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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

Vol. 10, No. 273. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1827. PRICE 2d.



GASPARD MONGE'S MAUSOLEUM.


[Illustration]

(_To the Editor of the Mirror_.)

Sir,--As one of your correspondents has favoured you with a drawing of
the gaol I designed for the city and county of Norwich, with which you
have embellished a recent number of the MIRROR, I flatter myself that an
engraving from the drawing I herewith send you of the mausoleum of
Gaspard Monge, which I drew while at Paris, in 1822, will also be
interesting to the readers of your valuable little miscellany. Gaspard
Monge, whose remains are deposited in the burying ground in Pere la
Chaise, at Paris, in a magnificent mausoleum, was professor of geometry
in the Polytechnique School at Paris, and with Denon accompanied
Napoleon Bonaparte on his memorable expedition to Egypt; one to make
drawings of the architectural antiquities and sculpture, and the other
the geographical delineations of that ancient country. He returned to
Paris, where he assisted Denon in the publication of his antiquities. At
his decease the pupils of the Polytechnique School erected this
mausoleum to his memory, as a testimony of their esteem, after a design
made by his friend, Monsieur Denon. The mausoleum is of Egyptian
architecture, with which Denon had become familiarly acquainted.

There is a bust of Monge placed on a terminal pedestal underneath a
canopy in the upper compartment, which canopy is open in front and in
the back. In the crown cavetto of the cornice is an Egyptian winged
globe, entwined with serpents, emblematical of time and eternity; and on
the faci below is engraved the following line:--

    A. GASPARD MONGE.

On each side of the upper compartment is inscribed the following
_memento mori_:

    LES ELEVES
    DE L'ECOLE POLYTECHNIQUE.
    A.G. MONGE.
    COMTE DE PELUSE.

Underneath this inscription is carved in sunk work an Egyptian lotus
flower in an upright position; on the back of the mausoleum is the date
of the year in which Gaspard Monge died. The body is in the cemetery
below.

    AN. MDCCCXX.

Monge was a man of considerable merit as a geometrician, and, while
living, stood preeminent above his contemporaries in the French school
of that day. He is the author of several works, but his most popular one
is entitled "Geometrie Descriptive. par G. Monge, de l'Institut des
Sciences, Lettres et Arts, de l'Ecole Polytechnique; Membre du Senat
Conservateur, Grand Officier de la Legion d'Honeur et Cointe de
l'Empire."

The programme to this work is interesting, as it urges the necessity of
making geometry a branch of the national education, and points out the
beneficial results that would arise therefrom. The following is the
translation:--

To draw the French nation from the dependence, which, even in the
present day it is obliged to place in foreign industry, it is necessary
first to direct the national education towards the knowledge of those
objects which require a correctness which hitherto has been totally
neglected; to accustom the hands of our artists to the management of the
various instruments that are necessary to measure the different degrees
of work, and to execute them with precision; then the finisher becomes
sensible of the accuracy it will require in the different works, and he
will be enabled to set the necessary value on it. For our artists to
become, from their youth, familiar with geometry, and to be in a
condition to attain it, it is necessary in the second place to render
popular the knowledge of a great number of natural phenomena that are
indispensable to the progress of industry; they will then profit for the
advancement of the general instruction of the nation, which by a
fortunate circumstance it has at its disposal, the principal resources
that are necessary for it. Lastly, it is requisite to extend among our
artists the knowledge of the advancement of the arts and that of
machines, whose object is either to diminish manual labour or to give to
the result of labour more uniformity and precision; and on those heads
it must be confessed we have much to draw from foreign nations.[1] All
these views can only be accomplished by giving a new turn to national
education.

    [1] Monsieur Monge has drawn much from our countryman,
    Hamilton's work on Stereography but he has not mentioned his
    work.

This is to be done, in the first place, by making all intelligent young
men (who are born with a fortune) familiar with the use of descriptive
geometry, so that they may be able to employ their capital more
profitably both for themselves and the nation, and also for those who
have no other fortune than their education, so that their labour will
bring them the greater reward. This art has two principal objects, the
first to represent with exactness, from drawings which have only two
dimensions, objects which have three, and which are susceptible of a
strict definition; under this point of view it is a language necessary
to the man of genius when he conceives a project, and to those who are
to have the direction of it; and lastly, to the artists who are
themselves to execute the different parts.

The second object of descriptive geometry, is to deduce from the exact
description of bodies all that necessarily follows of their forms and
their respective positions; in this sense it is a means of seeking
truth, as it offers perpetual examples of the passage from what is known
to what is unknown, and as it is always applied to objects susceptible
of the minutest evidence, it is necessary that it should form part of
the plan of a national education. It is not only fit to exercise the
intellectual faculties of a great people, and to contribute thereby to
the perfection of mankind, but it is also indispensable to all workmen,
whose end is to give to certain bodies determined forms, and it is
principally owing to the methods of this art having been too little
extended, or in fact almost entirely neglected, that the progress of our
industry has been so slow. We shall contribute then to give an
advantageous direction to national education, by making our young artist
familiar with the application of descriptive geometry, to the graphic
constructions which are necessary in the greater number of the arts, and
in making use of this geometry in the representation and determination
of the elements of machinery, by means of which, man by the aid of the
forces of nature, reserves for himself, in a manner, in his operations
no other labour than that of his intellects. It is no less advantageous
to extend the knowledge of those phenomena of nature which may be turned
to the profit of the arts. The charm which accompanies them will
overcome the repugnance that men have in general for manual operations,
(which most regard as painful and laborious,) as it will make them find
pleasure in the exercise of their intellect; thus there ought to be in
the formal school a course of descriptive geometry.

As yet we have no well compiled elementary work on that art, because
till this time learned men have taken too little interest in it, or it
has only been practised in an obscure manner by persons whose education
had not been sufficiently extended, and were unable to communicate the
result of their lucubrations. A course simply oral would be absolutely
without effect. It is necessary then, for the course of descriptive
geometry, that practice and execution be joined to the hearing of
methods; thus pupils will be exercised in graphic construction of
descriptive geometry. The graphic arts have general methods with which
we can only become familiar by the use of the rule and compass. Among
the different applications that may be made of descriptive geometry,
there are _two_ which are remarkable, both for their universality and
their ingenuity; these are the constructions of _perspective_ and the
strict determination of the _shadows_. These two parts may finally be
considered as the completion of the art of describing objects.

R. BROWN.

       *       *       *       *       *



AN IDLER'S ALBUM; OR, SKETCHES OF MEN AND THINGS.


THE RADIANT BOY.


It is now more than twenty years since the late Lord Londonderry was,
for the first time, on a visit to a gentleman in the north of Ireland.
The mansion was such a one as spectres are fabled to inhabit. It was
associated with many recollections of historic times, and the sombre
character of its architecture, and the wildness of its surrounding
scenery, were calculated to impress the soul with that tone of
melancholy and elevation, which,--if it be not considered as a
predisposition to welcome the visitation of those unearthly substances
that are impalpable to our sight in moments of less hallowed
sentiment,--is indisputably the state of mind in which the imagination
is most readily excited, and the understanding most favourably inclined
to grant a credulous reception to its visions. The apartment also which
was appropriated to Lord Londonderry, was calculated to foster such a
tone of feeling. From its antique appointments; from the dark and
richly-carved panels of its wainscot; from its yawning width and height
of chimney--looking like the open entrance to a tomb, of which the
surrounding ornaments appeared to form the sculptures and the
entablature;--from the portraits of grim men and severe-eyed women,
arrayed in orderly procession along the walls, and scowling a
contemptuous enmity against the degenerate invader of their gloomy
bowers and venerable halls; from the vast, dusky, ponderous, and
complicated draperies that concealed the windows, and hung with the
gloomy grandeur of funereal trappings about the hearse-like piece of
furniture that was destined for his bed,--Lord L., on entering his
apartment, might be conscious of some mental depression, and surrounded
by such a world of melancholy images, might, perhaps, feel himself more
than usually inclined to submit to the influences of superstition. It is
not possible that these sentiments should have been allied to any
feelings of apprehension. Fear is acknowledged to be a most mighty
master over the visions of the imagination. It can "call spirits from
the vasty deep"--and they do come, when it does call for them. It
trembles at the anticipation of approaching evil, and then encounters in
every passing shadow the substance of the dream it trembled at. But such
could not have been the origin of the form which addressed itself to the
view of Lord Londonderry. Fear is a quality that was never known to
mingle in the character of a Stewart. Lord Londonderry examined his
chamber--he made himself acquainted with the forms and faces of the
ancient possessors of the mansion, who sat up right in their ebony
frames to receive his salutation; and then, after dismissing his valet,
he retired to bed. His candles had not been long extinguished, when he
perceived a light gleaming on the draperies of the lofty canopy over his
head. Conscious that there was no fire in the grate--that the curtains
were closed--that the chamber had been in perfect darkness but a few
moments before, he supposed that some intruder must have accidentally
entered his apartment; and, turning hastily round to the side from which
the light proceeded--saw--to his infinite astonishment--not the form of
any human visiter--but the figure of a fair boy, who seemed to be
garmented in rays of mild and tempered glory, which beamed palely from
his slender form, like the faint light of the declining moon, and
rendered the objects which were nearest to him dimly and indistinctly
visible. The spirit stood at some short distance from the side of the
bed. Certain that his own faculties were not deceiving him, but
suspecting that he might be imposed upon by the ingenuity of some of the
numerous guests who were then visiting in the same house, Lord
Londonderry proceeded towards the figure. It retreated before him. As he
slowly advanced, the form, with equal paces, slowly retired. It entered
the vast arch of the capacious chimney, and then sunk into the earth.
Lord L. returned to his bed; but not to rest. His mind was harassed by
the consideration of the extraordinary event which had occurred to him.
Was it real?--was it the work of imagination?--was it the result of
imposture?--It was all incomprehensible. He resolved in the morning not
to mention the appearance till he should have well observed the manners
and the countenances of the family: he was conscious that, if any
deception had been practised, its authors would be too delighted with
their success to conceal the vanity of their triumph. When the guests
assembled at the breakfast-table, the eye of Lord Londonderry searched
in vain for those latent smiles--those cunning looks--that silent
communication between the parties--by which the authors and abettors of
such domestic conspiracies are generally betrayed. Every thing
apparently proceeded in its ordinary course. The conversation flowed
rapidly along from the subjects afforded at the moment, without any of
the constraint which marks a party intent upon some secret and more
interesting argument, and endeavouring to afford an opportunity for its
introduction. At last the hero of the tale found himself compelled to
mention the occurrences of the night. It was most extraordinary--he
feared that he should not be credited: and then, after all due
preparation, the story was related. Those among his auditors who, like
himself, were strangers and visiters in the house, were certain that
some delusion must have been practised. The family alone seemed
perfectly composed and calm. At last, the gentleman whom Lord
Londonderry was visiting, interrupted their various surmises on the
subject by saying:--"The circumstance which you have just recounted must
naturally appear most extraordinary to those who have not long been
inmates of my dwelling, and are not conversant with the legends
connected with my family; to those who are, the event which has happened
will only serve as the corroboration of an old tradition that long has
been related of the apartment in which you slept. You have seen _the
Radiant Boy_; and it is an omen of prosperous fortunes;--I would rather
that this subject should no more be mentioned."

The above adventure is one very commonly reported of the late Marquis of
Londonderry; and is given on the authority of a gentleman, to whom that
nobleman himself related it.--_The Album_.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE CROSS ROADS.

(_For the Mirror_.)


  Methought upon a mountain's brow
    Stood Glory, gazing round him;
  And in the silent vale below
    Lay Love, where Fancy found him;
  While distant o'er the yellow plain
  Glittering Wealth held wide domain.

  Glory was robed in light; and trod
    A brilliant track before him,
  He gazed with ardour, like a god,
    And grasp'd at heaven o'er him;
  The meteor's flash his beaming eye,
  The trumpet's shriek his melody.

  But Love was robed in roses sweet,
    And zephyrs murmur'd nigh him,
  Flowers were blooming at his feet,
    And birds were warbling by him:
  His eyes soft radiance seem'd to wear,
  For tears and smiles were blended there.

  Gay Wealth a gorgeous train display'd.
    (And Fancy soon espied him,)
  Supine, in splendid garb array'd,
    With Luxury beside him;
  He dwelt beneath a lofty dome,
  Which Pride and Pleasure made their home.

  Well; seeking Happiness, I sped,
    And, as Hope hover'd o'er me,
  I ask'd which way the nymph had fled,
    For _four roads_ met before me--
  Whether she'd climb'd the height above,
  Or bask'd with Wealth, or slept with Love?

  I paus'd--for in the lonely path,
    'Neath gloomy willows weeping,
  Wrapt in his shroud of sullen wrath,
    The _Suicide_ was sleeping,
  A scathed yew-tree's wither'd limb,
  To mark the spot, frown'd o'er him.

  I wept--to think my fellow-man,
    (To madness often driven,)
  Pursue false Glory's phantoms, then
    Lose happiness and heaven:
  I wept--for oh! it seem'd to be
  A mournful moral meant for me!

  But lo! an aged traveller came,
    By Wisdom sent to guide me,
  Experience was the pilgrim's name,
    And thus he seem'd to chide me--
  "Fool! Happiness is gone the road
  That leads to Virtue's calm abode!"

JESSE HAMMOND.

       *       *       *       *       *



MY COMMON-PLACE BOOK.

NO. XXI.


       *       *       *       *       *


ORDEALS.


Four kinds of ordeals were chiefly used by our German ancestors:--1.
"The Kamp fight," or combat; during which the spectators were to be
silent and quiet, on pain of losing an arm or leg; an executioner with a
sharp axe. 2. "The fire ordeal," in which the accused might clear his
innocence by holding _red-hot_ iron in his hands, or by walking
blind-fold amidst fiery ploughshares. 3. "The hot-water ordeal," much of
the nature as the last. 4. "The cold-water ordeal:" this need not be
explained, since it is looked on as supreme when a witch is in question.
The cross ordeal was reserved for the clergy. These, if accused, might
prove their innocence by swallowing two consecrated morsels taken from
the altar after proper prayers. If these fragments stuck in the priest's
throat he stood _ipse facto_--condemned; but we have no record of
condemnation.

       *       *       *       *       *


GEMS.


Forgive not the man who gives you _bad_ wine more than once. It is more
than an injury. Cut the acquaintance as you value your life.

If you see half-a-dozen faults in a woman, you may rest assured she has
a hundred virtues to counterbalance them. I love your faulty, and fear
your _faultless women_. When you see what is termed a faultless woman,
dread her as you would a beautiful snake. The power of completely
concealing the defects that she must have, is of itself a serious vice.

If you find no more books in a man's room, save some four or five,
including the red-book and the general almanac, you may set down the
individual as a man of genius, or an ass;--there is no medium.

The eye is never to be mistaken. A person may discipline the muscles of
the face and voice, but there is a something in the eye beyond the will,
and we thus frequently find it giving the tongue the lie direct.

I never knew a truly estimable man offer a finger, it is ever a sign of
a cold heart; and he who is heartless is positively worthless, though he
may be negatively harmless.

Cut the acquaintance of any lady who signs a letter with "_yours
obediently_."

Always act in the presence of children with the utmost circumspection.
They mark all you do, and most of them are more wise than you may
imagine.

Men of genius make the most ductile husbands. A fool has too much
opinion of his own dear self, and too little of women's to be easily
governed.

A passion for sweetmeats, and a weak intellect, generally go together.

I have known many fools to be gluttons, but never knew one that was an
epicure.

The affection of women is the most wonderful thing in the world; it
tires not--faints not--dreads not--cools not. It is like the Naptha that
nothing can extinguish but the trampling foot of death.

There is a language in flowers, which is very eloquent--a philosophy
that is instructive. Nature appears to have made them as emblems of
women. The timid snow-drop, the modest violet, the languid primrose, the
coy lily, the flaunting tulip, the smart marigold, the lowly blushing
daisy, the proud foxglove, the deadly nightshade, the sleepy poppy, and
the sweet solitary eglantine, are all types.

W.C. B---- M.

       *       *       *       *       *

There are a set of malicious, prating, prudent gossips, both male and
female, who murder characters to kill time; and will rob a young fellow
of his good name before he has years to know the value of
it.--_Sheridan_.

       *       *       *       *       *



MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

No. XII.


       *       *       *       *       *


A BURMESE EXECUTION.


The scene took place at Rangoon, and the sufferers were men of desperate
characters, who merited death. At a short distance from the town, on the
road known to the army by the name of the Forty-first Lines, is a small
open space, which formerly was railed in: and here all criminals used to
be executed. On this occasion several gibbets, about the height of a
man, were erected, and a large crowd of Burmans assembled to feast their
eyes on the sanguinary scene that was to follow.

When the criminals arrived, they were tied within wooden frames, with
extended arms and legs, and the head-executioner going round to each,
marked with a piece of chalk, on the side of the men, in what direction
his assistant (who stood behind him with a sharpened knife,) was to make
the incision. On one man he described a circle on the side; another had
a straight line marked down the centre of his stomach; a third was
doomed to some other mode of death; and some were favoured by being
decapitated. These preparations being completed, the assistant
approached the man marked with a circle, and seizing a knife, plunged it
up to the hilt in his side, then slowly and deliberately turning it
round, he finished the circle! The poor wretch rolled his eyes in
inexpressible agony, groaned, and soon after expired; thus depriving
these human fiends of the satisfaction his prolonged torments would have
afforded them. The rest suffered in the same manner; and, from the
specimens I have seen of mangled corpses, I do not think this account
overdrawn. Hanging is a punishment that seldom, if ever, takes place.

The manner in which slighter punishments are made is peculiar to the
Burmans, and, as nearly as I can make it out, according to our
pronunciation, is called "toung." The delinquent is obliged to kneel
down, and a man stands over him with a bent elbow and clenched fist. He
first rapidly strikes him on the head with his elbow, and then slides it
down until his knuckles repeat the blow, the elbow at the same time
giving a violent smack on the shoulders. This is repeated until it
becomes a very severe punishment, which may be carried to great
excess.--_Two Years in Ava_.

       *       *       *       *       *



RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.


       *       *       *       *       *


BILL OF FARE AT AN ANCIENT INSTALMENT.


The following is a true copy of the original lodged in the Tower of
London:[2]--

George Nevil, brother to the great Earl of Warwick, at his instalment
into his archbishopric of York, in the year 1470, made a feast for the
nobility, gentry, and clergy, wherein he spent:

     300 quartrs of wheat
     300 ton of ale
     104 ton of wine
       1 pipe of <DW74>'d w.
      80 fat oxen
       6 wild bulls
     300 pigs
    1004 wethers
     300 hogs
     300 calves
    3000 geese
    3000 capons
     100 peacocks
     200 cranes
     200 kids
    2000 chickens
    4000 pidgeons
    4000 rabitts
     204 bitterns
    4000 ducks
     400 hernsies
     200 pheasants
     500 partridges
    4000 woodcocks
     400 plovers
     100 carlews
     100 quails
    1000 eggets
     200 rees
    4000 bucks and does, and roebucks
     155 hot venison pasties
    1000 dishes of jellies
    4000 cold venison past
    2000 hot custards
    4000 ditto cold
     400 tarts
     300 pikes
     300 breams
       8 seals
       4 porpusses

At this feast the Earl of Warwick was steward; the Earl of Bedford
treasurer; the Lord Hastings comptroller, with many noble officers
servitors.

1000 cooks. 62 kitchiners. 515 scullions.

    [2] _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. xxx.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE SERGEANT'S WIFE.


A drama, named as above, has been played with eminent success during the
present season at the English Opera House. The plot is founded on the
following horrible occurrence, which actually took place in Ireland in
the year 1813, and which we extract from the columns of an Irish paper
of the same date. The narrative is powerfully worked up in _The
Nowlans_, in the second series of the _O'Hara Tales_, and Mr. Banim is
the author both of the novel and the drama:--

"The speech of George Smith, William Smith, and James Smith, who were
lately executed at Longford for the murder of James Reilly, a pedlar,
near Lanes-borough, has been published. It gives the following
description of the inhuman crime for which they suffered:

"The discovery of this murder, as decreed by the Almighty, was made by
Margaret Armstrong, the wife of Sergeant Armstrong, of the 27th regiment
of foot, on the recruiting service in Athlone. She was going to her
husband, when she was overtaken by this dealing man. He asked her how
far she was going--she answered to Athlone, to her husband, and said as
it was getting late, and being scarce of money, she would make good her
way that night. He then replied, 'my poor woman, let not that hurry you,
I am going to Athlone myself, and there is a lodging at the next cross
at which I mean to stop, be advised, and go no farther to-night, and I
will pay your expenses.' When they came to the house, he asked for a bed
for himself and another for the woman, and called for supper; when that
was over, he paid the bill, and taking out his pocket-book, he counted
150_l._ which he gave in charge to George Smith, and retired to bed; the
woman likewise went to her's, the family sat up till twelve; after
which, when the man was fast asleep and all was silent, we, (the three
Smiths) went into the room where the man lay; we dragged him out of bed,
and cut his throat from ear to ear; we saved his blood in a pewter dish,
and put the body into a flaxseed barrel, among feathers, in which we
covered it up. Take care, and do the same with the woman, _said our
mother_. We accordingly went to her bedside, and saw her hands extended
out of the bed; we held a candle to her eyes, but she did not stir
during the whole time, as God was on her side; for had we supposed that
she had seen the murder committed by us, she would have shared the same
fate with the deceased man. Next morning when she arose, she asked was
the man up? We made answer, that he was gone two hours before, left
sixpence for her, and took her bundle with him. 'No matter,' said she,
'for I will see him in Athlone.' When she went away, I (George Smith)
dressed myself in my sister's clothes, and having crossed the fields,
met her, I asked her how far she was going? She said to Athlone: I then
asked her where she lodged? She told me at one Smith's, a very decent
house, where she met very good entertainment. 'That house bears a bad
name,' said I. 'I have not that to say of them,' said she, 'for they
gave me good usage.' It was not long until we saw a sergeant and two
recruits coming up the road; upon which she cried out, 'here is my
husband coming to meet me; he knew I was coming to him.' I immediately
turned off the road, and made back to the house. When she met her
husband, she fainted; and on recovering, she told him of the murder, and
how she escaped with her life. The husband went immediately and got
guards, and had us taken prisoners; the house was searched, and the
mangled body found in the barrel." The three monsters were, it is
mentioned, ordered for execution from the dock.

       *       *       *       *       *


ANECDOTES AND RECOLLECTIONS.


  Notings, selections,
    Anecdote and joke:
  Our recollections;
    With gravities for graver folk.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE BAR--THE MASTER OF THE ROLLS.


It must be admitted (talking of the late _Vice_) that he really was
enough to annoy any sober staid master, by his frolics and gambols since
he has been made a judge. I remember him a quiet good sort of man
enough: with a bed-room and kitchen in the area of No. 11, New-square;
and his dining-room above, serving also for consultations: and his
going, now and then, only to have a game of whist and glass of negus at
Serle's;--but, now, he is a perfect _Monsieur Tonson_ to all continental
travellers. Never can you take up the police-book at the hotels, on the
road to Italy, without _Sir John Leach_ staring you in the face. The
other day at the _Cloche_ at Dijon (I will never go there again, and beg
Sir John to do me the favour to withdraw his patronage also,--the _Parc_
is worth twenty of it), yawning over my bottle of _Cote d'Or_, I
inquired of the waiter who of my "land's language" had lately been
there. "Vy, Sare, ve have de Milor Leash." "Lord Leash?"--"Oui,
Monsieur;--mais, Fanchette, apportez le livre ici pour Monsieur--le
voila."--"Ah, ha! Sir John Leach; I see."--"Ah qu'il est bon enfant!
qu'il est gai!" exclaimed the _garcon_. "Ah! qu'il est aimable!" sighed
Fanchette--Enter De Molin the banker's little bureau at Lausanne--(by
the way, it is the favourite chamber of Gibbon the historian, and if you
pay the house a visit from motives of curiosity respecting its former
occupant, you will be happy to be allowed to remain and converse with
the actual owner, for a more honourable, liberal, and better-informed
man, does not exist)--there, I say, in the glass over the mantlepiece,
will you see the card of _Sir John Leach_. Milan--Florence--the same. At
Torlogna's the same. Then at Naples: go to San Carlos'; and if you get
behind the scenes, ask for Braccini, the _poeta_ of the theatre, who has
been long in England; "Cospetto di Bacco!" he will exclaim: "il degn
uomo, quel Vice Cancelliere: il Cavaliere _Licci!_--Gran Dio! quale
talento per la musica!-Cappari! egli ha guadagnato i cuori di tutte le
donne Napolitane."[3] I certainly expect to hear him some day astonish
the bar, by unwittingly striking up "O Pescator delle onde," or "Sul
margine del Rio," in the Rolls Court; and, as in ancient Greece ('tis
said) pleadings were chanted, let us yet hope to hear an argument
preferred to the tune of "They are a' noddin, noddin, noddin;" an answer
stated _andante_; a reply given in a _bravura_, and judgment pronounced
_presto_. With all his faults (if they be such, which I do not admit),
the present Master of the Rolls is a good judge, and an able man;--"un
peu vif, peut-etre," as Fanchette might say; and it is more agreeable
than otherwise, to see one who has devoted his life to the study of the
law, enjoying himself in lighter pursuits, after having attained rank
and dignity in the profession; and after having punctually and
satisfactorily executed the important duties of the day, seeking at its
close, and participating in the gaiety which society offers. It speaks a
good heart and cheerful temper; whereas, when we hear a distaste
declared for music, and that of the highest character, we cannot but
call to mind "He who has not the concord of sweet sounds" within
himself;--but I will not pursue the quotation. Besides, were there
persons fools enough to blame Sir John for his social propensities, he
might answer them as the Parisian coachman did.--"What was that?"--"Why,
a French Jehu was tried in 1818, for some accident caused by his
cabriolet, before the Criminal Court of Paris; when, having heard the
evidence, the President of the Tribunal declared that he stood
acquitted, but that the court felt it its duty to blame him, and that he
was blamed accordingly." "Blamed!" exclaimed Jehu; "Blamed!--I don't
quite understand your Honor;--but--but--will it prevent my handling the
ribands, and driving the _wehicle_?"--"No!" said the judge. "Then, with
all respect for your Honor, I just laugh at it," said coachee, bowing.
"And so do I," said the president also, in rising to leave the
court.--_New Monthly Magazine_.

    [3] By Bacchus! what a worthy man is the Vice Chancellor, the
    Chevalier Leach! gods! what a taste for music; i' faith he has
    gained the hearts of all the Neapolitan ladies.

       *       *       *       *       *



FINE ARTS.


       *       *       *       *       *


THE CARTOONS OF RAPHAEL.


These _Cartoons_ were executed by the famous Raphael, while engaged in
the chambers of the Vatican, under the auspices of Pope Julius II. and
Leo X. As soon as they were finished, they were sent to Flanders to be
copied in tapestry, for adorning the pontifical apartments; but the
tapestries were not conveyed to Rome till after the decease of Raphael,
and probably not before the dreadful sack of that city in 1527, under
the pontificate of Clement VII; when Raphael's scholars having fled from
thence, none were left to inquire after the original Cartoons, which lay
neglected in the storerooms of the manufactory, the money for the
tapestry having never been paid. The revolution that happened soon after
in the low countries prevented their being noticed during a period in
which works of art were wholly neglected. They were purchased by king
Charles I. at the recommendation of Rubens, but had been much injured by
the weavers. At the sale of the royal pictures in 1653, these Cartoons
were purchased for 300_l_. by Oliver Cromwell, against whom no one would
presume to bid. The protector pawned them to the Dutch court for upwards
of 50,000_l._, and, after the revolution, King William brought them over
again to England, and built a gallery for their reception in Hampton
Court. Originally there were twelve of these Cartoons, but four of them
have been destroyed by damps and neglect. The subjects were the
adoration of the Magi, the conversion of St. Paul, the martyrdom of St.
Stephen and St. Paul before Felix and Agrippa. Two of these were in the
possession of the King of Sardinia, and two of Louis XIV. of France, who
is said to have offered 100,000 louis d'ors for the seven, which are
justly represented as "the glory of England, and the envy of all other
polite nations." The twelfth, the subject of which was the murder of the
innocents, belonged to a private gentleman in England, who pledged it
for a sum of money; but when the person who had taken this valuable
deposit found it was to be redeemed, he greatly damaged the drawing; for
which the gentleman brought an action against him. A third part of it is
still remaining in the possession of William Hoare, R.A., at Bath.

_Cartoon_ is derived from the Italian _cartone_, a painting or drawing
upon large paper. Raphael died on the same day of the year on which he
was born, Good Friday, in 1520, at the age of thirty-seven, deeply
lamented by all who knew his value. His body lay for awhile in state in
one of the rooms wherein he had displayed the powers of his mind, and he
was honoured with a public funeral; his last produce, the
_transfiguration_, being carried before him in the procession. The
unrelenting hand of death (says his biographer) set a period to his
labours, and deprived the world of further benefit from his talents,
when he had only attained an age at which most other men are but
beginning to be useful. "We see him in his cradle (said Fuseli); we hear
him stammer; but propriety rocked the cradle, and character formed his
lips."

P.T.W.

       *       *       *       *       *


TO MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. WRITTEN ON VISITING WESTMINSTER ABBEY.


  My murder'd queen, as on thine image once
  The gaze alike of prince and peasant rested--
  As if, unsated of thy thrilling glance,
  They never until then of beauty tasted:
  So I, by lonely contemplation led
  To muse awhile amid the silent dead--
  Turn me from all around I hear or see--
  From all of Shakspeare and of great to thee:
  And think on all thy wrongs--on all the shame
  That dims for ever thine oppressor's name;
  On all thy faults, nor few nor far between,
  But then thou wert--a woman and a queen.
  Proud titles, even in a barb'rous age,
  To stem th' impetuous tide of party rage;
  While as I gaze each well-known feature seems
  To stir with life, and realise my dreams
  That paint thee seated on the Scottish throne,
  With all the blaze of beauty round thee thrown;
  Then see thee passing from thy dungeon cell,
  And hear thy parting sigh--thy last farewell.

_Stray Leaves._

       *       *       *       *       *


ANCIENT GRECIAN SEPULCHRE


[Illustration]

A beautiful illustration of an ancient Grecian sepulchre or funeral
chamber, heads the second chapter of Mr. Britton's "Union of
Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting," from which work we have copied
the annexed engraved view. The interior of the chamber exhibits a
skeleton and the urns containing the ashes of the dead. The combat leads
us to the conclusion, that the tomb contains the remains of a chief; for
it was the barbarous custom of the Greeks to sacrifice captives at the
tombs of their heroes.

Of the funeral rites and ceremonies of the Greeks and other nations, we
subjoin the following:--

The most simple and natural kind of funeral monuments, and therefore the
most ancient and universal, consist in a mound of earth, or a heap of
stones, raised over the ashes of the departed: of such monuments mention
is made in the Book of Joshua, and in Homer and Virgil. Many of them
still occur in various parts of this kingdom, especially in those
elevated and sequestered situations where they have neither been defaced
by agriculture nor inundation.

The ancients are said to have buried their dead in their own houses,
whence, according to some, the original of that species of idolatry
consisting in the worship of household gods.

The place of burial amongst the Jews was never particularly determined.
We find that they had burial-places upon the highways, in gardens, and
upon mountains. We read, that Abraham was buried with Sarah, his wife,
in the cave of Macphelah, in the field of Ephron, and Uzziah, King of
Judah, slept with his fathers in the field of the burial which pertained
to the kings.

The primitive Greeks were buried in places prepared for that purpose in
their own houses; but in after ages they adopted the judicious practice
of establishing the burial grounds in desert islands, and outside the
walls of towns, by that means securing them from profanation, and
themselves from the liability of catching infection from those who had
died of contagious disorders.

The Romans prohibited burning or burying in the city, both from a sacred
and civil consideration, that the priests might not be contaminated by
touching a dead body, and that houses might not be endangered by the
frequency of funeral fires.

The custom of burning the dead had its foundation laid deep in nature:
an anxious fondness to preserve the great and good, the dear friend and
the near relative, was the sole motive that prevailed in the institution
of this solemnity. "That seems to me," says Cicero, "to have been the
most ancient kind of burial, which, according to Xenophon, was used by
Cyrus. For the body is returned to the earth, and so placed as to be
covered with the veil of its mother." Pliny also agrees with Cicero upon
this point, and says the custom of burial preceded that of burning among
the Romans. According to Monfaucon, the custom of burning entirely
ceased at Rome about the time of Theodorius the younger. When cremation
ceased on the introduction of Christianity, the believing Romans,
together with the Romanized and converted Britons, would necessarily, as
it is observed by Mr. Grough, "betake themselves to the use of
sarcophagi (or coffins,) and probably of various kinds, stone, marble,
lead," &c. They would likewise now first place the body in a position
due east and west, and thus bestow an unequivocal mark of distinction
between the funeral deposit of the earliest Roman inhabitants of this
island, and their Christian successors. The usual places of interment
were in fields or gardens,[4] near the highway, to be conspicuous, and
to remind the passengers how transient everything is, that wears the
garb of mortality. By this means, also, they saved the best part of
their land:

  --Experiar quid concedatur in illos
  Quorum Flaminia tegitur cinis, atque Latina.
                _Juv. Sat I._

The Romans commonly built tombs for themselves during their lifetime.
Hence these words frequently occur in ancient inscriptions, V.F. Vivus
Facit, V.S.P. Vivus Sibi Posuit. The tombs of the rich were usually
constructed of marble, the ground enclosed with walls, and planted round
with trees. But common sepulchres were usually built below ground, and
called hypogea. There were niches cut out of the walls, in which the
urns were placed: these, from their resemblance to the niche of a
pigeon-house, were called columbaria.

    [4] Our blessed Saviour chose the garden sometime for his
    oratory, and, dying, for the place of his sepulture; and we also
    do avouch, for many weighty causes, that there are none more fit
    to bury our dead in than in our gardens and groves where our
    beds may he decked with verdant and fragrant flowers. Trees and
    perennial plants, the most natural and instructive hieroglyphics
    of our expected resurrection and immortality, besides what they
    might conduce to the meditation of the living, and the taking
    off our cogitations from dwelling too intently upon more vain
    and sensual objects: that custom of burying in churches, and
    near about them, especially in great and populous cities, being
    both a novel presumption, indecent, and very prejudicial to
    health.--_Evelyn's Discourse on Forest Trees_.

       *       *       *       *       *



SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.


PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY.


I am fond of travelling: yet I never undertake a journey without
experiencing a vague feeling of melancholy. There is to me something
strangely oppressive in the preliminaries of departure. The packing of a
small valise; the settlement of accounts--justly pronounced by Rabelais
a _blue-devilish_ process; the regulation of books and papers;--in
short, the whole routine of valedictory arrangements, are to me as a
nightmare on the waking spirit. They induce a mood of last wills and
testaments--a sense of dislocation, which, next to a vacuum, Nature
abhors--and create a species of moral decomposition, not unlike that
effected on matter by chemical agency. It is not that I have to lament
the disruption of social connexions or domestic ties. This, I am aware,
is a trial sometimes borne with exemplary fortitude; and I was lately
edified by the magnanimous unconcern with which a married friend of mine
sang the last verse of "Home! sweet home!" as the chaise which was to
convey him from the _burthen_ of his song drove up to the door. It does
not become a bachelor to speculate on the mysteries of matrimonial
philosophy; but the feeling of pain with which _I_ enter on the task of
migration has no affinity with individual sympathies, or even with
domiciliary attachments. My landlady is, without exception, the ugliest
woman in London; and the locality of Elbow-lane cannot be supposed
absolutely to spellbind the affection of one occupying, as I do,
solitary chambers on the third floor.

The case, it may be supposed, is much worse when it is my lot to take
leave, after passing a few weeks at the house of a friend in the
country;--a house, for instance, such as is to be met with only in
England:--with about twenty acres of lawn, but no park; with a
shrubbery, but no made-grounds; with well-furnished rooms, but no
conservatory; and with a garden, in which dandy tulips and high-bred
anemones do not disdain the fellowship of honest artichokes and laughing
cauliflowers--no bad illustration of the republican union of comfort
with elegance which reigns through the whole establishment. The master
of the mansion, perhaps an old and valued schoolfellow:--his wife, a
well-bred, accomplished, and still beautiful woman--cordial, without
vulgarity--refined, without pretension--and informed, without a shade of
blue! Their children!... But my reader will complete the picture, and
imagine, better than I can describe, how one of my temperament must
suffer at quitting such a scene. At six o'clock on the dreaded morning,
the friendly old butler knocks at my room-door, to warn me that the mail
will pass in half an hour at the end of the green lane. On descending to
the parlour, I find that my old friend has, in spite of our over-night
agreement and a slight touch of gout, come down to see me off. His
amiable lady is pouring out for me a cup of tea--assuring me that she
would be quite unhappy at allowing me to depart without that
indispensable prelude to a journey. A gig waits at the door: my
affectionate host will not permit me to walk even half a mile. The
minutes pass unheeded; till, with a face of busy but cordial concern,
the old butler reminds me that the mail is at hand. I bid a hasty and
agitated farewell, and turn with loathing to the forced companionship of
a public vehicle.

My anti-leave-taking foible is certainly not so much affected when I
quit the residence of an hotel--that public home--that wearisome
resting-place--that epitome of the world--that compound of gregarious
incompatibilities--that bazaar of character--that proper resort of
semi-social egotism and unamalgable individualities--that troublous
haven, where the vessel may ride and tack, half-sheltered, but finds no
anchorage. Yet even the Lilliputian ligatures of such a sojourn
imperceptibly twine round my lethargic habits, and bind me, Gulliver-
like, a passive fixture. Once, in particular, I remember to have _stuck_
at the Hotel des Bons Enfants, in Paris--a place with nothing to
recommend it to one of ordinary locomotive energies. But there I stuck.
Business of importance called me to Bordeaux. I lingered for two months.
At length, by one of those nervous efforts peculiar to weak resolutions,
I made my arrangements, secured my emancipation, and found myself on the
way to the starting-place of the Diligence. I well remember the day:
'twas a rainy afternoon in spring. The aspect of the gayest city in the
world was dreary and comfortless. The rain dripped perpendicularly from
the eves of the houses, exemplifying the axiom, that lines are composed
of a succession of points. At the corners of the streets it shot a
curved torrent from the projecting spouts, flooding the channels, and
drenching, with a sudden drum-like sound, the passing umbrellas, whose
varied tints of pink, blue, and orange, like the draggled finery of
feathers and flounces beneath them, only made the scene more glaringly
desolate. Then came the rush and splatter of cabriolets, scattering
terror and defilement. The well-mounted English dandy shows his sense by
hoisting his parapluie; the French dragoon curls his mustachio at such
effeminacy, and braves the liquid bullets in the genuine spirit of
Marengo; the old French count picks his elastic steps with the placid
and dignified philosophy of the _ancien regime_; while the Parisian
dames, of all ranks, ages, and degrees, trip along, with one leg
undraped, exactly in proportion to the shapeliness of its configuration.

The huge clock of the Messageries Royales told three as I entered the
gateway. The wide court had an air of humid dreariness. On one side
stood a dozen of those moving caravansaras, the national vehicles, with
their leathern caps--like those of Danish sailors in a north-wester--
hanging half off, soaked with wet. Opposite was the range of offices,
busy with all the peculiar importance of French _bureaucracie._ Their
clerks, decorated with ribbons and crosses, wield their pens with all
the conscious dignity of secretaries of state; and "_book_" a bale or a
parcel as though they were signing a treaty, or granting an amnesty. The
meanest _employe_ seems to think himself invested with certain occult
powers. His civility savours of government patronage; and his frown is
inquisitorial. To his fellows, his address is abrupt and diplomatic. He
seems to speak in cipher, and to gesticulate by some rule of
freemasonry. But to the _uninitiated_ he is explanatory to a scruple, as
though mischief might ensue from his being misapprehended. He makes sure
of your understanding by an emphasis, which reminds one of the loudness
of tone used towards a person supposed to be hard of hearing--a
proceeding not very flattering where there happens to be neither dulness
nor deafness in the case. In a word, the measured pedantry of his whole
deportment betrays the happy conviction in which he rejoices of being
conversant with matters little dreamt of in your philosophy. Among the
bystanders, too, there are some who might, probably with more reason,
boast their proficiency in mysterious lore--fellows of smooth aspect and
polite demeanour, whom at first you imagine to have become casual
spectators from mere lack of better pastime, but whose furtive glances
and vagrant attention betray the familiars of the police--that complex
and mighty engine of modern structure, which, far more surely than the
"ear of Dionysius," conveys to the tympanum of power each echoed sigh
and reverberated whisper. It is a chilling thing to feel one's budding
confidence in a new acquaintance nipped by such frosty suspicions;
yet--Heaven forgive me!--the bare idea has, before now, caused me to
drop, unscented, the pinch of _carote_ which has been courteously
tendered by some coffee-house companion. In the group before me, I
fancied that I could distinguish some of this ungentle brotherhood; and
my averted eye rested with comparative complacency even on a couple of
_gens d'armes_, who were marching up and down before the door, and whose
long swords and voluminous cocked hats never appeared to me less
offensive.

In the mean time, knots of travellers were congregating round the
different vehicles about to depart. In the centre of each little band
stood the main point of attraction--Monsieur le Conducteur--that
important personage, whose prototype we look for in vain among the
dignitaries of Lad-lane, or the Bull-and-Mouth, and whose very name can
only be translated by borrowing one of Mr. M'Adam's titles--"the
Colossus of _Roads_." With fur cap, official garb, and the excursive eye
of a martinet, he inspects every detail of preparation--sees each
passenger stowed _seriatim_ in his special place--then takes his
position in front--gives the word to his jack-booted vice, whose
responsive whip cracks assent--and away rolls the ponderous machine,
with all the rumbling majesty of a three-decker from off the
stocks.--_Monthly Magazine_.

       *       *       *       *       *


EPIGRAM.


THE RETORT MEDICAL.


  Quoth Doctor Squill of Ponder's End,
  "Of all the patients I attend,
    Whate'er their aches or ails,
  None ever will my fame attack."
    "None ever can," retorted Jack:
  "For dead men tell no tales"
          _New Monthly Magazine_.

       *       *       *       *       *



THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.


       *       *       *       *       *


CIRCASSIAN WOMEN.


We observed two women looking out of a balcony, and earnestly beckoning
to us. We were the more surprised at their appearance, as we believed
that the Mahometan women of the Caucasus, like those of Persia, were
strictly confined to the interior of their houses, or that, at all
events, they never went unveiled, a custom which we found was not
general among the inhabitants of the Caucasus. We, however, entered the
house, and saw in the court two Russian grenadiers, who, by a mistake of
their corporal, had taken there quarters here, and whose presence was
the cause of the inquietude manifested by the two ladies, who, with an
old man, were the only inhabitants of the house. Whilst the soldiers
were explaining these things to us, they appeared at the top of the
stairs, and again renewed their invitation by violent gesticulations. On
a nearer approach, we guessed by their age that they were mother and
daughter. The former, who still preserved much of the freshness and
beauty of youth, wore very tight trousers, a short tunic, and a veil,
which fell in graceful folds on her back, while round her neck she had
some valuable jewels, though badly mounted. With respect to the
daughter, who was scarcely fifteen years of age, she was so
extraordinarily beautiful, that both my companion and myself remained
awhile motionless, and struck with admiration. Never in my life have I
seen a more perfect form. Her dress consisted of a short white tunic,
almost transparent, fastened only at the throat by a clasp. A veil,
negligently thrown over one shoulder, permitted part of her beautiful
ebony tresses to be seen. Her trousers were of an extremely fine tissue,
and her socks of the most delicate workmanship. The old man received us
in a room adjoining the staircase: he was seated on the carpet, smoking
a small pipe, according to the custom of the inhabitants of the
Caucasus, who cultivate tobacco. He made repeated signs to us to sit
down, that is to say, in the Asiatic manner, a posture extremely
inconvenient for those who, like ourselves, wore long and tight
trousers, whilst the two beautiful women on their side earnestly
seconded his request. We complied with it, though it was the first time
that either of us had made the essay. The ladies, having left the room
for a moment, returned with a salver of dried fruits, and a beverage
made of sugar and milk; but I was so much engaged in admiring their
personal attractions, that I paid but little attention to their
presents. It appeared to me an inconceivable caprice of nature to have
produced such prodigies of perfection amidst such a rude and barbarous
people, who value their women less than their stirrups. My companion,
who like myself was obliged to accept of their refreshments, remarked to
me, whilst the old man was conversing with them, what celebrity a woman
so transcendently beautiful as the daughter was would acquire in any of
the capitals of Europe, had she but received the benefits of a suitable
education.--_Van Halen's Narrative._

       *       *       *       *       *


AUSTRALIAN IMPORTUNITY.


As beggars, the whole world will not produce their match. They do not
attempt to _coax_ you, but firmly rely on incessant importunity;
following you, side by side, from street to street, as constant as your
shadow, pealing in your ears the never ceasing sound of "Massa, gim me a
dum! massa, gim me a dum!" (dump.) If you have the fortitude to resist
_firmly_, on two or three assaults, you may enjoy ever after a life of
immunity; but by once _complying_, you entail yourself a plague which
you will not readily throw off, every gift only serving to embolden them
in making subsequent demands, and with still greater perseverance.
Neither are their wishes moderately gratified on this head--less than a
dump (fifteen pence) seldom proving satisfactory. When walking out one
morning, I accidentally met a young scion of our black tribes, on
turning the corner of the house, who saluted me with "Good morning, sir,
good morning;" to which I in like manner responded, and was proceeding
onwards, when my dingy acquaintance arrested my attention by his loud
vociferation of "Top, sir, I want to peak to you." "Well, what is it?"
said I. "Why, you know I am your _servant_, and you have never paid me
yet." "The devil you are!" responded I "it is the first time I knew of
it, for I do not recollect ever seeing your face before." "Oh yes, I
_am_ your servant," replied he, very resolutely; "don't I top about
Massa ----'s, and boil the kettle sometimes for you in the morning?" I
forthwith put my hand in my pocket, and gave him all the halfpence I
had, which I left him carefully counting, and proceeded on my walk; but
before advancing a quarter of a mile, my ears were again assailed with
loud shouts of "Hallo! top, top!" I turned round, and observed my friend
in "the dark suit" beckoning with his hand, and walking very leisurely
toward me. Thinking he was despatched with some message, I halted, but
as he walked on as slowly as if deeming I ought rather to go to him than
he come to me, I forthwith returned to meet him; but on reaching close
enough, what was my astonishment on his holding out the halfpence in his
open hand, and addressing me in a loud, grumbling, demanding tone
with--"Why this is not enough to buy a loaf! you must give me more."
"Then buy _half_ a loaf," said I, wheeling about and resuming my walk,
not without a good many hard epithets in return from my
kettle-boiler.--_Cunningham's Two Years in New South Wales_.

       *       *       *       *       *


CONFESSION OF THE EXECUTIONER OF CHARLES I.


There have been great disputes about the person who beheaded Charles I.
Mr. Ellis says, "it seems most probable that the person who actually
beheaded the king was the common executioner." And then adds the
following valuable and interesting note, which seems to us to settle the
question.

"Among the tracts relating to the civil war, which were given to the
British Museum by his late majesty King George III. in 1762, there are
three upon this subject. One is entitled, 'The Confession of Richard
Brandon the Hangman (upon his death-bed), concerning his beheading his
late Majesty. Printed in the year of the hangman's downfall, 1649.' The
second is entitled, 'The last Will and Testament of Richard Brandon,'
printed in the same year. The third is, 'A Dialogue or Dispute between
the late Hangman (the same person), and Death,' in verse, without date.
All three are in quarto."

The following are the most important paragraphs of the first tract:

"The confession of the hangman concerning his beheading his late majesty
the king of Great Britain (upon his death-bed) who was buried on
Thursday last in Whitechapel church-yard, with the manner thereof:--

"Upon Wednesday last (being the 20th of this instant, June 1649),
Richard Brandon, the late executioner and hangman, who beheaded his late
majesty, king of Great Britain, departed this life; but during the time
of his sicknesse his conscience was much troubled, and exceedingly
perplexed in mind, yet little shew of repentance for remission of his
sins, and by past transgressions, which had so much power and influence
upon him, that he seemed to live in them, and they in him. And on Sunday
last, a young man of his acquaintance going to visit him, fell into
discourse, asked him how he did, and whether he was not troubled in
conscience for cutting off the king's head. He replyed, 'yes, by reason
that (upon the time of his tryall, and at the denouncing of sentence
against him,) he had taken a vow and protestation, wishing God to punish
him body and soul, if ever he appeared on the scaffold to do the act, or
lift up his hand against him.'

"He likewise confessed that he had thirty pounds for his pains, all paid
him in half-crowns, within an hour after the blow was given; and that he
had an orange stuck full of cloves, and a handkircher out of the king's
pocket, so soon as he was carried off from the scaffold, for which
orange he was proffered twenty shillings by a gentleman in Whitehall,
but refused the same, and afterwards sold it for ten shillings in
Rosemary-lane. About six of the clock at night, he returned home to his
wife living in Rosemary-lane, and gave her the money, saying, that it
was the deerest money that ever he earned in his life, for it would cost
him his life; which prophetical words were soon made manifest, for it
appeared, that ever since he hath been in a most sad condition, and upon
the Almightie's first scourging of him with the rod of sicknesse, and
the friendly admonition of divers friends for the calling of him to
repentance, yet he persisted on in his vicious vices, and would not
hearken thereunto, but lay raging and swearing, and still pointing at
one thing or another, which he conceived to be still visible before
him."

"About three days before he dy'd, he lay speechlesse, uttering many a
sigh and heavy groan, and so in a most desperate manner departed from
his bed of sorrow. For the buriall whereof great store of wines were
sent in by the sheriff of the city of London, and a great multitude of
people stood wayting to see his corpse carryed to the church-yard, some
crying act, 'Hang him, rogue!' 'Bury him in the dunghill;' others
pressing upon him, saying, they would quarter him for executing of the
king: insomuch that the churchwardens and masters of the parish were
fain to come for the suppressing of them, and (with great difficulty) he
was at last carryed to White Chappell church-yard, having (as it is
said) a bunch of rosemary at each end of the coffin, on the top thereof,
with a rope tyed crosse from one end to the other.

"And a merry conceited cook living at the sign of the Crown, having a
black fan (worth the value of thirty shillings), took a resolution to
rent the same in pieces, and to every feather tied a piece of
pack-thread dyed in black ink, and gave them to divers persons, who (in
derision) for a while wore them in their hats.

"Thus have I given thee an exact account and perfect relation of the
life and death of Richard Brandon, to the end that the world may be
convinced of those calumnious speeches and erroneous suggestions which
are dayly spit from the mouth of envy against divers persons of great
worth and eminency, by casting an odium upon them for the executing of
the king; it being now made manifest that the aforesaid executioner was
the only man who gave the fatal blow, and his man that wayted upon him,
was a ragman (of the name of Ralph Jones) living in
Rosemary-lane."--_Ellis's Historical Inquiries._

       *       *       *       *       *


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.


The night was rather dark, and we had not seen the figure of our
postilion, or even heard his voice; but we suspected, by the slowness of
his movements, that he was some old crony of his master. On arriving
towards the end of the relay, he began to blow a bugle with all his
might, surprising us with a number of flourishes. Mr. Koch informed me
that we were going to cross a small river, and that the blast with which
we had been regaled was a warning for the bargeman. Our vehicle then
stopped before the door of an inn, which stood on an elevated spot, and
the postilion, alighting, asked Mr. Koch's permission to enter the inn
to drink a glass of brandy, whilst the bargeman answered his sign. It
was midnight, and we expected soon to cross the river; but after waiting
a quarter of an hour for his return, and seeing that the fellow did not
come out, I alighted, and proceeded towards a window, where a light was
perceivable. As I looked through it, I saw what I certainly did not
expect, but what convinced me that the flourishes of his bugle were
addressed to a very different person from the bargeman. Our postilion
was sitting near a table, with a huge flagon beside him, and a wench on
his knee. Provoked beyond expression at this unseasonable courtship, I
shook the window till it flew open, and, before my companion had time to
alight and witness the scene, both the hero and the heroine came to the
door of the inn, the latter holding a lantern in her hand, by which I
observed she was an ugly kitchen wench of about eighteen, and he a young
man of five-and-twenty. Displeased with my interruption, he muttered
something at my impatience, and at the unseasonableness of my call, and
again blew his bugle, though by no means so vigorously as he had before
done; after which we gained the barge, and continued our way without
farther interruption.--_Van Halen's Narrative._

       *       *       *       *       *


BARBARISM OF THE CAUCASIAN TRIBES.


Opposite to our encampment, on the other side of the Alazann, and at a
distance of eighteen or twenty wersts, is the city of Belohakan,
situated at the foot of the Caucasus, and inhabited by the Eingalos, a
people whom the Lesghis keep in the most horrible state of slavery, and
who formerly belonged to Georgia; but who being too industrious, and
attached to their native soil, would never abandon it, during the
different revolutions which that country has undergone, and became
subject to their present masters. That city carries on a great trade
with Teflis, principally in bourkas, which are manufactured there; and
as the traders pass through Karakhach, our colonel, who was the
commandant of this district, and from whom they must obtain a passport
for Georgia, was obliged to have near him an Eingalo, who understood the
Russian language, and served as interpreter. This man had become so
familiarized with the officers, that the colonel allowed him to sit at
our table. One day we remarked that the interpreter was absent, a
circumstance which seldom occurred; but, as we were finishing our
dessert, he entered the dining-room in high spirits, bringing under his
arm a bundle, carefully tied, which, he said, contained a fine water
melon for our dessert. This fruit, in the middle of December, is
considered a great delicacy, and we all expressed a wish that he should
produce it, when he immediately untied the bundle, and, to our great
Horror, we beheld the head of a Lesghi, whom he had killed in fight on
the other side of the Alazann during a sporting expedition, roll on the
table. Disgusted at this action, which among these barbarous
mountaineers would pass as an excellent joke, we all rose from table,
and retired to another apartment, whilst the Eingalo sat down to dinner,
and, at every mouthful he took, amused himself with turning the head,
which he kept close to his plate, first one way and then
another.--_Ibid_.

       *       *       *       *       *



MISCELLANIES


       *       *       *       *       *


RELIGIOUS FORTUNE TELLING.


The _Sortes Sanctorum_, or _Sortes Sacrae_, of the Christians, has been
illustrated in the _Classical Journal_.

These, the writer observes, were a species of divination practised in
the earlier ages of Christianity, and consisted in casually opening the
Holy Scriptures, and from the words which first presented themselves
deducing the future lot of the inquirer. They were evidently derived
from the _Sortes Homerica_ and _Sortes Virgilanae_ of the Pagans, but
accommodated to their own circumstances by the Christians.

Complete copies of the Old and New Testaments being rarely met with
prior to the invention of printing, the Psalms, the Prophets, or the
four Gospels, were the parts of holy writ principally made use of in
these consultations, which were sometimes accompanied with various
ceremonies, and conducted with great solemnity, especially on public
occasions. Thus the emperor Heraclius in the war against the Persians,
being at a loss whether to advance or retreat, commanded a public fast
for three days, at the end of which he applied to the four Gospels, and
opened upon a text which he regarded as an oracular intimation to winter
in Albania. Gregory, of Tours, also relates that Meroveus, being
desirous of obtaining the kingdom of Chilperic, his father consulted a
female fortune-teller, who promised him the possession of royal estates;
but to prevent deception and to try the truth of her prognostications,
he caused the Psalter, the Book of Kings, and the four Gospels to be
laid upon the shrine of St. Martin, and after fasting and solemn prayer,
opened upon passages which not only destroyed his former hopes, but
seemed to predict the unfortunate events which afterwards befel him.

A French writer, in 506, says, "this abuse was introduced by the
superstition of the people, and afterwards gained ground by the
ignorance of the bishops." This appears evident from Pithon's Collection
of Canons, containing some forms under the title of _The Lot of the
Apostles_. These were found at the end of the Canons of the Apostles in
the Abbey of Marmousier. Afterwards, various canons were made in the
different councils and synods against this superstition; these continued
to be framed in the councils of London under Archbishop Lanfranc in
1075, and Corboyl in 1126.

The founder of the Francisians, it seems, having denied himself the
possession of any thing but coats and a cord, and still having doubts
whether he might not possess books, first prayed, and then casually
opened upon Mark, chapter iv, "Unto you it is given to know the mystery
of the kingdom of God; but unto them that are without, all these things
are done in parables;" from which he drew the conclusion, that books
were not necessary for him.

One Peter of Thoulouse being accused of heresy, and having denied it
upon oath, one of those who stood by, in order to judge of the truth of
his oath, seized the book upon which he had sworn, and opening it
hastily, met with the words of the devil to our Saviour, "What have we
to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth?" and from thence concluded that
the accused was guilty, and had nothing to do with Christ!

The extraordinary case also of King Charles I. and Lord Falkland, as
applicable to divination of this kind, is related. Being together at
Oxford, they went one day to see the public library, and were shown,
among other books, a Virgil, finely printed and exquisitely bound. Lord
Falkland, to divert the king, proposed that he should make a trial of
his fortune by the _Sortes Virgilanae_. The king opening the book, the
passage he happened to light upon was part of Dido's imprecation against
Aeneas in lib. iv. l. 615. King Charles seeming concerned at the
accident, Lord Falkland would likewise try his own fortune, hoping he
might fall upon some passage that could have no relation to his case,
and thus divert the king's thoughts from any impression the other might
have upon him; but the place Lord Falkland stumbled upon was still more
suited to his destiny, being the expressions of Evander upon the
untimely death of his son Pallas, lib. xi. Lord Falkland fell in the
battle of Newbury, in 1644, and Charles was beheaded in 1649.

The kind of divination among the Jews, termed by them Bath Kol, or the
daughter of the voice, was not very dissimilar to the _Sortes Sanctorum_
of the Christians. The mode of practising it was by appealing to the
first words accidentally heard from any one speaking or reading. The
following is an instance from the Talmud:--Rabbi Jochanau and Rabbi
Simeon. Ben Lachish, desiring to see the face of R. Samuel, a Babylonish
doctor: "Let us follow," said they, "the hearing of Bath Kol."
Travelling, therefore, near a school, they heard the voice of a boy:
reading these words out of the First Book of Samuel, "And Samuel died."
They observed this, and inferred from hence that their friend Samuel was
dead, and so they found it. Some of the ancient Christians too, it
seems, used to go to church with a purpose of receiving as the will of
heaven the words of scripture that were singing at their entrance.

To pay a very great deference in opening upon a place of scripture, as
to its affording an assurance of salvation, used to be a very common
practice amongst the people called Methodists, but chiefly those of the
Calvinistic persuasion; this, it is probable, has declined in proportion
with the earnestness of these people in other respects. They had also
another opinion, viz. that if the recollection of any particular text of
scripture happened to arise in their minds, this was likewise looked
upon as a kind of immediate revelation from heaven. This they call being
presented or brought home to them!

       *       *       *       *       *


THE GATHERER


    "I am but a _Gatherer_ and disposer of other
    men's stuff."--_Wotton_.

       *       *       *       *       *

Whoever the following story may be fathered on, Sir John Hamilton was
certainly its parent. The duke of Rutland, at one of his levees, being
at a loss (as probably most kings, princes, and viceroys occasionally
are) for something to say to every person he was bound in etiquette to
notice, remarked to Sir John Hamilton that there was "a prospect of an
excellent crop:--the timely rain," observed the duke, "will bring every
thing above ground." "God forbid, your excellency!" exclaimed the
courtier. His excellency stared, whilst Sir John continued, sighing
heavily as he spoke:--"yes, God forbid! for I have got _three wives_
under it."--_Barrington's Sketches_.

       *       *       *       *       *

It is a singular circumstance that Italia, or, as it is called in
English, Italy, has, under all the changes and revolutions to which it
has been subjected, always preserved its name. Every other country in
Europe is now known to its inhabitants by other names than were given to
it by their ancestors in the time of the Romans; but Italia continues to
be the name of the country at the present day, and we have no authentic
records by which we can ascertain that it ever bore any other.

       *       *       *       *       *


SINGULAR INSCRIPTION.


_Written over the Ten Commandments in a church in Wales._

  PRSVRYPRFCTMN
  VRKPTHSPRCPTSTN

The meaning can only be developed by adding the vowel E, which makes the
sense thus--

  Persevere ye perfect men
  Ever keep these precepts ten.

       *       *       *       *       *

In a new farce, supposed to have been written by Maddocks, was the
following curious pun:--A large party of soldiers surprising two
resurrection men in a church-yard, the officer seized one of them, and
asked him what he had to say for himself. "Say, sir! why, that we came
here to raise a _corpse_, and not a _regiment!_"





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