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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and
Instruction, by Various
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction
Volume 14, No. 396, Saturday, October 31, 1829.
Author: Various
Release Date: March 5, 2004 [EBook #11459]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF LITERATURE, NO. 396 ***
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Marvin A. Hodges, David Garcia and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
VOL. XIV, NO. 396.] SATURDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1829. [PRICE 2d.
BLARNEY CASTLE.
[Illustration: Blarney Castle.]
This Engraving, to use a cant phrase, is an exquisite "bit of Blarney;"
but independent of the vulgar association, it has a multitude of
attractions for every reader. Its interest will, however, be materially
enhanced by the following admirable description from the graphic pen of
T. Crofton Croker, Esq.[1]
[1] Researches in the South of Ireland, Illustrative of the Scenery,
Architectural Remains, and the Manners and Superstitions of the
Peasantry. By T. Crofton Croker. 4to. 1824 Murray. VOL. XIV.
Blarney, so famous in Irish song and story, is situated about four
miles north west of Cork, and was, within these few years, a thriving
manufacturing village; but it no longer wears the aspect of comfort or
of business, and appears much gone to decay.
The alteration struck me very forcibly. In 1815, I remember a large
square of neat cottages, and the area, a green shaded by fine old trees.
Most of the cottages are now roofless; the trees have been cut down, and
on my last visit, in 1821, a crop of barley was ripening in the square.
"the clam'rous rooks
Ask for their wonted seat, but ask in vain!
Their ancient home is level'd with the earth,
Never to wave again its leafy head,
Or yield a covert to the feather'd choir,
Who now, with broken song, remote and shy,
Seek other bowers, their native branches gone!"
This prepared me to expect a similar change in the grounds of the
castle, where much timber has been also felled; but the grounds still
are beautiful, rock and water being features in the landscape, the
picturesque effect of which neglect cannot injure.
The castle consists of a massive square tower, that rises broad and
boldly above surrounding trees, on a precipitous rock over a stream
called the Awmartin; and attached to the east side is an extensive
dwelling-house, erected about a century since by Sir James Jeffreys, who
purchased or obtained this estate from the crown, and in whose family it
still continues.
Blarney Castle was built about the middle of the fifteenth century,
by Cormac MacCarty, or Carthy surnamed Laider, or the Strong. He was
descended from the kings of Cork, and was esteemed so powerful a
chieftain that the English settlers in his part of Munster paid him an
annual tribute of forty pounds to protect them from the attacks and
_insults_ of the Irish. To him is also ascribed the building of the
Abbey and Castle of Kilcrea, the Nunnery of Ballyvacadine, and many
other religious houses; in the former of which he was buried.[2] It
would be a matter of little importance and considerable labour to trace
the Castle of Blarney from one possessor to another. The genealogical
table in Keating's "History of Ireland" will enable those addicted to
research to follow the Mac Carty pedigree; but a tiresome repetition of
names, occasioned by the scantiness of them in an exceedingly numerous
family, present continual causes of perplexity to the general reader.
The names of Donough, Cormac, Teague, Florence, Dermot, Owen, and
Donnel, constitute almost the whole catalogue used by the Mac Carties[3]
for a period exceeding six hundred years.[4] This difficulty is
heightened from the entire Sept being, in point of fact, without a
sirname, as the followers of most chieftains in Ireland as well as
Scotland assumed that of their lord. In the reign of Edward IV. a
statute was enacted, commanding each individual to take upon himself a
separate sirname, "either of his trade and faculty, or of some quality
of his body or mind, or of the place where he dwelt, so that every one
should be distinguished from the other." But this statute did not effect
the object proposed, and Spenser, in his "View of Ireland," mentions it
as having become obsolete, and strongly recommends its renewal.
[2] This tomb, according to Archdall's "Monasticon Hibernicum,"
stood in the middle of the choir of Kilcrea Abbey, with the
following inscription:--
HIC. IACET. CORMACVS. FIL. THADEI. FIL. CORMACI. FIL. DERMITII.
MAGNI. MC. CARTHY. DNVS DE. MVSCRAIGH. FLAYN. AC. ISTIVS.
CONVENTVS. PRIMVS. FVNDATOR. AN. DOM. 1494.
[3] The original name of a sept or clan was Carty, supposed to be
derived from Cartheigh, which signifies an Inhabitant of the
Rock; and Mac, denoting "_son of_;" was used before the father's
Christian name for the purpose of distinction, as, Mac Cormac
Carty expressed Carty, son of Cormac; this manner of designation
appears discontinued on the introduction of a greater variety of
names, and the Mac alone retained by the elder branches.
[4] Amongst the Harleian MSS. the Vol. No. 1425, contains pedigrees
of Irish nobility; from the ninth to the twenty-second page is
occupied by those of "Mac Cartie More," Mac Cartie Reagh, and
all other Mac Carties, brought down to the year 1615; but though
curious for reference, there is little worth the trouble of
transcribing. The most common female names in the Mac Carty
pedigree are, Katheren, Elin, Honnor, Joan, and Grany.
The military and historic recollections connected with Blarney are
doubtless of sufficient importance to give an interest to the place; but
to a curious superstition it is perhaps more indebted for celebrity. A
stone in the highest part of the castle wall is pointed out to visitors,
which is supposed to give to whoever kisses it the peculiar privilege of
deviating from veracity with unblushing countenance whenever it may be
convenient--hence the well-known phrase of "_Blarney_."
The grounds attached to the castle, as I before observed, though so little
attended to, are still beautiful. Walks, which a few years since were neat
and trim, are now so overrun with brambles and wild flowers as to be passed
with difficulty. Much wood has also been cut down, and the statues, so
ridiculously enumerated in a popular song, removed. A picturesque bridge
too, which led to the castle, has been swept away by the wintry floods,
and, with the exception of a small dell called the Rock Close, every thing
seems changed for the worse. In this romantic spot nature and art (a
combination rather uncommon in pleasure-grounds) have gone hand in hand.
Advantage has been taken of accidental circumstances to form tasteful and
characteristic combinations; and it is really a matter of difficulty at
first to determine what is primitive, and what the produce of design. The
delusion is even heightened by the present total neglect. You come most
unexpectedly into this little shaded nook, and stand upon a natural terrace
above the river, which glides as calmly as possible beneath. Here, if you
feel inclined for contemplation, a rustic couch of rock, all festooned with
moss and ivy, is at your service; but if adventurous feelings urge you to
explore farther, a discovery is made of an almost concealed, irregularly
excavated passage through the solid rock, which is descended by a rude
flight of stone steps, called the "Witches Stairs," and you emerge _sul
margine d'un rio_, over which depend some light and graceful trees. It
is indeed a fairy scene, and I know of no place where I could sooner
imagine these little elves holding their moonlight revelry.
A short distance to the south-west of the castle is a lake, said to abound
with a species of leech. It does not afford one good subject for the
pencil, being without islands, the margin swampy, and the adjacent trees
planted with too much attention to regularity. It is a very generally
believed tradition that, before Blarney surrendered to King William's
forces, Lord Clancarty's plate was made up in an 'oaken chest, which was
thrown into this lake, and has not since been recovered; nor does this
appear improbable, as I understand repeated attempts have in vain been made
to drain it. In 1814, the late Mr. Milliken, whose well-known song of "the
Groves of Blarney" has identified his memory with the place, gave me a
clumsy silver ring for the finger, which had been taken out of the lake by
a boy who was fishing in it.
Since I am on the subject of discoveries, it may be worth notice that, in
a quarry close to the castle, where some men were working, we picked up
several human bones, and that one of the labourers informed us so many as
twenty horse loads of these bones had been thrown into the lake; he also
spoke of two or three spear-heads being found with them. Groats and pennies
of the Edwards and Henries have frequently been dug up here; but I believe
never in any quantity.
The interior of the castle contains little worth notice except a
full-length portrait of Charles XII. of Sweden, said to be an original, and
brought here by one of the Jeffreys' family who was envoy to that monarch.
* * * * *
THE ANNUALS.
"Flow'rets strew'd
By churlish Time, in cheerlier mood;
The sweetness of a second Spring,
Beneath the Autumn of his wing.
Bestowing on the season's gloom
The bliss of a perennial bloom."
Glancing back to the commencement of the nineteenth century, the only
_annual_ record of poetry and prose which we recollect, was "The
Flowers of Literature;" a thick duodecimo, habited in a flesh-coloured
wrapper, and retaining in its print and pages, the quaintness which
characterized "the good old days" of the "Universal Magazine;" and which
still clings, though somewhat modified, to the patriarchal pages of
Sylvanus Urban. The matter was in accordance with the manner--a medley of
prosing articles, from the titles of which we might select, as indicative
of their style, "Ode to Despair;" "Topographical Description of Paris;"
"The Sailor;" more agreeably interspersed with some effusion of Mrs.
Barbauld, or Mrs. Opie; mingled, again, with sundry "Observations on the
Present State of the War," written by some sleepy newspaper editor, whose
language we might assimilate with, "We have received intelligence from,"
&c. Here and there, perhaps, a straggling beam of genius broke through the
mental twilight, in the shape of, "Some Account of the poet, Burns;" a
_Rustique_ by Bloomfield, or an elegant sonnet by Bowles or Charlotte
Smith. The rest of would-be-sonneteers, tragedy-writers, and essayists,
have long ago found, with their mediocrities, a congenial oblivion in
"the tomb of all the Capulets."
But suddenly, and without much premise to warrant the commencement of such
an era, the department of our imaginative literature was established in
patronage and importance; and those "trivial, fond records," which were
wont only to sparkle a brief endurance in the mutable columns of a
newspaper, or doomed, when existing in fragile manuscript, "to die and be
forgot," found a refuge from their Lethean fate in the numerous Magazines
which the increased taste, and avidity for reading, evinced by the public,
had called into existence. Still there was a _desideratum_, which
these adornments of English Literature, "The Annuals," alone supplied. The
casual tones which emanated from the "transcendent masters of the lyre,"
were not to be lost to "the public ear" for want of "a circulating medium;"
and Ackermann, a name familiar to the lovers of pictorial art, had the
honour of first setting England the example of preserving her valuable
anthology, by producing his attractive Annual, "The Forget-Me-Not;" a
species of literature which presents us with the pleasing facility of
holding yearly communion with our poets and authors, without being
subjected to the tedium of awaiting their protracted appearance in a more
voluminous shape. We can now more frequently greet Anacreon Moore,
wreathing his harp with the paternal shamrock, characteristically mingled
with "pansies _for love_;" Montgomery, mourning over our nature's
degradation; telling us of the affections and passions of earth, yet luring
us to higher hopes and brighter consummation; his every line evincing that
chastened sorrow which Byron threw into the portrait of the Sheffield
bard--
"With broken lyre, and cheek serenely pale."
Coleridge, dropping "some natural tears," on viewing the altered features
of his native valley; sweetly and affectionately telling of
"The meadow, and its babbling brook,
Where roses in the ripple shook."
Southey, forgetting the ungentler theme of "battle field" amidst the
sublimity of rock and lake. Campbell, pouring from his plaintive shell
a tender eulogy to his northern home--a glowing tissue of
Dreams of the Highland mountains, and echoing streams,
And broken glades, breathing their balm.
--Scott, terrifically depicting a Sassenagh tournament, or inditing a
stirring appeal to the "blue bonnets," to settle some Border broil. James
Hogg, "the Scottish Virgil," on whom has surely fallen the mantle of
inspiration from the Mantuan bard, coming forth in all the richness of the
"Noctes Ambrosianae," from the misty hill where he dominates "the king of
shepherds." Delta, elegantly pensive, sighing beneath the blighted trees
which flourished over his boyhood; and listening to the rhetoric of the
changing seasons. Alaric Watts, "the fireside bard," giving us a touching
apostrophe to his "youngling of the flock," in melting verse, warm from
that kindred fancy
"Whose blessed words
Can bid the sweetest dreams arise;
Awaken feeling's tenderest chords,
And drown in tears of joy the eyes."
T.K. Hervey, following in the same bright path, or enthusiastically rapt
amidst the beauty and bloom of Australia.--Bernard Barton, bringing us
snatches of vernal philosophy, gathered in the silence of murky woods,
and the solitude of perfumed meadows.--John Clare, swearing everlasting
fealty to his beauteous Mary, by the elm-shadowed cottage of her bowery
home; thanking heaven for the benison of love and rurality.--Richardson,
the poet of India, sonnetizing amidst the superb cupolas and temples
which gem the banks of the deified Ganges, longing to exchange his
fevered abode for salubrious England.--Pringle transforming the
repulsive features of a South African desert into matter for piteous
song; and illumining, by the brightness of his genius, the terrible
picture of Caffre barbarity and degradation.--Roscoe, revelling in the
sweets of Italian lore, his own lips "touched with a live coal" from the
altar of poesy.--Washington Irving, grasping at the intellect, and
speculating on the wit and fancy, of all climes; so speedily
transplanting himself (bodily as well as mentally) from the back woods
of America to the land of Columbus--from the vineyards of France to the
valleys of Yorkshire--as almost to induce a belief in his power of
ubiquity.--Allan Cunningham, sympathizing with the sorrows of one "who
never told her love," and weaving a tearful elegy over her flower-strewn
grave, or painting the fiercer incidents of piratical warfare, on the
ocean's solitudes.--Felicia Hemans, her lyre musically blending the song
of sounding streams with the spontaneous melody of the "feathered choir"
composing an epicedium to the memory of departed days, and proving her
glorious claims to the poetic character, "creation's heir."--Mary
Russell Mitford, great in her histrionic portraitures of liberty,
whether patrician or plebeian; yet not forgetting in her dramatic
wanderings, her happy village; but drawing us, "by the cords of love,"
to the rustic scene; amplifying that fine axiom of the Stratford bard--
"Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than does the embroider'd canopy to kings?"
J.H. Wiffen, dating from the sentimental seclusion of Woburn Abbey,
a song replete with all the grace and imagination of his "Ionian
Hours."--Charles Lamb, the "deep-thoughted Elia," introducing us to the
maidenly residence of his cousin Bridget; delighted with delighting; his
fancy expatiating on a copious medley of subjects between the stiff
Mandarins on the old fashioned china, and that _Beaumont and Fletcher_,
the purchase of his rigid economy, ere his talents had brought him fame
and fortune.--Letitia Landon "the English Sappho," a being existing but
in the atmosphere of love and flowers; equally sensitive at the opening
of a violet as at the shutting of a rose. But our list of the living is
too extended; and we will speak of some of the departed.
Interspersed with the emanations of our existing bards, we have,
occasionally, those precious _morceaux_ which have been bequeathed us by
the illustrious dead. Trifles, yet how esteemed! Remembrances of Byron,
with his fiery impetuosity, spurning the trammels of worldly sorrow;
and prescribing death as a _panacea_ for his lamentable despair; yet
subduing us with refined regrets, as he was wont, in his changing mood,
"To sun himself in heaven's pure day."
Shelley, misanthropically commencing with the turbulence of the chainless
sea: a spirit matured to madness by the overawing and supernatural terrors
of German romance: as he asserts himself to be, in his lamentation for the
author of Endymion, one who
"Had gaz'd on Nature's naked loveliness,
Acteon-like, until _he fled away_."
John Keates, forsaking the land of his fame, and prematurely resigning his
"quiet breath," on that spot
"Where dwelt the muses at their natal hour;"
leaving to the less sensitive reviewers to prove, whether he had been
"led astray by the light from heaven, or by his own clouded and
tempestuous genius:"
"That fire within so fiercely burned
That whence it came it soon returned."
Maturin, though corrupted and enervated by the follies and dissipation
of the anti-poetic city, becoming, in his lucid intervals, "himself
again," in the composition of a splendid dramaticle.--Henry Neele, the
"martyr-student," inviting us to share in the intense admiration of
intellect; forcibly demonstrating "that song is but the eloquence of
truth"--but of him no more!
"The churchyard bears an added stone;
The fireside shows a vacant chair."
Yet, however splendid the galaxy of literary stars may be, which illumine
our Annuals, they owe no little of their lustre to _the engravings_.
It fortuitously happens that we have not "a connoisseuring eye," or
we should swell this paper beyond the limits prescribed by editorial
complaisance, in the pages of "THE MIRROR." We are not ignorant, however,
of the incomparable advancement which the science of engraving has made in
the lapse of the last ten years; or how far it has left behind those mere
scratches of the graver which lit up our young admiration when a boy.
Two of these we will be impertinent enough to criticise, in spite of the
affection with which we cherish the visionary recollection of the pictures
of grandmother's parlour. The subjects were "courtship," and "matrimony."
In the former, the Chesterfieldian lover was seen handing his _chere
amie_ (a lusty wench, with red ochre cheeks) over a remarkably low
stile: whether the subject, or the manner of its execution had inspired
the muse, is no matter; but beneath was the following:--
"In _courtship_, Strephon careful hands his lass
Over a stile a child with ease might pass"
The next was "matrimony;" but, oh! "look on _this_ picture and on
_this!_" The careless husband, forgetting his capacious spouse, leaves
her to scramble over a stile of alarming altitude, whilst his attention
seems absorbed in the quarrel of two snarling terriers. Such conjugal
uncourtliness elicits its merited censure in the cool satire of the
accompanying motto:--
"But _wedded_ Strephon now neglects his dame:
Tumble or not, to him 'tis all the same."
The costume of these two figures was in accordance with the date of the
hey-day of Ranelagh Gardens; and the outline of the foliage was about on
a par with those designs we often see cut out of paper, by an ingenious
schoolboy yet they may be adduced as criterions of the average merit
appertaining to the generality of the productions of the burine of "the
old school."
In closing this erratic dissertation on the Annuals, we may remark, that an
interesting article might be written, descriptive of the reformation which
gradually elevated the art of engraving to perfection--a history of its
emerging from the inanities which flaunt in the window of Carver and
Bowles, in St. Paul's Churchyard, and arriving at the exquisite perfection
of such achievements as "Alexander's Visit to Diogenes," and "Quintus
Curtius leaping into the Gulf."
* * H.
* * * * *
FINE ARTS.
SCHOOL OF PAINTING AT THE BRITISH INSTITUTION, PALL MALL.
(_To the Editor of the Mirror_.)
Sir,--I have recently had the pleasure of visiting the British Institution,
and hope the following remarks on a few of the best works will prove
acceptable to those of your readers who are interested in the Fine Arts.
It is customary at this Institution to open, every autumn, a school for the
study of painting, in which students have an opportunity of copying the
best productions of the greatest masters. The present school opened a few
weeks ago, and furnishes some exquisite specimens of art, which were
selected by the directors as examples for imitation. In general the
students have been very enterprising this season, and their copies, if not
quite equal in every respect to the charming originals, are nevertheless
very meritorious and masterly attempts.
_The Holy Family_, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, is a remarkably fine specimen
of colour, and has been successfully copied by Messrs. Boaden, Fisk,
Child, and Inskipp. Small copies, in water colours, have also been done
from it by Miss Sharpe, and Miss Fanny Corbaux. Much praise is due to
Mr. Morton, for his whole length _Portrait of a Gentleman_, after
Vandyke; and Messrs. Simpson, Higham, and Middleton, deserve high
commendation for executing the best _fac similia_ of Rembrandt's
_Portrait of a Lady_. The _Landscape with Boors_, is a delightful little
picture by Teniers, belonging to his Majesty: numerous attempts have
been made to imitate it, but not altogether with success. Mr. Hart's
copy, however, is extremely clever. Poussin's _Landscape and Figures_,
has engaged the pencil of Mr. Burbank, who has produced a most elaborate
copy in water colours. Mr. Foster displays considerable ability in his
_Hobbima;_ and Messrs. Lee, Earl, Watts, and Dujardin, have equally
excelled in their copies from the cattle piece by Cuyp. In De Hooge's
picture, the _Exterior with Figures_, we are delighted with the
representation of a fine summer evening: a peculiar warmth is diffused
over every object, and the lengthened shadows indicate sunset: of this
work, Mr. Novice has executed the best finished copy; Miss Dujardin's,
however, is exceedingly good, and contains much promise. Another
splendid example of art is a _Large Landscape_, by Gainsborough, good
studies from which have been made by Messrs. Watts and Child.
Two small views on the Grand Canal at Venice, by Gwardi, have employed
the talents of Miss Dujardin, Mr. E. Child, Mr. Watts, and Master
Pasmore. But it is impossible to enumerate, in this hasty notice, all
the arduous undertakings of the students: suffice it to say, that they
have gained another step towards pictorial fame, and that their copies,
from the works of Rubens, Wouvermans, Murillo, Canaletti, Titian, &c.,
are honourable testimonies of their exertion to excel.
_October_ 19, 1829.
G.W.N.
* * * * *
THE CONTEMPORARY TRAVELLER.
* * * * *
A TOUR IN THE ISLAND OF JERSEY.
(_Concluded from page 262_.)
A view of the western side of Jersey, is calculated to impress a stranger
with an idea that it is a barren, unproductive island; but no supposition
could be more erroneous, as, in fact, a great proportion of it may
be described as orchard. The extent of ground planted, with fruit
trees--apple, pear, and plumb is prodigious; and consequently cider--and
very excellent cider too--is one of the staple products of the country, and
a favourite beverage among the natives. At the Union Hotel, St. Helier,
boarders were allowed to quaff as much as they had a liking for, without
being subjected to any additional charge.
About three miles inland from St. Helier, is a singular structure named
Prince's Tower, erected on an artificial mound or tumulus, and embowered
in a grove of fine trees. The extensive prospect it commanded, and the
indubitable antiquity of the masonry, induced me to apply for permission to
ascend it; and I was rewarded with a bird's eye view of nearly the whole
island, and a vast sweep of the French coast extending almost from Cape de
la Hogue to Avranches. An Englishman had lately taken up his abode in the
tower, which, with the adjacent pleasure ground, he rented at forty pounds
a-year. His object was to render it a place of resort to the inhabitants of
St. Helier, and his advertisements promised that the "delightful emotions
excited by its unrivalled scenery, and the harmonious chat of the feathered
tribe, should not be counteracted by the comfortless sensations of hunger,
thirst, and weariness." The interior of the tower was neatly and
appropriately fitted up. One apartment was designated the chapel; and in
the highest room were several telescopes, mounted so as to traverse to any
point of the compass, for the gratification of visitors.
But it is the traditionary history of Prince's Tower that renders it
interesting in the eyes of the islanders. In former times it was known by
the name of La Hogue-Bye, and the following legend, quoted from _Le Livre
noir de Coutances_, gives the origin of its celebrity:--In remote times,
a moor or fen in this part of Jersey, was the retreat of a monstrous
serpent or dragon, which spread terror and devastation throughout the
island. At length a valorous Norman, the Seigneur de Hambye, undertook to
attempt its destruction, which, after a terrible conflict, he accomplished.
He was accompanied in this adventure by a vassal of whose fidelity he had
no suspicion, but who, seeing his lord overcome by fatigue, after having
vanquished the reptile, suddenly bethought himself of monopolizing the
glory of the action. Instigated by this foul ambition, he assassinated his
lord, and, returning to Normandy, promulgated a fictitious narrative of the
encounter; and, to further his iniquitous views, presented a forged letter,
which he said had been written by De Hambye to his widow, just before his
death, enjoining her to reward his faithful servant, by accepting him as
her second husband. Reverence for the last injunction of her deceased lord,
induced the lady to obey, and she was united to his murderer. But the
exultation of the homicidal slave was of short duration. His sleep was
disturbed by horrid dreams; and at length, in one of his nightly paroxysms,
he disclosed the extent of his villany. On being arrested and questioned,
he made a full confession, and was tried, found guilty, and publicly
executed. De Hambye's widow, in memory of her lord, caused a tumulus of
earth, to be raised on the spot where he was buried; and on the summit
she built a chapel, with a tower so lofty, as to be visible from her own
mansion at Coutances.
So much for the fable. As to the word _Hogue_, there are several places
in Jersey called _Hougues_, which are always situated on a rising
ground. The word has evidently originated from the German _hoch_, from
which is derived our English _high_. A _hougue_, therefore, means a
mound or hillock, and in the present instance, the addition of _bye_ is
obviously a contraction of Hambye; and, in accordance with the foregoing
tradition, means literally the _barrow_ or tomb of the _Seigneur de
Hambye_.
The chapel at la Hogue is said to have been rebuilt in imitation of the
Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, by one of the popish deans of Jersey, in the
reign of Henry VIII. La Hogue-bye remained for many years in a dilapidated
state, till about 1790, when the late Admiral d'Auvergne, a native of
Jersey, better known under his French title of Duke of Bouillon, became its
owner by purchase, and hence it obtained its present name. At his death, in
1816, it was purchased by the late lieutenant-governor, Lieutenant-General
Sir Hugh Mackay Gordon, whose heirs afterwards sold it to Francis le
Breton, Esq., to whom it now belongs.
The most prominent object in the noble panoramic view from the top of
Prince's Tower, is a huge fortress on the eastern side of the island,
called the Castle of Mont Orgueil. It crests a lofty conical rock, that
forms the northern headland of Grouville Bay, and looks down, like a grim
giant, on the subjacent strait. The fortifications encircle the cone in
picturesque tiers, and the apex of the mountain shoots up in the centre of
them, as high as the flag-staff, which is in fact planted upon it. During
war a strong garrison constantly occupied Mont Orgueil, but now a corporal
and two privates of artillery composed the whole military force. The
corporal, a quiet intelligent man, who spoke with much horror of paying a
visit to the West Indies, which, in the mutations of his professional life,
he had a prospect of doing at no distant period, acted as _cicerone_,
and, among other places, introduced me into a small circular apartment,
forming one of the suite appropriated to officers, which he said had been
the habitation of Charles II. when a wanderer. This prince, when his
unfortunate father fell into the hands of the regicidal party, found a
loyal welcome in Jersey. Here he was recognised as king, when in England
they sought his blood: here he remained in security, when his fatherland
afforded him no asylum. During his lonely sojourn in this remote portion of
his hereditary dominions, he is said to have employed himself in making a
survey and delineating a map of the island. The natives, flattered by the
confidence he reposed in them, and justly proud of nine centuries of
unblemished loyalty to the throne of Great Britain, still refer to his
residence as a memorable event; and in no other part of the British
dominions, is the memory of the "merry monarch" more respected. When
Cromwell, after the disastrous issue of the battle of Worcester, sent an
expedition, under Admiral Blake, to reduce the island, it made a most
gallant and protracted defence; and had not circumstances conspired to
favour the Invaders, their victory would have been dearly purchased.
Mount Orgueil, in point of historical association, is by far the most
interesting spot in Jersey. A part of the fortifications, according to
tradition, are coeval with Caesar's incursions into Gaul; and the islanders
hold it famous in their oldest story, and of antiquity beyond record. In
1374, the celebrated Constable du Guesclin passed over from Bretagne at the
head of a large army, including some of the bravest knights of France, and
encamped before this fortress, then called Gouray Castle, into which the
principal inhabitants had retired for safety; but after a siege of several
months, he was obliged to draw off his forces in despair, and quit the
island. Henry V. added much to the strength and beauty of Gouray--made it
a depot of arms, and conferred on it the proud name of Mont Orgueil. About
1461, Nanfant, the governor, a dependent of Henry VI. was prevailed upon,
by an order of Queen Margaret, to surrender it to Surdeval, a Frenchman,
agent of Peter de Brezé, Count of Maulevrier; but though de Brezé kept
possession of it for several years, the natives, under the command of
Philip de Carteret, Seigneur of St. Ouen, a family long illustrious in
Jersey annals, prevented him from completely subjugating the island. Sir
Richard Harliston, vice-admiral of England, afterwards re-captured Mont
Orgueil, and put an end to Maulevrier's usurpation.
A small pier, intended to facilitate the landing of stores, and shelter
the numerous oyster vessels that resort to Grouville Bay at the dredging
season, projects into the sea, immediately under the castle guns. The bay,
like that of St. Aubin, is defended by a regular line of martello towers,
several of which are built far within flood-mark, on reefs that form part
of the Violet Bank. The adjacent country is a perfect garden, and numerous
secluded villas and cottages are scattered among the umbrageous and
productive orchards that spread around. A small village, called Goree,
lies a short way southward of Mont Orgueil. In former times, it was a
sutling-place for the garrison; now it is only the rendezvous of a few
oyster-fishers. In the auberges here, (every alternate house retailed
liquor), brandy sold at a shilling a bottle.
The road leading directly from Grouville to St. Helier runs parallel with
the southern shore, among corn fields, orchards, and hamlets, and is the
best in the island. I travelled it after sunset, and found myriads of toads
hopping across it in every direction. These reptiles are extremely common
in Jersey; while, in the neighbouring island of Guernsey, if popular report
may be credited, they are not only unknown, but cannot exist, as has been
ascertained by importing them from less favoured countries. This exemption
in favour of Guernsey, is in all probability a mere fable, originating with
some ignorant native, the absurdity of which no person has been at the
trouble to expose. Lizards and small snakes are also numerous in Jersey;
and at night-fall, a chorus of crickets resounds from every hedge.
The Jersey cattle are small; but like the pigmy breed of the Scottish
Highlands, their flesh is delicate, and their milk and butter rich. The
butcher market at St. Helier is supplied chiefly from France. There are
sportsmen in Jersey as well as in other countries, but game is neither
various nor abundant. The list, however, includes hares, rabbits, the
Jersey partridge, a beautiful bird, with pheasant eyes, red legs, and
variegated plumage; and several varieties of water fowl. In severe winters,
flocks of solan geese, locally denominated "barnacles," frequent the
shores.
The Romans, the pioneers of discovery and civilization in Europe, conferred
on Jersey the name of Caesarea, in honour of their leader; and Caesar and
Tacitus concur in describing it as a stronghold of Druidism, of which
worship many monuments still exist. The aborigines were doubtless sprung
from the Celtic tribes spread over the adjacent continent; but the present
inhabitants are universally recognised as the lineal descendants of the
warlike Normans, who, under the auspices of the famous Rollo, conquered and
established themselves in the north of France in the ninth century. It was
first attached to the British crown at the conquest; and though repeated
descents have been made on it by France during the many wars waged between
the countries since that remote era, none of them were attended with such
success as to lead to a permanent occupation of the island. The islanders,
proud of an unconquered name, and gratified to recollect that they
originally gave a king to England, not England a king to them, have been
always distinguished for fidelity to the British government; and their
unshaken loyalty has, from time to time, been rewarded by immunities and
privileges, highly conducive to their prosperity, and calculated to foster
that spirit of nationality, which is invariably distinctive of a free
people. They are exempted from those taxes which press heaviest on the
English yeoman, and from naval and military service beyond the boundaries
of their own island. The local administration of justice is still regulated
by the old Norman code of laws, and this circumstance is regarded by the
natives as a virtual recognition of their independence; but strangers, when
they inadvertently get involved in legal disputes, have often cause to
regret its existence. In cases of assault, particularly the assaulting of a
magistrate, even though his official character be unknown to the offender,
a severe punishment is generally awarded. We heard several instances of
military officers, who had been guilty of raising an arm of flesh against
jurats in night frolics at St. Helier's, narrowly escaping the penalty
attached to this heinous infraction of the laws--a penalty which would have
left them maimed for life.
The introduction of Christianity, and final extirpation of idolatry, is
said to have occurred in the sixth century. In the latter days of the reign
of popery, Jersey formed part of the diocese of Coutances in Normandy,
where the ancient records of the island were deposited; but at the
Reformation, in the reign of Elizabeth, it was attached to the see of
Winchester--an annexation, however, merely nominal, for the island is in
reality exempt from the dominion of the church of England. The inhabitants
are a well-disposed and peaceable race, but not particularly distinguished
for enthusiasm in religion. The peasantry are orderly and industrious; the
merchants enterprising; and the seamen, a numerous class, hardy and
adventurous. The _aggregate_ of the people live more after the French
manner than the English; that is, they substitute fruit and vegetables, in
a great measure, for animal food, and cider for ale. Neither men nor women
are distinguished for personal beauty, though we noticed several very
comely dames in our perambulations; and notwithstanding the boasted purity
of their descent from the ocean-roamers of the north, they have many of the
anomalous features of a mixed race.--_Edinburgh Journal of Natural and
Geographical Science_. No. I.
* * * * *
THE NATURALIST.
* * * * *
THE MOLE.
Foreign naturalists have been much occupied of late with the mole. From the
recently published observations of one of them, M. Flourens, it appears
that this animal, as its organization indicates, is, if not exclusively, at
least, essentially, carnivorous. It very soon dies if only roots be given
to it; and if it destroy so many roots of vegetables, it is not for the
purpose of eating them, but to seek among them for worms, insects, and
particularly for the larvae of insects which harbour there. They may be
kept alive for a long time upon any animal food. Ten or twelve hours are
nearly the longest time they can live without food. Like all animals which
feed upon blood and flesh, the mole is always very thirsty.--_Monthly
Mag_.
* * * * *
CLIMATE OF THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
The climate of the British dominions in the south of Africa is one of the
finest in the world. The average height of the barometer is above thirty
inches, and the average summer heat at noon is about 78 deg. It resembles
the climate of Italy, but is rather warmer and dryer. It is so dry, that
draining is little required for the ground: on the contrary, it is
necessary to retain moisture as much as possible, and even irrigation is
desirable, more especially from the grasses. The mountains abound in
springs, but the supply of water is scanty and precarious, from the want of
energy and skill in procuring that essential article. Such a scarcity
frequently arises, that the cattle perish from thirst, and the people
themselves are in danger of a similar fate.--_Gill's Repository_.
Sea Pens.
[Illustration: Sea Pens.]
The cuts represent two fine Sea Pens--_Silver and Red_, with Sections.
Of all the Sea Pens yet known, the first is one of the largest and most
curious in its appearance; being of a beautiful silvery white, elegantly
straited on each of the feather-like processes, with lines or streaks of
the deepest black. It is extremely rare, and is a native of the Indian
Seas. The accompanying Engraving is copied from a fine specimen in the
British Museum.
* * * * *
THE RED SEA-PEN IS
Of a very beautiful appearance, and is found on the British coast. The
animal consists of a flattened stem, or body, which is furnished with an
internal bone, and dilates into an expanded part, consisting of several
pinnae, or lateral branches, which are divided on their inner edges into a
number of tubular processes, through each of which is protruded a part of
the animal, resembling the head of a hydra or polype; the whole animal may,
therefore, be considered as a very compound or ramified union of polypi,
the bodies of which are contained in the naked part or stem, and from
thence ramify into a vast number of processes, each furnished with its
particular head. The animal emits a very strong phosphoric light, and it is
even so luminous, that it is no uncommon circumstance for the fishermen to
see the fish which happen to be swimming near it merely by the light of the
Pens. Its colour is a bright red crimson, and the general size that of the
figure.
Mr. Ellis, in the Philosophical Transactions, has published some specimens
of this extraordinary animal, of a kidney-shaped form, and observes that it
nourishes and supports itself by the succours of polype filaments, which we
have expressed in the Engraving in a magnified size. By these they take in
their food and discharge the exuviae. In case of danger these little
succours are drawn in.
Sea Pens are termed _locomotive zoophytes,_ and swim in the manner of
fish. Five hundred polypes may frequently be numbered on a single feather;
and they number among the most rare and interesting animals of the order to
which they belong.
* * * * *
SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.
* * * * *
_Vermin in Ships_.
Steam has been lately found very successful in cleansing ships from vermin,
and especially the white ant. In India, a steam boat was lately placed
alongside a merchant vessel, and steam from its boiler conveyed by a very
simple system of pipes in the hold of the latter, the apertures to which
were closed as well as they could be. The operation was continued for
several hours; and there is reason to believe it was effectual, and will
prove a valuable process in the navy. Besides the direct object of
cleansing the ship, another advantage accrued from the discovery of every
leaky place existing, by the oozing of the water through it. The expense is
said to be very moderate; and it is further stated to be the only process
at present known, not even except sinking, which effectually destroys the
white ant.--_Brande's Journal_.
_Agriculture_.
England possesses more pasture land than any other European country; and
Spain the least.
In agriculture, France is a century behind England; and to equal England,
France would have to make the immense progress which, since that time, has
more than doubled the prosperity of the former country.
England not only surpasses France in the number of its cattle, but the
animals are also finer, and their flesh is of better quality; so that an
Englishman may enjoy nearly double the quantity of animal food that France
supplies to each of its inhabitants, and with the further advantage of
better quality. "Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England."
_Indian Rouge_.
We find in _Jameson's_ last _Journal_, a very interesting paper
by Dr. Hancock, on a Red Pigment, called _Carucru_, or _Chica_,
which appears to be the Rouge of the interior Indians. It is produced like
Indigo, from the plant chiefly found towards the head of Essequibo, Parima,
and Rio Negro. On breaking a branch, the leaves, when dry, become almost of
a blood red, and being pounded, are infused in water till a fermentation
ensues. The liquor is then poured off and left to deposit a settlement,
which forms the _Chica_ paint. It is put up very neatly in little
caskets made with palm leaves, and carried by the Atorayas and trading
Caribs all over Guiana. It has a soft, cochineal, crimson shade, and is in
great demand among the Indians as an ornamental paint. The use is chiefly
for the face, whilst they stain the other parts of the body with Arnotta.
They also apply the Chica on the cheeks and about the eyes, and variegate
the countenance by marking the forehead, and along the facial line, with
their coomazu, a yellow clay or ochre. This manner of painting produces a
striking contrast, and gives them a very strange and furious appearance.
From the scarcity of the Chica, its employment is almost exclusively
confined to the chiefs and higher orders, their nobility. The rest must be
contented with Arnotta, or Poncer mixed with the oil of Carapa, a portion
of which, with the Balsam of Aracousiri, mixed with these paints, imparts
to them a very delightful odour. The _toilet_, therefore, of the rude
tribes is as simple as their manners and mode of life, their chief material
being perfume, and all being carried in a little gourd.
The Chica is not merely esteemed as a pigment, but is considered in the
Orinoko as the most sovereign remedy for erysipelas, where that complaint
is very prevalent. It is simply made with water into a paste, thinly
spread on old linen or cotton, and applied as a plaster to the inflamed
part.--_Abridged_.
_Indian Graters_.
The Tacumas (Indians) are the fabricators of those curious Cassada Graters,
which are considered superior to all others by those who are acquainted
with them. They are made of a very hard wood, studded over with pointed
flint stones, and fixed by a kind of cement and varnish of surprising
durability; the substance being at the same time a strong cement and
transparent varnish. These Cassada Graters are scarcely, if at all, known
on the coast, or in the European settlements.--_Jameson's Journal_.
_Wild Bulls_.
In the province of San Martin, in South America, M. Roulier saw wild bulls
feeding in the _llanos_ among domestic cattle. These animals pass
their morning in the woods, which cover the foot of the Cordillera, and
come out only about two in the afternoon to feed in the savanna. The moment
they perceive a man they gallop off to the woods.
_Mount Souffre_.
During the eruption of this volcano in 1812, the explosions were heard at
600 or 700 miles distance; and cinders were taken from the deck of a vessel
150 miles distant.
_Force of Running Water_.
In August, 1827, the small rivulet called the College, at the foot of the
Cheviot Hills, was so swollen by the heavy rains, that the current tore
away from the abutment of a mill dam, a large block of stone, weighing
nearly two tons, and transported it to the distance of a quarter of a mile.
_Cement_.
The large snails which are found in gardens and woods, discharge a whitish
substance, with a slimy and gelatinous appearance, which has been known to
cement two pieces of flint so strongly as to bear dashing on a pavement
without the junction being disturbed, although the flint broke into
fragments by fresh fractures.
_Artificial Ice_.
A mixture of four ounces of nitrate of ammonia, four ounces of subcarbonate
of soda, and four ounces of water, in a tin pail, has been found to produce
ten ounces of ice in three hours.--_Brande's Journal_.
* * * * *
THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.
* * * * *
AN OLD MAN'S STORY.
BY MARY HOWITT.
There was an old and quiet man,
And by the fire sate he,
"And now," he said, "to you I'll tell
A dismal thing, which once befell
In a ship upon the sea.
'Tis five-and-fifty years gone by,
Since from the River Plate,
A young man, in a home-bound ship,
I sailed as second mate.
She was a trim, stout-timbered ship,
And built for stormy seas,
A lovely thing on the wave was she,
With her canvass set so gallantly
Before a steady breeze.
For forty days, like a winged thing
She went before the gale,
Nor all that time we slackened speed,
Turned helm, or altered sail.
She was a laden argosy
Of wealth from the Spanish Main,
And the treasure-hoards of a Portuguese
Returning home again.
An old and silent man was he,
And his face was yellow and lean.
In the golden lands of Mexico
A miner he had been.
His body was wasted, bent, and bowed,
And amid his gold he lay--
Amid iron chests that were bound with brass,
And he watched them night and day.
No word he spoke to any on board,
And his step was heavy and slow,
And all men deemed that an evil life