the drama. Their privileges extend to little
more than a permission to produce the most
humble imitations of plays. The general re-
sult is, the race of " Tom and Jerry," the
miserable melo-drames compiled from the
Newgate Calendar, the preposterous foole-
ries of the lowest city life, and the low pic-
ture of the vulgar profligacies of the lower
gaming-houses. We thus have taste humi-
liated and morals offended at the same time;
manners share the degradation ; and the
broad impurity, dull humour, and disgusting
vocabulary of the grossest offenders that
lurk about the skirts of life in the metro-
polis, are made familiar to those who went
to the theatre decent, and ought to come
away unstained.
We dislike the idea of control upon any-
thing connected with literature ; and the
manner in which the present licenser has
exercised his office contrasts so ludicrously
with his own publications, and the notorious
facts of his life, that nothing but disgust can
be felt on the mention of his newly-acquired
zeal. But if a licenser be necessary for any
of our dramatic exhibitions, it is not for the
two great theatres, but for the little ones.
Nothing, for instance, could be more ab-
surd than to see the whole rage of official
morality cutting and slashing away at Mr.
Shee's tragedy, the moment when " Tom
and Jerry" was teaching every apprentice,
from Westminster to Whitechapel, the whole
art and mystery of blackguardism, at six-
pence a head. House-breaking and high-
way-robbery have had their representations
on some of these theatres ; and though the
general purport of the representation is to
shew the ruin that follows such a career,
still the subjects are unfitted for public dis-
play, and may as often excite as repel.
There should unquestionably be an authority
somewhere, to repress those degrading ex-
648
Monthly Theatrical Report.
[DEC.
hibitiona. But, after all, they are only in-
cidental ; and, in nine instances out of ten,
the evening of the London artisan will be
spent more innocently, and even more pro-
ductively, at the suburb theatre than in any
other relaxation offered to him. We much
doubt whether the well-known decrease of
the more atrocious kinds of crime—the street
robberies and murders, which, within me-
Hiory, were the terror of London — is not
strongly connected with the increased fond-
ness for theatres. The artisan who, for a
shilling, can spend his evening in the midst
of music and pleasantry, with an interesting
play going on before him, and in the comfort
and companionship of a modern theatre, is
infinitely better circumstanced for morals,
health, and mental improvement, than the
artisan who spends the same time in the
alehouse, at probably five times the expense.
One of the errors of our English system is
the national want of amusement for the la-
bouring classes ; and the legislator who
should supply this desirable requisite, under
regulations adapted to prevent its inconve-
niences, would render a very valuable ser-
vice to his country.
The activity of Drury Lane has not been
Buffered to go to sleep. That rare thing, a
five-act comedy, has appeared : it is by
Kenny — a very ingenious, practised, and
dexterous artiste of plays. His " Bride at
Fifty" was a capital adaptation. The French
plot was meagre compared fo his fulness,
and witless compared to his gaiety. But a
five-act comedy is a formidable test of
power ; and we may be long before we see
one that will live beyond the first few nights
of public curiosity. There is one obvious
mischief in being able at adaptation — the
writer finds it immeasurably difficult to be
anything else as long as he lives. Even his
dexterity is injurious to his legitimate suc-
cess. The man who has walked long on
crutches finds himself awkward when he
must trust to his legs. Even the supremacy
in these matters of spurious cleverness
sinks and limits the natural powers. The
rope-dancer stumbles on plain ground. The
player of Punch, the more practised he is,
the less he has the chance of ever speaking
with a human voice. The painter turned
copyist, can never draw an original stroke,
while he holds a pencil. To every man who
has an ambition to distinguish himself in
that most captivating style of authorship,
the Drama, we would say, in perfect con-
viction of the fact, Your peril is the French
stage ; never translate ; never adapt ; be
original, or you will be nothing ; draw from
your own breast ; or come at once to the
true and the salutary conclusion — that you
have not the talent essential to the Drama.
In these observations, we mean no offence
to Mr. Kenny, whom we have already named
a* a very dexterous and pleasant writer, to
the extent of his own objects in general ;
but whose dramatic distinction we think
unfortunately curtailed by himself — by the
timidity which will not venture without the
hand of some French Farceur to guide steps,
which would have been stronger and surer
if left to themselves. In the present instance,
we think that he has been betrayed from the
natural path of talent, by attempting to prop
up English humour with French plot ; and
that the Mansarde des Artistesy and a little
Bas-bleu farce, popular in Paris at the time
of the controversy between the " Roman-
tics" and the " Classics," have been laid un-
der heavy contribution. Yet the plot is the
worst part of the play. Sir Gregory Ogle
takes his second wife (a cheesemonger's
widow) and her two daughters to Paris,
where they all become extravagantly accom
plished. Sir Gregory has a nephew, whom
he orders to marry a rich widow, and a
niece who marries without his consent —
and both of whom he treats harshly. But
Sir Gregory has learned, old as he is, the
worse habits of Paris, and pursues a hand-
some fair one, the daughter of an English
painter. Her father is discovered to have
been the husband of the Baronet's sister,
whom also he had treated harshly. The dis-
covery makes him a repentant sinner; he
allows his nephew to marry this pretty girl ;
he forgives his niece, and all is well. This
is nearly all the plot. Yet what can be less
equal to the severe exigencies of a five-
act comedy ? The characters are probably
Mr. Kenny's own, and their conception is a
favourable evidence of his skill. Liston is
a ci-devant English waiter turned into a
man of 50,000 /., rambling through the
coffee-houses of Paris, and performing the
affectations of an idle man of the town ;
yet, without losing his native good-humour.
He acts as a kind of Paul Pry, and is the
general maker-up of matters through the
piece; he frightens the Baronet into hu-
manity by a disclosure ; terrifies her lady-
ship into humility, by declaring that he
knew her as cook to an alderman, &c. He
laughs at all, and with all ; and, with no ap-
parent misprise of his own in the action of
the play, is every thing, and every where.
The blue-stocking portion rather disap-
pointed the audience. Her ladyship was too
vulgar in her manners, and too tawdry in
her dress ; her daughters neither said nor
did anything of interest ; and the dialogue
was feeble. Yet some pleasant hits were
made from time to time ; as when a lady
was mentioned to be so great a bine, that
she might have come from an university, a
French count says, " she is one of the ' Ox-
ford Blues.' "
The pathetic portions of the play were al-
lotted to Miss E. Tree, as the painter's
daughter, who thinks herself abandoned by
Sir Gregory's nephew. Some of the recita-
tion—for it was chiefly soliloquy — was elo-
quent ; and it was delivered with very for-
cible effect by this clever actress, who cer-
tainly exerted herself to the utmost, and
was of much service to the play. But there
were, in fact, but three characters in the
1827.]
Monthly Theatrical Rtpnrf.
entire—this heroine, Listen's part, and her
Ladyship. Mrs. Davison, Wallack, Cooper,
and'Russel were cyphers. The passion for
marriage at the close would have terrified
Malthus : out of his eleven characters, five
couple paired off as man and wife !
But there is a general disqualification
about this play- The chief characters are
unnecessarily taken from vulgar life. The
rage of the day is too much in this style.
Our leading novelists look for their principal
interest in the conversation of clowns, beg-
gars, thieves, and gipsies. This taste is in-
judicious. There may be occasional force
in the headlong language of vulgar life ;
and nature may sometimes speak touchingly
in the rude simplicity of the peasant : but
the true interest is to be found only in the
more cultivated ranks. The educated mind
is not merely more graceful, but more ac-
tive—not merely more remote from the of-
fence of rude language, than from the dul-
ness, clumsiness, and want of dexterity that
characterizes the peasant-understanding.
The Scotch novels labour to display the
shrewdness of the rustic and the mendicant ;
and, undoubtedly, they both possess occa-
sional ingenuity. But the true interest, in
all instances, depends upon the movements
and impressions of the more educated agents
of the story.
Among our permanent plays, there is not
one, in which the interest is connected with
low life, except the " Beggars Opera;" and
there the characters are redeemed by their
being the close imitators of the higher life.
Macheath \s language is that of a rake, but
of the first rank of life in his day : it is
dexterouSj pungent, and vigorous. Polly's
language is in general as delicate and pa-
thetic as probably was to be found in the
fancy of Gay — a man accustomed to courts.
The decidedly vulgar scenes have been long
since rejected by the public.
The introduction of vulgarity into Mor-
ton's, Reynolds's, and Colman's comedies,
has always so far lowered their value ; and
the " push on, keep moving !" and other
similar phrases, have actually, instead of
sustaining their popularity, almost wholly
expelled them from the stage. Their higher
manners are humiliated by the connexion,
their pleasantries are dulled, and their ge-
neral truth of character is made more than
questionable by the perpetual labour to raise
rabble laughter.
The most diligently-wrought personage in
Mr. Kenny's comedy is undone by this vul-
garity. That the author could have well
depicted a gentleman, and that Listen could
have sustained the character, are equally
clear. The error is intentional ; and thus,
for the principal character of the play, we
have a waiter at a London coffee-house,
rambling through the gaming-tables at
Paris, and dispensing the triple slang of the
kitchen, the stable, and the hell. And yet
this is to be the benevolent man of the
piece, the detector of crime, the protector of
JVI.M. New Series.— VOL. IV. No, 2-1.
innocence, the remembrancer and ehastiser
of absurdity ! And this is done by one ut-
tering the phrases of the gin-shop and the
night-cellar — the " No go!" the" DOINC-
UP!" the " Gammon!" and a whole voca-
bulary of the same repulsive kind
The blue-stocking mother has been a
cook-maid, who married a cheesemonger,
and whose language is as conformable to
her early career, as it is unpleasant to
the taste of the audience. The result is
failure; for such characters, though they
may be tolerated on the stage, can never
arrive at favouritism. In fact, 'this play,
with a great deal of comic materiel, and
with more vigour of dialogue than we have
been accustomed to meet in modern comr
position, has been undone by the author's
misconception of the source of popularity.
Let him henceforth keep the vulgar for his
footmen, if he will ; but, as he values suc-
cess, let him exclude it from the leading
characters of his drama. We hope to see
the ingenious author exerting himself long
and often upon the field, the neglected but
most fertile and pleasant field, of Comedy.
Co VENT GARDEN — a theatre to which the
public have been indebted, many a year, for
some of the finest exhibitions of the stage —
has at length put forth all its vigour in an
Opera, " The Seraglio." The music is
Mozart's, and the translation or adaptation
is very well done. The plot has the sim-
plicity of opera. An Italian fair one has
been captured by a galley of Cyprus, and
sent to the harem of the Pasha, who falls
furiously in love with her. But she had left
a lover in Italy, who follows her, disgtiised
as a painter. He meets a former valet of
his, now a slave in the Pasha's gardens.
They form a plan for the lady's escape. The
parties are arrested in their flight ; and the
Pasha is about to proceed to the height of
Turkish indignation, when he discovers, by
a bracelet, of which the lady has the coun-
terpart, that she is his sister — he having
been stolen in infancy from Christendom.
The rest of the characters are made up
of Greek dancers, odalisques, an Irish sur-
geon of a man-of-war, and Madame Vestris,
with whom the Doctor is in love in every
shape of blunder. The dialogue in general
was pleasant, and some of the Irishman's
absurdities were amusing. Warde was the
Pasha, and was formidably overloaded with
sentiment. This, however, was no fault of
his ; and he always plays and looks like a
gentleman.
When the music is declared to be Mo-
zart's, criticism is almost silenced ; for
what can modern taste dare to question iu
the Shakspeare of music ? Yet, even Mozart
had his lapses ; and we must think that
this is one of them. The history of the
composition may account for the failure. It
was among his first experiments on any
striking scale; it was for the. Gorman taste
of a day, when that taste was remarkable for
heaviness, and it was before Mozart h'ud
4 O
6,50
Month/y Theatrical Report.
[DEC.
formed the style which has given him such
distinguished celebrity. It was highly po-
pular, in its day, we will allow ; but its po-
pularity chiefly arose from the novelty of
bringing the whole force of the German or-
chestra into the accompaniment. Mozart
triumphed by this new auxiliary ; but, in his
future pieces, he looked to the surer source
of fine melodies, and has, in consequence,
retained a rank upon the stage, which other-
wise would have perished with the first ho-
nours of the " Seraglio."
With a vast quantity of rich accompani-
ment, and laborious composition, we doubt
whether the opera contains a single air
which an English audience would ever de-
sire to hear. But one was encored on the
first night, a little melody sung by Madame
Vestris, and indebted for its fortune solely
to the acting of this ingenious performer.
But we are glad to see managers looking to
Germany : the school is rich in fine compo-
sition. There are a hundred operas in the
German library, not one of which has been
known here, but which would, with a cer-
tain adaptation, be highly popular. But that
adaptation is necessary. A few graceful
airs, added from our English stores, to the
" Seraglio," would have given it a spirit
which it entirely wants, and have probably
gone far to insure its permanent success
upon our stage. This may not be too late
yet ; and the experiment is well worth being
made.
The scenery and general equipment of the
opera deserve peculiar praise. Four or five
of the scenes were equal to any work of the
pencil that we remember in theatres. Bold,
simple, and picturesque, they united beauty
of design with vigour of execution, in a sin-
gular and admirable degree. The first
scene, the Ruins of the Temple of Bacchus,
is magnificent ; the pellucid water, the wild
abruptness of the mountain above, the rich
and time-coloured beauty of the mouldering
columns and statuary, are perfect. If the
design could be transferred with equal effect
to canvass, we know no price that would be
beyond its value. The seraglio garden,
with an ancient fort in the background ;
and the scene of an amphitheatre in ruins, a
bold and broken view of island landscape,
combined with fine architectural remains,
deserve similar praise. The concluding-
scene, the Pasha's palace and grounds, if
brilliant, but less to our taste. Its architec-
ture is Indian, or Babylonish, not Greek ;
and the gaudiness of the colour, the quantity
of gilding, and the superabundant bright-
ness of the light, are overpowering. The
first scene, for us, carries off the palm— if it
be not rivalled by the amphitheatre. We
congratulate Covent Garden on having thus
re-asserted its old claim to fine embellish-
ment. The processions, dances, and cho-
russes, were excellent. A festival of Bac-
chus, by torchlight, was perfectly classic ;
and the sailing in of the Pasha's gondola
was one of the most showy exhibitions of
the stage. The house was crowded, and the
opera was applauded to the conclusion.
Giving due credit to managers for having
done so much, we must still ask why they
have so far forgotten the old sources of po-
pularity, as not to take advantage of public
events ? In the late war, the stage reflected
the Gazette, and every Briti-h exploit was
presented to the public eye with the vivid-
ness that nothing but the stage can give.
From the capture of a fleet to the cutting
out of a frigate, was commemorated ; and
nothing could have been at once more at-
tractive to a British audience, more gratify-
ing to the heroic doers of the deed, or, in a
higher sense, more suitable and congenial
to the manly spirit of the nation. Yet a
great battle has been fought by the favourite
arm of England, a victory gained, whose
consequences may be of the most pregnant
import to Europe ; a bloody, base, and ma-
lignant persecutor taught to feel that mas-
sacre must have its punishment; and a
Christian people, the most interesting from
old recollections, the most unhappy from
remorseless slavery, and the most meri-
torious from desperate risks and unwearied
resistance under all disasters, of any people
on whom the sun shines— the Greek na-
tion protected by the shield of England — the
first of the ancient lands of freedom lifted
up in its wounds and chains, by the first of
the modern empires, in which freedom is
the living principle. Yet Navarino has
passed by without an attempt at its celebra-
tion. This argues badly at once for the
taste, the public tact, and the activity of both
houses. We hope the stigma will not be
left to the suburb stage to remove.
PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.
DOMESTIC.
SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES.
This society resumed its meetings on
Thursday the fifteenth instant ; but the only
circumstance worthy of notice that occurred,
was a proposal for giving an addition to the
salary of one of the secretaries, for editing-
its publications. Now, as we have been in-
duced to pay attention to the proceedings of
this fraternity, in consequence of some re-
cent exposures of the ridiculous manner
in which it is conducted, the prostitution of
its funds, and the total neglect of the ob-
jects for which it was formed, we are deci-
dedly of opinion that, instead of rewarding
the editor of such frivolous articles, all
who are in any way concerned in pro-
1827.]
Proceedings of Learned Societies.
651
ducing them, ought to be made responsible
for the payment of the paper and type
which have been wasted on the occasion.
More absurd speculations, it was never
our lot to meet with ; and our sur-
prise was considerable on turning to the list
of its members, to perceive the names of
men among them, who are really distin-
guished by their historical attainments. If,
however, the statements in the Westminster
and Retrospective Reviews may be relied
upon, the cause of the worthlessness of the
transactions of the Society, is explained, by
the selections which are made for its
councils, which, it appears, are consti-
tuted of merchants, instead of antiquaries ;
and music-masters, instead of historians ;
nor are the officers more conspicuous in
the republic of letters. Its president is an
— earl ; its vice-presidents, excepting Mr.
Hallatn, are unknown by their works ; its
treasurer is a registrer of slaves ; its direc-
tor is an attorney; and only one of its
secretaries is possessed of any other literary
reputation than belongs to a dull compiler
of the dullest of all compilations.
The result is what might be expected : its
intellectual members are disgusted : its stupid
ones — and we fear they preponderate — are
indifferent, or perhaps worse ; and the ma-
nagement of the society's affairs is conse-
quently left to an oligarchy, possessed neither
of talents nor judgment. The host of ob-
jects— the translation of early chronicles,
the publication of valuable MSS., for exam-
ple, upon which its revenues might be em-
ployed to advantage, are neglected; and
every other proper subject for its attention
is equally forgotten. The Society has thus
fallen into a state of imbecility, from which
nothing short of an absolute change in its
government can recover it.
Fully estimating the services which such
an institution might render to historical
literature, we rejoice that the press has at
length pointed out the abuses by which it is
degraded ; and, through its agency, we hope
that the members will be induced to remove
them. They have the power ; and we dare
not libel them by supposing that they have
not the inclination to use it for so important
an object : or, will they continue to allow
the F.S.A., which they affix to their names,
to be a mark of derision ; their weekly
meetings to be as vapid as the tea-table of a
village gossip ; and their lucubrations to be
less distinguished by genius or learning,
than the worst of the Leadenhall-street
novels ?
FOREIGN.
INSTITUTE — ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.
Paris. — August 20, 1827. — M. Arago gave
an account of the experiments which he had
made on steam-engines, in conjunction with
M. Dulong. He also read a letter from M.
Pons, announcing the discovery of a new
comet. — M. M. de Mirbel and Cassini made
a report on the paper of M. Turpin, con-
taining observations on the organization and
re-production of the truffle, and remarks
on the theory of the organization of
vegetables in general. — 27. Colonel
Bory-de - Saint -Vincent presented a mo-
nographic essay on certain animalcula,
to the academy. — M. Chevreul read the
report of a committee upon the process of
dyeing in blue, communicated by M. Ra-
tienville, jun. — September 3. M. F. Cuvier
made a verbal report on a work of M.Dege-
rando, on the education of the deaf and
dumb. — M. Journal, jun., a physician at
Narbonne, announced the discoveiy of seve-
ral caverns, containing fossil bones, in the
neighbourhood of Bise. — M. M. Dumeril and
Majendie reported on a paper of M. Vel-
peau, on the human ovum — M. M. Chevreul,
Gay-Lussac, and Dulong, made their report
on the memoirs of M. Serullas, relative to
the combination of chlorine and cyanogen,
or cyanuret of chlorine and bromate of sele-
nium.— M. Cauchy read a memoir on the
determination of the series of Lagrange by
a definite integral ; in another memoir, he
determines the law of convergence of the
series of Lagrange, and others of the same
nature, and proves that the convergence de-
pends in all cases on the resolution of a
transendental equation. — M. de Blainville
made a verbal communication respecting
the organization of a species of terebra-
tulae. — M. M. Biot, Gay-Lussac, Poisson, and
Navier, made their repoi't on a memoir of
M. Clement-Desormes, relating to an effect
observed in the escape of elastic fluids, and
of the accidents to which safety-valves are
liable. — 17. M. Raspail announced, that he
had discovered in the subterraneous logs of
typha, a fecula, possessing very peculiar
characters, which he details. — M. Poinsot
read a memoir on the composition of mecha-
nical forces. — M. Girard made a verbal re-
port on a geographical and hydrographical
essay on Egypt, dedicated to the King of
France, by M. M. Segato and Masi, of Leg-
horn.— M. Moreau de Jonnes made a com-
munication on the phenomena which re-
cently occurred at the Antilles, at the time
of the earthquake, which was felt at Mar-
tinique on the 3d of June last,
4 O 2
List of New
[DEC.
WORKS IN THE TRESS.
A u-*w edition of " The Adventures of
Nanfragus," is in (he press. We are happy
to learn (hat the publicity which this work
has gained for the author — a publicity which
ws \v.jre the first to contribute to — has induced
the Director of the East India Company to
p!ac? him on their establishment.
The " Sianley Tales," Part I, Second
Series, with considerable improvements, and
beautifully illustrated, is in the press.
The Authoress of " Stanmore" has an-
nounced her intention of publishing a new
Novel, to be called " Cuthbert ;?' it will ap-
pear early in January.
A Summary of the Laws relati ng to the
Government and Maintenance of the Poor.
By Sir Gregory A. Lewin, of the Middle
Temple, Barrister at Law.
Sunday Evening Discourses ; or, a Com-
pendious System of Scriptural Divinity ; for
the Use of Households. By the Rev. Richard
"Warner. In 2 vols. I2mo.
Mr. Canning's Parliamentary Speeches will
be forthcoming in December. The delay in
their publication has been occasioned solely
by the preparation of the Memoir and Por-
trait which are to accompany them.
The Subaltern's Log Book, including
Anecdotes of well-known Military Charac-
ters, in 2 vols. post 8vo., is announced as
nearly ready.
A Discourse on the Poor Laws of Eng-
land and Scotland, on the State of the Poor
of Ireland, and on Emigration, by George
Strickland, Esq., is in the press.
The Lady's Monitor, or Letters and Essays
on Conduct, Morals, Religion, &c. addressed
to Young Ladies, by Lady Jaue Grey, Queen
Katharine, <fec. <fec.
Journal of Morbid Anatomy, or Researches
Physiological, Pathological, and Therapeu-
tic. By J. R. Farre, M.D. The first num-
ber to appear early in 1828.
Posthumous Papers, facetious and fanci-
ful, of a Person lately about Towu, will be
published in a few days.
A Translation from the German of Madame
Pichler's new Historical Romance, entitled,
the Swedes in Prague.
Lieutenant Siboon announces a Practical
Treatise on Topographical Surveying and
Drawing, with Instructions for Topographi-
cal Modelling, or the Art of representing the
Surface of the Country in relief.
A short series of Popular Lectures on the
Steam Engine, by Dr. Lardner, the Pro-
fessor of Mechanical Philosophy in the New
University, is announced for publication.
Parts II. and III. of the Dictionary of
Anatomy and Physiology. Hy H. Dew-
hurst, Esq. F.A S. Lecturer on Anatomy,
&c.
A Treatise on the General Principles,
Powers, and Facility of Application of the
Congreve Rocket System, as compared with
Artillery: shewing the various Applications
of this Weapon, both for Sea arufLand Ser-
vice, and its diflVrent Uses in the Field and1
in Sieges. Illustrated by It, plates. By
Major-General Sir W. Congreve, Bart. 4to.
the White Hoods: an Historical Ro-
mance. By A. E. Bray, late Mrs. C.
Stothard, Author of " De Foix," " Letters
Written during a Tour through Normandy
and Brittany," <fec. In 3 vols.
" Coming Out," and « The Field of Forty
Footsteps;" Novel?. By the Miss Porters.
In 3 vols. 12mo.
Researches into the Origin and Affinity
of the principal Languages of Asia and
Europe. By Lieutenant-Colonel Vans Ken-
nedy, of the Bombay Military Establishment.
4to, with plates.
BibKogtnpbtan Cantabrigiensia ; or, Re-
marks upon the most valuable and curious
Book Rarities in the University of Cam-
bridge. Illustrated by original Letters and
Notes, Biographical, Literary, and Antiqua-
rian.
Physiological Illustrations of the Organ
of Hearing. By T. Buchanan, C.M. Royal
Svo,
A. new Volume of Tales, by the Author
of " May You Like It," is in the press, and
will appear before Christmas.
An Historical, Antiquarian, and Pictu-
resque Account of Kirkstall Abbey. Em-
bellished with Engravings from original
Drawings, by W. Mulieady and C. Cope.
In post Svo.
The following works are in the press, by
the Rev. James Hinton. A.M and George
Cox, of the Classical School at Oxford :
1. First Steps to the Latin Classics ; com-
prising Simple Sentences, arranged in a pro-
gressive Series, with directions for Constru-
ing, and a literal interlinear translation.
2. Parsing Lessons , containing the Gram-
matical and Syntactical Parsing of every
Word in the " First Steps to the Latin
Classics." In two parts.
3. Easy Roman Histories, abridged from
Classical Authors, with directions for Con-
struing, and an Appendix, as a Companion
to the " First Steps to the Latin Classics."
4. A Complete Vocabulary of all the
Words which occur in the " Easy Roman
Histories," in which the words employed
with unusual meanings are pointed out by
a distinct reference.
The Process of Historical Proof Explained
and Exemplified ; to which are subjoined,
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MONTHLY MEDICAL REPORT.
THE excessive dampness of the atmosphere that prevailed during the early part of the
period comprised in the present Report, together with the sharp frosts that have taken
place more recently, have combined to spread through the metropolis an unusual number
of those slighter febrile affections, popularly denominated colds. They have appeared un-
der the several shapes of catarrh, bronchitis, hoarseness, flying pains of the limbs, lum-
bago, and swellings of the submaxillary glands . Nor have the several kinds of disease
attributable to the same source been wanting. Cynanche tonsillaris, pleurisy, peripneu-
mony, and acute rheumatism have been, and still continue, very general ; but, as far as
the Reporter's observation extends, they have not proved particularly severe in those whose
previous health was good. A few days have usually sufficed, in such habits, for the per-
fect restoration of health. The approach of winter, however, has had far different results
in a different class of persons ; — in those, to wit, who had been occasionally suffering,
during the summer months, from cough and spitting — in those far advanced in life — and,
generally, in all whose state of bodily health had been, through any cause, previously
enfeebled ; the raw cold and fog of the last month have tried the constitutions of such
persons most severely. Many have already sunk under their baneful influence. Some are
now lingering, with scarce a prospect of amendment ; while to others the best-directed
exertions of art can scarcely hold out any other hope than than that of the temporary alle-
viation of pain. The comparative superiority of a cold and frosty air over that of a moist
one, in promoting the health and vigour of the human frame, has been strongly exemplified
in the course of the last month. Many individuals, oppressed in their breathing, and so
feeble, during the damp days that prevailed in the first fortnight of November, as
scarcely to be able to leave their rooms, have, since the setting-in of the frost, recovered
their voice, and improved in strength and hope.
Typhus fever has considerably diminished. The cases of this complaint that now occur
are not only fewer in number, but milder in kind. The Reporter, indeed, has met with
a considerable number of cases, within the last six weeks, of a disorder which the old author •
1827.] Monihly Medical Report.
would have called febris erratica. This complaint has been characterized by occasional
attacks of chilliness and shivering, not recurring at any fixed periods, general weakness,
pains of the limbs, palpitation, loss of appetite, with perhaps thirst and scanty secretions.
Most of these persons were able to follow up, in some degree, their ordinary employ-
ments. In many instances, the disorder had been allowed to creep on for several weeks
before medical assistance was requested. The Reporter found that, with few exceptions,
all medicines of an evacuating kind aggravated this disease, and protracted a cure, which,
under the free administration of sulphate of guinine and aether, was rapidly and with
great certainty effected. The Reporter, in the course of his medical experience in the
metropolis, never remembers meeting with so large a number of consecutive cases of fever
not traceable to malaria, to the throwing off of which tonic remedies appeared to be so
decidedly indispensable.
Among the younger branches of the community, measles seems to be the most preva-
lent disorder. Scarlet fever is also occasionally met with ; but, as far as the Reporter can
ascertain, there is nothing peculiar in the symptoms or severe in the character of these
affections, as they at present occur. In weakly and scrofulous children, they have some-
times proved fatal ; but, for the most part, they have run a mild and favourable course.
Small-pox is less frequent than it has been for several months past.
Looking back upon the medical history of the metropolis for the two past years, the
Reporter is strongly impressed with the feeling of its comparative healthiness. In all situa-
tions, a certain portion of sickness is to be anticipated ; and where might we so reasonably
expect that sickness would prevail, in its extremes of extent and severity, as where
upwards of a million of human beings are collected together ? The atmosphere, tainted by
the breath, is loaded at the same time with the pernicious exhalations of innumerable fires ;
while the height of the houses, and the closeness of the streets, offer obstacles apparently
insuperable to its due purification. When we reflect upon this, and upon a multitude of
other sources of disease, which seem almost of necessity to connect themselves with the
circumstances of a large city, it is wonderful in how great a degree the health of the inha-
bitants of London is preserved. Much is doubtless attributable to the excellence of the
municipal regulations, to the ample supply of water, to the depth and universality of the
sewers, and to the careful cleansing of the streets. But the great secret is to be found in
the habits of the lower orders. They feel and prize the comforts of life, and they spare on
efforts of industry to acquire them. Cleanliness pervades their habitations ; their diet is
far superior to that of a similar class of persons in the country ; their children are better
clothed. These advantages compensate the inhabitants of the metropolis for the want of
the pure breezes and open fields, which would otherwise give to their brethren in rural
life so decided a superiority. As it is, the chances of life are pretty nearly alike in town
and country ; and if the hourly temptations of the gin-shop, which lead so many to their
destruction, could but be avoided, they might perhaps actually be found in favour of the
inhabitants of London.
GEORGE GREGORY, M.D.
8, Upper John Street, Golden Square, Nov. 24, 1827.
MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
WITH the month of November, of course the wheat-seed season concludes ; and, taking
it generally, the present may be said to have been finished under as happy auspices, whe-
ther in regard to the state of the atmosphere, of the lands, or of the necessary agricultural
forces to be put in operation, as any which have preceded it. Partial and temporary inter-
ruptions there doubtless have been, among which the most considerable was that deluge of
rain which fell several weeks since, and by which the low grounds exposed to it were
rendered a mere bog. The evaporation which afterwards took place has reclaimed a part ;
leaving yet a considerable breadth, the seeding which with wheat must be an obvious risk.
On some of those lands, already sown, great part of the young wheats were completely
washed out of the ground ; yet too much was left for it to be easy to decide on ploughing
up the crop. In this case, surely it must be eligible to re-seed the bare patches ; a practice,
nevertheless, we believe, much oftener talked of than really executed. The latter diggings
of the potatoe have turned up successfully, over the three kingdoms ; completing a crop of
that universal root, great beyond expectation, both in quantity and quality. We have thus
secured a crop of bread corn, of second bread, and of malt corn, fully sufficient for the sup-
port of the whole population ; and if, in the ensuing season, such complaints should exist,
as a want of bread and beer for those who duly earn them by their labour, the calamity
must arise from a very different cause to that of scarcity.
The vast 'crop of autumnal grass, superior also as it has proved, in quality, to fog," in
most years, will no doubt incline the farmer to keep his live stock abroad to a late period
of the present season. This advantage, together with the ample provision of winter and
early spring food, which has been generally made, in a proportion, indeed, beyond that of
655 Monthly Agricultural Report. [DKC.
any preceding year, will render winter feeding of cattle of all kinds, both a comfortable and
profitable occupation, the public at large having its due share of the benefits. The turnip
crop, in the aggregate, is far greater and of better quality, than could, in months past, have
possibly been hoped and expected of it ; on the best lands it appears to equal that of the most
fruitful years. The Swedes which we have gone over, are of high promise ; but considering
the superior quality of that root, we have always regretted the comparative smallness of
the quantity cultivated. To those who can remember the original aversion of our farmers
to the very name of the ' wuzzelly-fuzzelly ' root, and the constant ridicule they poured on
all those who attempted to introduce it, it is pleasant to remark the change of opinion and
practice of themselves or their successors. The culture of mangel (mangold} wurtzel
has, at length, become the fancy, or hobby-horsical culture of the day ; with an admirable
concomitant, which, truly, we were not sanguine enough to expect — that of drawing and
storing \\\c roots : for, be it known, that the difficulty has been equally great to induce a
farmer to be at the profitable labour and expense of drawing and storing his roots, as to
persuade him to cultivate the cramp-named beet. Three score years past, and during the
prevalence of the Tullian husbandry, our superior stock feeders, invariably, in winter
stored their turnips ; and, at that period, various articles were in profitable culture, of
which the very names have long since vanished from the country, the GOLDEN CKOP shut-
ting out all intruders. It will not be always so.
The late change, from an extremely mild temperature, to frost of a considerable degree
of severity, will have a favourable effect in checking the too great luxuriance of the early
sown and forward wheats, and of impeding the operations of the slug and grub, which,
during their element, warmth and moisture, had already made, alarming havoc. Winter
tares, of which there never was a greater breadth in the country, cover the land well, and
have a most luxuriant appearance. Live stock, of every description, is in full autumnal
plenty, and, by consequence, somewhat lower in price, fat things included ; yet every thing,
fat or store, which is really good, meets a ready sale, more especially milch cows, in-calvers,
and pigs. Some considerable time must pass ere flesh meat can be cheap. Good cart
horses and cart colts find great prices, which must continue to be the case with good
horses of eveiy description, unless the present steam speculations for road carriage should
really take effect. The roads, Macadamized by our unfortunate ex-labourers, were never
before in so fine a condition. Great errors have been committed, indeed of the most ca-
lamitous and fatal tendency, on the subject of the labourers in husbandry. Perpetual
complaints are afloat cf the inequality of price in all agricultural produce, as a remunera-
tion to the grower ; on the other hand, the complaints of the consumer are equally loud
on the exorbitant price of all articles of the first necessity. On the whole, prices, however
inadequate, certainly bear a considerable figure, all circumstances, present and prospective,
considered. The squabbling and contention in the country, between buyer and seller, on
the scor^'of new and old measure, is almost as rational as legislation without compulsion.
It is not quite clear that any difference can result whether the corn be sold by the Impe-
rial or Winchester bushel, since the price must necessarily follow the bushel. By the
quantity of cold and rough handed wheats thrown upon the markets, it would seem that
the fine and dry, of which the quantity must have been great, are generally held. The
government and the maltsters having settled their affair amicably, and the latter appearing
in no great haste to commence for the season, argue any thing rather than a defective
stock of malt. There has been a considerable movement in the wool trade, but no great
advance of price — an advantage, under present circumstances, not to be expected. Manu-
factures are reviving in all quarters. The crime of horse-stealing, through sufferance, has
actually become a settled trading concern in the country; and, but for its deplorable nature
and consequences, our apathy and tolerance would form a proper subject of ridicule.
Smithfield.—Beef, 3s. to 4s. 10d.— Mutton, 3s. to 4s. 8d.— Veal, 4s. to 6s.— Pork, 4s. 6d.
(Dairy). -Raw fat, -2s. 6£d.
Corn Exchange. — Wheat 42s. to 61s. — Barley, 27s. to 36s.— Oats, 18s. to 34.«. —
Bread, 9d. the 4 lb. loaf.— Hay, 70s. to 105s.— Clover 90s. to 125s.— Straw, 28s.
to 36s.
Coals in the Pool, 31s. to 40s. 6d, per chaldron.
Middlesex; Nov. 23, 1827.
MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.
Sugar. — The demand for Muscavadoes continues steady aud considerable. The averag*
of daily sales is 800 hogsheads, and prices are fully supported. The stock of Sugar to-day
is 15,930 hogsheads and tuns less than at the same period of time last yenr. The Refined
market has become rather hea\y at the closa.
1827.]
Monthly Commercial Report.
657
Rum. — A parcel of St. Lucias sold at 2s. 8d. per gallon ; and Jamaica Rums have been
steady, and in good demand :— but Brandy and Hollands without any alteration since our
last Report.
Jlcmpy Flux, and Tallow.— By letters from Petersburg, dated the 28th, Tallow was at
96 to 98 roubles, and exchange at IQ^d. per rouble.
Cotton.— The demand for Cotton still continues very dull, and a further decline of a
farthing to a halfpenny per Ib. in the Liverpool market has taken place.
Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 3. — Rotterdam, 12. 2.— Antwerp,
12. 4. — Hamburgh, 36. 8.— Altona, 36. 9. — -Petersburg, lOd. rouble. — Frankfort, 13£.
—Paris, 25. 35. — Bordeaux, 25. 60.— Madrid, 35$. — Barcelona, 34|.— Seville, 35. —
Gibraltar, hard dollars, 46.— Leghorn, 4. — Rio Janeiro, 34. — Bahia, 40. — Lisbon, 47^-. —
Oporto, 47i. Dublin, ]i.— Cork, 1*.— Calcutta, 22$— Madras, 21. — Bombay, 20.
Bullion per Oz. — Portugal Gold in Coin, £3. 17s. 6d. — In bars, £3. 17s. 6d.— Dou-
bloons, 3/. HsjNevi Dollars, 4s. 10.
Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint- Stock Companies, at the Office of WOLFE
BROTHERS, 23, Change A '.ley, CornhilL— Birmingham CANAL, 3Q3/.— Coventry, 12507. —
Ellesmereand Chester, 113/. — Grand Junction, 3 JO/. — Kennel and Avon, 29L 5s.-- Leeds
and Liverpool, 395/. —Oxford, 720?. — Regent's, 28/. — Trent and Mersey, 850/.
— Warwick and Birmingham, 300/. — London DOCKS, 921. — West-India, 209/. Oa.—
East London WATER WORKS, 125/. — Grand Junction, 651. — West Middlesex, 73/. —
Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE.— 1J2 dis. — Globe 15J/. — Guardian, 21\l. —
Hope, 51.— Imperial Fire, 97£/.— GAS-LIOHT, Westmin. Chartered Company, 55£/.— City
Gas-Light Company, 167^.-— British, 11 dis.- Leeds, 195/.
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 22d of October
and the 22d of November 1827 ; extracted from the London Gazette.
BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.
Duval, P, jun., Minories, carpenter
Leigh, J Blue-ancbor-road, Bermondsey, engineer
Richards, W. Fiiehead Magdalen, Dorsetshire,
dealer
Robinson, T. Porter-street, Newport-market, up-
holsterer
BANKRUPTCIES. [This Month 116.]
Solicitors' JVames are in Brackets*
Alfrey, W. Ironmonger-lane, Cheapside, woollen-
draper. [Matanle, Bond-court, Walbrook
Austin D. Cottaffe-grove, Mile-end Old town.brick-
. maker. [Hutchinson, Crown-court, Thread-
needle -street
Anderson, W.Waterloo-place. Pall Mall, booksel-
ler. [Francis, New Boswell-court
Acton, T. Holton, Cheshire, innkeeper. [Potts and
Co., Chester
Alderson, G. Ferry-bridge, Yorkshire, coach pro-
prietor. [Coleman, Pontefract ; Gregory, Cle—
ment's-inn
Atkinson, R. St. Paul's Church-yard, linen-dra-
draper. [Green and Ashurst, Sambrook-court,
Basinghall-street
Acton, J. Ipswich, maltster. [Norton and Chap-
lin, Gray's-inn
Bramwell, W. Eybury-street, Pimlico, wine-mer-
chant. [Cranch, Union-court, Broad-street
Biikhead, J. P Watlington, apothecary. [James,
Ely-place ; Cook. Watlington
Brown, J. L. Milsom-street, Bath, draper. [Green
and Co., Sambrook-court, Basinghall street.
Barnard, I. Leman-street, Goodman's-tields, jew-
eller. [Reilly, Clement's-inn
Bidmend, J. Cbeltenham, plumber. [King, Ser-
geanfs-inn ; Chadborn, Gloucester
BirketN W. Whitehaven, grocer. [Helder, Cle-
ment's-inn : Walker, Whitehaven
Bullock, E. Bath, haberdasher. [Clowes and Co.,
3U1. JVar Sei-tce.-*- VOL.. IV. No. 24.
King's-bench-walk, Temple; Hardy and Co.,
Bath
Barber, R. Upper Clapton, plumber. [Dicas,
Pope's-head-alley,CornhiIl
Bremer, J. C. Somerset-place, New-road, White-
chapel, merchant. [Freeman and Co., Coleman-
street
Brcwn, J. H. Duke-street, Manchester-square,
chemist. [White and Co., New-square, Lin-
coln's-inn
Baeyettz, F. Bread -street - mews, merchant,
[ 1'owne, Crown court, Tlireadncedle-street
Carter, A.Crosby-row, Walworth, baker. [Kiss,
Gloucester-buildings, Walworth
Cull, J. Portsmouth, maltster. [Bogue and Co,,
Raymond's-buildings, Gray's-inn
Copeland, W. Sheffield, surgeon. [Capes, Ray-
mond's-buildings, Gray's inn : Hardy, Sheffield
Copley, G. Wakefield, Yorkshire, linen-draper.
[Coleman, Pontefract; Gregory, Clement's-inn
Cooper, W.. Cheltenham, music-seller. [Vizard
and Co., Lincolu's-inn fields ; Pruen and (Jo.,
Cheltenham
Cheese., J., J. R. Gordon, and W. Low, late of
Red-lion-court, Fleet-street, printers. [Watson
and Co., Bouverie-street, Strand
Grossman, T. Bristol, victualler. [Jones, Crosby-
square ; Sannders, Bristol
Creese, W. Gloucester, innkeeper. £King, Ser-
jeant's-inn ; Abell and Clutterbuek, Gloucester
Cooper, W. H. Cannon-row, Westminster, dealer
in Roman cement. [Oriel and Leader, Worm-
wood-street, Bis hopsgate-sr reel
Darby, E. Arabella-row, Pimlico, oil and colour-
man. [Hodgson and Co., Salisbury-street
Duncan, E. and W. Brecon and Merthyr Tidlil.,
mercers. [ Bold and Co., Brecon ; Bickaeli and
Co., New-square, Lincoln's-inn
Dullman, C. Regent-street, Mary-le-bone, Effst
India shawl-waivhouseman. [Bailey,
street, Oxford-street
4 P
658
Bankrupts.
[DEC
l>atrson» R. Liverpool, merchant. [Pritt and Co.,
Liverpool ; Blackstock and Co., Temple
Pols-oil, N. and I. Saliin, Lewi^ham, corn-chand-
lers. [Tadtmnter, Bet mondsey street
]:\> M, W. Clayton West, Yorkshire, carpenter.
'['Rodsrcrs, Sheffield ; Roclgers, Devonshire-
square
Davids, W. Southampton, dealer in music.
[Hawke, Broad street-chambers; Winter and
Co., lied 1'onl -row
Ellis, W. Seym,,ur-stfeet, St. Panct'as, grocer,
[Aubrey, Too^'s-court, Cursitor-treet
Edwards, P. Liverpool, corn-broker. [Holden,
Liverpool ; Wheeler and Co., Gray's-inn-place
Elliott, J . Bond-court, Walbrook, money-scrivener.
[ K\vi:igton, Bond-court, Walbrook
Edmonds, T. junior, Steyijing, Sussex, timber-
merchant. [HOwartb, Warwick-street, Golden-
square
Eborall, J. LitchfleU, mercer. [Constable and
Co., Symond's-inn, Chancery-lane ; Parr, Litch-
field
Fenton, J. Liverpool, merchant. [Chester, Staple-
inn ; Davenport, Lord-street, Liverpool
Fogg, J. Bolton-le-moors-lane, innkeeper. [Ad-
lincton and Co., Bedford-row ; Cross and Co.,
Bolton-le-Tioors
Fletcher, G. Worksop, Notts, blacksmith. [Fearn-
bcad and Co., Nottingham ; Hurd and Co,, Tem-
ple
Fraley, N. junior, Trowbridge, Wilts, builder.
[Bgan and Waterman, Essex-street, Strand
Gates, W. Brighton, wine-merchant. [Tilsou and
Co., Coletnaii-street
Gess'in, M. A.Crawiey, Sussex, hatter. [Dendy
and Co., Bream's - buildings, Chancery-lane;
Stedman, Horsham
Green, T. Clarence-cottage, West-green, Totten-
ham, builder. [Holmes, Great Knightricler-
street, Doctors' Commons
Graham, J. Liverpool, innkeeper. [Morecroft,
Liverpool, Chester, Staple-inn
Grimani, C. Blackheath, schoolmaster. [Hewitt,
Token house-yard, Lothbury
Hayes, S . Henrietta-street, Covent-garden, book-
si'lier. [Wiglcy, Essex-street, Strand
Harris, R. Chipping-Norton, Oxfordshire, corn-
dealer. [Brooks, Stow- on -the -wold, Glouces-
tershire; Jones and Co., Great Mary-le-bone-
street
Howden, G. Ingress-park, Kent, boarding-house-
keeper. [Young, Charlotte-row, Mansion-house
Horr.blow, W. Acre-lane, Clapham, master -mari-
ner. [Alliston and Co., Freeman's-court, Corn-
hill
Hughes, J. Lombard-street, broker. [Vickery, New
Boswell court, Carey-street
Harrison, W. B. and G. Manchester, cotton-dealers.
E Thompson and Co., Liverpool ; Adlington and
o., Bedford-row
Hammond, G. ttrensall, Yorkshire, tanner. [Bell
and Co., Bow-church-yard; Thorpe and Co.,
York
Hughes, J. Cheltenham, butcher. [King, Hatton-
garden; Packwoud, Cheltenham
Joseph, T. Cheltenham, hatter. [Birkett and Co-,
Cloak-lane
Jones, T. High-street, Shoi'editch, linen-draper.
[Mayhew, Chancery-lane
James, W. Bruton, Somersetshire, blacksmith.
[Hartley, New-bridge street ; Miller, Fromc
Selwood, Somersetshire
Johnson, E. Kingston-upon-Hull, linen-draper.
[Shaw, Ely-place, Holborn ; Richardson, [lull
Jossup, W, junior, Broad-street, Ratcliffe, victu-
aller. [Rushbury, Carthusian-street, Chrater-
house-s/iuare
Kent, J. Great Cambridge-street, Hackney-road,
builder. [Williams, Bond-court, Walbrook
Knight, J. Rupert-street, St. James's, saddler's-
iroumonger. [Young, Poland-street, Oxford-
street
Lax, J. Liverpool, grocer. [Wi'lia-nson, Liver-
pool; Kearsley, Lothhury
Lloyd, R. Bourne Farm, Edmonton, cutlle-dcaler,
[Xorris and Co., John-street, Bedford-row
Mallalieu, A. Cobliam-placc, Finsbury-sqnare,
agent. [Robinson, Walbrook
M'Turk, W. PilKWorth, Lancashire, cotton-spin-
ner. [Lever, Gray's-inn-square ; Acre and Co.,
Manchester
Martindale, J. of the Flatts, Durham, farmer.
[C.'arr and Jobling, and Kirkley and Fen wick,
Newcastle- upon -Tyne ; Bell and Broderick,
Bow Church-yard
Moore, W. Upper Kine-street, Bloomsbury, cord-
wainer. [Vincent, Cl fford's inn
Mumford, T. Kenningron-eross, coach-master.
[Blake, Essex-street, Strand
Metcalte, G. Liverpool, grocer. [Blackstork and
Co., Temple; Brabner, Fcnwick-street, Liver-
pool
Moore, S, Crown-street. Soho, victualler. [Ma-
tanle. Bond-court, Walbrook
Mullen, S. Nottingham, lace - manufacturer.
[Fearnhead and Co., Nottingham; Hend and
Co., Temple
March, W. V. Southampton, ship-owner. [Pepper,
Southampton; Brundrett and Co., Temple
Moses, L. Harrow, slopseller, [Wright, Buck-
lersbury
Millwood, J. Hammorsmith, builder. [Lonsdale,
Symond's-inn, Chancery-lane
Marshrnan, B. Castle-street, Leicester-square,
woollen-draper. [Ridout, Great R.ussell-street,
Bloomsbnry
Newmarch, B. Cheltenham, coal-merchant. [Vi-
zard and Co., Lincoln's-inn-Fields ; Pruen and
Co., Cheltenham
Pready, J. Bristol, grocer. [N orris and Co., John-
street, Bedford-row
Pallan, M. Ranskill, Notts., victualler. [Rush-
bury, Carthusian-street, Charter-house-square
Phipps, G. Morton-in-Marsh, Gloucestershire, vic-
tualler. [King, Hatton-garden ; Goore, M^brtou-
ih-Marsh
Rainford, G. Kidderminster, liquor - merchant.
[Parker and Co., Worcester ; Cardall and Co.,
Holborn-court, Gray's-inn
Robinson, F. Ripley, Derbyshire, grocer. [Fox,
Ashbourne ; Barber, Fetter-lane
Rees, J. Neath, Glamorganshire, linen-draper.
[Cardall and Co., Gray's-nm ; Powell, Neath
Raphael, P. Hosier-lane, Smithlield, glass-dealer.
[Leigh, Charlotte-row, Mansion house
Richardson, E. T. Charing-cross, watch-maker.
[Webber, Bedford-row
Rogers, T. Shacklewell, boarding-house-keeper.
[Richardson and Co., Poultry
Roby, R. Leamington, Warwickshire. hotel-keeper.
[Platt, New Boswell-court, Carey-street; Pat.
terson, Leamington
Roper, H. Aldermanbury, woollen-factor. [Scott,
Prince's-street, Bedford-row
Stppen, K. Newman-street, Oxford-street, music-
seller. [Bishop, Great James- street, Bedford-
row
Strudwiclce, W. H. Covent Garden-market, fruit-
erer. [Pellatt and Co., Ironmonger's-hall, Fen-
church-street
Sims, G. F. Sun-street, Bishopsgate-strect, cLina-
man. [Bowdcn, Little St. TLomas Apostle
Snowden, R. Liverpool, master-mariner. [Allis-
ton and Co., Freeman's-courr, Cornbill
Steinhack, H- Cattle-street, Leicester-square, gold
embroiderer. [ Barrett and Co., Gray's-inn
Smith, T. S. New Exchange Coffee-house, Strand,
wine-merchant. [Henson and Co., Bouverie-
street
Sharpe, S. Market-Deeping, Lincolnshire, money-
scrivener. [Monkhouse, Craven-street, Strand ;
Bonner, Spalding
Tliompson, S.late of Boltou-le-Moors, ironfounder.
[Barker, Gray's-inn-square; Woodhouse, BoN
ton-le-Moors
Taylor, J., Green-arbour-court, Old Bailey, type-
founder. [Clarke and Co., Sadler's-hall
Tucker, J. Chun'h's-mill, Woudchester, clothier,
[llousman, Woodchester ; Cardall and Co.,
Gray's-inn
Thompson, J. Wiuksley, Yorkshire, flax-spinner.
[Thompson, Stansh'eld, and Thompson, Halifax ;
Wigglesworth and Co., Gray's-inn
Tobias, J. Ratcliffe-highway, furrier. [Isaacs,
Mansell-strect, Goodman's-lields
Turner, E. Warrington, Laneashise, banker.
18-27.]
Bankrupts.
[Duckworth and Co., Prince's-street, Manches-
ter; Ellis and Co., Chancery-lane
Taylor, J. T. Upper Thames-street, iron.merchaiit.
[Thonaai, Fen-court, Fen<:h<irch-st.reet
Tebbutt, II. Stamford, Lincolnshire, greyer,
fl'ladgate and Co., Ksrex-s-treet, Strand ;" Jack--
son, Stamford
Tctlcy, J. Harden, Yorkshire, worstcd-sttiff-manu-
' factnrer. [Constable an;l Co., Symond'B-imi,
Chancery-lane ; Dawson, Heighk-y
WhHmarsh, J. Old Bond-street, 1'iccadiJly, victu-
aller. [Vandercom and Co., Bush-lane, Can-
non-street
Ward, H. VV. Bcrncr's-street, merchant. [Wheeler,
Gray's-inn-place
VVhitlock, J. Weedon, Northamptonshire, timber-
^nerchanc. [Carlon, High-street, Mary-le-bonc
Wardle, T. Lad-lane, silk manufacturer. [James,
Bucklershury
Wall, W. Great Titchneld-street, Mary-le-boue,
tailor. [Tilbury and Co., Falcon-street,
gate-strcet
Watson, \V. late of South Shields, agent. [Lowrey
and Co, Pinner's-hall-court, Broad-street; Low-
rey, North Shields
Wil-on, C. Heuley-on-Thanies, linen-draper.
[Jones, Si7C-lanc
Woods, 0. Robeit's-bridge, Sussex, saddler. [Bn'ggs,
LincohiV.-inn-Fields
Wilson, T. Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, perfumer.
Wall, Hait-strect, Bloomsbury.
Wardle, R. Gro'svonor street-west, Pimlico, car-
penti-r.' [Bartley, Somerset -street, Portman •
square
Wheeler, II. Frome Felwood, Somerset, mill-
wright. [Hartley, New Bridge-street, Black-
friars; Miller, Frome Selwood
Young-, J. and W. .W. Bristol, confectioners.
[Bonrdillon and Co., Cheapside ; Bevan and Co.,
Small-street, and Savory, Corn-street, Bristol.
ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.
Rev. J. Shuldham, to the Augmented Curacy of
Cowley.Oxon.— Rev. C. C. Clarke, to the Vicarage
of- St. Mary Magdalen, Oxford.— Rev. W. R.
Wyatt, to the Living of St. Giles's, Durham.— Rev.
W.N. Darnel], to the Vicarage of Norham, North
Durham. — Rev. W. Streatticld, to the Vicarage of
East Ham, Essex.— Rev. T. Best, to the Rectory
of Kirby-on-Baine, Lincolnshire.— Rev. C. Arnold,
to the Rectory of Tinwell, Rutland.— Rev. E. A.
lirydges, to the Rectory of Denton, with the Per-
petual Curacy of Swingfield, Kent.— Rev. F. Mor-
rison, to the Living of Corkamahide, Limerick. —
Rev.. R. W.- Hutchins, to the Rectory of East
Bridgeford, Notts.— Rev. Dr. Payne, to the Aug-
mented Curacy of Northmore, Oxon. — Rev E.
Griffith, to aPrehendal Stall at St. David's.— Rev.
W. Bowen, to the Vicarage of Ewyas Harold,
Hereford — Rev. W. Sandford, to the Benefice of
Newport, Salop. — Rev. H. Atlay, to the Rectory of
Costerton Magna, witN- Pick-worth annexed, Rut-
land.—Rev. C. Ingle, to the Living of Strensall
and Osbaldwick, York.— Rev. W. Hames, to the
Rectory of Chagford, Devon.— .Rev, B. Bray, to
the Rectory of Lidford, Devon. — Rev. B. Beau-
champ, to the Curacy of Thorverton, Devon. — Rev.
J. Landon, to the Vicarage of Bishopstawton,
Devon. — Rev. E. Homfray, to the Perpetual Cu-
racj of Langdon, Salop. — Rev. J. Paul, to the
Church and Parish of St. Cuthbert, Presbytery of
Edinburgh.— Rev. W. Nicholson, to the Church.
and Parish of Ferry Port-on-Craig, in St. An-
drew's, Presbytery of Fife. — Rev. J. N. Moles-
worth, appointed Chaplain to Lord Guilibrd. — Rev.
W. S. Gilly, to the Perpetual Currcy of St. Mar-
garet, Durham, — Rev. J.- F. Squire, to the
Rectory of Beachampton, Bucks. — Rev. S. S,
Busby, to the Rectory of Colton, Cambridgeshire.
—Rev. T. S. Basnctt, to the Rectory of Rcnsall,
Derby. — Rev. D. Jones, to the Vicarage of Abe
ryscir, Brecon. — Rev. P. J. Lewis, to the Vicarage
of Cwiryoy, Hereford.— Rev. W. Williamson, to
the Perpetual Curacy of Farnley, Leeds. — Rev,
G. W. Brooks, to the Rectory of Great Hampden,
with the vicarage of Kimble, Bucks. — Rev. II. Ro»
binson, to the Rectory of great Warley, Essex.
POLITICAL APPOINTMENTS.
The Marquis of Lansdown, to be Lord Lieute-
nant of Wilts.— Sir Anthony Hart, Lord Chancellor
of Ireland. — Sir Launcelot Shadvvell, to be Vice-
Chancellor and Privy Councillor.— Sir W. Keppel,
to be Governor of Guernsey and Privy Councillor.
— Sir James Macintosh, a Privy Councillor. — Mr.
Herries has been sworn in Chancellor of the Ex-
chequer.— Sir E. Codrington, Grand Cross of the
Bath ; and all the Captains and Commanders in
the late Navarin engagement, to be Knights of
that Order .-"-The Lord High Admiral has pro-
moted to the rank of Post Captain all the Com-
manders who were serving in the ships engaged
with the Turkish fleet, the Senior Lieutenants to
Commanders, and the Senior Mates to Lieutc*
nants.
INCIDENTS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS, IN AND NEAR LONDON, ETC.
CHRONOLOGY.
October 27. — Information of the Queen Dowager
of Wurtembure's safe arrival at Frankfort, from
her voyage to England.
— - The Irresistible, steam-boat (built l.y sub-
scription for aiding the Greeks) took fire, and
burnt to the water's edge, near Gravesen j : two
men severely scalded. It c.*t £\ 0,000.
28.— An Order of Council issued, to modify, to a
very limited extent, the exclusion of the United
States merchantmen from the ports in British We^-t
India Colonies.
29. — An irruption of the Thames, so extensive
that in a few minutes all the excavations of St,
Katharine's dock were filled to the level of th«
river,
4 P 2
660
Incidents, Marriages,
[DEC.
- The Sessions terminated at the Old BaiU-y, square.— J. Ward, esq., R.A,, to Miss Fritche.—
when 22 received sentence of death, 79 were or- At Harrow, Captain E. F. Fitzgerald, son of Lord
dered for transportation, and others imprisoned— E. Fitzgerald, to Jane, daughter of Sir J. I). pau]
laking in the whole 200.
—A meeting of the Privy Council held at His
Majesty's Exchequer, in Westminster Hall, for
bart.— W. Treland, esq., to Miss Hanson.— At Wan-
stead, H. T. Danvers, esq., to Miss Gilly. — At
Chelsea, Harriet, Duchess of Roxburgh, to W. F.
the trial of His Majesty's Coins in the Pix of the O'Reilly, esq., major of 41st regiment.— At St.
Mint. Margaret's, C. K. Murray, esq. secretary to the
November 9._The Lord Mayor's Day was kept L°rd Clianc<lllor. *> L*dy H. A. Leslie, daughter
in great splendour, and the procession was grander °f tbc Countess °* R°tbes.-At St. George's, Han-
than usual ; H. R. H. the Lord High Admiral of over-square , Mr. Ceroti to Miss Smallwood.
England, with various noble and distinguished
personages, honoured his lordship with their com-
pany to dinner, at Guildhall. An accident occur-
red about ten o'cloclc in the evening, which threw
the guests into a little consternation, by the fall of
a toard with lamps, on the persons of the Lord
Mayor and Lady Mayoress ; fortunately they were
not hurt.
1- — An Extraordinary London Gazette pub-
DEATHS.
In Privy Gardens, 68, Earl of Pembroke and
Montgomery. — At Twickenham, Lady F. C. Doug-
las, fi th daughter of the Marquis of Queensberry.
In Charles-street, Berkeley-square, 93, Sir F.
Willes, formerly under secretary of state.— At
Mitcham, 72, Lieut. Gen. Sir H. Oakes, bart.—
Mary, daughter of the Lord Mayor -At Warley-
lished, containing an account of an engagement lod?e> tne Hon. G. M. A. W. A. Winn, M.P. for
Maldon.— At Bloomsbury, Rev. T. Willis, rector,
prebendary of Rochester, and vicar of Watering-
bury, Kent.— In Westminster, 63, A. Benson, esq.,
principal committee clerk of the House of Com-
mons.—In High Holborn, 73, Mr. R. Cribb.— At
Kentish Town, Sarah, Lady of Sir J. Williams.—
In South Audley-street, J. N. Talbot, esq., son of
Colonel Talbot, M. P. for Dublin.— In Westmin-
ster, 69, J. Sale, esq., member of the five choirs,
viz. Windsor, Eton, Chapel Royal, St. Paul's, and
Westminster Abbey — At Hammersmith, 75, W.
Bel sham, esq., author of a " History of England,"
and other works. — In Westminster, 72, T. Gay-
fere, esq. ; the exterior of Henry VII. 's chapel, and
the front of Westminster Hall, both of which were
restored from his drawings, and under his sole
superintendence, will be lasting monuments of his
abilities as an architect and a mason. — At York-
gate, J. A. Gilmour. esq., treasurer to the East
which the British fleet sustained, in unison with
the French and Russians, against the Turkish and
Egyptian fleets, in the port of Navarin, who were
conveying troops into the Morea against the
Greeks, under Ibrahim Bey. The result is, 1
Turkish line of battle ship burnt; 2 driven on
shore, wrecks ; 1 double frigate sunk; 1 on shore,
a wreck; 2 burnt ; 15 frigates burnt and sunk; 3
on shore, wrecks ; 1 on shore, masts standing; 15
corvettes burnt and sunk ; 4 on shore, wrecks ; 9
brigs burnt and sunk; 1 on shore, masts standing ;
6 fire-ships destroyed, and 3 transport?. The loss
of men must have been immense, as 1,050 were
killed in two ships only. The British lost /5 ;
wounded, 197. The French, 43; wounded, 144.
British officers killed were, Captains Bell, Ste-
vens, and Bathurst; Lieutenants Fitzroy, P. Stur-
geon. Wounded, Hon. Lieut. -Col. Craddock (pas-
senger) ; commander J. N. Campbell ; Captain
Moore ; Lieutenants D'Urban, Sturt, Smyth, May, India Company.— At Richmond, 85, Her Grace the
and Lyons.
15.— The Middlesex Magistrates, assembled in
the Sessions House, Clerkenwell, voted that the
immediate erection of a Lunatic Asylum is abso-
lutely necessary ; and they formed a committee to
receive plans, &c.
16.— A Privy Council held, when the Recorder
made his report of the 40 prisoners condemned at
the last September Sessions, when 4 were ordered
for execution on the 22d instant.
20.— An Order of Council, published in the Lon-
don Gazette, authorizing the commanders of the
British naval forces to seize and send into some
port belonging to His Majesty, and to be there de-
tained, every armed vessel at sea, under the Greek
flag, or fitted out and armed at any Greek port,
excepting such ships as are acting under the orders
of the persons exercising the powers of government
in Greece.
22.— Four convicts executed at the Old Bailey.
MARRIAGES.
At Mary-le-bone, J. Bulkeley, esq., to Miss Bui.
lev, of Bryanstone-square. — At St. Pancras, C.
Bischoff, esq., to Miss Frances Compton. — At
Cheshunt, J. Selby, esq., to Miss Matilda Anne
Toed.— Isaac Cohen, esq., brother-in-law to N. M.
Rothschild, esq., to Miss Samuel, of Finsbury-
Duchess Dowager of Buccleugh.
MARRIAGES ABROAD.
At Newfoundland, the Hon. F. Maude, R.N.,
son of Lord Hawarden, to Frances, second daugh-
ter to the Hon. A. H. Brooking, collector of H.M. 's
Customs, St. John's.— At the British Minister's,
Berne, H. P. A. Baron de Medem, of Mittau, to
Eliza Anne Lambton, widow of the late H. Lamb-
ton, esq., Durham. — At Rotterdam, J. Macpberson,
esq., to Miss E. Ferrier, daughter of the British
Consul there.
DEATHS ABROAD.
At Verrerie, near Albe, in France, 103 years,
9 months, and 21 days, the Countess Dowager So-
lage?. — At Jamaica, the Hon. M. St. Clair, second
son of Lord Sinclair; and Lieut. C. Maitland,
cousin to Lord Lauderdale. — At Paris, the Earl of
Newburgh.— At Frankfort, Sir J. Murray, bart.,
colonel of 56th regiment. — At Boulogne-sur-mer,
Captain J. Mayne.— At Naples, Licut.-Col. de
Montmorency, nephew of the late Viscount de
Montmorency, a branch of the illustrious Mont-
morencys of France.— At Paris, 17, J . H. Cole-
brooke, son of H. T. Colebrooke, esq., of Argyle-
street.— At Vienna, Field Marshal Brady, a na-
tive of Ireland.— At Rome, Rev. T. R. Spence.—
At Lausanne, Mrs, Thruston. — 77, Selina, relict of
1827.]
Incidents, Marriages,
661
the late W. Innes, esq., of Jamaica, and daughter
of the late Sir. \V. Chambers, bart.— R. T. Po-
cock, esq., lieutenant in the Madras Cavalry, and
son of Sir G. Pocock, bait.— At Marseilles, Dr. A.
Solomon, formerly of Birmingham.— At Charen-
ton, near Paris, Mr. T. Finch, engineer,
MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES;
WITH THE MARRIAGES AND DEATHS.
NORTHUMBERLAND AND DURHAM.
The Assembly Room, built by the Duke of Nor-
thumberland for the inhabitants of Alnwick and
environs, was opened October 19, with the Ses-
sions Ball, and was attended by all the gentry of
the vicinity. On the Duke and Duchess entering,
the music played Chevy Chace. The room is the
length of that at Newcastle, and 24 feet high, and
is adorned with three magnificent chandeliers.
A superb piece of plate, consisting of a splendid
candelabra, of exquisite workmanship, has been
presented, by the freeholders of Northumberland,
to M. Bell, esq., M.P., in estimation of his public
character.
A meeting of the ship-owners of Newcastle was
held November 7, to take into consideration the
increasing depression of the British shipping in-
terest generally, and of Newcastle in particular ;
when several resolutions were unanimouslypassed,
expressive of calling; upon His Majesty's govern-
ment to attend to their complaints ; and proving
the actual incapability of British ships competing
with the untaxed foreigner. " Surely (baid the
principal speaker on this occasion) the foundation
of the mighty fabric of our naval and national
greatness will not, for a baseless and heartless
theory, be suffered to sink into irremediable ruin,
for want of that fostering care to which it is so
justly entitled."
A meeting of merchants and traders has been
held at Newcastle, when a memorial was agreed to
be presented to the Lords of the Treasury, for
repealing that part of the stamp act which requires
stamp receipts for sums under .£20.
A fine healthy boy, about 5 years of age, the son
of Mr. Adamson, of North Shields, died lately,
from eating the roots of a flower commonly called
monk's-wood.
Lately, in Newcastle, a man, who had under-
gone variolous vaccination, was affected with the
small-pox, in the confluent. All his neighbours
and children had undergone vaccination, except
one little girl, who sickened and died ; a young
man, who only passed the door on his way to and
from work, who had not been vaccinated, con-
veyed the effluvia to his own home, where his sis-
ter, who had not been vaccinated, sickened and
died.
Mr. Lindesay, of Durham, has laid before the
Committee of British Merchants and Ship-owners
of London and Liverpool, a method of raising all
kinds of goods into their lofty warehouses, by
means of water, instead of the cranes now in
use.
A male skeleton was found lately at Hayston-
hill, near Houghton-le-spring, in a lime quarry.
It was at a depth of about two feet from the sur-
face, and was doubled up together in a manner
which leaves no doubt that a murder had been
committed.
At the Durham Martinmas Hiring, few servants
were hired, in consequence of their asking an ad-
vance in wages, which the farmers could not afford
to give.
Married.~\ At Houghton-le-spring, by licence,
T. Simm, to Catherine Arthur, both of Easington-
lane. Before the ceremony took place, the intend-
ed bride undressed herself in a pew of the church,
and the bridegroom elect put a chemise over her,
and this was the only article of dress she wore at
her marriage. This indecency originated in the
silly idea, that a husband who marries a wife
without property or clothes is exempt from the
payment of her previous debts.— At Allendale, Rev.
W. Walton to Miss Jane Crawhail.— At Newcastle,
J. Baiubridde, e«j., to Miss Woodhouse ; Mr. W.
Henderson to Mrs. Hogg.— At Gretna-hall, J. E.
White, esq., to Miss Birch.— At Tanfield, Mr. B.
Henderson to Miss Watson. — At Funderland, Mr.
Sherlocke to Miss Dixon ; Mr. L. Haddock to Miss
Proudfoot.— At St. Peter's in Allendale, Mr. W.
Walton to Miss Jane Crawland.— At Stanhope,
Mr. J. Barnfather to Mrs Coatsworth.— At Walls-
end, G. Hawkes, esq., to Miss Wright.
Died.] At Kingswood, 83, J. Johnson, of the
Society of Friends.— At Durham, Mr. J. Wil'is ;
Miss Herron.— At Elwick, 76, the widow e, T.
Younghusband, esq.— At North Shields, 90, Mrs.
Ditchburn.— At Heighington, Mrs. Elizabeth Jep-
son. — At Easington, Mrs. Thompson. — At Darling-
ton, 97, J. Lamb.— At Fenham-hall, Mrs. Clarke ;
the Rev. T. Mollard; 61, M. Morrison, esq — At
Chappie-house, near Newcastle, Mrs. Davison.— At
Newcastle, Mrs. Jane Clarke.
YORKSHIRE.
The foundation stone of the Museum of the
Yorkshire Philosophical Society, was laid by the
Archbishop, October 24, on the ancient site of St.
Mary's Abbey (granted by the crown), on the Ma-
nor-shore, near York.
A public meeting has been held at Leeds Court-
house, in behalf of "instruction to be given to a
destitute population of one of the most ancient
colonies of this realm — the Colony of Newfound-
land ;'* when a collection was made, and resolu-
tions entered into, for the benefit of the Newfound-
land Society.
The Huddersfield Bazaar, under the protection
of its lady patronesses, has produced the sum of
.£454. 19s., for the benefit of the National Schools
and has thus not only relieved them from debt,
but formed a surplus fund for their future sup-
port.
Application will be made at the approaching
Session of Parliament, for an act to erect a bridge
over the Aire, to communicate Hunslet with the
south-east part of Leeds.
The Proprietors of the Aire and dilder Naviga-
tion, intend to make application to Parliament next
session, for powers to enable them to complete
their long contemplated improvements up to Leeds
and Waketield. The privileges of a port have been
lately extended to Goole ; and the intention with
662
Provincial Occurrences: Stafford, Salop,
respect to the river Aire is, to form a continuous
line of canal navigation from Leeds to Allerton
Eyewater, which will be followed to near its con-
fluence with the Calder; from whence a new cut
will be made to Bullholme Clough : below which
place the river is very deep generally to Ferry-
bridge, where the Goole Canal commences. Our
commercial readers will readily appreciate the
immense advantages which will accrue from these
improvements. Connected with Goole as a port,
\vc hail them as fresh stimulants to the trade of
the whole district.
Reliques of the ancient times are continually
being found in York. Several coins, fragments of
urns, and other articles, have been found in dig-
ging the foun 'ations for a new street, without
Micklegate Bar.
In the last week of October, auriculas were in
bloom in a garden near York. At Sheffield, poly,
anthuses in the gardens, and primroses in the
field.*, sent forth their sweets, and displayed their
colours, as if it were a new spring.
A new church was consecrated at Ripon, on the
31st of October, by his Grace the Archbishop of
York. It has been built at the sole expense of the
Rev. Edward Kilvingtnn.
Some workmen, in lowering the hills of the Ro-
man ridge, near Kippax, discovered ten skeletons,
which had probably been consigned to that deposit
during the time of the civil wars.
The Methodist Society in Leeds is quite in a
state of disorganization, owing to Conference hav-
ing sanctioned the erection of an organ in one of
the chapels there, against the opinion of some of
the class leaders and local preachers. The affair
threatens to produce a breach in the Society.
The trade at Leeds is very dull. There has not
been any increased demand in the Baltic trade in
consequence of the importation of foreign corn ; and
the merchants are much less warm in advocating
the repeal of the corn laws than they were.
Married.'] At Stonegrave, J. Dale, esq., to
Miss Robinson. — At Thwing, J. Sturdy, esq., to
Miss Wright.— At Knaresborougb, K. S. Bowers-
back, C*q.,to Miss Walton.— At Leeds, W.Cadman,
esq., to Miss Rhodes ; R. Raisin, esq., to Miss
Oliver.— At York, M. J. Quin, esq., to Miss Smith.
Died.] At Stainton, the wife of J. Favell, esq.—
At Farnley, the Rev. T. Pullaw.— At Sheffield, R.
Blakelock, esq.— At Hull, 100, Mrs. Ann Robins.—
At Knaresborough, G. Atkinson, esq. — At Bram-
hope-hall, Mrs. Rhodes.— At Scarborough, the Rev.
J. Kirk.— At Stone-gap, near Skipton, W. Sedg-
wick, esq. — At Paunal-house, near Harrowgate,
90, Mrs. Crosby.— At Waketield, Mrs. Soulby.— At
Richmond, Mr. Douthwaite.
STAFFORD AND SALOP.
By a meeting of the inhabitants of Ludlow, Oc-
tober 23, it appears that " the bailiff's feast and
ball" has been abolished, although it has existed
time out of mind, to the manifest injury of the
trade, and the uncalled-for deprivation of the
amusement of the town. Several strong resolu-
tions were passed at this meeting, and the follow-
ing : "Resolved, that those persons, who have at-
tempted to reduce the tradesmen of this town to
want, for no other reason than because they have
in the least offensive manner asserted their rights
and privileges, are entitled to the scorn and de-
testation of all good Englishmen."
Trade is in nn improving state in the Stafford-
shire potteries; and the winter project i* so far
preferable tothatof last year, that it is highly gra-
tifying.
Married.'] At Lichfield, W. Oakeley, esq .fourth
son of Sir C. Oakeley, hart., to Mary Maria, dau"h-
ter of Lieut.-Col. Sir E. Miles.
Died.'] At Ludlow, Admiral James Vashon. —
At Dawley-green, G. Gilpin, esq.; he has li-ft a
curious MS. on the Emigration of Prince Mailo",
and the Existence of a Tribe of Welch Indians m
America.— In August, 1826, died Mr. Lateward,
of the Hall Orchard ; and 15th September follow-
ing, his daughter ; soon afterwards his mother-
in-law expired ; and 18th August last, his wife —
making the 4th corpse in one family within 12
months ; and, since then, his sister, Mrs. Mnnscll,
of Envill, is also dead.— At Shrewsbury, 87, W.
Jones; he had been grave-digger at St. Chad's 61
years— At Uttoxeter, 86, B. Hodgson, esq.— At
Cannock, 105, Mrs. Brindley.
LINCOLN AND NOTTINGHAM. '
Died.] At Cromwell, Rev. C. F. Clinton, rector
of that parish, and prebendary of Westminster. —
At Newark, 84, "Porr Billy Briggs!" who, tliou.
quite blind, used to carry parcels to any part of the?.
town without a guide. — At South Coliingham, 94,
" Honest Will Farrow!" whose lengthened exi
ence solely passed in the arduous occupation oPk
river Trent fisherman, inwhich employment he en-
countered all the trying difficulties and privations
of Unassisted penury; his regular diet was mint
tea for breakfast and supper, and bread moist-
ened in the river for dinner. " Blush, grandeur,
blush I"
LANCASHIRE AND CHESHIRE..
At a meeting held in the Town-hall, Liverpool,
it has been resolved to erect a bridge over the
Mersey, at Fidler's Ferry. The expense is esti-
mated at .£30,000, to be raised in shares of ,£100
each.
By the General Report of the Macclesficld Com^
missioners of Police, it appears that the expenses
of the lighting account, from September 29, 1825,
to September 29, 1827, wtre .£1,192. 5s. 6d. ; and
those of the highway and improvement account,
.£3,932. 11s. 8d.
The Mayoralty of Liverpool has been contested
for with all the characteristics of the return of an
M.P. It lasted six days ; the lucky candidate had
1,780 votes, and the unlucky one 1/65.
On the morning of November 13, at half-past 12
o'clock, R. Gleave was ta^en on the premises of
Mr. J. Longshaw, Warringfon, stealing fowls, and
secured, and, in one hour, delivered into the cus-
tody of the deputy constable, who took him in a
chaise, with the prosecutor, at 7 o'clock; at 10
o'clock they anived at Kirkdale — a bill was found
— he was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to 7
years' transportation. The offence was thus com-
mitted, the prisoner taken into custody, conveyed
20 miles, convicted, and transported, in the space of
12 hours — a proof of judicial expedition.
Died] At Wh alley, 76, Rev. C. Wright, princi-
pal of Stonyhurst College.— At Chester, J. S. Asp-
den, e?q., deputy seal keeper for the County Pala-
tine of Lancaster.
LEICESTER AND RUTLAND.
Died] At Lyndon, 75, Mrs. A. Bull.-At Goad-
by-park, Anne Manners, wife of Otho Manners,
esq., high sheriff for Leicestershire. — At Boswortb-
park, Sir Willoughby Dixie, bart.— At Great Bow-
den, Mr. D. French.
WARWICK AND NORTHAMPTON.
The Northamptonshire National School Society
has approved of the establishment of a Preparatory
Infant School in Northampton, and are carrying It
1827.] Worcester, Here/ore/, Gloucester, Men-mouth,
into effect, independent of the funds of their own ;
for which purpose subscriptions are taken in by
the local bankers,
Died.] At Northampton, 82, Mrs. West.— At
Mericlen-hall, 79, W. Digby, osq., many years
chairman of the quarter sessions, Warwickshire.
WORCESTER AND HEREFORD.
The expenditure of the county of Worcester*
from Michaelmas 1825, to same date 1827, amounts
to .£8,421. 12s. 5(1.: near the whole of which has
been swallowed up in conducting the criminal and
civil jurisprudence, and its etceteras— scarcely
.£1,500 having been expended under the heads of
lunatics, coroners, bridges, militia, and even
vagrants !
The Commissioners for Inquiry into the Public
Charities under the management of the Corpora-
tion of Worcester, have concluded their sittings.
Died.'} 84, Mr. J. Broad ; he occupied Lickhill
I7- -m, near Stourport, upwards of 60 years. — At
. orcester,92, Mrs. Baylis.
GLOUCESTER AND MONMOUTH.
vhe sale of fancy work, conducted by the ladies
at Alstone, for the Infant School, produced up-
wards of .£160, which has entirely freed the school
from embarrassment, and rendered its utility to
above 120 children !
At the Ninth Annual Meeting of the Cheltenham
Savings' Bank, October 30, it appears that the re-
ceipts amounted to .£70,512. 8s.; out of which
had been repaid to depositors, including interest,
.£37,988. Is. ; remaining in government securities,
.£32,524. 7s.
The amount of goods and shipping, during the
first six months, which has now been cnmpleted, of
the Gloucester and Berkeley Canal, is no less than
60,447 tons, producing rates of upwards of .£1,560.
Thus the business done has exceeded the original
calculation, which was 83,000 tons per annum.
The anniversary of the birth-day and death of
the benevolent Colston, was celebrated November
13, at Bristol, by the different charitable institu-
tion?, with that enthusiasm it so justly merits.
At the dinner of the Dolphin Society .£400. 10s. 6d.
was collected ; at that of the Anchor Society,
.£552. 2s. 6d.; and at the Grateful Society about
.£330 !!!
Married.] At Clifton, E. W. Batchellor, esq.,
to Miss Eliza Bu.sh.
Died.] At Dirham, 83, Rev. G. Swayne.— At
the Hotwells,67, H. Dupont, esq. — At Cbarringtcn-
park, J. George, esq.
BEDFORD AND HERTFORD.
What must every considerate man think, and
mere especially a religious man, when he sees the
parish church shut up for three successive Sun-
days, and that more than once in twelve months.
On inquiry, the answer at the clergyman's house
was, " Master's very well, buthe and his family- are
gone for a few weeks to a watering-place." This
has actually happened twice within the last twelve
months at a parish in Bedfordshire!!! — Herts Mer-
cury, Oct. 27, 1827.
BUCKS AND BERKS.
At the triennial visitation recently made by the
vice-chancellor, &c. of Oxford, the sum of .£300
was distributed in portions of £25 each, to maid-
servants, for having well conducted themselves for
upwards of three years in one service.
Married] At Pusey. Rev. J. II. M. Lnxmoore,
BOH of the Bishop of St. Asaph, 1o K. Bouverie,
daughter of the lion. Philip and Lady Lucy
Pusey.
Died] At Windsor, 75, the Hon. Mrs. A. Eger-
ton.— At Reading, 103, Mrs. A. P. Worrell .
OXFORDSHIRE.
Married.] At Waterstock, Rev. L. M. Halton
to Miss E. P. M. Sclater.
Died] At Oxford, 79, Mr. S. T. Wood ; he
served tne offices of chamberlain and bailiff in 1772
and 1/80. — At Pyrton, 17, Mi?s Caroline Dimock ;
the following Sunday lu>r aunt, Mrs. Field, 49;
and the next day, Mr. Dimock, her father, 47. — At
Woodstock, H. F. Mavor, esq.
NOltFOLK AND SUFFOLK.
It was resolved, October 20, by the Governors of
the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital, that the musi-
cal festival, from the great success that attended
the last two meetings, shall be held triennially.
The inhabitants of Acle have resolved at a pub-
lic meeting, lately held for the purpose, to divide
among themselves, in proportion to their number
of arable acres, their able-bodied labourers, and to
find them employ till Michaelmas 1828, at such
wages as shall preclude the necessity, except in
cases of sickness, of their applying for parochial
aid : those whom age or infirmities prevent from
being reckoned among the able-bodied, they have
also consented to employ in turn — an example
worthy the imitation of all the parishes in the em-
pire, whose grand object is agriculture. This plan
was tried last year at Acle, and it has been found
to answer, in a moral view, as well as in that of
preventing an increase in the rates.
At Lowestolt Ness, as well as at Yarmouth, the
sea has erected a complete series of natural em-
bankments against itself. The present extent of
land thrown up by the sea, and out of the reach of
the highest tides, is nearly three miles long, pro-
jecting from the base of the original cliff to the
distance of 6GO yards at the Ness. The respective
lines of growth are indicated by a series of small
embankments perfectly defined. Several of these
ridges have been formed within the memory of men
now living. A rampart of heavy materials is first
thrown up by a violent gale from the north-east.
Sand is subsequently blown over, and consolidates
the shingle, and the process is completed by the
arundo arenaria, and other marine plants, taking
root, and extending their fibres in a kind of net-
work through the mass. In process of time the
surface becomes covered with vegetable mould,
and ultimately, in many casos, is covered with
good herbage.
Married] At Castle Rising, Major General
Tolleyto Miss F. Brodrick, daughter of the late
Archbishop of Cashel.— At Bury, Rev. S. Gedge to
Miss Clara Beck.
Died] AtCossey, 100, Mrs. A. M. T.Vere.—
At Norwich, 89, Mrs. Farrow. — At Yarmouth, 77,
Mrs.Puliyn.
HANTS AND SUSSEX.
From the excess of population beyond the de-
mand for labour, in the parish of Shipley, the
farmers arc obliged to adopt a course of crops of
an expensive and exhausting nature, and for
which their land is not suited, to enable them to
employ the people, as also to pay their rates.
The estimated annual rent of this parish is
661 Provincial Occurrences'. Kent, Surrey, Dorset, Wills, <J-c. £DEC.
.£2,599 ; tlie annual amount of the poor rates,
.£2,314. Us.!!!
Married."] At Brighton, J, Theobald, esq., to
Anna Maria, third daughter of Major General Sey-
mour.
Died.} Oct. 16, at Horsham, 57, Mr. S. Dcndy ;
and on the following morning, 31, Miss E. Dendy,
liis eldest daughter, expired in a fit by excessive
grief. October 20, also died, Mrs. M. A. Dendy,
the wife ; and Mrs. Bowles, the sister of Mr.
Dendy.— 87, Serjeant Whip; he had been staff
serjeant at Portsmouth under 2C» lieutenant-go-
vernors, and served under George II. III. and IV.
—At Brighton, 95, Mrs. Macquircs.— At Ratton,
Lieut.-Col. G. T. Thomas.
KENT AND SURREY.
An extraordinary phenomenon occurred along
the Kentish roast, which has rarely, perhaps, or
ever occurred. The tides within two hours, on
Wednesday morning, October 31, rose three times,
and at one time so high, that they exceeded the
usual bounds even of the spring tides. At London
Bridge, and along the banks of the Thames and
Medway, the low land was flooded ; the marshes
being fully stocked with cattle, much confusion was
occasioned by the short notice that was given for
their removal, and many sheep were lost. People
•were also employed in saving in boats the inhabi-
tants of the cottages situated in the marshes. At
Faversham the water came almost up to the houses,
and the marshes in that neighbourhood were inun-
dated.
DORSET AND WILTS.
Allington new church has been consecrated by
the Bishop of Bristol; it is a neat and elegant
structure.
The difficulties in the way of the disfranchise-
ment of Cranbourn Chace have been overcome ;
and the requisite notice has been given to obtain
an Act of Parliament for its enclosure. Thus will
between 30 and 40,000 acres of excellent land be
brought into cultivation. The bounds of the Chace,
claimed by Lord Rivers, extending about one hun-
dred miles, namely, from Harnham Bridge, near
Salisbury, by the edge of Wilton, to Shaftesbury,
Dorset ; to the banks of the Stour, near Stur-
minster, thence by Blandford, and near Wimborne,
to Ringwood and Fordingbiidge in Hampshire,
and to Downton and Harnham Bridge in Wilts.
The stock of deer is about 15,000, who make
inroads into the surrounding lands, doing great
injury. The morals of the villagers likewise
suffer greatly from the practice of killing the
deer in the night, the extent of the space prevent-
ing an effectual watch.
Married. ] At West Chelhorough, J. Meech,
esq., to Miss Su«an Daw. — At Shaftesbury, Mr.
Imher to Mi«s Dowland. — At Wareham, Mr. Dean
to Miss E. Cole.
Died.] At Kingston-hall, the seat of H. Bankes,
<*q., M.P. ; 77, Dr. G. P. Tomline, Bishop of Win-
chester, and Prelate of the Order of the Garter.
DEVON AND SOMERSET.
At a meeting held at. the Market House, by the
ladies and gentlemen of Taunton, it was resolved
to establish an Infant School, when a committee
was formed, and .£300 subscribed for that pur-
pose.
In the report of the grand jury at the late ses-
sions, they say— "It is with pain the grand jury
have to observe, that they have heen refused ad-
mittance to that part of .the gaol appropriated to
females, under the idea that it would prove an in-
fringement on the rights of the visiting magis-
trates!" The grand jury likewise say it would be
fortunate if Parliament would repeal the enact-
ments which support the coercive system of parish
apprentices. They also hint at " the want of co-
operation between the authorities of the county,
and the several local jurisdictions, to put down
vagrancy;" remarking that "mendicity societies
have tended to increase the evil." They also al-
lude to "the serious expenditure of the county!"
An iron and copper mine has been discovered
at Luckham, near Porlock, Somerset; and a cargo
of the ore has been shipped for smelting to the forges
at Swansea.
The Lord Chancellor has confirmed the Vice-
Chancellor's decree relative to the Avvliscomb
charity, viz.—" As corporations could hold no
property except as trustees, he could not decree a
retrospective account against the Chamber of
Exeter, as the balance which should appear
against the body must be taken from some other
public trust." But he decreed an inquiry into the
whole of its property, to ascertain upon what trust
it was holden.
Died.'] At Exeter, 70, Mr. Radford; he was
one of the crew (out of five that were saved) of the
Royal George, of 120 guns, that was sunk off Spit-
head June 28, 1782; 76, Mr. S. Cox ; he bore the
character of a learned man in astrology. — AtCros-
combe, Mary Phillips; she had lived 30 years in
one family, an honest and grateful servant : she
was interred in a handsome manner by her mis-
tress, the clergyman, churchwardens, and all the
gentlemen of the village attending.— At Devon-
port, Lady Gcorgiana Carnegie, daughter of Ad-
miral the Earl of Northesk.— At Edingswell house,
L. Protheroe, esq.
CORNWALL.
At the Cornwall County Sessions, the chairman,
in the course of his address to the grand jury, said
— " I cannot omit stating, that the best mode of
checking the progress of crime, and one without
which, I am persuaded, no other will be found
available, is to allow the labouring population a
full and fair remuneration for their labour, with-
out sinking them in the scale of society, by com-
pelling them to seek assistance from the poor-rates,
as paupers, from the total insufficiency of the sum
allowed them as wages for their support."
The fishery in Mount's Bay has been the least
successful that has been known for many years,
not above four cargoes of pilchards having been
taken in the bay; but there is a prospect that the
winter mackarel fishery will prove more favour-
able ; some of the boats having had good catches,
and one in particular took 3,000 fish.
At a numerous meeting of the Trustees of the
Truro Turnpike Roads, held in the Town-hall, it
was resolved to make application to Parliament
for leave to carry into effect some proposed im-
provements in them.
WALES.
The lordship of Haya Wallensis, Brecon, was
sold by auction, October 26 (by order of His Ma-
jesty's Commissioners of Woods and Forests), to
Viscount Hereford for 2,000 guinea?.
Application will be made to Parliament next ses-
sion, for a new road from Llandovery (Carmar-
then) to Pembroke Dock ; and for removing the
market at Swansea to a more eligible and coinmo-
ulious situation.
1827.]
Wales, Scotland, a/id Ireland.
665
Married.] At Swansea, A. Webber, esq., to
Miss Caroline Jones. — At Tedworth, C. Jrrvis,
esq., to- Emma Ullofwdrtb, daughter of T. A,
Smith, esq., lord lieutenant of Carnarvon.
Died.] At Swansea, 83, Mrs. H. Kenning,
relict of the late A. Kenning, osq., who, in 1/65,
served the office of sheriff of New Hanover. North
Carolina, and during the struggle for American
independence, with other loyalists, came over to
Kna-laii'!.— At Pentanolly, D.Reid, esq., fonnc'-ly
high s'loriflf for Radnorshire. — At Talur.ninojr, 77,
Mrs. Oliver, widow of the late T. Oliver, e q., of
Rhydoldog.— At Tregaron, 90, 3Ir. W. Reca.
SCOTLAND.
Mr. Campbell has been re-elected lord rector for
Glasgow University, and the inauguration took
place November 16. After having taken the oaths,
he shortly addressed the students. " He was not
in a situation (he said) to be very profuse in ex-
pression ; the signal honour which was conferred
on him by the entire unanimity of their votes, was
one which left more of feeling than of collected
thought in his mind. It might be thought natural,
at the commencement of another session, that he
should advance something in the way of advice, to
be of use to them in the furtherance of their stu-
dies: the excellent discipline practised in their
establishment, however- -which rendered it indis-
pensable that both professor and student should
fulfil their several responsibilities— made such ad-
vice unnecessary, There was one point on which
he would express himself decidedly. He would
pledge himself to the support of their rights and
privileges ; and with regard to the petition which
he had heard it was their intention to lay before
His Majesty's Commissioner for visiting the uni-
versities, praying that these ancient privileges
might still be respected, he acknowledged his en-
tire approval of it, and was ready to present it
himself.
Married.'] At Berneth, Lieut. -Colonel the Hon.
Frederick Cathcart, late His Majesty's Minister
Plenipotentiary to the Germanic Confederation,
and second son of William, Earl Cathcart, K.T., to
Miss Jean Macadam, of Craigengillan.
Died.'] At Muirhouse, near Edinburgh, 81, the
Rev. Dr. Davidson, for more than 20 years the
senior minister of Edinburgh. — At the Manse of
Inverary,95, Rev. Dr. Paul Fraser, the father of
the Church of Scotland.— At Airthney, General Sir
Robert Abercrombie.govetnorof Edinburgh Castle,
and colonel of the 75th regt. — At Monifieth, 103,
Mrs. Brown, mother of Provost Brown, Dundee.
IRELAND.
The disgraceful outrages recently committed in
the county of Tipperary have roused the magis-
tracy to active exertion, a meeting having been
held at Thurles, to take into consideration the
state of the county, the Earl of Llandaff in the
chair ; when, after a lengthened discussion, it was
the general opinion of the meeting, that a memo-
rial should be forwarded to His Excellency the
Lord Lieutenant, praying that the Insurrection
Act might be again placed on the Statute Book.
To shew the necessity of similar meetings in other
counties, we could subjoin a list of atrocities, al-
most unequalled in the annals of crime, but want
of room prevents us ; they are fully elucidated in
the Cork, Clonmel, Roscommon, Wexford, Bel-
fast, and other papers, and exhibit the country in a
state that is really terrible.
The Report upon Irish Education is not that of
the Jive commissioners; it is only that of three of
M.M. New Seriw.— VOL. IV. No. 24.
them. The two dissentients are Messrs. Foster
andGlassford; they maintain, that any departure
from the principle upon which the Irish youth
have hitherto been educated would be injurious;
and they inform us that, " about twenty years ago,
the Scriptures were not read in so many as 600
schools, while at present they have found their
way into above 8,000 schools. After every pos-
sible deduction which can be made on account
of schools closed, schools from which pupils
have been withdrawn, and schools in which
the use of the Scriptures is practically ineffi-
cient, there will still remain in our view such a
general average of improvement in this respect, as
the most sanguine could scarcely have anticipated.
The improvement in other points of inferior mo-
ment is not less striking: 1,370 schoolmasters and
mistresses, of a very superior description, have
been sent forth by the Kildare Place Society alone,
and about 280 more are supplied in each succeed-
ing year. Much more than a million of books, of a
moral and instructive character, have been issued
from their repository, to take place of the immoral
and seditious publications which were before too
common ; and the number of books at the same
time supplied by various other societies, indepen-
dent of the Scriptures, has probably been not much
inferior in amount."
Cost of the Church by Law established inlreland.
Per Ann.
Tithe income of 1,250 beneficed clergy-
men, arising from 2,436 parishes ...£880,000
Glebe lands of said clergymen, exceed-
ing 120,000 English acres 120,000
Glebe houses of ditto, assuming them
to be 1,600 in 2,436 parishes, and
only worth .£30 a year a piece .... 48,000
Income of 22 bishops, in fines and rents
from one million of English acres . . 222,000
Church rates from only 2,000 out of
2,436 parishes 575,000
Profits of the" parsons' freehold,"
arising from graves, tombs, &c 100,000
Profits of ditto, arising from herbage,
&c 2,fOO
Marriage licences and church fees .. 12,000
Ministers' money in Dublin 10,000
Consistory courts 30,000
Gaol chaplaincies and inspectorships 5,000
Chaplaincies of other public institu-
tions 2,500
Military chaplaincies 2,100
Vicars choral 25,000
Masterships of the royal foundations 10,000
Profits arising from other schoosl.... 10,000
Fellowships, parsonages, and other
sources of wealth connected with
Trinity College 30,000
First fruits expenditure (according to
the average since 1816) 53,98G
Grants to biblical institutions 99,600
Total cost of Church of England-? -„ 9~q cSfi
ism in Ireland \ '
Died.~\ At Connaught, Major T. W. Poppleton ;
he served in India, and had the charge of the cap-
tive Nabob of Oude; he crossed the Desert, passed
up the Red Sea. and joined Sir R. Abercrombie in
Egypt; he was afterwards, as captain in the 53d,
placed about the person of Napoleon, at St. He-
lena.—In Killarney, 76, Countess de Severac, sister
to the Earl of Kenmare.
4 Q
[ 666 ]
DAILY PRICES OF STOCKS,
From the 26th of October to the 25th of November 1827.
,
88
29
M
31
Dec
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
•II
12
13
14
Jo
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
Bank
Stock.
3 Pr. Ct.
Red.
i Pr. Ct. 3£Pr.Ct
onsols.
onsols.
SiPr.Ct.
Red.
N4Pr.C.
Ann.
Long:
Annuities.
India
Stock.
India
Bonds.
Exch.
Bills.
216
215|216£
214421.4
213"214
210 211
210 211
210J211
207*208$
«|
206^207
207
207i
206*207
206S -
•206
204
2044205
87| f
874 I
86J 87
8hi 87
ad «
SG
SG|{
85 86f
87
87}
87
86J 87|
93}
93*
93J
93|
92 9U
92"
92
93| 944 ll
93
91| 92 lOlf 1
9l| 92 101| j|
»!!.«*: lOlf
92 loll
90JK
19 9-16 f
194 9-16
19 7-16 9-16
19 7-16 4
19| 7-16
5-16 7-16
| 7-16
7-16
19|
5-16 7-16
19 1-16
19* \
19* 3-16
19 3-16
19 3-16 |
194 ~~ 3-16
19 4
1SZ 19
18*11-16 I
18 13-16 15-16
18 15-16
25/J J
2574
2561
2554X67
254 255
252
252
249
9798p
99p
7P
99 lOOp
99 lOOp
97 99p
96^7?
9597p
959/p
93p
83 86 p
8/91p
9091p
90 91 p
86 88 p
82 83 p
7981p
7981p
8082p
62 63 p
6263p
61 63 p
62 63 p
61 63p
58 60p
58 59 p
58 59p
58 fi9p
5360p
58 59p
51 58p
52 56 p
55 56 p
5557p
55 57 p
5556p
54 56p
5256p
51 53p
51 53p
51 53p
E, EYTON, Stock Broker, 2, Cornhill and Lombard Street.
MONTHLY METEOROLOGICAL REPORT, *"
From October 20th to 19 th November inclusive^
By WILLIAM HARRIS and Co.. 50, High
<*
W
f
Therm.
Barometer.
e Luc's
Hygro.
Winds.
Atmospheric Variations.
1
3
o
3
I
o •
X
C8
~
i
A.M.
10P.M.
Ol
PH"
0
9A.M.
10 P. M.
9AM.
2P.M.
10 P.M.
20
•
55
61
riS
29 62
29 57
99
99
WSW
N
Rain
Fair
Fair
21
E)
56
60
r>3
29 47
29 37
99
98
N
tfE
Foggy
—
Rain
22
57
55
•>7
29 21
29 07
98
00
SSE
S
Rain
—
—
23
38
59
51
29 06
29 29
93
96
sw
SE
—
—
Clo.
24
52
55
58
59
52
54
29 50
29 94
29 84
29 97
98
99
9f.
99
SE
SW
WNW
SW
Foggy
Rain
Rain
26
57
60
S2
29 99
29 89
99
86
ssw
s
Fair
Fair
Fair
27
28
29
30
31
04
I
53
51
42
42
48
60
51
49
50
53
50
38
37
46
36
29 62
29 23
29 79
29 85
29 61
29 37
29 49
29 90
29 61
29 70
98
00
88
92
98
99
99
86
97
76
SE
E
N\K
WNW
NNE
WNW
ENE
NNK
NNE
N
Clo.
Rain
Fair
Clo.
Rain
Fair
SleTt
Clo.
Nov.
1
2
38
48
50
44
39
29 86
29 73
29 85
29 99
78
82
89
87
N
NNE
WNW
N
Fair
Clo.
-
Fair
3
4
Q
42
49
51
55
48
47
30 01
30 04
30 00
30 15
85
98
91
98
WNW
W
W
W
Foggy
z-
Clo.
49
57
30 21
30 27
98
97
W
w
—
>-*-
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
C
52
51
45
49
50
52
44
56
52
48
53
55
56
5f
50
44
46
49
49
43
48
30 19
30 06
29 96
29 75
29 79
29 82
30 02
30 13
30 05
29 94
29 67
29 90
29 87
30 05
99
92
92
98
98
96
95
90
97
96
98
100
91
96
WNW
WNW
SE
NW
NW
NW
N
NW
ESB
NK
NW
WNW
NW
WNW
Overc.
Foggy
Fair
Clo.
Fair
Foggy
Foggy
Rain
Fair
Sleet'
Foggy
Clo.
Sleet
Fine
Sleet
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
53
54
41
45
45
43
46
51
60
46
50
48
52
50
ft?
39
41
.42
40
42
49
46
30 04
30 00
29 65
29 50
29 68
29 93
30 11
30 03
29 83
29 47
29 55
29 77
30 05
30 11
100
100
100
100
100
100
100
97
86
100
100
100
100
SE
S
SE
E
SE
SSE
NNW
S
ENE
SSW
S
SE
SE
Sleet
Rain
Foggy
Clo.
Rain
Fail-
Foggy
Fair
Clo.
Haiti
Fail-
Sleet
Fair
The quantity of Rain fallen in the month of October was three inches and 31-100ths.
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