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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:37:07 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:37:07 -0700 |
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diff --git a/11516-h/11516-h.htm b/11516-h/11516-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d60704 --- /dev/null +++ b/11516-h/11516-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1659 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Solaris (vers 1st October 2003), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Mirror of Literature, Issue 380.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em; margin: auto;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + .figure p + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11516 ***</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page17" name="page17"></a>[pg +17]</span> +<h1>THE MIRROR<br /> +OF<br /> +LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.</h1> +<hr class="full" /> +<table width="100%" summary="Volume, Number, and Date"> +<tr> +<td align="left"><b>Vol. 14. No. 380.]</b></td> +<td align="center"><b>SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1829</b></td> +<td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2d.</b></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>MERCERS' HALL, AND CHEAPSIDE</h2> +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/380-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/380-1.png" alt= +"Mercer's Hall, and Cheapside" /></a></div> +<p>The engraving is an interesting illustration of the architecture +of the metropolis in the seventeenth century, independent of its +local association with names illustrious in historical record.</p> +<p>In former times, when persons of the same trade congregated +together in some particular street, the mercers principally +assembled in West Cheap, now called Cheapside, near where the above +hall stands, and thence called by the name of "the Mercery." In +Lydgate's <i>London Lyckpenny</i>, are the following lines alluding +to this custom:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then to Chepe I began me drawne,</p> +<p>When much people I saw for to stand;</p> +<p>One offered me velvet, silk and lawne</p> +<p>And another he taketh me by the hand.</p> +<p>Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Pennant thus describes the principal historical data of the +spot:</p> +<p>"On the north side of Cheapside, (between Ironmonger Lane and +Old Jewry,) stood the Hospital of St. Thomas of Acon, founded by +Thomas Fitz-Theobald de Helles, and his wife Agnes, sister to the +turbulent Thomas Becket, who was born in the house of his father, +Gilbert, situated on this spot. The mother of our meek saint was a +fair Saracen, whom his father had married in the Holy Land. On the +site of this house rose the hospital, built within twenty years +after the murder of Thomas; yet such was the repute of his +sanctity, that it was dedicated to him, in conjunction with the +blessed Virgin, without waiting for his canonization. The hospital +consisted of a master and several brethren, professing the rule of +St. Austin. The church, cloisters, &c. were granted by Henry +VIII. to the Mercers' Company, who had the gift of the +mastership.<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href= +"#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> +<p>"In the old church were several monuments; among others, one to +James Butler, Earl of Ormond, and Joan his wife, living in the +beginning of the reign of Henry VI. The whole pile was destroyed in +the great fire, but was very handsomely rebuilt by the Mercers' +Company, who have their Hall here.</p> +<p>"In this chapel the celebrated, but unsteady, archbishop of +Spalato, preached his first sermon in 1617, in Italian, before the +Archbishop of Canterbury, and a splendid audience; and continued +his discourses in the same place several <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page18" name="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> times, +after he had embraced our religion; but having the folly to return +to his ancient faith, and trust himself among his old friends at +Rome, he was shut up in the Castle of St. Angelo, where he died in +1625."</p> +<p>"The Mercers' Company is the first of the twelve. The name by no +means implied, originally, a dealer in silks: for <i>mercery</i> +included all sorts of small wares, toys, and haberdashery; but, as +several of this opulent company were merchants, and imported great +quantities of rich silks from Italy, the name became applied to the +Company, and all dealers in silk. Not fewer than sixty-two mayors +were of this Company, between the years 1214 and 1762; among which +were Sir John Coventry, Sir Richard Whittington, and Sir Richard +and Sir John Gresham."</p> +<p>The front in Cheapside, which alone can be seen, is narrow, but +floridly adorned with carvings and architectural ornaments. The +door is enriched with the figures of two cupids, mantling the arms, +festoons, &c. and above the balcony, it is adorned with two +pilasters, entablature, and pediment of the Ionic order; the +intercolumns are the figures of Faith and Hope, and that of +Charity, in a niche under the cornice of the pediment, with other +enrichments. The interior is very handsome. The hall and great +parlour are wainscoted with oak, and adorned with Ionic pilasters. +The ceiling is of fret-work, and the stately piazzas are +constituted by large columns, and their entablature of the Doric +order.</p> +<p>The arms of the Mercers, as they are sculptured over the +gateway, present for their distinguishing feature a demi-virgin +with dishevelled hair: it was in allusion to this circumstance, +that in the days of pageantry, at the election of Lord Mayor, a +richly ornamented chariot was produced, in which was seated a young +and beautiful virgin, most sumptuously arrayed, her hair flowing in +ringlets over her neck and shoulders, and a crown upon her head. +When the day's diversions were over, she was liberally rewarded and +dismissed, claiming as her own the rich attire she had worn.</p> +<p>From this place likewise was formerly a solemn procession by the +Lord Mayor, who, in the afternoon of the day he was sworn at the +Exchequer, met the Aldermen; whence they repaired together to St. +Paul's, and there prayed for the soul of their benefactor, William, +Bishop of London, in the time of William the Conqueror, at his +tomb. They then went to the churchyard to a place where lay the +parents of Thomas â Becket, and prayed for all souls +departed. They then returned to the chapel, and both Mayor and +Aldermen offered each a penny.</p> +<p>Attached to the original foundation or hospital was a +grammar-school, which has been subsequently continued at the +expense of the Mercers' Company, though not on the same spot. It +was for some time kept in the Old Jewry, whence it has been removed +to College Hill, Upper Thames Street. Among the masters may be +mentioned William Baxter, nephew to the non-conformist, Richard +Baxter, and author of two Dictionaries of British and Roman +Antiquities.</p> +<p>Nearly opposite the entrance to Mercers' Hall, is a handsome +stone-fronted house, built by Sir Christopher Wren. The houses +adjoining the Hall were of similar ornamental character; although +the unenclosed shop-fronts present a strange contrast with some of +the improvements and superfluities of modern times. The Hall front +has lately been renovated, and presents a rich display of +architectural ornament.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LONE GRAVES.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Why should their sleep thus silent be, from streams and flow'rs +away,</p> +<p>While wanders thro' the sunny air the cuckoo's mellow lay;</p> +<p>Those forms, whose eyes reflected heaven in their mild depth of +blue,</p> +<p>Whose hair was like the wave that shines o'er sands of golden +hue?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Are these the altars of their rest, the pure and sacred +shrines;</p> +<p>Where Memory, rapt o'er visions fled, her holy spell +combines?</p> +<p>The sire, the child, oh, waft them back to their delightful +dell,</p> +<p>When, like a voice from heavenly lands, awakes the curfew +bell.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And have they no remembrance here, the cheeks that softly +glow'd,</p> +<p>The amber hair, that, on the breeze, in gleaming tresses +flow'd,</p> +<p>The hymn which hail'd the Sabbath morn,—the fix'd and +fervid eye;</p> +<p>Must these sweet treasures of the heart in shade and silence +lie?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, no! thou place of sanctities! a ray has from thee gone,</p> +<p>Dearer than noontide's gorgeous light, or Sabbath's music +tone;</p> +<p>A spirit! whose bright ark is far beyond the clouds and +waves,</p> +<p>Albeit there is a sunless gloom on these, their lonely +graves!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em">REGINALD AUGUSTINE.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page19" name="page19"></a>[pg +19]</span> +<h3>BAGLEY WOOD.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>Bagley is situated about two miles and a half from Oxford, on +the Abingdon-road, and affords an agreeable excursion to the +Oxonians, who, leaving the city of learning, pass over the old +bridge, where the observatory of the celebrated Friar Bacon was +formerly standing. The wood is large, extending itself to the +summit of a hill, which commands a charming panoramic view of +Oxford, and of the adjacent country. The scene is richly +diversified with hill and dale, while the spires, turrets, and +towers of the university, rise high above the clustering trees, +filling the beholder with the utmost awe and veneration. During the +summer, this rustic spot presents many cool retreats, and +love-embowering shades; and here many an amour is carried on, free +from suspicion's eye, beneath the wide umbrageous canopy of +nature.</p> +<p>Gipsies, or <i>fortune-tellers</i>, are constantly to be found +in Bagley Wood; and many a gay Oxonian may be seen in the company +of some wandering Egyptian beauty. So partial, indeed, are several +of the young men of the university to the tawny tribe, that they +are frequently observed in their <i>academicals</i>, lounging round +the picturesque tents, having <i>their</i> fortunes told; though, +it must be remarked, their countenances usually evince a waggish +incredulity on those occasions, and they appear much more amused +with the novel scene around them than gratified with the favourable +predictions of the wily Egyptians.</p> +<p>The merry gipsies of Bagley Wood might well sing with +<i>Herrick</i></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Here we securely live, and eat</p> +<p>The cream of meat;</p> +<p>And keep eternal fires</p> +<p>By which we sit, <i>and do divine</i>."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>G.W.N.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EATING "MUTTON COLD."</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>A correspondent in a late number asks for a solution of the +expression, "eating mutton cold." If the following one is worth +printing, it is much at your service and that of the readers of the +MIRROR.</p> +<p>I consider then that it has simply the same meaning as that of +"coming a day after the fair." To come at the end of a feast when +the various viands (always including mutton as being easy of +digestion for dyspeptic people) were still warm, though cut pretty +near to the bone, would, by most persons, particularly aldermanic +"bodies," be considered sufficiently vexatious; how doubly annoying +then must it be to come so late as to find the meats more than half +cold, and, perhaps, but little of them left even in that +anti-epicurean state! Whoever has been unfortunate enough to miss a +fine fat haunch either of venison or mutton, which, smoking on the +board, even Dr. Kitchiner would have pronounced fit for an emperor, +cannot but enter deeply and feelingly into the disappointment of +that guest who, arriving, through some misdate of the invitation +card, on the day subsequent to the feast, finds but, <i>horribile +dictu</i>, cold lean ham, cold pea-soup, cold potatoes, and +finally, <i>cold mutton</i>. Goldsmith's idea certainly was that +Burke was never able to say, in the words of the Roman adage, <i>in +tempore veni quod rerum omnium est primum</i>; but rather in plain +English, "confound my ill luck, I never yet was invited to a feast +but I either missed it in toto, or came so late as to be obliged to +eat my mutton cold, a thing, which of all others, I most abhor." +HEN. B.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>POOL'S HOLE, DERBYSHIRE.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>This cave is said to have taken its title from a notorious +robber of that name, who being declared an outlaw, found in this +hole a refuge from justice, where he carried on his nocturnal +depredations with impunity. Others insist that this dismal hole was +the habitation of a hermit or anchorite, of the name of Pool. Of +the two traditions, I prefer the former. It is situated at the +bottom of <i>Coitmos</i>, a lofty mountain near Buxton. The +entrance is by a small arch, so low that you are forced to creep on +hands and knees to gain admission; but it gradually opens into a +vault above a quarter of a mile in length, and as some assert, a +quarter of a mile high. It is certainly very lofty, and resembles +the roof of a Gothic edifice. In a cavern to the right called +Pool's Chamber, there is a fine echo, and the dashing of a current +of water, which flows along the middle of the great vault, very +much heightens the wonder.</p> +<p>On the floor are great ridges of stone—water is +perpetually distilling from the roof and sides of this vault, and +the drops before they fall produce a very pleasing effect, by +reflecting numberless rays from the candles carried by <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page20" name="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> the +guides. They also form their quality from crystallizations of +various flakes like figures of fret work, and in some places, +having long accumulated upon one another, into large masses, +bearing a rude resemblance to various animals.</p> +<p>In the same cavity is a column as clear as alabaster, called +<i>Mary Queen of Scots'</i> column, because it is said she reached +so far; beyond which is a steep ascent for nearly a quarter of a +mile, which terminates in a hollow in the roof, called the +Needle's-eye, in which, when the guide places his candle, it looks +like a star in the firmament. You only wonder when you get out how +you attained such an achievement. W.H.H.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL.</h3> +<h4>(<i>To the Editor of the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>Happening to look at No. 229, of your valuable Miscellany, in +which you have given rather a lengthy account of Canterbury +Cathedral, I was surprised to find no notice taken of the beautiful +STONE SCREEN in the interior of the cathedral, which is considered +by many, one of the finest specimens of florid Gothic in the +kingdom. The following is a brief description of this ancient +specimen of architecture:</p> +<p>This fine piece of Gothic carved work was built by Prior Hen. de +Estria, in 1304. It is rich in flutings, pyramids, and canopied +niches, in which stand six statues crowned, five of which hold +globes in their hands, and the sixth a church. Various have been +the conjectures as to the individuals intended by these statues. +That holding the church is supposed to represent King Ethelbert, +being a very ancient man with a long beard. The next figure appears +more feminine, and may probably intend his queen, Bertha.</p> +<p>Before the havoc made in Charles's reign, there were thirteen +figures representing Christ and his Apostles in the niches which +are round the arch-doorway, and also twelve mitred Saints aloft +along the stone work, where is now placed an organ.</p> +<p>At the National Repository, Charing Cross, there is exhibited a +very correct model of this screen, in which the likenesses of the +ancient kings are admirably imitated. P.T.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ANCIENT STONE.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror</i>.)</h4> +<p>There formerly stood about three miles from Carmarthen, at a +place called New Church, a stone about eight feet long and two +broad. The only distinguishable words upon it were "<i>Severus +filius Severi</i>." The remainder of the inscription, by +dilapidation and time, was defaced. It is supposed that there had +been a battle fought here, and that Severus fell. About a quarter +of a mile from this was another with the name of some other +individual. The above stone was removed by the owner of the land on +which it stood, and is now used instead of a gate-post by him. I +should imagine it was the son of Severus the Roman, who founded the +great wall and ditch called after him, Severus' Wall and Ditch, and +as there was a Roman road from St. David's, in Wales, to +Southampton, it is not improbable that the Romans should come from +thence to Carmarthen. W.H.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE COSMOPOLITE.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>DIET OF VARIOUS NATIONS.</h3> +<h4>(<i>For the Mirror.</i>)</h4> +<p>To the artist, the amateur, the traveller, and man of taste in +general, the following gleanings respecting the diet of various +nations, are, in the spirit of English hospitality, cordially +inscribed. The breakfast of the <i>Icelanders</i> consists of +<i>skyr</i>, a kind of sour, coagulated milk, sometimes mixed with +fresh milk or cream, and flavoured with the juice of certain +berries; their usual dinner is dried fish, skyr, and rancid butter; +and skyr, cheese, or porridge, made of Iceland moss, forms their +supper; bread is rarely tasted by many of the Icelanders, but +appears as a dainty at their rural feasts with mutton, and +milk-porridge. They commonly drink a kind of whey mixed with water. +As the cattle of this people are frequently, during winter, reduced +to the miserable necessity of subsisting on dried fish, we can +scarcely conceive their fresh meat to be so great a luxury as it is +there esteemed. The poor of <i>Sweden</i> live on hard bread, +salted or dried fish, water-gruel, and beer. The <i>Norwegian</i> +nobility and merchants fare sumptuously, but the lower classes +chiefly subsist on the following articles:—oatmeal-bread, +made in thin cakes (strongly resembling the havver-bread of +Scotland) and baked only twice a-year. The oatmeal for this bread +is, in times of scarcity, which in Norway frequently occur, mixed +with the bark of elm or fir tree, ground, after boiling and drying, +into a sort of flour; sometimes in the vicinity of fisheries, the +roes of cod kneaded with the meal <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page21" name="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> of oats or barley, are +made into a kind of hasty-pudding, and soup, which is enriched with +a pickled herring or mackerel. The flesh of the shark, and thin +slices of meat salted and dried in the wind, are much esteemed. +Fresh fish are plentiful on the coasts, but for lack of +conveyances, unknown in the interior; the deficiency however, is +there amply supplied by an abundance of game. The flesh of cattle +pickled, smoked, or dry-salted, is laid by for winter store; and +after making cheese, the sour whey is converted into a liquor +called <i>syre</i>, which, mixed with water, constitutes the +ordinary beverage of the Norwegians; but for festive occasions they +brew strong beer, and with it intoxicate themselves, as also with +brandy, when procurable. The maritime <i>Laplanders</i> feed on +fish of every description, even to that of sea-dog, fish-livers, +and train-oil, and of these obtaining but a scanty provision; they +are even aspiring to the rank of the interior inhabitants, whose +nutriment is of a more delicate description, being the flesh of all +kinds of wild animals, herbaceous and carnivorous, and birds of +prey; but bear's flesh is their greatest dainty. Rein-deer flesh is +commonly boiled in a large iron kettle, and when done, torn to +pieces by the fingers of the <i>major domo</i>, and by him +portioned out to his family and friends; the broth remaining in the +kettle is boiled into soup with rye or oat-meal, and sometimes +seasoned with salt. Rein-deer blood is also a viand with these +people, and being boiled, either by itself or mixed with wild +berries, in the stomach of the animal from whence it was taken, +forms a kind of black-pudding. The beverage of the Laplanders is +milk and water, broths, and fish-soups; brandy, of which they are +extremely fond, is a great rarity, and a glass of it will warm +their hearts towards the weary sojourner, who, but for the precious +gift, might ask hospitality at their huts in vain. The diet of the +<i>Samoides</i>, resembles that of the Laplanders, save that they +devour raw the flesh of fish and reindeer. For this people, all +animals taken in the chase, and even those found dead, afford food, +with the exception of dogs, cats, ermines, and squirrels. They have +no regular time for meals, but the members of a family help +themselves when they please from the boiler which always hangs over +the fire. It is scarcely possible to name the variety of diet to be +found among the Russian tribes; but even in cities, and at the +tables of the opulent and civilized, late accounts mention the +appearance of several strange and disgusting dishes, compounded of +pastry, grain, pulse, vinegar, honey, fish, flesh, fruits, &c., +not at all creditable to Russian gastronomic science. The diet of +the <i>Polish</i> peasantry is meagre in the extreme; they seldom +taste animal food, and both sexes swallow a prodigious quantity of +<i>schnaps</i>, an ardent spirit resembling whiskey. The +<i>Dutch</i> of all ranks are fond of butter, and seldom is a +journey taken without a butter-box in the pocket. The boors feed on +roots, pulse, herbs, sour milk, and water-souchie, a kind of +fish-broth. In <i>England</i>, the edible produce of the world +appears at the tables of the nobility, gentry, and opulent +commercial classes; and upon comparison with that of other nations, +it will be seen that the diet of English artisans, peasantry, and +even paupers, is far superior in variety and nourishment; bread, +(white and brown) vegetables, meat, broth, soup, fish, fruit, +roots, herbs, cheese, milk, butter, and, not rarely, sugar and tea, +with fermented liquors and ardent spirits, are all, or most of +them, procured as articles of daily subsistence by the English +inferior classes. In Scotland, the higher ranks live abstemiously, +save on festive occasions; but animal food and wheaten bread is +seldom tasted by the lower orders, who chiefly subsist on rye, +barley, and oatmeal, prepared in bread, thin cakes, and porridge; +this last termed <i>stirabout</i>, is simply oatmeal mixed with +water and boiled (being stirred about with a wooden skether or +spoon when on the fire) to the consistency of flour-paste, not very +stiff; this, eaten with milk, forms the chief diet of the Scottish +artisans and peasantry, and, indeed, many of superior stations +prefer it for breakfast to bread of the finest flour which can be +procured. Both high and low are partial to the following national +dishes. The <i>haggis</i>, a kind of pudding, made of the offals or +interior of a sheep, and boiled in the integument of its stomach; +this dish, both in odour and flavour, is usually excessively +offensive to the stranger; the singed sheep's head, water-souchie, +Scotch soup, (an <i>olla podrida</i> of meats and vegetables,) +chicken-broth and sowens. <i>Laver</i>, a sauce made from a +peculiar kind of sea-weed, and <i>caviar</i>, introduced from +Russia, appear at the tables of the opulent, and by many are much +esteemed. The diet of the higher ranks of <i>Irish</i> varies but +little from that of the same classes in England and Scotland. +Amongst national dishes appear the <i>staggering bob</i>, a calf +only two days old, delicately dressed; hodge-podge, a soup +answering to <span class="pagenum"><a id="page22" name= +"page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> that of Scotland; colcannon, a mixture +of potatoes and greens, seasoned with onions, salt, and pepper, +finely braided together after boiling; and a sea-weed sauce, either +laver or some other, the name of which we do not happen to +remember. Potatoes, fish, (fresh and salted) eggs, milk, and +butter-milk, form the principal support of the inferior class, of +Irish; and whiskey the national ardent spirit of Ireland and +Scotland, is but too often, as is gin in England, the sole support +of a host of besotted beings, who drop into untimely graves, from +the <i>habit of intoxication</i>.</p> +<p>(<i>To be continued</i>.)</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF <i>NEW WORKS</i>.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>NUPTIALS OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT.</h3> +<p>At Susa, Alexander collected all the nobles of the empire, and +celebrated the most magnificent nuptials recorded in history. He +married Barcinè, or Stateira, the daughter of the late king, +and thus, in the eyes of his Persian subjects, confirmed his title +to the throne. His father, Philip, was a polygamist in practice, +although it would be very difficult to prove that the Macedonians +in general were allowed a plurality of wives; but Alexander was now +the King of Kings, and is more likely to have been guided by +Persian than Greek opinions upon the subject. Eighty of his +principal officers followed his example, and were united to the +daughters of the chief nobility of Persia.</p> +<p>The marriages, in compliment to the brides, were celebrated +after the Persian fashion, and during the vernal equinox. For at no +other period, by the ancient laws of Persia, could nuptials be +legally celebrated. Such an institution is redolent of the poetry +and freshness of the new world, and of an attention to the voice of +nature, and the analogies of physical life. The young couple would +marry in time to sow their field, to reap the harvest, and gather +their stores, before the season of cold and scarcity overtook them. +It is difficult to say how far this custom prevailed among +primitive nations, but it can scarcely be doubted that we still +retain lingering traces of it in the harmless amusements of St. +Valentine's day.</p> +<p>On the wedding-day Alexander feasted the eighty bridegrooms in a +magnificent hall prepared for the purpose. Eighty separate couches +were placed for the guests, and on each a magnificent wedding-robe +for every individual. At the conclusion of the banquet, and while +the wine and the dessert were on the table, the eighty brides were +introduced; Alexander first rose, received the princess, took her +by the hand, kissed her, and placed her on the couch close to +himself. This example was followed by all, till every lady was +seated by her betrothed. This formed the whole of the Persian +ceremony—the salute being regarded as the seal of +appropriation. The Macedonian form was still more simple and +symbolical. The bridegroom, dividing a small loaf with his sword, +presented one-half to the bride; wine was then poured as a libation +on both portions, and the contracting parties tasted of the bread. +Cake and wine, as nuptial refreshments, may thus claim a venerable +antiquity. In due time the bridegrooms conducted their respective +brides to chambers prepared for them within the precincts of the +royal palace.</p> +<p>The festivities continued for five days, and all the amusements +of the age were put into requisition for the entertainment of the +company. Athenaeus has quoted from Charas, a list of the chief +performers, which I transcribe more for the sake of the +performances and of the states where these lighter arts were +brought to the greatest perfection, than of the names, which are +now unmeaning sounds. Scymnus from Tarentum, Philistides from +Syracuse, and Heracleitus from Mytylenè, were the great +jugglers, or as the Greek word intimates, the wonder-workers of the +day. After them, Alexis, the Tarentine, displayed his excellence as +a rhapsodist, or repeater, to appropriate music, of the +soul-stirring poetry of Homer. Cratinus the Methymnoean, +Aristonymus the Athenian, Athenodorus the Teian, played on the +harp—without being accompanied by the voice. On the contrary, +Heracleitus the Tarentine, and Aristocrates the Theban, accompanied +their harps with lyric songs. The performers on wind instruments +were divided on a similar, although it could not be on the same +principle. Dionysius from Heracleia, and Hyperbolus from Cyzicum, +sang to the flute, or some such instrument; while Timotheus, +Phrynichus, Scaphisius, Diophantus, and Evius, the Chalcidian, +first performed the Pythian overture, and then, accompanied by +chorusses, displayed the full power of wind instruments in masterly +hands. There was also a peculiar class called eulogists of Bacchus; +these acquitted themselves so well on this occasion, applying to +Alexander <span class="pagenum"><a id="page23" name= +"page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> those praises which in their +extemporaneous effusions had hitherto been confined to the god, +that they acquired the name of Eulogists of Alexander. Nor did +their reward fail them. The stage, of course, was not without its +representatives:—Thessalus, Athenodorus, Aristocritus, in +tragedy—Lycon, Phormion, and Ariston, in comedy—exerted +their utmost skill, and contended for the prize of superior +excellence. Phasimelus, the dancer was also present.</p> +<p>It is yet undecided whether the Persians admitted their matrons +to their public banquets and private parties;—but if we can +believe the positive testimony of Herodotus, such was the case: and +the summons of Vashti to the annual festival, and the admission of +Haman to the queen's table, are facts which support the affirmation +of that historian. The doubts upon the subject appear to have +arisen from confounding the manners of Assyrians, Medes, and +Parthians, with those of the more Scythian tribes of Persis. We +read in Xenophon that the Persian women were so well made and +beautiful, that their attractions might easily have seduced the +affections of the Ten Thousand, and have caused them, like the +lotus-eating companions of Ulysses, to forget their native land. +Some little hints as to the mode in which their beauty was enhanced +and their persons decorated, may be expected in the Life of +Alexander, who, victorious over their fathers and brothers, yet +submitted to their charms.</p> +<p>The Persian ladies wore the tiara or turban richly adorned with +jewels. They wore their hair long, and both plaited and curled it; +nor, if the natural failed, did they scruple to use false locks. +They pencilled the eyebrows, and tinged the eyelid, with a dye that +was supposed to add a peculiar brilliancy to the eyes. They were +fond of perfumes, and their delightful ottar was the principal +favourite. Their tunic and drawers were of fine linen, the robe or +gown of silk—the train of this was long, and on state +occasions required a supporter. Round the waist they wore a broad +zone or cincture, flounced on both edges, and embroidered and +jewelled in the centre. They also wore stockings and gloves, but +history has not recorded their materials. They used no sandals; a +light and ornamented shoe was worn in the house; and for walking +they had a kind of coarse half boot. They used shawls and wrappers +for the person, and veils for the head; the veil was large and +square, and when thrown over the head descended low on all sides. +They were fond of glowing colours, especially of purple, scarlet, +and light-blue dresses. Their favourite ornaments were pearls; they +wreathed these in their hair, wore them as necklaces, ear-drops, +armlets, bracelets, anklets, and worked them into conspicuous parts +of their dresses. Of the precious stones they preferred emeralds, +rubies, and turquoises, which were set in gold and worn like the +pearls.</p> +<p>Alexander did not limit his liberality to the wedding +festivities, but presented every bride with a handsome marriage +portion. He also ordered the names of all the soldiers who had +married Asiatic wives to be registered; their number exceeded +10,000; and each received a handsome present, under the name of +marriage gift.—<i>Williams's Life of Alexander, Family +Library, No. 3</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>POEMS, BY W.T. MONCRIEFF.</h3> +<p>This is a pretty little volume of graceful poems, printed "at +the author's private press, for private distribution only." They +are, however, entitled by their merits, to more extensive, or +public circulation; for many of them evince the good taste and pure +feelings of the writer. Some of the pieces relate to domestic +circumstances, others are calculated to cheat "sorrow of a smile," +whilst all are, to use a set phrase, highly honourable to the head +and heart of the author. In proof of this, we could detach several +pages; but we have only space for a few:</p> +<h3>SONG.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As flowers, that seem the light to shun</p> +<p>At evening's dusk and morning's haze,</p> +<p>Expand beneath the noon-tide sun,</p> +<p>And bloom to beauty in his rays,</p> +<p>So maidens, in a lover's eyes,</p> +<p>A thousand times more lovely grow,</p> +<p>Yield added sweetness to his sighs,</p> +<p>And with unwonted graces glow.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As gems from light their brilliance gain,</p> +<p>And brightest shine when shone upon,</p> +<p>Nor half their orient rays retain,</p> +<p>When light wanes dim and day is gone:</p> +<p>So Beauty beams, for one dear one!</p> +<p>Acquires fresh splendour in his sight,</p> +<p>Her life—her light—her day—her sun—</p> +<p>Her harbinger of all that's bright!<a id="footnotetag2" name= +"footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a></p> +</div> +</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page24" name="page24"></a>[pg +24]</span> +<h3>ANECDOTE VERSIFIED.</h3> +<h4><i>Lord Albemarle to Mademoiselle Gaucher, on seeing her look +very earnestly at the Evening Star</i>.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! do not gaze upon that star,</p> +<p>That distant star, so earnestly,</p> +<p>If thou would'st not my pleasure mar—</p> +<p>For ah! I cannot give it thee.<a id="footnotetag3" name= +"footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And, such is my unbounded love,</p> +<p>Thou should'st not gaze upon a thing</p> +<p>I would not make thee mistress of,</p> +<p>And prove in love, at least, a <i>King</i>!</p> +</div> +</div> +<h3>STANZAS TO THE SHADE OF ——</h3> +<blockquote><i>In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep +sleep falleth on men,—an image was before mine eyes; there +was silence, and I heard a voice</i>. JOB iv. 13.</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Reproach me not, beloved shade!</p> +<p>Nor think thy memory less I prize;</p> +<p>The smiles that o'er my features play'd,</p> +<p>But hid my pangs from vulgar eyes.</p> +<p>I acted like the worldling boy,</p> +<p>With heart to every feeling vain:</p> +<p>I smil'd with all, yet felt no joy;</p> +<p>I wept with all, yet felt no pain,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No—though, to veil thoughts of gloom,</p> +<p>I seem'd to twine Joy's rosy wreath,</p> +<p>'Twas but as flowerets o'er a tomb.</p> +<p>Which only hide the woe beneath.</p> +<p>I lose no portion of my woes,</p> +<p>Although my tears in secret flow;</p> +<p>More green and fresh the verdure grows,</p> +<p>Where the cold streams run hid below.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h3>A MODEST ODE TO FORTUNE.</h3> +<blockquote>"<i>Et genus et formam regina pecunia donat</i>." +HOR.</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O Goddess Fortune, hear my prayer,</p> +<p>And make a bard for once thy care!</p> +<p>I do not ask, in houses splendid,</p> +<p>To be by liveried slaves attended;</p> +<p>I ask not for estates, nor land,</p> +<p>Nor host of vassals at command;</p> +<p>I ask not for a handsome wife—</p> +<p>Though I dislike a single life;</p> +<p>I ask not friends, nor fame, nor power,</p> +<p>Nor courtly rank, nor leisure's hour;</p> +<p>I ask not books, nor wine, nor plate.</p> +<p>Nor yet acquaintance with the great;</p> +<p>Nor dance, nor sons, nor mirth, nor jest,</p> +<p>Nor treasures of the East or West;</p> +<p>I ask not beauty, wit, nor ease,</p> +<p>Nor qualities more blest than these—</p> +<p>Learning nor genius, skill nor art,</p> +<p>Nor valour for the hero's part;</p> +<p>These, though I much desire to have,</p> +<p>I do not, dearest goddess, crave.—</p> +<p>I modestly for MONEY call—</p> +<p>For <i>money</i> will procure them <i>all</i>!</p> +</div> +</div> +<h3>ANACREONTIC.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Come fill the bowl!—one summer's day,</p> +<p>Some hearts, that had been wreck'd and sever'd,</p> +<p>Again to tempt the liquid way,</p> +<p>And join their former mates endeavour'd;</p> +<p>But then arose this serious question.</p> +<p>Which best to kindred hearts would guide?</p> +<p>Water, was Prudence' pure suggestion,</p> +<p>But that they thought too cool a tide!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Peace bade them try the milky way,</p> +<p>But they were fearful 'twould becalm them;</p> +<p>Cried Love, on dews of morning stray,—</p> +<p>They deem'd 'twould from their purpose charm them.</p> +<p>Cried Friendship, try the ruby tide,—</p> +<p>They did—each obstacle departs;</p> +<p>'Tis still with wine 'reft hearts will glide</p> +<p>Most surely unto kindred hearts.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h3>THE PILGRIM PRINCE.—BALLAD.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>At blush of morn, the silver horn</p> +<p>Was loudly blown at the castle gate;</p> +<p>And, from the wall, the Seneschal</p> +<p>Saw there a weary pilgrim wait.</p> +<p>"What news—what news, thou stranger bold?</p> +<p>Thy looks are rough, thy raiment old!</p> +<p>And little does Lady Isabel care</p> +<p>To know how want and poverty fare."</p> +<p>"Ah let me straight that lady see,</p> +<p>For far I come from the North Country!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"And who art thou, bold wight, I trow,</p> +<p>That would to Lady Isabel speak!"</p> +<p>"One who, long since shone as a prince,</p> +<p>And kiss'd her damask cheek:</p> +<p>But oh, my trusty sword has fail'd,</p> +<p>The cruel Paynim has prevail'd,</p> +<p>My lands are lost, my friends are few,</p> +<p>Trifles all, if my lady's true!"</p> +<p>"Poor prince! ah when did woman's truth,</p> +<p>Outlive the loss of lands and youth!"</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE SKETCH-BOOK.</h2> +<h3>THE SPLENDID ANNUAL.</h3> +<h4><i>By the Author of "Sayings and Doings</i>."</h4> +<p>Literature, even in this literary age, is not the ordinary +pursuit of the citizens of London, although every merchant is +necessarily a man of letters, and underwriters are as common as +cucumbers. Notwithstanding, however, my being a citizen, I am +tempted to disclose the miseries and misfortunes of my life in +these pages, because having heard the "ANNIVERSARY" called a +splendid annual, I hope for sympathy from its readers, seeing that +I have been a "<i>splendid annual</i>" myself.</p> +<p>My name is Scropps—I <i>am</i> an Alderman—I +<i>was</i> Sheriff—I <i>have been</i> Lord Mayor—and +the three great eras of my existence were the year of my +shrievalty, the year of my mayoralty, and the year after it. Until +I had passed through this ordeal I had no conception of the +extremes of happiness and wretchedness to which a human being may +be carried, nor ever believed that society presented to its members +an eminence so exalted as that which I once touched, or imagined a +fall so great as that which I experienced. I came originally from +that place to which persons of bad character are said to be +sent—I mean Coventry, where my <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page25" name="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> father for many years +contributed his share to the success of parliamentary candidates, +the happiness of new married couples, and even the gratification of +ambitious courtiers, by taking part in the manufacture of ribands +for election cockades, wedding favours, and cordons of chivalry; +but trade failed, and, like his betters, he became bankrupt, but, +unlike his betters, without any consequent advantage to himself; +and I, at the age of fifteen, was thrown upon the world with +nothing but a strong constitution, a moderate education, and +fifteen shillings and eleven pence three farthings in my +pocket.</p> +<p>With these qualifications I started from my native town on a +pedestrian excursion to London; and although I fell into none of +those romantic adventures of which I had read at school, I met with +more kindness than the world generally gets credit for, and on the +fourth day after my departure, having slept soundly, if not +magnificently, every night, and eaten with an appetite which my +mode of travelling was admirably calculated to stimulate, reached +the great metropolis, having preserved of my patrimony, no less a +sum than nine shillings and seven pence.</p> +<p>The bells of one of the churches in the city were ringing +merrily as I descended the heights of Islington; and were it not +that my patronymic Scropps never could, under the most improved +system of campanology, be jingled into any thing harmonious, I have +no doubt I, like my great predecessor Whittington, might have heard +in that peal a prediction of my future exaltation; certain it is I +did not; and, wearied with my journey, I took up my lodging for the +night at a very humble house near Smithfield, to which I had been +kindly recommended by the driver of a return postchaise, of whose +liberal offer of the moiety of his bar to town I had availed myself +at Barnet.</p> +<p>As it is not my intention to deduce a moral from my progress in +the world at this period of my life, I need not here dilate upon +the good policy of honesty, or the advantages of temperance and +perseverance, by which I worked my way upwards, until after +meriting the confidence of an excellent master, I found myself +enjoying it fully. To his business I succeeded at his death, having +several years before, with his sanction, married a young and +deserving woman, about my own age, of whose prudence and skill in +household matters I had long had a daily experience.</p> +<p>To be brief, Providence blessed my efforts and increased my +means; I became a wholesale dealer in every thing, from barrels of +gunpowder down to pickled herrings; in the civic acceptation of the +word I was a merchant, amongst the vulgar I am called a dry-salter. +I accumulated wealth; with my fortune my family also grew, and one +male Scropps, and four female ditto, grace my board at least once +in every week.</p> +<p>Passing over the minor gradations of my life, the removal from +one residence to another, the enlargement of this warehouse, the +rebuilding of that, the anxiety of a canvass for common council +man, activity in the company of which I am liveryman, inquests, and +vestries, and ward meetings, and all the other pleasing toils to +which an active citizen is subject, let us come at once to the +first marked epoch of my life—the year of my Shrievalty. The +announcement of my nomination and election filled Mrs. S. with +delight; and when I took my children to Great Queen Street, +Lincoln's Inn Fields, to look at the gay chariot brushing up for +me, I confess I felt proud and happy to be able to show my progeny +the arms of London, those of the Spectacle Makers' Company, and +those of the Scroppses (recently found at a trivial expense) all +figuring upon the same panels. They looked magnificent upon the +pea-green ground, and the wheels, "white picked out crimson," +looked so chaste, and the hammercloth, and the fringe, and the +festoons, and the Scropps' crests all looked so rich, and the silk +linings and white tassels, and the squabs and the yellow cushions +and the crimson carpet looked so comfortable, that, as I stood +contemplating the equipage, I said to myself, "What have I done to +deserve <i>this</i>?—O that my poor father were alive to see +his boy Jack going down to Westminster, to chop sticks and count +hobnails, in a carriage like this!" My children were like mad +things: and in the afternoon, when I put on my first new brown +court suit (lined, like my chariot, with white silk) and fitted up +with cut steel buttons, just to try the effect, it all appeared +like a dream; the sword, which I tried on every night for half an +hour after I went up to bed, to practise walking with it, was very +inconvenient at first; but use is second nature; and so by +rehearsing and rehearsing, I made myself perfect before that +auspicious day when Sheriffs flourish and geese +prevail—namely, the twenty-ninth of September.</p> +<p>The twelve months which followed were very delightful; for +independently <span class="pagenum"><a id="page26" name= +"page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> of the <i>positive</i> honour and +<i>éclat</i> they produced, I had the Mayoralty in +<i>prospectû</i> (having attained my aldermanic gown by an +immense majority the preceding year), and as I used during the +sessions to sit in my box at the Old Bailey, with my bag at my back +and my bouquet on my book, my thoughts were wholly devoted to one +object of contemplation; culprits stood trembling to hear the +verdict of a jury, and I regarded them not; convicts knelt to +receive the fatal fiat of the Recorder, and I heeded not their +sufferings, as I watched the Lord Mayor seated in the centre of the +bench, with the sword of justice stuck up in a goblet over his +head—there, thought I, if I live two years, shall <i>I</i> +sit—however, even as it was, it was very agreeable. When +executions, the chief drawbacks to my delight, happened, I found, +after a little seasoning, I took the thing coolly, and enjoyed my +toast and tea after the patients were turned off, just as if +nothing had happened; for, in <i>my</i> time, we hanged at eight +and breakfasted at a quarter after, so that without much hurry we +were able to finish our muffins just in time for the cutting down +at nine. I had to go to the House of Commons with a petition, and +to Court with an address—trying situations for one of the +Scroppses—however, the want of state in parliament, and the +very little attention paid to us by the members, put me quite at my +ease at Westminster; while the gracious urbanity of our +accomplished monarch on his throne made me equally comfortable at +St. James's. Still I was but a secondary person, or rather only one +of two secondary persons—the chief of bailiffs and principal +Jack Ketch; there <i>was</i> a step to gain—and, as I often +mentioned in confidence to Mrs. Scropps, I was sure my heart would +never be still until I had reached the pinnacle.</p> +<p>Behold at length the time arrived!—Guildhall crowded to +excess—the hustings thronged—the aldermen +retire—they return—their choice is announced to the +people—it has fallen upon John Ebenezer Scropps, Esq., +Alderman and spectacle maker—a sudden shout is +heard—"Scropps for ever!" resounds—the whole assembly +seems to vanish from my sight—I come forward—am +invested with the chain—I bow—make a +speech—tumble over the train of the Recorder, and tread upon +the tenderest toe of Mr. Deputy Pod—leave the hall in +ecstasy, and drive home to Mrs. Scropps in a state of mind +bordering upon insanity.</p> +<p>The days wore on, each one seemed as long as a week, until at +length the eighth of November arrived, and then did it seem certain +that I should be Lord Mayor—I was sworn in—the civic +insignia were delivered to me—I returned them to the proper +officers—my chaplain was near me—the esquires of my +household were behind me—the thing was done—never shall +I forget the tingling sensation I felt in my ear when I was first +called "My Lord"—I even doubted if it were addressed to me, +and hesitated to answer—but it was so—the reign of +splendour had begun, and, after going through the accustomed +ceremonies, I got home and retired to bed early, in order to be +fresh for the fatigues of the ensuing day.</p> +<p>Sleep I did not—how was it to be expected?—Some part +of the night I was in consultation with Mrs. Scropps upon the +different arrangements; settling about the girls, their places at +the banquet, and their partners at the ball; the wind down the +chimney sounded like the shouts of the people; the cocks crowing in +the mews at the back of the house I took for trumpets sounding my +approach; and the ordinary incidental noises in the family I +fancied the pop-guns at Stangate, announcing my disembarkation at +Westminster—thus I tossed and tumbled until the long +wished-for day dawned, and I jumped up anxiously to realize the +visions of the night. I was not long at my toilet—I was soon +shaved and dressed—but just as I was settling myself +comfortably into my beautiful brown broadcloth inexpressibles, +crack went something, and I discovered that a seam had ripped half +a foot long. Had it been consistent with the dignity of a Lord +Mayor to swear, I should, I believe, at that moment, have +anathematized the offending tailor;—as it was, what was to be +done?—I heard trumpets in earnest, carriages drawing up and +setting down; sheriffs, and chaplains, mace bearers, train bearers, +sword bearers, water bailiffs, remembrancers, Mr. Common Hunt, the +town clerk, and the deputy town clerk, all bustling about—the +bells ringing—and <i>I</i> late, with a hole in my +inexpressibles! There was but one remedy—my wife's maid, +kind, intelligent creature, civil and obliging, and ready to turn +her hand to any thing, came to my aid, and in less than fifteen +minutes her activity, exerted in the midst of the confusion, +repaired the injury, and turned me out fit to be seen by the whole +corporation of London.</p> +<p>When I was dressed, I tapped at Mrs. Scropps's door, went in, +and asked her if she thought I should do; the dear <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page27" name="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> soul, +after settling my point lace frill (which she had been good enough +to pick off her own petticoat on purpose) and putting my bag +straight, gave me the sweetest salute imaginable.</p> +<p>"I wish your lordship health and happiness," said she.</p> +<p>"Sally," said I, "your ladyship is an angel;" and so, having +kissed each of my daughters, who were in progress of dressing, I +descended the stairs, to begin the auspicious day in which I +reached the apex of my greatness.—Never shall I forget the +bows—the civilities—the congratulations—sheriffs +bending before me—the Recorder smiling—the Common +Sergeant at my feet—the pageant was intoxicating; and when, +after having breakfasted, I stepped into that glazed and gilded +house upon wheels, called the state coach, and saw my sword bearer +pop himself into one of the boots, with the sword of state in his +hand, I was lost in ecstasy, I threw myself back upon the seat of +the vehicle with all imaginable dignity, but not without damage, +for in the midst of my ease and elegance I snapped off the cut +steel hilt of my sword, by accidentally bumping the whole weight of +my body right, or rather wrong, directly upon the top of it.</p> +<p>But what was a sword hilt or a bruise to <i>me</i>? I was +<i>the</i> Lord Mayor—the greatest man of the greatest city +of the greatest nation in the world. The people realized my +anticipations, and "Bravo, Scropps!" and "Scropps for ever!" again +resounded, as we proceeded slowly and majestically towards the +river, through a fog, which prevented our being advantageously +seen, and which got down the throat of the sword bearer, who +coughed incessantly during our progress, much to my annoyance, not +to speak of the ungraceful movements which his convulsive barkings +gave to the red velvet scabbard of the official glave as it stuck +out of the window of the coach.</p> +<p>We embarked in <i>my</i> barge; a new scene of splendour awaited +me, guns, shouts, music, flags, banners, in short, every thing that +fancy could paint or a water bailiff provide; there, in the gilded +bark, was prepared a cold collation—I ate, but tasted +nothing—fowls, <i>patés</i>, tongue, game, beef, ham, +all had the same flavour; champagne, hock, and Madeira were all +alike to <i>me</i>—Lord Mayor was all I saw, all I heard, all +I swallowed; every thing was pervaded by the one captivating word, +and the repeated appeal to "my lordship" was sweeter than +nectar.</p> +<p>At Westminster, having been presented and received, I +desired—I—John Ebenezer Scropps, of Coventry—I +desired the Recorder to invite the judges to dine with +me—I—who remember when two of the oldest and most +innocent of the twelve, came the circuit, trembling at the sight of +them, and believing them some extraordinary creatures upon whom all +the hair and fur I saw, grew naturally—I, not only to ask +these formidable beings to dine with me, but, as if I thought it +beneath my dignity to do so in my proper person, deputing a judge +of my own to do it for me; I never shall forget their bows in +return—Chinese mandarins on a chimney-piece are fools to +them.</p> +<p>Then came the return—we landed once more in the scene of +my dignity—at the corner of Fleet Street we found the Lady +Mayoress waiting for the procession—there she was—Sally +Scropps (her maiden name was Snob)—there was my own Sally, +with a plume of feathers that half filled the coach, and Jenny and +Maria and young Sally, all with their backs to <i>my</i> horses, +which were pawing the mud and snorting and smoking like steam +engines, with nostrils like safety valves, and four of <i>my</i> +footmen hanging behind the coach, like bees in a swarm. There had +not been so much riband in my family since my poor father's failure +at Coventry—and yet how often, over and over again, although +he had been dead more than twenty years, did I, during that +morning, in the midst of my splendour, think of <i>him</i>, and +wish that he could see me in my greatness—yes, even in the +midst of my triumph I seemed to defer to my good, kind +parent—in heaven, as I hope and trust—as if I were +anxious for <i>his</i> judgment and <i>his</i> opinion as to how I +should perform the arduous and manifold duties of the day.</p> +<p>Up Ludgate Hill we moved—the fog grew thicker and +thicker—but then the beautiful women at the +windows—those up high could only see my knees and the paste +buckles in my shoes; every now and then, I bowed condescendingly to +people I had never seen before, in order to show my courtesy and my +chain and collar, which I had discovered during the morning shone +the better for being shaken.</p> +<p>At length we reached Guildhall—as I crossed the beautiful +building, lighted splendidly, and filled with well dressed company, +and heard the deafening shouts which rent the fane as I entered it, +I really was overcome—I retired to a private +room—refreshed my dress, rubbed up my chain, which the damp +had tarnished, and prepared to receive my <span class= +"pagenum"><a id="page28" name="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> guests. +They came, and—shall I ever forget it?—dinner was +announced; the bands played "O the roast beef of Old England." +Onwards we went, a Prince of the blood, of the blood royal of my +country, led out <i>my</i> Sally—my own Sally—the Lady +Mayoress! the Lord High Chancellor handed out young Sally—I +saw it done—I thought I should have choked; the Prime +Minister took Maria; the Lord Privy Seal gave his arm to Jenny; and +my wife's mother, Mrs. Snob, was honoured by the protection of the +Right Honourable the Lord Chief Justice of the King's +Bench.—Oh, if my poor father could have but seen +<i>that</i>!</p> +<p>It would be tiresome to dwell upon the pleasures of the happy +year, thus auspiciously begun, in detail; each month brought its +delights, each week its festival; public meetings under the +sanction of the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor; concerts and balls +under the patronage of the Lady Mayoress; Easter and its dinner, +Blue-coat boys and buns; processions here, excursions +there.—Summer came, and then we had swan-hopping <i>up</i> +the river, and white-baiting <i>down</i> the river; Yantlet Creek +below, the navigation barge above; music, flags, streamers, guns, +and company; turtle every day in the week; peas at a pound a pint, +and grapes at a guinea a pound; dabbling in rosewater served in +gold, not to speak of the loving cup, with Mr. Common Hunt, in full +dress, at my elbow; my dinners were talked of, Ude grew jealous, +and I was idolized.</p> +<p>The days, which before seemed like weeks, were now turned to +minutes: scarcely had I swallowed my breakfast before I was in my +justice-room; and before I had mittimused half a dozen paupers for +beggary, I was called away to luncheon; this barely over, in comes +a deputation or a dispatch, and so on till dinner, which was barely +ended before supper was announced. We all became enchanted with the +Mansion House; my girls grew graceful by the confidence their high +station gave them; Maria refused a good offer because her lover +chanced to have an ill sounding name; we had all got settled in our +rooms, the establishment had begun to know and appreciate us; we +had just become in fact easy in our dignity and happy in our +position, when lo and behold! the ninth of November came +again—the anniversary of my exaltation, the consummation of +my downfall.</p> +<p>Again did we go in state to Guildhall, again were we toasted and +addressed, again were we handed in, and led out, again flirted with +cabinet ministers and danced with ambassadors, and at two o'clock +in the morning drove home from the scene of gaiety to our old +residence in Budge Row.—Never in this world did pickled +herrings and turpentine smell so powerfully as on that night when +we entered the house; and although my wife and the young ones stuck +to the drinkables at Guildhall, their natural feelings would have +way, and a sort of shuddering disgust seemed to fill their minds on +their return home—the passage looked so narrow—the +drawing-rooms looked so small—the staircase seemed so +dark—our apartments appeared so low—however, being +tired, we all slept well, at least I did, for I was in no humour to +talk to Sally, and the only topic I could think upon before I +dropped into my slumber, was a calculation of the amount of expense +which I had incurred during the just expired year of my +greatness.</p> +<p>In the morning we assembled at breakfast—a note lay on the +table, addressed—"Mrs. Scropps, Budge Row." The girls, one +after the other, took it up, read the superscription, and laid it +down again. A visiter was announced—a neighbour and kind +friend, a man of wealth and importance—what were his first +words?—they were the first I had heard from a stranger since +my job,—"How are you, Scropps, done up, eh?"</p> +<p>Scropps! no obsequiousness, no deference, no respect;—no +"my lord, I hope your lordship passed an agreeable night—and +how is her ladyship and your lordship's amiable +daughters?"—not a bit of it—"How's Mrs. S. and the +<i>gals</i>?" This was quite natural, all as it <i>had</i> been, +all perhaps as it should be—but how unlike what it +<i>was</i>, only one day before! The very servants, who, when +amidst the strapping, stall-fed, gold-laced lacqueys of the Mansion +House, (transferred with the chairs and tables from one Lord Mayor +to another) dared not speak nor look, nor say their lives were +their own, strutted about the house, and banged the doors, and +talked of their "<i>Missis</i>," as if she had been an apple +woman.</p> +<p>So much for domestic miseries;—I went out—I was +shoved about in Cheapside in the most remorseless manner; my right +eye had a narrow escape of being poked out by the tray of a brawny +butcher's boy, who, when I civilly remonstrated, turned round, and +said, "Vy, I say, who are <i>you</i>, I vonder, as is so partiklar +about your <i>hysight</i>." I felt an involuntary +shudder—to-day, thought I, I <i>am</i> John Ebenezer +Scropps—two <span class="pagenum"><a id="page29" name= +"page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> days ago I was Lord Mayor; and so the +rencontre ended, evidently to the advantage of the bristly brute. +It was however too much for me—the effect of contrast was too +powerful, the change was too sudden—and I determined to go to +Brighton for a few weeks to refresh myself, and be weaned from my +dignity.</p> +<p>We went—we drove to the Royal Hotel; in the hall stood one +of his Majesty's ministers, one of my former guests, speaking to +his lady and daughter: my girls passed close to him—he had +handed one of them to dinner the year before, but he appeared +entirely to have forgotten her. By and by, when we were going out +in a fly to take the air, one of the waiters desired the fly man to +pull off, because Sir Something Somebody's carriage could not come +up—it was clear that the name of Scropps had lost its +influence.</p> +<p>We secluded ourselves in a private house, where we did nothing +but sigh and look at the sea. We had been totally spoiled for our +proper sphere, and could not get into a better; the indifference of +our inferiors mortified us, and the familiarity of our equals +disgusted us—our potentiality was gone, and we were so much +degraded that a puppy of a fellow had the impertinence to ask Jenny +if she was going to one of the Old Ship balls. "Of course," said +the coxcomb, "I don't mean the 'Almacks,' for they are uncommonly +select."</p> +<p>In short, do what we would, go where we might, we were outraged +and annoyed, or at least thought ourselves so; and beyond all +bitterness was the reflection, that the days of our dignity and +delight never might return. There were at Brighton no less than +three men who called me Jack, and <i>that</i>, out of flies or in +libraries, and one of these, chose occasionally, by way of making +himself particularly agreeable, to address me by the familiar +appellation of Jacky. At length, and that only three weeks after my +fall, an overgrown tallow-chandler met us on the Steyne, and +stopped our party to observe, "as how he thought he owed me for two +barrels of coal tar, for doing over his pigsties." This settled +it—we departed from Brighton, and made a tour of the coast; +but we never rallied; and business, which must be minded, drove us +before Christmas to Budge Row, where we are again settled down.</p> +<p>Maria has grown thin—Sarah has turned methodist—and +Jenny, who danced with his Excellency the Portuguese Ambassador, +who was called angelic by the Right Honourable the Lord Privy Seal, +and who moreover refused a man of fortune because he had an ugly +name, is going to be married to Lieutenant Stodge, on the half pay +of the Royal Marines—and what then?—I am sure if it +were not for the females of my family I should be perfectly at my +ease in my proper sphere, out of which the course of our civic +constitution raised me. It was unpleasant at first:—but I +have toiled long and laboured hard; I have done my duty, and +Providence has blessed my works. If we were discomposed at the +sudden change in our station, I it is who was to blame for having +aspired to honours which I knew were not to last. However the +ambition was not dishonourable, nor did I disgrace the station +while I held it; and when I see, as in the present year, +<i>that</i> station filled by a man of education and talent, of +high character and ample fortune, I discover no cause to repent of +having been one of his predecessors. Indeed I ought to apologize +for making public the weakness by which we were all affected; +especially as I have myself already learned to laugh at what we all +severely felt at first—the miseries of a SPLENDID +ANNUAL.—<i>Sharpe's London Magazine</i>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>A CHAPTER ON HEATHEN MYTHOLOGY</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ut sunt divorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo."</p> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em"><i>Latin Grammar</i>.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Did you ever look</p> +<p>In Mr. Tooke,</p> +<p>For Homer's gods and goddesses?</p> +<p>The males in the air,</p> +<p>So big and so bare,</p> +<p>And the girls without their bodices.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There was Jupiter Zeus,</p> +<p>Who play'd the deuce,</p> +<p>A rampant blade and a tough one;</p> +<p>But Denis bold,</p> +<p>Stole his coat of gold,</p> +<p>And rigg'd him out in a stuff one,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Juno, when old,</p> +<p>Was a bit of a scold,</p> +<p>And rul'd Jove <i>jure divino</i>;</p> +<p>When he went gallivaunting,</p> +<p>His steps she kept haunting,<a id="footnotetag4" name= +"footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a></p> +<p>And she play'd, too, the devil with Ino.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Minerva bright</p> +<p>Was a blue-stocking wight,</p> +<p>Who lodg'd among the Attics;</p> +<p>And, like Lady V.</p> +<p>From the men did flee,</p> +<p>To study the mathematics.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Great Mars, we're told,</p> +<p>Was a grenadier bold,</p> +<p>Who Vulcan sorely cuckold;</p> +<p>When to Rome he went,</p> +<p>He his children sent</p> +<p>To a she-wolf to be suckled.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em"><i>Midas</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><a id="page30" name= +"page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> +<p>Sol, the rat-catcher,<a id="footnotetag5" name= +"footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a></p> +<p>Was a great body-snatcher,</p> +<p>And with his bow and arrows</p> +<p>He <i>Burked</i>, through the trees,</p> +<p>Master Niobes,</p> +<p>As though they had been cock sparrows.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Diana, his sister,</p> +<p>When nobody kiss'd her,</p> +<p>Was a saint, (at least a semi one,)</p> +<p>Yet the vixen Scandal</p> +<p>Made a terrible handle</p> +<p>Of her friendship for Eudymion.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Full many a feat</p> +<p>Did Hercules neat,</p> +<p>The least our credit draws on;</p> +<p>Jesting Momus, so sly,</p> +<p>Said, "'Tis all my eye,"</p> +<p>And he call'd him Baron Munchausen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Fair Bacchus's face</p> +<p>Many signs did grace,</p> +<p>(They were not painted by Zeuxis:)</p> +<p>Of his brewing trade</p> +<p>He a mystery made,<a id="footnotetag6" name= +"footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a></p> +<p>Like our Calverts and our Meuxes.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There was Mistress Venus,</p> +<p>(I say it between us,)</p> +<p>For virtue cared not a farden:</p> +<p>There never was seen</p> +<p>Such a drabbish quean</p> +<p>In the parish of Covent Garden.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hermes cunning</p> +<p>Poor Argus funning,</p> +<p>He made him drink like a buffer;</p> +<p>To his great surprise</p> +<p>Sew'd up all his eyes,</p> +<p>And stole away his heifer.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A bar-maid's place</p> +<p>Was Hebe's grace,</p> +<p>Till Jupiter did trick her;</p> +<p>He turn'd her away,</p> +<p>And made Ganimede stay</p> +<p>To pour him out his liquor.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ceres in life</p> +<p>Was a farmer's wife,</p> +<p>But she doubtless kept a jolly house;</p> +<p>For Rumour speaks,</p> +<p>She was had by the Beaks</p> +<p>To swear her son Triptolemus.<a id="footnotetag7" name= +"footnotetag7"></a><a href="#footnote7"><sup>7</sup></a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Miss Proserpine</p> +<p>She thought herself fine,</p> +<p>But when all her plans miscarried,</p> +<p>She the Devil did wed,</p> +<p>And took him to bed,</p> +<p>Sooner than not be married.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But the worst of the gods,</p> +<p>Beyond all odds,</p> +<p>It cannot be denied, oh!</p> +<p>Is that first of matchmakers,</p> +<p>That prince of housebreakers,</p> +<p>The urchin, Dan Cupido.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em"><i>New Monthly +Magazine</i>.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>"THE SEASON" IN TOWN.</h3> +<p><i>Theodore</i>.—I don't know how you could prevent people +from living half the year in town.</p> +<p><i>Tickler</i>.—I have no objection to their living half +the year in town, as you call it, if they can live in such a hell +upon earth, of dust, noise, and misery. Only think of the Dolphin +water in the solar microscope!</p> +<p><i>Theodore</i>.—I know nothing of the water of London +personally.</p> +<p><i>Odoherty</i>.—Nor I; but I take it, we both have a +notion of its brandy and water.</p> +<p><i>Tickler</i>.—'Tis, in fact, their duty to be a good +deal in London. But I'll tell you what I do object to, and what I +rather think are evils of modern date, or at any rate, of very +rapid recent growth. First, I object to their living those months +of the year in which it is <i>contra bonos mores</i> to be in +London, not in their paternal mansions, but at those little +bastardly abortions, which they call watering-places—their +Leamingtons, their Cheltenhams, their Brighthelmstones.</p> +<p><i>Theodore</i>.—Brighton, my dear rustic Brighton!</p> +<p><i>Odoherty</i>.—Synopicé.</p> +<p><i>Shepherd</i>.—What's your wull, Sir Morgan? It does no +staun' wi' me.</p> +<p><i>Theodore</i>.—A horrid spot, certainly—but +possessing large conveniences, sir, for particular purposes. For +example, sir, the balcony on the drawing-room floor commonly runs +on the same level all round the square—which in the +Brighthelmstonic dialect, sir, means a three-sided figure. The +advantage is obvious,</p> +<p><i>Shepherd</i>.—Och, sirs! och, sirs! what wull this +world come to!</p> +<p><i>Theodore</i>.—The truth is, sir, that people <i>comme +il faut</i> cannot well submit to the total change of society and +manners implied in a removal from Whitehall or Mayfair to some +absurd old antediluvian chateau, sir, boxed up among beeches and +rooks. Sir, only think of the small Squires with the red faces, +sir, and the grand white waistcoats down to their hips—and +the dames, sir, with their wigs, and their simpers, and their +visible pockets—and the damsels, blushing things in white +muslin, with sky-blue sashes and ribbons, and mufflers and +things—and the sons, sir, the promising young gentlemen, +sir—and the doctor, and the lawyer—and the parson. So +you disapprove of Brighton, Mr. Tickler?</p> +<p><i>Tickler</i>.—Brighthelmstone, when I knew it, was a +pleasant fishing village—what like it is now, I know not; but +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page31" name="page31"></a>[pg +31]</span> what I detest in the great folks of your time, is, that +insane selfishness which makes them prefer any place, however +abominable, where they can herd together in their little exquisite +coteries, to the noblest mansions surrounded with the noblest +domains, where they cannot exist without being more or less exposed +to the company of people not exactly belonging to their own +particular sect. How can society hang together long in a country +where the Corinthian capital takes so much pains to unrift itself +from the pillar? Now-a-day, sir, your great lord, commonly +speaking, spends but a month or six weeks in his ancestral abode; +and even when he is there, he surrounds himself studiously with a +cursed town-crew, a pack of St. James's Street fops, and Mayfair +chatterers and intriguers, who give themselves airs enough to turn +the stomachs of the plain squirearchy and their womankind, and +render a visit to the castle a perfect nuisance.</p> +<p><i>Theodore (aside to Mullion.)</i>—A prejudiced old +prig!</p> +<p><i>Tickler</i>.—They seem to spare no pains to show that +they consider the country as valuable merely for rent and +game—the duties of the magistracy are a bore—county +meetings are a bore—a farce, I believe, was the +word—the assizes are a cursed bore—fox-hunting itself +is a bore, unless in Leicestershire, where the noble sportsmen, +from all the winds of heaven cluster together, and think with +ineffable contempt of the old-fashioned chase, in which the great +man mingled with gentle and simple, and all comers—sporting +is a bore, unless in a regular <i>battue</i>, when a dozen +lordlings murder pheasants by the thousand, without hearing the +cock of one impatrician fowling-piece—except indeed some +dandy poet, or philosopher, or punster, has been admitted to make +sport to the Philistines. In short, every thing is a bore that +brings the dons into personal collision of any kind with people +that don't belong to the world.</p> +<p><i>Odoherty</i>.—The world is getting pretty distinct from +the nation, I admit, and I doubt if much love is lost between +them.—<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE HOPKINSONIAN JOKE.</h3> +<p>My friend Hertford, walking one day near his own shop in +Piccadilly, happened to meet one Mr. Hopkinson, an eminent brewer, +I believe—and the conversation naturally enough turned upon +some late dinner at the Albion, Aldersgate Street—nobody +appreciates a real city dinner better than Monsieur le +Marquess—and so on, till the old brewer mentioned, <i>par +hazard</i>, that he had just received a noble specimen of wild pig +from a friend in Frankfort, adding, that he had a very particular +party, God knows how many aldermen, to dinner—half the East +India direction, I believe—and that he was something puzzled +touching the cookery. "Pooh!" says Hertford, "send in your porker +to my man, and he'll do it for you <i>à merveille</i>." The +brewer was a grateful man—the pork came and went back again. +Well, a week after my lord met his friend, and, by the way, +"Hopkinson," says he, "how did the boar concern go off?"—"O, +beautifully," says the brewer; "I can never sufficiently thank your +lordship; nothing could do better. We should never have got on at +all without your lordship's kind assistance."—"The thing gave +satisfaction then, Hopkinson?"—"O, great satisfaction, my +lord marquess.—To be sure we did think it rather queer at +first—in fact, not being up to them there things, we +considered it as deucedly stringy—to say the truth, we should +never have thought of eating it cold."—"Cold!" says Hertford; +"did you eat the ham cold?"—"O dear, yes, my lord, to be sure +we did—we eat it just as your lordship's gentleman sent +it."—"Why, my dear Mr. Alderman," says Hertford, "my cook +only prepared it for the spit." Well, I shall never forget how the +poor dear Duke of York laughed!—<i>Ibid</i>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE GATHERER.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.</p> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em">SHAKSPEARE.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SEALING WAX AND WAFERS.</h3> +<p>Francis Rousseau, a native of Auxerres, who travelled a long +time in Persia, Pegu, and other parts of the East Indies, and who, +in 1692, resided at St. Domingo, was the inventer of sealing-wax. A +lady, of the name of Longueville, made this wax known at court, and +caused Louis XIII. to use it; after which it was purchased and used +throughout Paris. By this article Rousseau, before the expiration +of a year, gained 50,000 livres. The oldest seal with a red wafer +ever yet found, is on a letter written by Dr. Krapf, at Spires, in +the year 1624, to the government at Bareuth.</p> +<hr /> +<p>I was in company some time since with George Colman, "the +younger," as the old fellow still styles himself. It was +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page32" name="page32"></a>[pg +32]</span> shortly after the death of Mrs. ——, the wife +of a popular actor, and at that time an unpopular manager. Some one +at table observed that, "Mr. —— had suffered a loss in +the death of his wife, which he would not soon be able to make +up."—"I don't know how that may be," replied George, drily, +"but to tell you the truth, I don't think he has <i>quarrelled</i> +with his loss yet."—<i>Monthly Mag</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SHERIDAN.</h3> +<p>Bob Mitchell, one of Sheridan's intimate friends, and once in +great prosperity, became—like a great many other people, +Sheridan's creditor—in fact Sheridan owed Bob nearly three +thousand pounds—this circumstance amongst others contributed +so very much to reduce Bob's finances, that he was driven to great +straits, and in the course of his uncomfortable wanderings he +called upon Sheridan; the conversation turned upon his financial +difficulties, but not upon the principal cause of them, which was +Sheridan's debt; but which of course, as an able tactician, he +contrived to keep out of the discussion; at last, Bob, in a sort of +agony, exclaimed—"I have not a guinea left, and by heaven I +don't know where to get one." Sheridan jumped up, and thrusting a +piece of gold into his hand, exclaimed with tears in his +eyes—"It never shall be said that Bob Mitchell wanted a +guinea while his friend Sheridan had one to give +him."—<i>Sharpe's Magazine</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LINES</h3> +<p><i>On the window of Thorny Down Inn, about seven miles from +Blandford, on the Salisbury road</i>.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Death, reader, pallid death!! with woe or bliss</p> +<p>Will shortly be thy lot. Think then, my friend,</p> +<p>Ere yet it be too late—what are thy hopes</p> +<p>And what thy anxious fears—when the thin veil</p> +<p>That keeps thy soul from seeing Israel's GOD</p> +<p>Shall drop. (Signed) [Greek: parepidemos].</p> +<p><span style="margin-left:3em">RURIS.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>When Lord Ellenborough was Lord Chief Justice, a labouring +bricklayer was called as a witness; when he came up to be sworn his +lordship said to him—</p> +<p>"Really, witness, when you have to appear before this court, it +is your bounden duty to be more clean and decent in your +appearance."</p> +<p>"Upon my life," said the witness, "if your lordship comes to +that, I'm thinking I'm every bit as well dressed as your +lordship."</p> +<p>"How do you mean, sir," said his lordship, angrily.</p> +<p>"Why, faith," said the labourer, "<i>you</i> come here in +<i>your</i> working clothes and <i>I'm</i> come in +<i>mine</i>."—<i>Sharpe's Mag</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>FRIENDSHIP.</h3> +<p>Dr. Johnson most beautifully remarks, that "When a friend is +carried to his grave, we at once find excuses for every weakness, +and palliations of every fault; we recollect a thousand +endearments, which before glided off our minds without impression, +a thousand favours unrepaid, a thousand duties unperformed, and +wish, vainly wish for his return, not so much that we may receive +as that we may bestow happiness, and recompense that kindness which +before we never understood."</p> +<hr /> +<h3>HOT TUESDAY.</h3> +<p>Derham, in his <i>Physico-Theology,</i> says, "July 8th, 1707, +(called for some time after the <i>hot Tuesday,</i>) was so +excessively hot and suffocating, by reason there was no wind +stirring, that divers persons died, or were in great danger of +death, in their harvest work. Particularly one who had formerly +been my servant, a healthy, lusty young man, was killed by the +heat; and several horses on the road dropped down and died the same +day."</p> +<p>P.T.W.</p> +<hr /> +<p><i>LIMBIRD'S EDITIONS</i>.</p> +<p>CHEAP and POPULAR WORKS published at the MIRROR OFFICE in the +Strand, near Somerset House.</p> +<p>The ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. Embellished with nearly 150 +Engravings. Price 6s. 6d. boards.</p> +<p>The TALES of the GENII. Price 2s.</p> +<p>The MICROCOSM. By the Right Hon. G. Canning. &c. Price +2s.</p> +<p>PLUTARCH'S LIVES, with Fifty Portraits, 2 vols. price 13s. +boards.</p> +<p>COWPER'S POEMS, with 12 Engravings, price 3s. 6d. boards.</p> +<p>COOK'S VOYAGES, 2 vols. price 8s. boards.</p> +<p>The CABINET of CURIOSITIES: or, Wonders of the World Displayed. +Price 5s. boards.</p> +<p>BEAUTIES of SCOTT. 2 vols. price 7s. boards.</p> +<p>The ARCANA of SCIENCE for 1828. Price 4s. 6d.</p> +<p>*** Any of the above Works can be purchased in Parts.</p> +<p>GOLDSMITH'S ESSAYS. Price 8d. DR. FRANKLIN'S ESSAYS. Price 1s. +2d. BACON'S ESSAYS Price 8d. SALMAGUNDI. Price 1s. 8d.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name= +"footnote1"></a> <b>Footnote 1</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>Tanner.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name= +"footnote2"></a> <b>Footnote 2</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag2">(return)</a> +<p>"There is nothing new under the sun;" Solomon was right. I had +written these lines from experiencing the truth of them, and really +imagined I had been the first to express, what so many must have +felt; but on looking over Rogers's delicious little volume of +Poems, some time after this was penned, I find he has, with his +usual felicity, noted the same effect. I give his Text and +Commentary; they occur in his beautiful poem, "Human Life," +speaking of a girl in love, he says:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"—soon her looks the rapturous truth avow,</p> +<p>Lovely before, oh, say how lovely now!"</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>On which he afterwards remarks:</p> +<p>"Is it not true that the young not only appear to be, but really +are, most beautiful in the presence of those they love? It calls +forth all their beauty."</p> +<p>Such a coincidence might almost induce me to exclaim with the +plagiarising pedant of antiquity, "<i>Pereant qui ante nos nostra +dixerunt</i>!"</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote3" name= +"footnote3"></a> <b>Footnote 3</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag3">(return)</a> +<p>Lord Albemarle, when advanced in years, was the lover and +protector of Mademoiselle Gaucher. Her name of infancy, and that by +which she was more endeared to her admirer, was Lolotte. One +evening, as they were walking together, perceiving her eyes fixed +on a star, he said to her, "Do not look at it so earnestly, my +dear, I cannot give it you!"—Never, says Marmontel, did love +express itself more delicately.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote4" name= +"footnote4"></a> <b>Footnote 4</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag4">(return)</a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I'll search out the haunts</p> +<p>Of your fav'rite gallants,</p> +<p>And into cows metamorphose 'em."</p> +</div> +</div> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote5" name= +"footnote5"></a> <b>Footnote 5</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag5">(return)</a> +<p>Apollo Smintheus. He destroyed a great many rats in Phrygia, and +was probably the first "rat-catcher to the King."—<i>Vet. +Schol</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote6" name= +"footnote6"></a> <b>Footnote 6</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag6">(return)</a> +<p>"Mystica vannus Isacchi." This was either a porter-brewer's +dray, or more probably the <i>Van</i> of his +druggist.—<i>Scriblerus</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote7" name= +"footnote7"></a> <b>Footnote 7</b>:<a href= +"#footnotetag7">(return)</a> +<p>There is some difference of opinion concerning this fact: the +lady, like so many others in her interesting situation, passed +through the adventure under an <i>alias</i>. But that Ceres and +Terra were the same, no reasonable person will doubt: and there can +be no <i>serious</i> objection to the little <i>trip</i> being thus +ascribed to the goddess in question.—<i>Scriblerus</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11516 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11516-h/images/380-1.png b/11516-h/images/380-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..28422ad --- /dev/null +++ b/11516-h/images/380-1.png |
