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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:18 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:18 -0700 |
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diff --git a/11885-h/11885-h.htm b/11885-h/11885-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c74365 --- /dev/null +++ b/11885-h/11885-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1851 @@ +<!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 http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + + <title>The Mirror of Literature, Volume XIX. No. 534.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + 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;} + .poem p.i14 {margin-left: 9em;} + + .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 11885 ***</div> + + <hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page97" + name="page97"> + </a>[pg 97] +</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. XIX. No. 534.]</b></td> + <td align="center"><b>SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1832.</b></td> + <td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2d.</b></td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr class="full" /> + +<h2>OUR LADY'S CHAPEL,</h2> + +<div class="figure" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/534-001.png"> +<img width = "100%" src="images/534-001.png" alt="ST. SAVIOUR, SOUTHWARK." /></a></div> + +<h3>ST. SAVIOUR, SOUTHWARK.</h3> +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page98" name="page98"> + </a>[pg 98] +</span> + +<p> +The Engraving represents the interior of the Virgin Mary's Chapel, +commonly called the Lady Chapel, and appended to the ancient collegiate +church of St. Saviour, Southwark. The exterior view of the Chapel will be +found in No. 456 of <i>The Mirror</i>. About eighteen months since part of the +western side of the High-street was removed for the approach to the New +London Bridge, when this Chapel was opened to view; but its dilapidated +appearance was rather calculated to interest antiquarian than public +curiosity. The London Bridge Committee recommended the parishioners of St. +Saviour to cause the Chapel to be pulled down, and their selfish +suggestion would have been complied with, had not some enlightened and +public-spirited individuals stepped forth to frustrate the levellers. The +parishioners now became two parties. One contended for the restoration of +the Chapel, as "one of the most chaste and elegant specimens of early +pointed architecture of the thirteenth century of which this country can +boast." The levellers, whose muckworm minds, and love of the arts is only +shown in that of money-getting—maintained that the demolition of the +Chapel would be "a pecuniary saving;" but theirs was a penny-wise and +pound-foolish spirit; for, by removing the Chapel, a greater expense would +be incurred than in its restoration. The folks could not understand plain +figures, and so resolved to take the sense and nonsense of the parish, and +the subject has been decided by a majority of 240 in favour of repairing +the Chapel. The funds for this purpose, it should be understood, were in +course of provision by public subscription, so that the blindness of party +zeal threatened to reject a special advantage—the public would find the +money if they would allow the Chapel to remain—whereas, had the +demolition taken place, the parishioners must themselves have defrayed the +consequent expenses. Historians loudly condemn the royal and noble thieves +who plundered the Coliseum and the Pantheon to build palaces, yet there +are men in our times, who would, if they could, take Dr. Johnson's hint to +pound St. Paul's Church into atoms, and with it macadamize their roads; or +fetch it away by piecemeal to build bridges with its stones, and saw up +its marble monuments into chimneypieces. +</p> +<p> +The church of St. Saviour is built in the form of a cathedral, with a nave, +side aisles, transepts, a choir, with its side aisles; and the chapel of +St. John, which now forms the vestry, and the chapel of the Virgin Mary, +or Our Lady. To the east end of the latter there has since been added a +small chapel, called the Bishop's Chapel. Another chapel, (of St. Mary +Magdalen,) was also connected with the south aisle of the church. The +parishioners seem to have hitherto neglected the Lady Chapel, and to have +shown their cupidity in ages long past. Through the influence of Dr. +Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, they were allowed to <i>purchase</i> the church +of that wholesale sin-salesman, Henry VIII.; but after the parish had +obtained the grant of the church, they let the Lady Chapel to one Wyat, a +baker, who converted it into a bake-house. He stopped up the two doors +which communicated with the aisles of the church, and the two which opened +into the chancel, and which, though visible, still remain masoned up. +<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote1">1</a> +</sup> +In 1607, Mr. Henry Wilson, tenant of the Chapel of the Holy Virgin, found +himself inconvenienced by a tomb "of a certain cade," and applied to the +vestry for its removal, which was very "friendly" consented to, "making +the place up again in any reasonable sort." +<a id="footnotetag2" + name="footnotetag2"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote2">2</a> +</sup> + In this state it continued +till the year 1624, when the vestry restored it to its original condition, +at an expense of two hundred pounds. "More than that sum," observes the +Rev. Mr. Nightingale, "I should conceive would now be required to repair +this venerable part of St. Saviour's Church in such a manner as is +absolutely necessary. The pillars have in a great degree lost their +perpendicular position: the mouldings and mullions of the windows are +distorted in the most shameful manner; the walls are rapidly hastening to +their final decay; and the whole place appears to be destined to become +once more the resort of hogs and vermin of every description. That this +should be the case is a great disgrace to the parish, and an insult +to the diocese, in which St. Saviour's Church holds so conspicuous a +character." +<a id="footnotetag3" + name="footnotetag3"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote3">3</a> +</sup> +</p> +<p> +The roof of the Chapel is divided into nine groined arches, supported by +six octangular pillars in two rows, having small circular columns at the +four points. At the back of the altar-screen of the church +<a id="footnotetag4" + name="footnotetag4"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote4">4</a> +</sup> + are some +tracery compartments, probably, according to Mr. Bray, once affording +through them a view of this chapel. In the east end, on the north side, +are three lancet-shaped windows, forming one great window, divided by +slender pillars, and having mouldings, with zig-zag ornaments. The tracery +windows on the south side are masoned up, but much of the original tracery +remains. At the north-east corner are remains of sharp-pointed arches; +here also is an enclosure with table, desk, and elevated seat. This part +is, properly speaking, the Bishop's Court; but this name is common to the +whole chapel, in which the Bishop of Winchester holds his Court; and in +which are held the visitations for the Deanery of Southwark. +</p> +<p> +The annexed view was taken from the north-west entrance, and shows the +character of the groined roof, the supporting pillars, and the entrance to +the Bishop's Chapel adjoining, by an ascent of two steps; this Chapel +being named from the Tomb of Bishop Andrews, formerly standing in the +centre of it. We recommend the reader to a clever paper in the <i>Gentleman's +Megazine</i> for the present month, in which the writer proves that Our +Lady's Chapel, so far from being an excrescence, as has been idly stated, +"bears the same relation to the church an the head does to the body." +</p> + +<hr /> +<h3>NIGHT-MARE.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sleeping in night-mare's thunderstorm-wove lap,</p> + <p class="i2">On sunless mountain high above the pole;</p> + <p>With ice for sheets, and lightning for a cap,</p> + <p class="i2">And tons of loadstones weighing on his soul;</p> + <p>And eye out-stretched upon some vasty map</p> + <p class="i2">Of uncouth worlds, which ever onward roll</p> + <p>To infinite—like Revelation's scroll.</p> + <p class="i2">Now falling headlong from his mountain bed</p> + <p>Down sulph'rous space, o'er dismal lakes;</p> + <p class="i2">Now held by hand of air—on wings of lead</p> + <p>He tries to rise—gasping—the hands' hold breaks,</p> + <p class="i2">And downward he reels through shadows of the dead,</p> + <p>Who cannot die though stalking in hell's flakes,</p> + <p>Falling, he catches his heart-string on some hook, and—wakes.</p> + </div> +</div> +<p> +E.H. +<a id="footnotetag5" + name="footnotetag5"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote5">5</a> +</sup> +</p> + +<hr /> +<h3>LACONICS.</h3> +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page99" name="page99"> + </a>[pg 99] +</span> +<p> +There is nothing to be said in favour of fashion, and yet how many are +contented implicitly to obey its commands: its rules are not even dictated +by the standard of taste, for it is constantly running into extremes and +condemns one day what it approves the next. +</p> +<p> +There are some people so incorrigibly stupid and prosing, that wherever +they are anxious of securing respect, silence would be their best policy. +</p> +<p> +As we advance in age, it is singular what a revolution takes place in our +feelings. When we arrive at maturity an unkind word is more cutting and +distresses us more than any bodily suffering; in our youth it was the +reverse. +</p> +<p> +There is nothing so ravishing to the proud and the great (with all their +resources for enjoyment) as to be thought happy by their inferiors. +</p> +<p> +Such are the casualties of life, that the presentiment of fear is far +wiser than that of hope; and it would seem at all times more prudent to be +providing against accident, than laying out schemes of future happiness. +</p> +<p> +The character of any particular people may be looked for with best success +in their national works of talent. +</p> +<p> +There is no absurdity in approving as well as condemning the same +individual; for as few people are always in the right, so on the other +hand it is improbable they should be always in the wrong. +</p> +<p> +The most elegant flattery is at second hand; viz., to repeat over again +the praises bestowed by others. +</p> +<p> +Ignorance, simple, helpless ignorance, is not to be imputed as a fault; +but very often men are wilfully ignorant. +</p> +<p> +We have fewer enemies than we imagine: many are too indolent to care at +all about us, and if the stream of censure is running against us, the +world is too careless to oppose it. If we could hear what is said of us in +our absence we should torment ourselves without real cause, for we should +seldom hear the real sentiments of the speaker; many things are said in +mere wantonness, and many more from the desire of being brilliant. +</p> +<p> +The man who feels he is in the right is seldom dogmatical, for truth is +always calm and requires not violence to enforce her arguments: we should +desist from the contest the moment we feel anxious about victory, because +that anxiety must make us less particular about the truth. +</p> +<p> +Quickness of intellect is no proof of solidity: the deepest rivers flow on +the smoothest. +</p> +<p> +The reason why there are so few instances of heroism in modern times is +the total decay of political virtue: we are broken up into small parties +and associate only with our families, thus forgetting the public, in our +regard for private interest: the ancients were taught rather to live for +the benefit of the whole community. +</p> +<p> +An over-refined philosophy begets sensitiveness, and is as little to be +coveted as a moderate share of it is beneficial. +</p> +<p> +It seems to be the business of life to lay by fresh cause for anxiety and +discontent by increasing our estate; whereas we should rather know how to +lose it all, and yet be contented. +</p> +<p> +There are some people, who though very amiable in the main, and obliging +in their offices to others, have yet that most unhappy propensity of being +gloomy over every thing. +</p> +<p> +It is one of the wisest provisions of Fortune that the same vices which +ruin our estates, take away also the means of enjoying them by depriving +us of health. +</p> +<p> +There is more virtue in obscurity than is commonly supposed; and perhaps +there have been nobler specimens of magnanimity in low life, than even the +page of history can boast. +</p> +<p> +Knowledge of the world must be combined with study, for this, as well as +better reasons: the possession of learning is always invidious, and it +requires considerable tact to inform without a display of superiority, and +to ensure esteem, as well as call forth admiration. +</p> +<p> +Deceit has the effect of impoverishing, as well as enriching, men: the +prodigal becomes poor by pretending to be richer than he really is, while +seeming poverty is the very making of a miser. +</p> +<p> +F. +</p> + +<hr /> +<h3>STANZAS TO THE SPIRIT OF MORNING.</h3> +<h4><i>(For the Mirror.)</i></h4> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Angel of morn! whose beauteous home</p> + <p class="i2">In light's unfading fountain lies;</p> + <p>Whose smiles dispel night's sable gloom,</p> + <p class="i2">And fill with splendour earth and skies,</p> + <p>While o'er the horizon pure and pale,</p> + <p class="i2">Thy beams are dawning, thee I hail.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The star that watches, pure and lone,</p> + <p class="i2">In yon clear heaven so silently,</p> + <p>Looks trembling from its azure throne</p> + <p class="i2">Upon thy beaming glories nigh;</p> +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page100" name="page100"> + </a>[pg 100] +</span> + <p>And yields to thee first-born of day,</p> + <p>Reluctantly its heavenly sway.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet spirit, with that early ray,</p> + <p class="i2">Which steals so softly through the gloom,</p> + <p>Trembling and brightening in its way,</p> + <p class="i2">What beauties o'er creation come;</p> + <p>Ere thy unclouded smiles arise</p> + <p>In all their splendour through the skies.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The rosy cloud—the azure sky,</p> + <p class="i2">Earth—ocean, with its heaving breast,</p> + <p>Where thy bright hues reflected lie,</p> + <p class="i2">And there in varying beauty rest,</p> + <p>Rejoice in thee; and from the grove,</p> + <p>To hail thee, bursts the voice of love.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Eternal beauty round thee dwells,</p> + <p class="i2">And joy thine early steps attends,</p> + <p>While music wildly breathing swells,</p> + <p class="i2">And with thy gales of perfume blends:</p> + <p>Pure, beautiful you smile above,</p> + <p>Like youth's fond dreams of hope and love.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thy skies of blue, thy beaming light,</p> + <p class="i2">Thy gales so balmy, wild, and free,</p> + <p>Thy lustre on the mountain's height,</p> + <p class="i2">Have charms beyond all else for me;</p> + <p>Whilst my glad spirit fain would rise</p> + <p>To hail and meet thee in the skies.</p> + </div> +</div> +<p> +SYLVA. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>NOTES OF A READER.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>BRITAIN'S HISTORICAL DRAMA.</h3> + +<p> +We understand Mr. Pennie's design, in this volume, to be the chronological +arrangement of certain incidents of each king's reign in a series of +National Tragedies. There are four such tragedies in the present portion, +commencing with Arixina in which figure Julius Caesar, Cassfelyn, and +Cymbaline, and extending to Edwin and Elgiva: the titles of the +intervening pieces are the Imperial Pirate and the Dragon King. There is +much wild and beautiful romance in the diction, but we take the most +attractive portion to be the lyrical portion, as the Chants, Dirges, and +Choruses. We recommend them as models for the play-wrights who do such +things for the acting drama, and if the poetship to a patent theatre be +worth acceptance, we beg to commend Mr. Pennie to the notice of managers. +The poet of the King's Theatre figures in the bills of the day, and yet he +is but a translator. +</p> +<p> +It is difficult to select an entire scene for quotation, so that we take a +specimen from Arixina: +</p> + +<h3>CHORUS OF BARDS.</h3> +<h4>DIRGE.</h4> +<h4>SEMI CHORUS.</h4> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Mightiest of the mighty thou!</p> + <p>Regal pearl-wreaths decked thy brow;</p> + <p>On thy shield the lion shone,</p> + <p>Glowing like the setting sun!</p> + <p>And thy leopard helmet's frown,</p> + <p>In the day of thy renown,</p> + <p>O'er thy foemen terror spread,</p> + <p>Grimly flashing on thy head.</p> + <p>Master of the fiery steed,</p> + <p>And the chariot in its speed,—</p> + <p>As its scythe-wedged wheels of blood</p> + <p>Through the battle's crimson flood,</p> + <p>Onward rushing, put to flight</p> + <p>E'en the stoutest men of might,—</p> + <p>Age to age shall tell thy fame;</p> + <p>Thine shall be a deathless name!</p> + <p>Bards shall raise the song for thee</p> + <p>In the halls of Chivalry.</p> + </div> +</div> + +<h4>GRAND CHORUS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His shall he a noble pyre!</p> + <p>Robes of gold shall feed the fire;</p> + <p>Amber, gums, and richest pearl</p> + <p>On his bed of glory hurl:</p> + <p>Trophies of his conquering might,</p> + <p>Skulls of foes, and banners bright,</p> + <p>Shields, and splendid armour, won</p> + <p>When the combat-day was done,</p> + <p>On his blazing death-pile heap,</p> + <p>Where the brave in glory sleep!</p> + <p>And the Romans' vaunted pride,</p> + <p>Their eagle-god, in blood streams dyed,</p> + <p>Which, amid the battle's roar,</p> + <p>From their king of ships he tore;</p> + <p>Hurl it, hurl it in the flame,</p> + <p>And o'er it raise the loud acclaim!</p> + <p>Let the captive and the steed</p> + <p>On his death-pile nobly bleed;</p> + <p>Let his hawks and war-dogs share</p> + <p>His glory, as they claimed his care.</p> + </div> +</div> + +<h4>SEMI-CHORUS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Silent is his hall of shields</p> + <p>In Rath-col's dim and woody fields,</p> + <p>Night-winds round his lone hearth sing</p> + <p>The fall of Prythian's warlike king!—</p> + <p>Now his home of happy rest</p> + <p>Is in the bright isles of the west;</p> + <p>There, in stately halls of gold,</p> + <p>He with the mighty chiefs of old,</p> + <p>Quaffs the horn of hydromel</p> + <p>To the harp's melodious swell;</p> + <p>And on hills of living green,</p> + <p>With airy bow of lightning sheen,</p> + <p>Hunts the shadowy deer-herd fleet</p> + <p>In their dim-embowered retreat.</p> + <p>He is free to roam at will</p> + <p>O'er sea and sky, o'er heath and hill,</p> + <p>When our fathers' spirits rush</p> + <p>On the blast and crimson gush</p> + <p>Of the cloud-fire, through the storms,</p> + <p>Like the meteor's brilliant forms,</p> + <p>He shall come to the heroes' shout</p> + <p>In the battle's gory rout;</p> + <p>He shall stand by the stone of death,</p> + <p>When the captive yields his breath;</p> + <p>And in halls of revelry</p> + <p>His dim spirit oft shall be.</p> + </div> +</div> + +<h4>GRAND CHORUS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Shout, and fill the hirlass horn,</p> + <p>Round the dirge-feast quaff till morn;</p> + <p>Songs and joy sound o'er the heath,</p> + <p>For he died the warrior's death!</p> + <p>Garlands fling upon the fire,</p> + <p>His shall be a noble pyre!</p> + <p>And his tomb befit a king,</p> + <p>Encircled with a regal ring</p> + <p>Which shall to latest time declare,</p> + <p>That a princely chief lies there,</p> + <p>Who died to set his country free,</p> + <p>Who fell for British liberty;</p> + <p>His renown the harp shall sing</p> + <p>To mail clad chief and battle-king,</p> + <p>And fire the mighty warrior's soul</p> + <p>Long as eternal ages roll!</p> + </div> +</div> + +<p> +The Notes to each Tragedy are very abundant. Indeed, they are of the most +laborious research. We quote an +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page101" name="page101"> + </a>[pg 101] +</span> + extract relative to "grinning skulls" as +terrifically interesting: +</p> +<p> +"The British warriors preserved the bones of their enemies whom they slew; +and Strabo says of the Gauls (who were, as he informs us, far less +uncivilized than the Britons, but still nearly resembled them in their +manners and customs,) that when they return from the field of battle they +bring with them the heads of their enemies fastened to the necks of their +horses, and afterwards place them before the gates of their cities. Many +of them, after being anointed with pitch or turpentine, they preserve in +baskets or chests, and ostentatiously show them to strangers, as a proof +of their valour; not suffering them to be redeemed, even though offered +for them their weight in gold. This account is also confirmed by Diodorus. +Strabo says that Posidonius declared he saw several of their heads near +the gates of some of their towns,—a horrid barbarism, continued at +Temple-bar almost down to the present period." +</p> +<p> +Lastly, <i>Speaking and Moving Stones</i>: +</p> +<p> +"Girald Cambrensis gives an account of a speaking-stone at St. David's in +Pembrokeshire. 'The next I shall notice is a very singular kind of a +monument, which I believe has never been taken notice of by any +antiquarian. I think I may call it an oracular stone: it rests upon a bed +of rock, where a road plainly appears to have been made, leading to the +hole, which at the entrance is three feet wide, six feet deep, and about +three feet six inches high. Within this aperture, on the right hand, is a +hole two feet diameter, perforated quite through the rock sixteen feet, +and running from north to south. In the abovementioned aperture a man +might lie concealed, and predict future events to those that came to +consult the oracle, and be heard distinctly on the north side of the rock, +where the hole is not visible. This might make the credulous Britons think +the predictions proceeded solely from the rock-deity. The voice on the +outside was distinctly conveyed to the person in the aperture, as was +several times tried.'—<i>Arch. Soc. Ant. Lond</i>. vol. viii. +</p> +<p> +"The moving stones, or Logans, were known to the Phoenicians as well us +the Britons. Sanconiatho, in his Phoenician History, says, that Uranus +devised the Boetylia, Gr.; Botal or Bothal, Irish; Bethel, Heb., or stones +that moved <i>as having life</i>.—Damascius, an author in the reign of +Justinian, says he had seen many of these Boetylia, of which wonderful +things were reported, in Mount Libanus, and about Heliopolis, in Syria." +</p> +<p> +The volume, a handsome octavo of more than 500 pages, has been, we +perceive, published by subscription: the list contains about 400 names, +with the King at the head. This is sterling patronage, yet not greater, if +so great, as Mr. Pennie deserves. The Preface, we think, somewhat +unnecessarily long: it needed but few words to commend the drama of our +early history to the lovers of literature, among whom we do not reckon him +who is insensible to the charms of such plays as Cymbeline, Julius Caesar, +the Winter's Tale, or Macbeth. Mr. Pennie mentions the popularity of +Pizarro, "which faintly attempts to delineate the customs of the Peruvians" +as a reason for "the hope that is in him" respecting the fate of his own +tragedies. To our minds, Pizarro is one of the most essentially dramatic +or stage-plays of all our stock pieces. It is of German origin, though +Sheridan is said to have written it over sandwiches and claret in Drury +Lane Theatre. The country, the scenery, and costume have much to do with +this stage effect, and even aid the strong excitement of conflicting +passions which pervades every act. Its representation is a scene-shifting, +fidgeting business, but its charms tempt us almost invariably to sit it +out. +</p> +<p> +Returning to Mr. Pennie's Tragedies, we must add that a more delightful +collection of notes was never appended to any poem. Would that all +commentators had so assiduously illustrated their text. Here is none of +the literary indolence by which nine out of ten works are disfigured, nor +the fiddle-faddle notes which some folks must have written in their dreams. +</p> + + +<hr /> +<h3>SNATCHES FROM EUGENE ARAM.</h3> + +<p> +<i>A Landlord's Benevolence</i>.—No sooner did he behold the money, than a +sudden placidity stole over his ruffled spirit:—nay, a certain benevolent +commiseration for the fatigue and wants of the traveller replaced at once, +and as by a spell, the angry feelings that had previously roused him. +</p> +<p> +<i>A "Rich" Man</i>.—One who "does not live so as not to have money to lay by." +</p> +<p> +<i>An old Soldier</i>.—Set me a talking, and let out nothing himself;—old +soldier every inch of him. +</p> +<p> +<i>A Scholar</i>.—A man not much inclined to reproduce the learning he had +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page102" name="page102"> + </a>[pg 102] +</span> +acquired:—what he wrote was in very small proportion to what he read. +</p> +<p> +<i>Study of Mankind</i>.—There seems something intuitive in the science which +teaches us the knowledge of our race. Some men emerge from their seclusion, +and find, all at once, a power to dart into the minds and drag forth the +motives of those they see; it is a sort of second sight, born with them, +not acquired. +</p> +<p> +<i>Happiness</i>.—No man can judge of the happiness of another. As the moon +plays upon the waves, and seems to our eyes to favour with a peculiar beam +one long track amidst the waters, leaving the rest in comparative +obscurity; yet all the while she is no niggard in her lustre—for the rays +that meet not our eyes seem to us as though they were not, yet <i>she</i>, with +an equal and unfavouring loveliness, mirrors herself on every wave: even +so, perhaps, Happiness falls with the same brightness and power over the +whole expanse of life, though to our limited eyes she seems only to rest +on those billows from which the ray is reflected back upon our sight. +</p> +<p> +<i>Influence of Cities</i>.—When men have once plunged into the great sea of +human toil and passion, they soon wash away all love and zest for innocent +enjoyments. What was once a soft retirement, will become the most +intolerable monotony; the gaming of social existence—the feverish and +desperate chances of honour and wealth, upon which the men of cities set +their hearts, render all pursuits less exciting, utterly dull and insipid. +</p> +<p> +<i>Love</i>.—There is a mysterious influence in nature, which renders us, in +her loveliest scenes, the most susceptible to love. * * In all times, +how dangerous the connexion, when of different sexes, between the scholar +and the teacher! Under how many pretences, in that connexion, the heart +finds the opportunity to speak out. +</p> +<p> +<i>Passion</i>—The doubt and the fear—the caprice and the change, which +agitate the surface, swell also the tides of passion. +</p> +<p> +<i>Poverty</i>—makes some humble but more malignant. +</p> +<p> +<i>Want</i>.—How many noble natures—how many glorious hopes—how much of the +seraph's intellect, have been crushed info the mire, or blasted into guilt, +by the mere force of physical want? +</p> +<p> +<i>Benevolence</i>.—How poor, even in this beautiful world, with the warm sun +and fresh air about us, that alone are sufficient to make us glad, would +be life, if we could not make the happiness of others. +</p> +<p> +<i>Eloquence</i>.—The magic of the tongue is the most dangerous of all spells. +</p> +<p> +<i>Genius</i>.—There is a certain charm about great superiority of intellect, +that winds into deep affections which a much more constant and even +amiability of manners in lesser men, often fails to reach. Genius makes +many enemies, but it makes sure friends—friends who forgive much, who +endure long, who exact little; they partake of the character of disciples +as well as friends. +</p> +<p> +<i>Experience</i>.—'Tis a pity that the more one sees, the more suspicious one +grows. One does not have gumption till one has been properly cheated—one +must be made a fool very often in order not to be fooled at last! +</p> +<p> +<i>Cat-kindness</i>.—Paw to-day, and claw to-morrow. +</p> +<p> +<i>London at Night</i>.—One of the greatest pleasures in the world is to walk +alone, and at night, (while they are yet crowded) through the long +lamp-lit streets of this huge metropolis. There, even more than in the +silence of woods and fields, seems to me the source of endless, various +meditation. +</p> +<p> +<i>How easy it is to forget!</i>—The summer passes over the furrow, and the +corn springs up; the sod forgets the flower of the past year; and the +battlefield forgets the blood that has been spilt upon its turf; the sky +forgets the storm; and the water the noon-day sun that slept upon its +bosom. All Nature preaches forgetfulness. Its very order is the progress +of oblivion. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>A DAY AT LULWORTH. +<a id="footnotetag6" + name="footnotetag6"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote6">6</a> +</sup></h3> + +<p> +The abolition of monasteries, which succeeded the former revolution in +France, caused a fraternity of Trappists to seek refuge from the general +persecution of religious orders under the protection of the proprietor of +Lulworth Castle, on the coast of Dorsetshire; their patron being a rigid +Catholic, and much governed by the priests. They had been established many +years when I visited them; my curiosity being excited by the current +reports of the +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page103" name="page103"> + </a>[pg 103] +</span> + severities to which their order subjected them in the +habitual discipline of the convent. The day selected for the visit was +quite in harmony with the objects in view; a cold, bleak, cloudy morning, +which terminated in rain, without a single ray of the sun to enliven a +December gloom. Mr., now Cardinal, Weld was paying his temporal and +spiritual devotions at the Quirinal Palace and the shrine of St. Peter; +but, in the absence of the family from Lulworth, his huntsman regularly +exercised a small pack of harriers round the neighbouring hills among the +goss covers, for the amusement of a few sportsmen and his own profit. +Three of us proceeded one morning to enjoy our customary diversion; but +the bleakness of the wind which swept the hills overlooking the sea +induced the huntsman to keep the hounds at home, and we, in consequence, +determined to make up for our disappointment by riding over to Lulworth. +In summer, this little retired spot is an object of attraction, from its +romantic cove and fine castle; while many parties, doubtless, are drawn +there by the savoury idea of boiled lobsters, usually provided for their +refreshment at the small public-house of the village; where "mine host" +was wont to rivet the attention of the juvenile portions of his guests +especially, while the older refused him not their ears, to tales of the +castle and the convent, about which, as in most Catholic families of +distinction, and among religious institutions, there hung a cloud of +mystery, which the young votaries of worldly enjoyments love to penetrate. +</p> +<p> +Leaving our horses at the inn, we walked directly up to the convent +situated a little way beyond the village, impressed with feelings which +the stories we had heard unavoidably excited. Nor were these feelings +diminished by the gloomy solitude and silence of the scenery around, +interrupted only by the howling wind and the roaring of the waves, which +beat against the precipitous rocks surrounding the cove, and sustaining +the massive walls of the castle. +</p> +<p> +A plain white-washed building, with few and small windows, apparently +created out of a barn or granary and an old farm-house, was encircled by a +high wall enclosing also a muddy courtyard, and a garden destined to +supply the fraternity merely with the necessary herbs and seeds on which +the meagre-fed brethren were nourished. We lifted the heavy knocker of a +rude door surmounted by a crucifix, and a lay-brother, resembling him +represented in the Opera of the Duenna, answered our modest knocking. An +order from "the family" was demanded; and for want of it we urged our +special journey (about twenty miles), names, and rank; all of which was +transmitted to the superior, while we remained some time unbidden in the +courtyard, where the only sign of life was the deep barking of an old +house-dog, who rivalled his human associates in misanthropy. +</p> +<p> +At length the creaking hinges of the door were heard again, and, with an +injunction to be sparing of speech, we were bidden to follow the animated +shadow which flitted in the owl-light before us, through various winding +passages. Had I been alone, and had that crime which has lately so shocked +humanity been then in existence, I think I should have "pulled in +resolution," and told the miserable <i>cicerone</i> that I would call another +time. But, as companionship imparts courage, on we went, filled with vivid +recollections of Mrs. Radcliffe's romances, accompanied with an urgent +curiosity also to see, for the first time, living monks and a real +monastery. One of the former passed us in our way, clothed in the dingy +habit of his order fastened round the waist with a twisted cord. He bowed +as he passed; and we were told, in a whisper, that he was recently arrived; +and from not associating with the rest of the brethren, and having a +separate apartment, he was supposed to be a man of rank, known only to the +superior, and concerning whom conjecture was rife, but no inquiry +permitted. What this recluse really was my story will hereafter disclose. +</p> +<p> +The general furniture of the convent appeared to be neat and clean, but of +coarse materials and rude construction, while its scantiness evinced +either the penury of the institution, or the denial which formed part of +the monastic discipline peculiar to the order of La Trappe. There might be +a third explanation of the ill-lighted bareness of the walls and floors, +together with the general aspect of privation and devotion, an explanation +which occurred to us subsequently—there might have been studied effect +and deception in their display before visiters. +</p> +<p> +We entered the refectory and the dormitory, neither of which bore any sign +of luxury, nor even of ordinary comfort. The needful repose of man seemed +scarcely provided for in the one, nor the "creature comforts" in the other. +Meat was forbidden, except when prescribed for the health of the inmates. +Vegetable broth, bread, and water, +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page104" name="page104"> + </a>[pg 104] +</span> + formed, we were told, the chief +resources of the culinary department of the convent; and, in the very act +of enjoying these, around the disconsolate-looking table, the superior was +accustomed to remind the brotherhood occasionally during the repast not to +indulge the appetite for food, so as to divert their thoughts for an +instant from heaven. This spiritual memento was introduced by the rap of a +stout oaken-stick upon the table; when instantly, every hand raised to the +mouth was arrested and held still where it was, until a second rap +permitted it to proceed in its carnal office, the interval being employed +in silent ejaculation to the Deity, or perhaps, with some, in "curses not +loud but deep" against the inexorable superior, who so compelled them to +mortify a not unnatural desire. +</p> +<p> +In the dormitory a similar mortification nightly awaited the unconscious +sleepers, although "upon uneasy pallets stretching them," in the +occasional tinkling of an obtrusive bell, that peremptorily hurried them +from their recumbent position to the cold stones of the chapel, where on +bended knees they were obliged to pray and meditate. +</p> +<p> +From the refectory and the dormitory we were conducted to the chapel, with +renewed injunctions to ask no questions while there, and to preserve the +strictest silence. Here we found about thirty, I think, of the brethren, +in their coarse black habits and cord belts, with rosary, shaved crowns, +and fixed eyes; some kneeling, and others prostrate upon the stony +floor,—picturesquely grouged, <i>à la Rembrandt</i>, about the steps of the +altar and other parts of the chapel. All were silent and motionless, and +regarded our intrusion no more than if they were so many marble statues. +Some of the monks were old and haggard, and others young and better +conditioned than might be conceived of men fed, or rather starved, as they +were represented to be. Their features appeared generally to be coarse and +vulgar. The chapel itself was perfectly plain, and unadorned but by a few +of the customary figures and paintings, representing disgusting situations +of saints and martyrs under voluntary torture and privation. Lamps that +"shed a pale and ineffectual light," crucifixes, and images of the Virgin +and Son, were duly scattered about the niches of the chapel. +</p> +<p> +From the chapel we were conducted to the superior's room, a small +scantily-furnished apartment, with however an appearance of greater +comfort than elsewhere about the building, from the presence of a plain +chair and table, some religious books, a cot, and a little fire. The +superior himself possessed somewhat more of the aspect of a gentleman than +the rest of the brethren, as well as the dim light of a lamp allowed us to +observe his figure; of which certainly, whatever might have been his mode +of living, rotundity formed no such feature as I have seen among the jolly +monks in Spain and Portugal. He related to us the habits of his order, +from which we learnt further particulars than had been related by the +<i>cicerone</i>. Silence seemed to be the rule of the establishment during the +whole twenty-four hours, the exceptions being very few: one of the +brethren, we were told, had never been known to speak for about thirty +years, in accordance with a vow, and was supposed to have become dumb. +</p> +<p> +When one monk met another, the salutation was limited to this simple +expression—"Brother, we must die." And lest this fact should not have +been sufficiently kept in recollection, a grave was constantly open in the +burying-ground at hand, the digging of which was a source of bodily +exercise and recreation to the brethren; a new one being always made when +a tenant was found for that which already gaped to receive him. +</p> +<p> +I need scarcely observe, that from the rigid silence vowed and practised, +the order of La Trappe includes no females in its over-zealous ordinances. +The only books allowed those who could read were Missals and the Bible, +which were constantly in their hands. +</p> +<p> +Medical aid was not denied, when occasion required it, from one qualified +to practise among the Weld colony in the village, who of course was no +heretic; but the ordinary management of the <i>materia medica</i>, furnished by +the garden, rested with such of the fraternity as were gifted in the art +of healing. +</p> +<p> +In addition to all the mortification of the flesh pointed out to us, we +were given to understand that the twisted cords around the waist were +frequently employed in self-inflicted scourgings at the altar, to which +the superior exhorted the brethren as a penance for past, and humiliation +for future, sins; a ceremony which, by all accounts, was in some instances +unjustly taken out of the hands of the public executioner, while in others, +perhaps, the cord might not at all have been misapplied if its adjustment +to the neck, instead of the waist, had been anticipated by the same +functionary. —<i>Metropolitan</i>. +</p> +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page105" name="page105"> + </a>[pg 105] +</span> +<hr /> +<h3>COLONEL BRERETON.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Through the still midnight—hark'—that startling sound</p> + <p>Tells of deed of blood! a soldier's hand</p> + <p>With aim too true himself hath reft of life!</p> + <p>* * * Beneath that roof</p> + <p>For many days none had heard sounds of gladness.</p> + <p>He was distressed—each fond retainer then</p> + <p>Softened his voice to whispers—each pale face</p> + <p>Did but reflect the sadness fixed in his:</p> + <p>Save where the two—two fair and lovely ones,</p> + <p>Too young for guilt or sorrow, or to know</p> + <p>Such words as wordlings know them—save where they,</p> + <p>Pranking in childhood's headlong gaiety,</p> + <p>Sent the loud shout—like laughter through the tomb—</p> + <p>And mocked his anguish, with their joyousness.</p> + <p>Oh, that in sleep, some cry of joy or pain</p> + <p>From forth those lips had bursten piercingly,</p> + <p>When that sad Man his daring hand had lain,</p> + <p>Maddened with hours of musing, on his death!</p> + <p>Then would great Nature, o'er the soldier's heart</p> + <p>Her power have all recovered; his seared soul</p> + <p>With gushing tears enflooded, been restored;</p> + <p>Mistaken Honour, false chivalric Pride,</p> + <p>Flown with the Tempter;—life have been preserved,—</p> + <p>And unendangered an immortal soul.</p> + </div> +</div> +<p> +<i>Gentleman's Magazine.</i> +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SELECT BIOGRAPHY.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LATE MR. MUNDEN.</h3> +<h4><i>(With Recollections.)</i></h4> + +<p> +Great actors have two lives, or rather they have double deaths. Their +leave-taking of the public, their "retirement," as biographers call it, is +one death; since a playgoer then considers an actor dead "to all intents +and purposes"—a very <i>non est</i>. Public regrets are showered about your +great actor, and by some he is forgotten with the last trump of his praise. +He "retires:" that is, he looks out for a cottage in the country, far +removed from his former sphere of action, (as plain John Fawcett did the +other day,) or he diverges to a snug box in the suburbs of London, still +lingering about the great stage, as did honest Joseph Munden about seven +years since. People in the boxes or pit look out for his successor in the +bills of the play—then say "we ne'er shall look upon his like again," +(the greatest, though perhaps the most equivocal, tribute ever paid to +genius,) but a few months reconcile them to the loss; they approve the +successor, though they deplore the change, "and though the present they +regret, they are grateful for the past." Then comes your actor's second +farewell—his final exit—and "last of all comes death." A line or two in +a newspaper tells you that Munden died on Monday last. One exclaims "I +thought he had been dead these seven years;" but another, of more grateful +and reflective temperament, throws down the "<i>diurnal</i>" to lament the +death of the man as he had hitherto regretted the loss of the actor. His +former regret too is resuscitated. A mere paragraph rounds the little life +of your actor, his entrances and exits, and he who "appeared" on one stage +in 1790, as Sir Francis Gripe and Jemmy Jumps, disappeared from that +greater stage, or all the world, as Joseph Munden. We have often thought +these <i>farewells</i> of actors must be with them dismal affairs, especially +in old age. They must remind them of a last farewell, and we know +</p> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The sense of death is most in apprehension.</p> + </div> +</div> +<p> +But, is this fitting for the obituary of a <i>comic</i> actor? Yes, we reply, +and as both are but occasions of appeal to the passions, we may think the +death of a tragedian less striking than the former, since all tragedies +end with death, and death in itself is but a scene of tragedy. Is any +lament of Shakspeare's heroes more touching than his apostrophe to the +scull of Yorick, the King's jester, the mad fellow that poured a flagon of +Rhenish on the clown's head: "a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent +fancy. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of +merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock +your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?" +</p> +<p> +Munden was the son of a poulterer in Brooke's Market, Holborn, where he +was born in the year 1758. His father died soon afterwards, leaving his +widow with slender means, and Munden was thrust upon the world to seek his +fortune at twelve years of age. He was placed in an apothecary's shop, but +soon left it for an attorney's office. Perhaps, like Dr. Wolcot, he +fancied the clinking of the pestle and mortar said "Kill 'em again! kill +'em again." From the attorney's office, he "fell off," as Hamlet's Ghost +would say, to a law-stationer's shop, and became "a hackney writer:" the +technicality needs not explanation: to hack at anything is neither the +road to fame nor a good meal. He was apprenticed in Chancery Lane: his +master died and was succeeded by an older man, of the square-toed +fraternity, who taxed Munden with being a Macaroni more than a tradesman. +Munden, in consequence, parted from his master, and once more returned to +the office of a solicitor. They who remember Munden, a staid-dressing man +in later years, may smile at his early observance of the glass of fashion. +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page106" name="page106"> + </a>[pg 106] +</span> +</p> +<p> +About this time Munden appears to have first imbibed a taste for the stage, +and with it an admiration of the genius of Garrick; indeed, he had seen +more of Garrick's acting than had any of his contemporaries in 1820, Quick +and Bannister excepted. What a fine president would Munden have been of +the <i>Garrick Club</i>, the members of which probably know as much about +Garrick as they care about Thespis. Acquaintance with an actor fed Munden's +<i>penchant</i> for the stage, but did not fill his pocket. Both started for +Liverpool, the actor upon an engagement, but Munden in <i>hope</i> of one; the +latter engaged in the office of the Town Clerk, but only realized his hope +in copying for the theatre, walking in processions, and bearing banners, +at one shilling per night! At length he <i>acted</i> the <i>first Carrier</i> in +<i>Henry IV</i>. He next joined a company at Rochdale, which he soon left, and +returning to Liverpool, smothered his dramatic passion for two years, when +he started for Chester, with a light heart, a bundle wardrobe, and a +guinea. He entered Chester with his "last shilling," which he paid for +admission to the theatre, little thinking of provision for the night. Yet +Munden, in later life, was a prudent, parsimonious man. At the close of +the performance he fell in with a person who had been a butcher's +apprentice in Brooks's Market, and who remembering young Joseph's antic +tricks, gave him good cheer, and money for his return to London. On the +road, necessity overtook him, when meeting a Warwickshire militia-man, who +was marching to the town at which he was billeted, Munden prevailed on the +soldier to represent him as a comrade. The trick told: he was ordered to +the general mess-room and received as one among the warriors; and his +lively humour made him king of the company for the night. Next morning the +regiment mustered, and Munden was told to follow and be enlisted; but, as +he had obtained all he wished, a supper and a bed, he left his military +friends to their glory, +<a id="footnotetag7" + name="footnotetag7"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote7">7</a> +</sup> + and proceeded to London. Here he again returned +to the law, but once more emerged from it, and joined a company at +Leatherhead, as a representative of old men. But the theatre was burnt. +Munden next played at Windsor with tolerable success, at half a guinea per +week; and subsequently at Colnbrook and Andover. He returned to London, +and thence went to Canterbury, in 1780, to play low comedy characters, +where he first became what theatrical biographers term "a favourite." +After other provincial engagements and a short trial of management at +Sheffield, Munden appeared December 2, 1790, (a few nights after the first +appearance of Incledon,) at Covent Garden Theatre as <i>Sir Francis Gripe</i>, +in the <i>Busy Body</i>, and <i>Jemmy Jumps</i> in the <i>Farmer</i>; his success in +which parts after the impressions made by Parsons and Edwin was little +short of a miracle. His popularity now became settled. He was the original +representative of <i>Old Rapid, Caustic, Brummagem, Lazarillo, (Two Strings +to your Bow,) Crack, Nipperkin, Sir Abel Handy, Sir Robert Bramble, Old +Dornton</i>, &. In 1797 and 1798, he played at the Haymarket, but his summer +vacations were chiefly filled up by engagements at the provincial theatres. +Munden remained at Covent Garden Theatre till 1813, when he joined the +Drury Lane company. Here he remained until May 31, 1824, when he took his +farewell of the stage, in the characters of <i>Sir Robert Bramble, (Poor +Gentleman</i>, +<a id="footnotetag8" + name="footnotetag8"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote8">8</a> +</sup>) and <i>Old Dozy</i>, (in <i>Past Ten o'clock</i>.) He <i>read</i> his +farewell address, thus rendering it strikingly ineffective, since his +spectacles became obscured with tears. The leave-taking had, however, a +touch of real tragedy, which few could withstand. He now retired with a +respectable fortune, and lived in genteel style in Bernard-street, Russell +Square, till his 74th year. +</p> +<p> +Munden's style of acting was exuberant with humour. His face was his +fortune: it was all changeful nature: his eye glistened and rolled, and +lit up alternately every corner of his laughing face: "then the eternal +tortuosities of his nose, and the alarming descent of his chin, contrasted, +as it eternally was, with the portentous rise of his eyebrows." He has +been blamed for grimace, but it should be remembered that many of his +characters verged on caricatures. That he could play comic characters +chastely was amply shown in his Polonius; and touch the finer feelings of +our nature was exemplified in his Old Dornton, in Holcroft's catching play +of the <i>Road to Ruin</i>. The fine discrimination evinced by Munden in the +grief and joy of the exclamations "Who would be a father," and "Who would +<i>not</i> be a father," will not soon be forgotten. We think we see and hear +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page107" name="page107"> + </a>[pg 107] +</span> +his stout figure, in black, with florid face, and powdered hair, his +raised and clasped hands,—rushing out of the lockup-house scene in all +the fervid extasy of a father rejoicing at the escape of his son from +destruction. In Crack, Dozey, Nipperkin, and other drunken characters, his +drollery was irresistible. His intoxication displayed as much +discrimination as his pathetic performances. Who can forget his stare in +being detected in his fuddling as Dozey, and his plea for drinking to +"<i>wa-ash</i> down your honour's health:" or his <i>anti-polarity</i> as Nipperkin, +when his very legs seemed drunk beneath him; his attempt to set down the +keg would stagger the disbelievers of perpetual motion. Again, who did not +relish the richness of his voice, and the arch crispness which he gave to +some words, while others came not trippingly off his tongue, but lingered +and jarred with an effect which accounts for so many imitators. His mouth +had a peculiar twist, somewhat resembling that of Mathews, which at times +almost forbad his plain speaking. +</p> +<p> +We have seen that Munden was +</p> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A man that fortune's buffets and rewards</p> + <p>Had ta'en with equal thanks.</p> + </div> +</div> + +<p> +As he ripened, he became tinged with the old gentlemanly vice. He almost +made penury his hobby. Oxberry's widow asked him, after his retirement, to +play for her benefit: he said he could not, but that, if ever he performed +again, he would present her with 100<i>l</i>. It is related of him too, that a +friend asking him for a keepsake, he exchanged his old cotton umbrella for +his friend's silk one. Elliston and Munden were on good terms, though men +of very opposite habits. Munden had played twelve nights for Elliston at +Leamington. The manager had his wine, and the actor his brandy and water, +in the greenroom; before leaving the town, Munden sent for his bill at the +next tavern—14 glasses as many shillings. He asked Elliston to contribute +3<i>s</i>. which the manager refused to do, as Munden had drunk his wine; "but," +retorted Munden, screwing his features up to the very point of exaction, +"Sip-pings, remember sip-pings," alluding to Elliston's occasional visits +to his glass, while he was playing his part. It is said too, though we +know not how truly, that Munden was once seen, walking to Kentish Town, +with four mackerel, suspended from his fingers by a twig, he having +purchased the fish at a low price in Clare-Market. But this is venial: for +a <i>string of fish</i> is one of the parcels which John Wilkes said, a +gentleman may carry. Munden was a willing diner-out, and his conviviality +made him a welcome guest at any board. His hospitality at home was +unbounded; and above all, he has left an exemplary character for honesty +and integrity: he was one of those +</p> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Whose blood and judgment are so well comingled</p> + <p>That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger</p> + <p>To sound what stop she please.</p> + </div> +</div> +<p> +Mr. Munden has left a widow, a son, and a daughter to share his +well-earned fortune. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF <i>NEW WORKS</i>.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>MEMOIRS OF SIR RALPH ESHER,</h3> +<h4><i>By Leigh Hunt, Esq.</i></h4> + +<p> +These volumes exhibit a lively picture of the gayest and most profligate +periods of the history of the English Court. The writer, Sir Ralph Esher, +is an adventurer in the Court of our Second Charles, where he is +introduced by luckily securing a feather that escapes from the hat of one +of the ladies of the Court on horseback. The work opens with some account +of the writer's family, of some antiquity, in the county of Surrey, with a +few delightful sketches of the great men of the period. Witness this +slight outline of +</p> +<p> +<i>Cowley.</i> +</p> +<p> +"I rode one day on purpose to see Cooper's Hill, because Mr. Denham had +written a poem upon it; and hearing that Cowley was coming to see Mr. +Evelyn at Wootton, I went there and waited all the morning, till I saw him +arrive. He had a book in his hand, with his finger between the leaves, as +if he had been reading. He was a fleshy, heavy man, not looking in good +health, and had something of a stare in his eye. Before he entered the +gate, he stooped down to pinch the cheeks of some little children at play; +and afterwards, when I heard he was put in prison, I could not, for the +life of me, persuade myself that he deserved it." +</p> +<p> +The third chapter describes one of Charles's visits to Durdans, a rural +retreat built with materials from Nonsuch in the vicinity. The opening has +all the summer freshness of a race-day morning at Epsom: +</p> +<p> +"The bells awoke me in the morning, +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page108" name="page108"> + </a>[pg 108] +</span> + ringing a merry peal. When the wind +died, they seemed to be calling towards London; when it rose again, they +poured their merriment through the town, as if telling us that the King +was coming. I got up, and went into the street, where the people were +having their breakfasts under the trees, as the gentry do in the time of +the races. It was a very animated scene. The morning was brilliant. A fine +air tempered the coming warmth. The tables set out with creams and cakes +under the trees, had a pretty country look, though the place was crowded. +Everybody was laughing, chattering, and expecting; and the lasses, in +their boddices and white sleeves, reminded me of Miss Warmestre." +</p> +<p> +The arrival of the King and his mistress is beautifully told, as are the +costumes described, nay, coloured, for they are like highly-finished +portraits. +</p> +<p> +<i>Charles and his Court at Epsom</i>. +</p> +<p> +"The King!—The silence now seemed to become more silent; and in spite of +the opinions in which I had been brought up, I felt what it was to be in +the presence of one who inherited sovereign power. His Majesty himself +alighted first, and together with Buckingham, presented his hand to assist +the Queen. Then came a handsome boy, Mr. Crofts (afterwards Duke of +Monmouth); and last, assisted by her cousin the Duke, the long looked for +beauty, beautiful indeed, triumphantly beautiful. She looked around, and +the spectators could hardly refrain from another shout. +</p> +<p> +"The dress at that time was well calculated to set off a woman to +advantage. Lady Castlemain was dressed in white and green, with an open +boddice of pink, looped with diamonds. Her sleeves were green, looped up +full on the shoulders with jewelry, and showing the white shift beneath, +richly trimmed with lace. The boddice was long and close, with a very low +tucker. The petticoat fell in ample folds, but not so long as to keep the +ankles unexposed; and it was relieved from an appearance of too much +weight by the very weightiness of the hanging sleeves, which +counterpoising its magnitude, and looking flowery with lace and ribbons, +left the arms free at the elbows, and fell down behind on either side. The +hair was dressed wide, with ringlets at the cheeks; and the fair vision +held a fan in one hand, while the Duke led her by the other. When she had +ascended the steps, and came walking up the terrace, the lowness of her +dress in the bosom, the visibility of her trim ankles, and the flourishing +massiness of the rest of her apparel, produced the effect, not of a woman +over-dressed, but of a dress displaying a woman; and she came on, +breathing rosy perfection, like the queen of the gardens. +</p> +<p> +"I did not see all this at the time; there was not leisure for it; but I +had the general impression, which I reduced into detail afterwards. The +spectators forgot everybody but the King and her. His Majesty, at that +period of his life, (he was little more than thirty,) looked at his best, +and I thought I never saw a manlier face, or a more graceful figure. He +was in mulberry coloured velvet and gold. He not only took off his hat in +return to our salutations, but persisted in keeping it so, as if in the +presence of the whole people of England. This fairly transported us. The +royal features were strong, somewhat grim even, and he had a black brow +and a swarthy complexion, reminding us of the southern part of his stock; +but there was good temper in the smile of his wide though not unhandsome +mouth; and his carriage was eminently that of the gentleman. Lady +Castlemain at that time was little more than twenty. The Queen, though +short of stature, was young also, and looked handsomer than we expected; +and as all parties seemed pleased, and his Majesty's little son came on +the other side of the lady of the bed-chamber, we pretended to ourselves, +that things were not so bad as report made them; though never more +convinced, that everything which had been related was true." +</p> +<p> +An animated snatch from court life: +</p> +<p> +"I passed a delightful winter, carrying messages, going to plays, dining, +drinking, dressing, and hearing the King and his courtiers talk. By +degrees I was encouraged to talk myself. I got a reputation for being both +a hearty and a judicious admirer of wit and poetry, and this procured me +the regard of the men I was most anxious to please. Lord Buckhurst liked +me because I was discriminating; Sir John Denham, because I listened with +respect; Sir Charles Sedley, because none of his similes were lost on me; +and Mr. Waller, because I thought him the greatest poet that ever was, I +had some misgiving on that point, when I thought of poor Mr. Cowley, who +died not long afterwards. Mr. Sprat (lately made Bishop of Rochester, then +the Duke of Buckingham's chaplain,) took me to see that great and good man +in his retreat in the country, +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page109" name="page109"> + </a>[pg 109] +</span> +where he talked so delightfully of rural +pleasures, that I began to sigh after my old fields, till I heard him say +he had realized nothing but agues, and that the Arcadians in his vicinity +were anything but what they should be. He thought, however, he should find +them a little higher up the river." +</p> +<p> +<i>Lely's Portrait of Cromwell</i> +</p> +<p> +is thus introduced in the second volume: +</p> +<p> +"Oliver now stood erect, with his back to a fire-place, and resembled the +picture which had been lately painted of him by Lely. The artist flattered +him perhaps in the general air, as far as it implied ordinary good +breeding, and an habitual urbanity of carriage; and yet the momentary look +may not have been flattered even in that respect; for as the greater +includes the less, so the princely serenity which Cromwell could assume as +well as any man, or rather which was natural to him in his princely +moments, involved of necessity whatever is of the like quality in the +self-possession of an ordinary gentleman. You have heard what Cromwell +said, when Lely was about to paint this picture? He desired him to omit +nothing that could complete the likeness, however it might tell against +smoothness and good looks. Not a wart, or a wrinkle was to be left out. +Lely accordingly produced a stronger and bluffer face than is usual with +him; though it is to be doubted, whether the sense of beauty to which he +afterwards made such a sacrifice of his pencil, would have permitted him +to go to the extent of Cromwell's direction, granting even that the +instinct of a courtier had not prevented it. Nor are we to suppose, that +Cromwell himself, however great a man, was displeased to think that his +warts and wrinkles had been found less inimical to pleasingness of aspect, +than might have been looked for. Be this as it may, I was afterwards when +I came to see the picture, highly struck with the resemblance it bore to +him at the period of this interview. If there was any defect on the wrong +side it was, that the eyes were not fine enough; not sufficiently deep and +full of meaning. And yet they are not vulgar eyes, in Lely's picture. The +forehead, and the open flow of hair on either side, as if he was looking +out upon the realm he governed, and the air of it was breathing upon him, +are wonderfully like; and so is the determined yet unaffected look of the +mouth. The nose, which in every face is, perhaps, the seat of refinement +or coarseness, (at least I have never found the symptom fail) is hardly +coarse enough; and in a similar proportion, it is wanting in power. +Cromwell's nose looked almost like a knob of oak. Indeed, throughout his +face there was something of the knobbed and gnarled character of that +monarch of our woods. I will add, that as this picture was painted +immediately after Cromwell's accession to the sovereign power, the +princely aspect of the sitter was never more genuine, perhaps, than at +that moment. But there was one thing which Lely assuredly took upon +himself to qualify; to wit, the redness of the nose. It was too red in +ordinary, though not so much so as his libellers gave out, nor so +distinguished in colour from the rest of his face. When he was moved to +anger, the whole irritability of his nature seemed to rush into both nose +and cheeks; and this produced an effect, the consciousness of which was, +perhaps, of no mean service in helping him to control himself. Upon the +whole if many princes have had a more graceful aspect, few have shown a +more striking one, and fewer still have warranted the impression by their +actions." +</p> +<p> +The work, as our readers may imagine, is from first to last, an ever +shifting round of adventure. It has its dark shades as well as its lively +tints. The Great Plague and Fire furnish ample materials for the former, +as do the court beauties and <i>intriguantes</i> for the latter. An episodal +narrative of the Plague is one of the most touching pieces in the whole +work. At present we subjoin one of +</p> +<p> +<i>The Great Fire.</i> +</p> +<p> +"I was pondering one night, as I was sitting in the parlour at +Mickleham, +<a id="footnotetag9" + name="footnotetag9"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote9">9</a> +</sup> + looking at a beautiful moon, and delaying to go to bed, when +Bennett came in and told me, that there was a dreadful fire in London. One +of the tradesmen had brought news of a dreadful fire the day before; but +as every fire was dreadful, and I had seen the good people of London run +away from a cow, crying out, a "mad bull," I had thought nothing of it, +and was prepared to think as little of the new one. The old gentleman, +however, assuring me that both fires were one and the same, that it had +burnt a whole night and day, and was visible as far as Epsom, I thought it +time to see into the truth of the matter. I ordered my horse, and +promising to bring +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page110" name="page110"> + </a>[pg 110] +</span> + back a correct account, purely to satisfy the house +that there was no such thing, (for some of the domestics had kindred in +London,) I set off at a round gallop, looking towards the north, as if I +could already discern what I had doubted. Nobody was stirring at +Leatherhead; but at Epsom, sure enough, there was a great commotion, all +the people being at their doors, and vowing they saw the fire; which, +however, I could not discern. That there was a fire, however, and a +dreadful one, was but too certain, from accounts brought into the town +both by travellers and the inhabitants; so with the natural curiosity +which draws us on and on upon much less occasions, especially on a road, I +pushed forward, and soon had pretty clear indications of a terrible fire +indeed. I began to consider what the King might think of it, and whether +he would not desire to have his active servants about him. At Morden the +light was so strong, that it was difficult to persuade one's-self the fire +was not much nearer; and at Tooting you would have sworn it was at the +next village. The night was, nevertheless, a very fine one, with a +brilliant moon. +<a id="footnotetag10" + name="footnotetag10"> +</a> +<sup> +<a href="#footnote10">10</a> +</sup> Not a soul seemed in bed in the villages, though it +was ten o'clock. There was a talk of the French, as if they had caused it. +By degrees, I began to meet carts laden with goods; and on entering the +borders of Southwark, the expectation of the scene was rendered truly +awful, there was such a number of people abroad, yet such a gazing silence. +Now and then one person called to another; but the sound seemed as if in +bravado, or brutish. An old man, in a meeting of cross-roads, was +haranguing the people in the style of former years, telling them of God's +judgments, and asserting that this was the pouring out of that other vial +of wrath, which had been typified by the Fiery Sword,—a spectacle +supposed to have been seen in the sky at the close of the year sixty-four. +The plague was thought to have been announced by a comet. +</p> +<p> +"Very different from this quieter scene, was the one that presented itself, +on my getting through the last street, and reaching the water-side. The +comet itself seemed to have come to earth, and to be burning and waving in +one's face, the whole city being its countenance, and its hair flowing +towards Whitehall in a volume of fiery smoke. The river was of a bloodish +colour like the flame, and the sky over head was like the top of a +pandemonium. From the Tower to St. Paul's there was one mass of fire and +devastation, the heat striking in your eyes, and the air being filled with +burning sparkles, and with the cries of people flying, or removing goods +on the river. Ever and anon distant houses fell in, with a sort of +gigantic shuffling noise, very terrible. I saw a steeple give way, like +some ghastly idol, its long white head toppling, and going sideways, as if +it were drunk. A poor girl near me, who paced a few yards up and down, +holding her sides as if with agony, turned and hid her eyes at this +spectacle, crying out, 'Oh, the poor people! oh the mothers and babies!' +She was one of the lowest of an unfortunate class of females. She thought, +as I did, that there must be a dreadful loss of lives; but it was the most +miraculous circumstance of that miraculous time, that the fire killed +nobody, except some women and infirm persons with fright. +</p> +<p> +"I took boat, and got to Whitehall, where I found the King in a more +serious and stirring humour than ever I saw him. Mr. Pepys, begging God to +forgive him for having an appetite at such a crisis, and interrupting his +laughter at the supper they gave him, with tears of pity and terror, had +brought word to his Majesty that the whole city would be destroyed, if +some of the houses were not blown up. The King accordingly not only +dispatched myself and many others to assist, but went in person with his +brother, and did a world of good. I never saw him look so grim, or say so +many kind things. Wherever he went, he gave the people a new life, for +they seemed dead with fright. Those who had not fled, (which they did by +thousands into the fields where they slept all night,) seemed only to have +been prevented from doing so, by not knowing what steps to take. The Lord +Mayor, a very different one from his predecessor, who showed a great deal +of courage during the plague, went about like a mad cook with his +handkerchief, perspiring, and lamenting himself; and nobody would have +taken the citizens for the same men who settled my court friends at the +battle of Naseby. The court, however, for that matter, was as frightened +as the city, with the exception of the King and one +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page111" name="page111"> + </a>[pg 111] +</span> + or two others; so +terrible is a new face of danger, unless there is some peculiar reason for +meeting it. The sight indeed of the interior of the burning city, was more +perilous, though not so awful, as its appearance outside. Many streets +consisted of nothing but avenues between heaps of roaring ruins; the sound +of the fire being nothing less than that of hundreds of furnaces, mixed up +with splittings, rattlings, and thunderous falls; and the flame blowing +frightfully one way, with a wind like a tempest. The pavement was hot +under one's feet; and if you did not proceed with caution, the fire singed +your hair. All the water that could be got seemed like a ridiculous +dabbling in a basin, while the world was burning around you. The blowing +up of the houses marked out by the King, was the ultimate salvation of +some of the streets that remained; but as a whole, the city might be +looked upon as destroyed. I observed the King, as he sat on his horse at +the beginning of Cheapside, and cast his eyes up that noble thoroughfare; +and certainly I had never seen such an expression in his countenance +before. +</p> +<p> +"The fire raged four days and nights; and on the fifth of September, +London, from the Tower to Fleet-street, was as if a volcano had burst in +the midst of it, and destroyed it, the very ruins being calcined, and +nothing remaining in the most populous part, to show the inhabitants where +they had lived, except a church here and there, or an old statue. I looked +into it, three days afterwards, when the air was still so hot, that it was +impossible to breathe; and the pavement absolutely scorched the soles of +my shoes. +</p> +<p> +"The loss of property by the fire was of course far greater than that by +the plague, and yet assuredly it was not felt a thousandth part so much, +even in the city; for money, even with the lovers of it, is not so great a +thing, after all, as their old habits and affections. The wits at court +never chose to say much about the plague; but the fire, after the fright +was over, was a standing joke. And the beneficial consequences to the city +itself soon became manifest, in the widening and better building of the +streets, an improvement which came in aid of the cleanliness that was +resorted to against the plague; so that instead of a judgment against the +King and his government, Rochester said, in his profane way, that heaven +never showed a judgment of a better sort." +</p> +<p> +We need scarcely add our commendation of these delightful volumes. Each +page teems with life, and everywhere to use an expression of the writer, +his "soul rises with springy freshness." The portraits, and to use a +familiar term of artists, the bits of painting, have the touches of a +master-hand, and they are interwoven with genius which enlivens art and +embellishes nature. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE GATHERER</h2> +<hr /> +<h3>AN ODD STORY.</h3> + +<p> +About 150 years since, there was in France one Captain Coney, a gallant +gentleman of ancient extraction, and Governor of Coney Castle. He fell in +love with a young gentlewoman and courted her for his wife. There was +reciprocal love between them, but her parents, understanding it, by way of +prevention, shuffled up a forced match between her and one Mr. Fayel, who +was heir to a great estate. Hereupon Captain Coney quitted France in +discontent, and went to the wars in Hungary against the Turks, where he +received a mortal wound, near Buda. Being carried to his quarters he +languished four days, but a little before his death, he spoke to an old +servant, of whose fidelity and truth he had ample experience, and told him +he had a great business to trust him with, which he conjured him to +perform; that after his death he should cause his body to be opened, take +out his heart, put it in an earthen pot, and bake it to a powder, then put +the powder into a handsome box, with the bracelet of hair he had long worn +about his left wrist, (which was a lock of Madame Fayel's hair,) and put +it amongst the powder with a little note he had written to her with his +own blood, and after he had given him the rites of burial, to make all +speed to France and deliver the box to Madame Fayel. The old servant did +as his master had commanded him, and so went to France; and coming one day +to Monsieur Fayel's house, he suddenly met him with one of his servants, +who knowing him to be Captain Coney's servant, examined him; and finding +him timorous, and to falter in his speech, he searched him, and found the +said box in his pocket, with the note which expressed what it contained; +then he dismissed the bearer, with injunction that he should come no more +thither. Monsieur Fayel, going in, sent for his cook, and delivered him +the powder, charging him to make a well relished dish of it, without +losing a jot, for it was a very costly thing, and enjoined him to bring it +in himself, after +<span class="pagenum"> + <a id="page112" name="page112"> + </a>[pg 112] +</span> + the last course at supper. The cook bringing in his dish +accordingly, Monsieur Fayel commanded all to leave the room, and began a +serious discourse with his wife. That ever since he had married her, he +observed she was always melancholy, and he feared she was inclining to +consumption, wherefore he had provided a very precious cordial, which he +was well assured would cure her, and for that reason obliged her to eat up +the whole dish: she afterwards much importuned him to know what it was, +when he told her she had eaten Coney's heart, and drew the box out of his +pocket, and showed her the note and the bracelet. After a sudden shout of +joy, she with a deep-fetched sigh said, "This is a precious cordial +indeed," and so licked the dish, adding, "it is so precious that it is a +pity ever to eat anything after it." She then went to bed, where in the +morning she was found dead. +</p> +<p> +SWAINE. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>A Singing Paganini</i>.—In the year 1760, La Paganini, an admirable singer +and actress, came to London from Berlin. Her reputation was so great, that +when she had her benefit at the Opera, such a crowd assembled as was never +before witnessed on a like occasion, not one third of the company that +presented themselves at the Opera House doors being able to obtain +admission. Caps were lost, and gowns torn to pieces, without number or +mercy, in the struggle to get in. Ladies in full dress, who had sent away +their servants and carriages were obliged to appear in the streets, and +walk home in great numbers without caps or attendants. Luckily the weather +was fine, and did not add to their distress by rain or wind, though their +confusion was greatly augmented by its being broad daylight, and the +streets full of spectators, who (says her biographer) could neither +refrain from looking nor laughing at such splendid and uncommon +street-walkers. +</p> +<p> +P.T.W. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +The old Teutonic word <i>rick</i> is still preserved in the termination of our +English <i>bishoprick</i>. Stubbs, in his libel, <i>The Discovery of a Gaping +Gulf</i>, &. imprinted 1579, says, "The queen has the <i>kingrick</i> in her own +power."—Notes to Pennie's <i>Britain's Historical Drama</i>. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>On Friendship.</i> +</p> +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"I love a friend that's frank and just,</p> + <p>To whom a tale I can entrust,</p> + <p>But when a man's to slander given,</p> + <p>From such a friend protect me heaven."</p> + </div> +</div> +<p> +J.J. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>Sea Coal</i>.—In the reign of Edward the First, dyers and brewers began to +use sea coal. In consequence of an application from the nobility, &. he +published a proclamation against it, as a public nuisance. And afterwards, +under a commission of Oyer and Terminer, the commission ordered that all +who had "contumaceously" disobeyed the proclamation, should be punished by +"pecuniary mulcts." P.T.W. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>Witty Optics</i>.—A Jew went into a coffee-house to offer some spectacles +for sale: one of the company, after trying several pairs, wishing to amuse +himself at the Jew's expense, exclaimed, "Oh, these suit me very well; I +see through them very well, and through you too, friend, and discern that +you are a rogue." The Jew taking them from him and clapping them on his +own nose, very composedly replied, "then our eyes are alike, for I see +that you are the same." +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>Cromwell's Fun</i>.—Before the trial of Charles I., the chiefs of the +Republican party and the general officers met to concert the model of the +intended new government. One day, after the debates on this most +interesting and important subject, Ludlow informs us, that Cromwell, by +way of frolic, threw a cushion at his head, and even in the high court of +justice, in that solemn moment when he took the pen to sign the warrant +for the unhappy monarch's execution, he could not forbear the levity of +daubing the face of his neighbour with the ink. G.M. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p> +The Conclusion of "Brighton in 1743," in our next. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h3>FAMILIAR SCIENCE.</h3> + +<p> +This Day was published, with many Engravings, price 5<i>s</i>., +</p> +<pre> + ARCANA OF SCIENCE, + AND + ANNUAL REGISTER of the USEFUL ARTS, + for 1832: +</pre> + +<p> +Abridged from the Transactions of Public Societies, and Scientific +Journals, British and Foreign, for the past year. +</p> +<p> +*** This volume contains all the Important Facts in the year 1831—in the +</p> +<pre> + MECHANIC ARTS, + CHEMICAL SCIENCE, + ZOOLOGY, + BOTANY, + MINERALOGY, + GEOLOGY, + METEOROLOGY, + RURAL ECONOMY, + GARDENING, + DOMESTIC ECONOMY, + USEFUL AND ELEGANT ARTS, + MISCELLANEOUS SCIENTIFIC INFORMATION. +</pre> + +<p> +Printed for JOHN LIMBIRD, 143, Strand; of whom may be had volumes (upon +the same plan) for 1828, price 4<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>., 1829—30—31, price 5<i>s</i>. each. +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"> + </a><b>Footnote 1</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag1"> + (return) + </a> + Stow—These have lately been re-opened.—ED. M. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"> + </a><b>Footnote 2</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag2"> + (return) + </a> + Parish Books. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"> + </a><b>Footnote 3</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag3"> + (return) + </a> + Hist. and Antiq. Paroch. Church, St. Saviour, Southwark, 4to. 1818. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote4" name="footnote4"> + </a><b>Footnote 4</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag4"> + (return) + </a> + This Screen is about to be partially restored at an expense of about + £800. now in course of subscription among the more respectable and + intelligent parishioners. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote5" name="footnote5"> + </a><b>Footnote 5</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag5"> + (return) + </a> + Where did the Sportsman's Letters come from?—ED. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote6" name="footnote6"> + </a><b>Footnote 6</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag6"> + (return) + </a> + See <i>Mirror</i>, vol. xvi p. 201. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote7" name="footnote7"> + </a><b>Footnote 7</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag7"> + (return) + </a> + The recital of these circumstances induced O'Keefe to introduce the + incident in the part of Nipperkin, in <i>Springs of Laurel</i>, or "<i>Rival + Soldiers</i>". +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote8" name="footnote8"> + </a><b>Footnote 8</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag8"> + (return) + </a> + Oxberry appeared on the stage for the last time, this night, as + Corporal Foss. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote9" name="footnote9"> + </a><b>Footnote 9</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag9"> + (return) + </a> + At or near Mickleham, by the way, the writer might have commanded a + distant view of the burning City. On a fine, clear day we have often + discerned the dome of St. Paul's from one of the hills rising from + Mickleham to Norbury Park. +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote10" name="footnote10"> + </a><b>Footnote 10</b>: + <a href="#footnotetag10"> + (return) + </a> + Evelyn, speaking of this night, says, that it was "light as day for + about ten miles round about, after a dreadful manner."—<i>Memoirs</i>, vol. + i. p. 391. second edit 4to. Sir Ralph does not seem to make the light + so strong, though he does not absolutely say it was otherwise. Perhaps + Evelyn speaks of a later hour. The flames appear to have become + visible afterwards to the distance of forty miles.—<i>Edit.</i> +</blockquote> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p> +<i>Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) +London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic, G.G. BENNIS, +55, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.</i> +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11885 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11885-h/images/534-001.png b/11885-h/images/534-001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7d83eb --- /dev/null +++ b/11885-h/images/534-001.png |
