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Crip. I could do more; for I could make enquiry, Where the best-witted gallants use to dine, Follow them to the tavern, and there sit In the next room with a calve’s head and brimstone, And over-hear their talk, observe their humours, Collect their jests, put them into a play, And tire them too with payment to behold What I have filch’d from them. This I could do But O for shame that man should so arraign Their own fee-simple wits for verbal theft! Yet men there be that have done this and that, And more by much more than the most of them.[92]
After this Specimen of the pleasanter vein of Heywood, I am tempted to extract some lines from his “Hierarchie of Angels, 1634;” not strictly as a Dramatic Poem, but because the passage contains a string of names, all but that of Watson, his contemporary Dramatists. He is complaining in a mood half serious, half comic, of the disrespect which Poets in his own times meet with from the world, compared with the honors paid them by Antiquity. Thenthey could afford them three or four sonorous names, and at full length; as to Ovid, the addition of Publius Naso Sulmensis; to Seneca, that of Lucius Annæas Cordubensis; and the like. Now, says he,
Our modern Poets to that pass are driven, Those names are curtail’d which they first had given; And, as we wish’d to have their memories drown’d, We scarcely can afford them half their sound. Greene, who had in both Academies ta’en Degree of Master, yet could never gain
To be call’d more than Robin: who, had he Profest ought save the Muse, served, and been free After a sev’n years prenticeship, might have (With credit too) gone Robert to his grave.
Marlowe, renown’d for his rare art and wit, Could ne’er attain beyond the name of Kit; Although his Hero and Leander did Merit addition rather. Famous Kid
Was call’d but Tom. Tom Watson; though he wrote Able to make Apollo’s self to dote
Upon his Muse; for all that he could strive, Yet never could to his full name arrive.
Tom Nash (in his time of no small esteem) Could not a second syllable redeem.
Excellent Beaumont, in the foremost rank Of the rarest wits, was never more than Frank. Mellifluous SHAKSPEARE, whose inchanting quill Commanded mirth or passion, was but WILL; And famous Jonson, though his learned pen Be dipt in Castaly, is still but Ben. Fletcher, and Webster, of that learned pack
None of the meanest, neither was but Jack; Decker but Tom; nor May, nor Middleton; And he’s now but Jack Ford, that once were John.
Possibly our Poet was a little sore, that this contemptuous curtailment of their Baptismal Names was chiefly exercised upon his Poetical Brethren of the Drama. We hear nothing about Sam Daniel, or Ned Spenser, in his catalogue. The familiarity of common discourse might probably take the greater liberties with the Dramatic Poets, as conceiving of them as more upon a level with the Stage Actors. Or did their greater publicity, and popularity in consequence, fasten these diminutives upon them out of a feeling of love and kindness; as we say Harry the Fifth, rather than Henry, when we would express good will?—as himself says, in those reviving words
put into his mouth by Shakspeare, where he would comfort and confirm his doubting brothers:
Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry!
And doubtless Heywood had an indistinct conception of this truth, when (coming to his own name), with that beautiful retracting which is natural to one that, not Satirically given, has wandered a little out of his way into something recriminative, he goes on to say:
Nor speak I this, that any here exprest Should think themselves less worthy than the rest, Whose names have their full syllables and sound; Or that Frank, Kit, or Jack, are the least wound Unto their fame and merit. I for my part (Think others what they please) accept that heart, Which courts my love in most familiar phrase; And that it takes not from my pains or praise, If any one to me so bluntly come: I hold he loves me best that calls me Tom.
C. L.
[92] The full title of this Play is “The Fair Maid of the Exchange, with the humours of the Cripple of Fenchurch.” The above Satire against some Dramatic Plagiarists of the time, is put into the mouth of the Cripple, who is an excellent fellow, and the Hero of the Comedy. Of his humour this extract is a sufficient specimen; but he is described (albeit a tradesman, yet wealthy withal) with heroic qualities of mind and body; the latter of which he evinces by rescuing his Mistress (the Fair Maid) from three robbers by the main force of one crutch lustily applied; and the former by his foregoing the advantages which this action gained him in her good opinion, and bestowing his wit and finesse in procuring for her a husband, in the person of his friend Golding, more worthy of her beauty, than he could conceive his own maimed and halting limbs to be. It would require some boldness in a dramatist now-a-days to exhibit such a Character; and some luck in finding a sufficient Actor, who would be willing to personate the infirmities, together with the virtues, of the Noble Cripple.
GARRICK PLAYS, NO. IX.
Col. 357. Last line but two of the last extract—
“Blushing forth golden hair and glorious red” a sun-bright line spoiled:— Blushfor Blushing.
Last line but two of the extract preceding the former, (the end of the old man’s speech)—
“Restrained liberty attain’d is sweet,” should have a full stop.
These little blemishes kill such delicate things: prose feeds on grosser punctualities.
Will the reader be pleased to make the above corrections with a pen, and allow the fact of illness in excuse for editorial mischance?
SNUFF AND TOBACCO.
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In the year 1797 was circulated the following:
PROPOSALS for Publishing by Subscription, a HISTORY OF SNUFF AND TOBACCO, in two Volumes.
Vol. I. to contain a Description of the Nose—Size of Noses—A Digression on Roman Noses—Whether long Noses are symptomatic —Origin of Tobacco—Tobacco first manufactured into Snuff—Enquiry who took the first Pinch—Essay on Sneezing—Whether the ancients sneezed, and at what—Origin of Pocket-handkerchiefs— Discrimination between Snuffing and taking Snuff; the former applied only to Candles—Parliamentary Snufftakers—Troubles in the time of Charles the First, as connected with Smoking.
Vol. II. Snufftakers in the Parliamentary army Wit at a Pinch— Oval Snuff-boxes first used by the Round-heads—Manufacture of Tobacco Pipes—Dissertation on Pipe Clay—State of Snuff during the
Commonwealth—The Union—Scotch Snuff first introduced—found very pungent and penetrating—Accession of George the Second— Snuff-boxes then made of Gold and Silver—George the Third— Scotch Snuff first introduced at Court The Queen—German Snuffs in fashion—Female Snufftakers—Clean Tuckers, &c. &c.—Index and List of Subscribers.
In connection with this subject I beg to mention an anecdote, related to me by an old Gentleman who well remembered the circumstance:
“When every Shopkeeper had a Sign hanging out before his door, a Dealer in Snuff and Tobacco on Fish Street Hill, carried on a large trade, especially in Tobacco, for his Shop was greatly frequented by Sailors from the Ships in the River. In the course of time, a Person of the name of Farr opened a Shop nearly opposite, and hung out his Sign inscribed ‘The best Tobacco by Farr.’ This (like the Shoemaker’s inscription, ‘Adam Strong Shoemaker,’ so well known) attracted the attention of the Sailors, who left the old Shop to buy ‘the best Tobacco by far.’ The old Shopkeeper observing that his opponent obtained much custom by his Sign, had a new one put up at his Door inscribed ‘Far better Tobacco than the best Tobacco by Farr.’ This had its effect; his trade returned, and finally his opponent was obliged to give up business.” W. P.
THE SMOKER’S SONG.
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For thy sake, Tobacco, I Would do any thing but die!
CHARLES LAMB.
1.
There is a tiny weed, man, That grows far o’er the sea man; The juice of which does more bewitch Than does the gossip’s tea, man.
2.
Its name is call’d tobacco, ’Tis used near and far man; The car-man chews but I will choose The daintier cigar, man.
3.
’Tis dainty ev’n in shape, man— So round, so smooth, so long, man! If you’re a churl, ’twill from you hurl Your spleen you’ll sing a song, man!
4.
If you will once permit it
To touch your swelling lip, man, You soon shall see ’twill sweeter be Than what the bee doth sip, man!
5.
If e’er you are in trouble, This will your trouble still, man, On sea and land ’tis at command, An idle hour to kill, man!
6.
And if the blind god, Cupid, Should strike you to the heart, man, Take up a glass, and toast your lass— And—ne’er from smoking part, man!
7.
7.
And also if you’re married, In Hymen’s chains fast bound, man; To plague your wife out of her life, Smoke still the whole year round, man!
8.
How sweet ’tis of an evening When wint’ry winds do blow, man, As ’twere in spite, to take a pipe, And smoke by th’ fire’s glow, man!
9.
The sailor in his ship, man, When wildly rolls the wave, man, His pipe will smoke, and crack his joke Above his yawning grave, man!
10.
The soldier, in the tavern, Talks of the battle’s roar, man; With pipe in hand, he gives command, And thus he lives twice o’er man!
11.
All classes in this world, man, Have each their own enjoyment, But with a pipe, they’re all alike— ’Tis every one’s employment!
12.
Of all the various pleasures
That on this earth there are, man, There’s nought to me affords such glee As a pipe or sweet cigar, man!
O. N. Y.
Education.
There were very few free-schools in England before the Reformation. Youth were generally taught Latin in the monasteries, and young women had their education not at Hackney, as now, scilicit, anno 1678, but at nunneries, where they learnt needle-work, confectionary, surgery, physic, (apothecaries and surgeons being at that time very rare,) writing, drawing, &c. Old Jackquar, now living, has often seen from his house the nuns of St. Mary Kingston, in Wilts, coming forth into the Nymph Hay with their rocks and wheels to spin, sometimes to the number of threescore and ten, all whom were not nuns, but young girls sent there for their education.
Chimneys.
Anciently, before the Reformation, ordinary men’s houses, as copyholders, and the like, had no chimneys, but flues like louverholes; some of them were in being when I was a boy.
PaintedCloths.
In the halls and parlours of great houses were wrote texts of Scripture on the painted cloths.
Libels.
The lawyers say, that, before the time of king Henry VIII., one shall hardly find an action on the case as for slander, &c. once in a year, quod nota.
Christmas.
Before the last civil wars, in gentlemen’s houses at Christmas, the first dish that was brought to the table was a boar’s head with a lemon in his mouth. At Queen’s College in Oxford they still retain this custom; the bearer of it brings it into the hall, singing to an old tune an old Latin rhyme, “Caput apri defero,” &c. The first dish that was brought up to the table on Easter-day was a red herring riding away
on horseback, i. e. a herring ordered by the cook something after the likeness of a man on horseback, set in a corn salad.
Easter .
The custom of eating a gammon of bacon at Easter, which is still kept up in many parts of England, was founded on this, viz. to show their abhorrence to Judaism at that solemn commemoration of our Lord’s resurrection. In the Easter holydays was the clerk’s ale for his private benefit, and the solace of the neighbourhood.
Salutations.
The use of “Your humble servant” came first into England on the marriage of queen Mary, daughter of Henry IV. of France, which is derived from Votre très humble serviteur. The usual salutation before that time was, “God keep you!” “God be with you!” and among the vulgar, “How dost do?” with a thump on the shoulder.
CourtRudeness.
Till this time the court itself was unpolished and unmannered. King James’s court was so far from being civil to women, that the ladies, nay the queen herself, could hardly pass by the king’s apartment without receiving some affront.
TravellersinFrance.
At the parish priests’ houses in France, especially in Languedoc, the table-cloth is on the board all day long, and ready for what is in the house to be put thereon for strangers, travellers, friars, and pilgrims; so ’twas, I have heard my grandfather say, in his grandfather’s time.
PrivateHeralds.
Heretofore noblemen and gentlemen of fair estates had their heralds, who wore their coat of arms at Christmas, and at other solemn times, and cried “Largesse” thrice.
At Tomarton, in Gloucestershire, anciently the seat of the Rivers, is a dungeon thirteen or fourteen feet deep; about four feet high are iron rings fastened to the wall, which was probably to tie offending villains to, as all lords of manors had this power over their villains, (or soccage tenants,) and had all of them no doubt such places for their punishment. It is well known, all castles had dungeons, and so I believe had monasteries, for they had often within themselves power of life and death.
In days of yore, lords and gentlemen lived in the country like petty kings; had jura regalia belonging to their seigniories, had their castles and boroughs, had gallows within their liberties, where they could try, condemn, and execute. Never went to London but in parliament-time, or once a year to do their homage to the king. They always ate in gothic halls, at the high table or oreille, (which is a little room at the upper end of the hall, where stands a table,) with the folks at the side-tables. The meat was served up by watchwords. Jacks are but of late invention. The poor boys did turn the spits, and licked the dripping for their pains. The beds of the men-servants and retainers were in the hall, as now in the grand or privy chamber.
Here in the hall, the mumming and the loaf-stealing, and other Christmas sports, were performed.
The hearth was commonly in the middle, whence the saying, “Round about our coal-fire.”
A neat-built chapel, and a spacious hall, were all the rooms of note, the rest more small.
PrivateArmories.
Every baron and gentleman of estate kept great horses for men at arms. Some had their armories sufficient to furnish out some hundreds of men.
Justices’Halls.
The halls of the justices of peace were dreadful to behold; the screen was garnished with corselets and helmets gaping with open
mouths, with coats of mail, lances, pikes, halberds, brown bills, batterdastors, and buckles.
Inns.
Public inns were rare. Travellers were entertained at religious houses for three days together, if occasion served.
GentryMeetings.
The meeting of the gentry were not at taverns, but in the fields or forests, with hawks and hounds, and their bugle-horns, in silken bawderies.
Hawking.
In the last age every gentleman-like man kept a sparrow-hawk, and the priest a hobby, as dame Julian Berners teaches us, (who wrote a treatise on field-sports, temp. Henry VI.:) it was a divertisement for young gentlewomen to manne sparrow-hawks and merlines.
Church-houses—Poor-rates.
Before the Reformation there were no poor’s rates; the charitable doles given at religious houses, and church-ale in every parish, did the business. In every parish there was a church-house, to which belonged spits, pots, crocks, &c. for dressing provision. Here the housekeepers met and were merry, and gave their charity. The young people came there too, and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, &c. Mr. A. Wood assures me, there were few or no almshouses before the time of king Henry VIII.; that at Oxford, opposite to Christ church, is one of the most ancient in England. In every church was a poor man’s box, and the like at great inns.
In these times, besides the jollities above-mentioned, they had their pilgrimages to several shrines, as to Walsingham, Canterbury, Glastonbury, Bromholm, &c. Then the crusades to the holy wars were magnificent and splendid, and gave rise to the adventures of the knight-errant and romances; the solemnity attending processions
in and about churches, and the perambulations in the fields, were great diversions also of those times.
GlassWindows.
Glass windows, except in churches and gentlemen’s houses, were rare before the time of Henry VIII. In my own remembrance, before the civil wars, copyholders and poor people had none.
Men’sCoats.
About ninety years ago, noblemen’s and gentlemen’s coats were of the bedels and yeomen of the guards, i. e. gathered at the middle. The benchers in the inns of court yet retain that fashion in the make of their gowns.
Church-building.
Captain Silas Taylor says, that in days of yore, when a church was to be built, they watched and prayed on the vigil of the dedication, and took that point of the horizon where the sun arose for the east, which makes that variation, so that few stand true, except those built between the two equinoxes. I have experimented some churches, and have found the line to point to that part of the horizon where the sun rises on the day of that saint to whom the church was dedicated.
Before the wake, or feast of the dedication of the church, they sat up all night fasting and praying, (viz.) on the eve of the wake.
NewMoon.
In Scotland, especially among the Highlanders, the women make a courtesy to the new moon; and our English women in this country have a touch of this, some of them sitting astride on a gate or style the first evening the new moon appears, and say, “A fine moon, God bless her!” The like I observed in Herefordshire.
Husbandry—Shepherds.
The Britons received the knowledge of husbandry from the Romans; the foot and the acre, which we yet use, is the nearest to them. In our west country, (and I believe so in the north,) they give no wages to the shepherd, but he has the keeping so many sheep with his master’s flock. Plautus hints at this in his Asinaria, act 3, scene 1, “etiam Opilio,” &c.
Architecture.
The Normans brought with them into England civility and building, which, though it was gothic, was yet magnificent.
Mr. Dugdale told me, that, about the time of king Henry III., the pope gave a bull, or patent, to a company of Italian architects, to travel up and down Europe to build churches.
Trumpets—Sheriffs’Trumpets.
Upon occasion of bustling in those days, great lords sounded their trumpets, and summoned those that held under them. Old sir Walter Long, of Draycot, kept a trumpeter, rode with thirty servants and retainers. Hence the sheriffs’ trumpets at this day.
YoungerBrothers.
No younger brothers were to betake themselves to trades, but were churchmen or retainers to great men.
Learning,andlearnedMen.
From the time of Erasmus till about twenty years last past, the learning was downright pedantry. The conversation and habits of those times were as starched as their bands and square beards, and gravity was then taken for wisdom. The doctors in those days were but old boys, when quibbles passed for wit, even in their sermons.
GentryandtheirChildren.
The gentry and citizens had little learning of any kind, and their way of breeding up their children was suitable to the rest. They were as severe to their children as their schoolmasters, and their
schoolmasters as masters of the house of correction: the child perfectly loathed the sight of his parents as the slave his torture.
Gentlemen of thirty and forty years old were to stand like mutes and fools bare-headed before their parents; and the daughters (grown women) were to stand at the cupboard-side during the whole time of her proud mother’s visit, unless (as the fashion was) leave was desired forsooth that a cushion should be given them to kneel upon, brought them by the servingman, after they had done sufficient penance in standing.
The boys (I mean the young fellow) had their foreheads turned up and stiffened with spittle: they were to stand mannerly forsooth thus, the foretop ordered as before, with one hand at the bandstring, and the other behind.
Fans.
The gentlewomen had prodigious fans, as is to be seen in old pictures, like that instrument which is used to drive feathers, and it had a handle at least half a yard long; with these the daughters were oftentimes corrected, (sir Edward Coke, lord chief justice, rode the circuit with such a fan; sir William Dugdale told me he was an eye-witness of it. The earl of Manchester also used such a fan,) but fathers and mothers slashed their daughters in the time of their besom discipline, when they were perfect women.
UniversityFlogging.
At Oxford (and I believe at Cambridge) the rod was frequently used by the tutors and deans; and Dr. Potter, of Trinity college, I knew right well, whipped his pupil with his sword by his side, when he came to take his leave of him to go to the inns of court.
Young Lambs to sell.
Young Lambs to sell.
Young lambs to sell! young lambs to sell
If I’d as much money as I could tell, I’d not come here with lambs to sell!
Dolly and Molly, Richard and Nell, Buy my young lambs, and I’ll use you well!
This is a “London cry” at the present time: the engraving represents the crier, William Liston, from a drawing for which he purposely stood.
This “public character” was born in the Gallowgate in the city of Glasgow. He became a soldier in the waggon-train, commanded by colonel Hamilton, and served under the duke of York in Holland, where, on the 6th of October, 1799, he lost his right arm and left leg, and his place in the army. His misfortunes thrust distinction upon him. From having been a private in the ranks, where he would have remained a single undistinguishable cipher 0, amongst a row of ciphers 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 he now makes a figure in the world; and is perhaps better known throughout England than any other individual of his order in society, for he has visited almost every town with “young lambs to sell.” He has a wife and four children; the latter are constantly employed in making the “young lambs,” with white cotton wool for fleeces, spangled with Dutch gilt, the head of flour paste, red paint on the cheeks, two jet black spots for eyes, horns of twisted shining tin, legs to correspond, and pink tape tied round the neck for a graceful collar. A full basket of these, and his song-like cry, attract the attention of the juvenile population, and he contrives to pick up a living, notwithstanding the “badness of the times.” The day after last Christmas-day, his cry in Covent-garden allured the stage-manager to purchase four dozen of “young lambs,” and at night they were “brought out” at that theatre, in the basket of a performer who personated their old proprietor, and cried so as to deceive the younger part of the audience into a belief that he was their real favourite of the streets.
I remember the first crier of “young lambs to sell!” He was a maimed sailor; and with him originated the manufacture. If I am not mistaken, this man, many years after I had ceased to be a purchaser of his ware, was guilty of some delinquency, for which he forfeited his life: hiscry was
Young lambs to sell! young lambs to sell!
Two for a penny young lambs to sell!
Two for a penny young lambs to sell—
Two for a penny young lambs to sell!
If I’d as much money as I could tell, I wouldn’t cry young lambs to sell!
Young lambs to sell young lambs to sell
Two for a penny young lambs to sell!
Young lambs to se e ll, Young la—a—mbs to sell!
Though it is five and thirty years ago since I heard the sailor’s musical “cry,” it still sings in my memory; it was a tenor of modulated harmonious tune, till, in the last line but one, it became a thorough bass, and rolled off at the close with a loud swell that filled urchin listeners with awe and admiration. During this chant his head was elevated, and he gave his full voice, and apparently his looks, to the winds; but the moment he concluded, and when attention was yet rivetted, his address became particular: his persuasive eye and jocular address flashed round the circle of “my little masters and mistresses,” and his hand presented a couple of his snow white “fleecy charge,” dabbled in gold, “two for a penny!” nor did he resume his song till ones and twos were in the possession of probably every child who had a halfpenny or penny at command.
The old sailor’s “young lambs” were only half the cost of the poor soldier’s. It may be doubted whether the materials of their composition have doubled in price, but the demand for “young lambs” has certainly lessened, while the present manufacturer has quite as many wants as the old one, and luckily possessing a monopoly of the manufacture, he therefore raises the price of his articles to the necessity of his circumstances. It is not convenient to refer to the precise chapter in the “Wealth of Nations,” or to verified tables of the increased value of money, in order to show that the new lamb-seller has not exceeded “an equitable adjustment” in the arrangement of his present prices; but it is fair to state in his behalf, that he declares, notwithstanding all the noise he makes, the carrying on of the lamb business is scarcely better than pig-shaving;
“Sir,” says he, “it’s great cry, and little wool.” From a poor fellow, at his time of life, with only half his limbs to support a large family this is no joke. Not having been at his native place for two and twenty years, the desire to see it once more is strong within him, and he purposes next Easter to turn his face northwards, with his family, and “cry” all the way from London to Glasgow. Let the little ones, therefore, in the towns of his route, keep a penny or two by them to lay out in “young lambs,” and so help the poor fellow along the road, in this stage of his struggle through life.
March19,1827.
LINES ON HAPPINESS.
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Like a frail shadow seen in maze, Or some bright star shot o’er the ocean, Is happiness, that meteor’s blaze, For ever fleeting in its motion. It plays within our fancied grasp, Like a phantasmagorian shade, Pursued, e’en to the latest gasp, It still seems hovering in the glade.
Tis but like hope, and hope’s, at best, A star that leads the weary on, Still pointing to the unpossess’d And palling that it beams upon.
J. B. O.
HUMAN LIFE.
BY GOETHE.
That life is but a dream is the opinion of many; it is mine. When I see the narrow limits which confine the penetrating, active genius of man; when I see that all his powers are directed to satisfy mere necessities, the only end of which is to prolong a precarious or
painful existence; that his greatest care, with regard to certain inquiries, is but a blind resignation; and that we only amuse ourselves with painting brilliant figures and smiling landscapes on the walls of our prison, whilst we see on all sides the boundary which confines us; when I consider these things I am silent: I examine myself; and what do I find? Alas! more vague desires, presages, and visions, than conviction, truth, and reality.
The happiest are those, who, like children, think not of the morrow, amuse themselves with playthings, dress and undress their dolls, watch with great respect before the cupboard where mamma keeps the sweetmeats, and when they get any, eat them directly, and cry for more; these are certainly happy beings. Many also are to be envied, who dignify their paltry employments, sometimes even their passions, with pompous titles; and who represent themselves to mankind as beings of a superior order, whose occupation it is to promote their welfare and glory. But the man who in all humility acknowledges the vanity of these things; observes with what pleasure the wealthy citizen transforms his little garden into a paradise; with what patience the poor man bears his burden; and that all wish equally to behold the sun yet a little longer; he too may be at peace. He creates a world of his own, is happy also because he is a man; and, however limited his sphere, he preserves in his bosom the idea of liberty.
VALEDICTORY STANZAS.
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The flower is faded,
The sun-beam is fled, The bright eye is shaded,
The loved one is dead: Like a star in the morning— When, mantled in gray, Aurora is dawning
She vanish’d away.
Like the primrose that bloometh
Neglected to die, Though its sweetness perfumeth
The ev’ning’s soft sigh—
Like lightning in summer, Like rainbows that shine With a mild dreamy glimmer In colours divine
The kind and pure hearted, The tender, the true, From our love has departed With scarce an adieu: So briefly, so brightly In virtue she shone, As shooting stars nightly
That blaze and are gone.
The place of her slumber Is holy to me, And oft as I number
The leaves of the tree, Whose branches in sorrow Bend over her urn, I think of to-morrow
And silently mourn.
The farewell is spoken, The spirit sublime
The last tie has broken, That bound it to time; And bright is its dwelling
Its mansion of bliss
Its mansion of bliss— How far, far excelling
The darkness of this!
Yet hearts still are beating, And eyes still are wet
True, our joys are all fleeting, But who can forget?
I know they must vanish
As visions depart, But oh, can this banish
The thorn from my heart?
The eye of affection, Its tribute of tears
Sheds, with fond recollection
Of life’s happy years; And tho’ vain be the anguish
Indulg’d o’er the tomb, Yet nature will languish And shrink from its gloom.
Those lips their least motion
Was music to me,
And, like light on the ocean, Those eyes seem’d to be: Are they mute and for ever?
The spell will not break; Are they closed—must I never Behold them awake?
When distress was around me
Thy smiles were as balm, That in misery found me, And left me in calm: Success became dearer
When thou wert with me, And the clear sky grew clearer
When gaz’d on with thee.
Thou art gone and tho’ reason
My grief would disarm, I feel there’s a season
When grief has a charm; And ’tis sweeter, far sweeter
To sit by thy grave, Than to follow Hope’s meteor
Than to follow Hope s meteor Down time’s hasty wave.
In darkness we laid thee
The earth for thy bed
The couch that we made thee Is press’d by thee dead:
In sorrow’s film shrouded,
Our eyes could not see
The glory unclouded
That opened on thee.
Thou canst not, pure spirit,
Return to the dust,
But we may inherit
So humbly we trust
The joys without measure
To which thou art gone,
The regions of pleasure
Where tears are unknown.
H.
EFFECT OF CONSCIENCE.
On the 30th of March, 1789, 360l.was carried to the account of the public, in consequence of the following note received by the chancellor of the exchequer.
“Sir You will herewith receive bank notes to the amount of 360l. which is the property of the nation, and which, as an honest man, you will be so just as to apply to the use of the state in such manner that the nation may not suffer by its having been detained from the public treasury. You are implored to do this for the ease of conscience to an honest man.”
About 1605, Henry IV. of France attempting to enforce some regulations respecting the annuities upon the Hotel de Ville, of Paris, several assemblies of the citizens were held, in which Francis Miron, the prévôt des marchands, addressed the king’s commissioners against the measures with fervour and firmness. It was rumoured amongst the people of Paris, that their magistrate was threatened, for having exerted himself too warmly in their behalf; they crowded about his house, in order to defend him, but Miron requested them to retire, and not to render him really criminal. He represented that nothing injurious was to be apprehended, for they had a king as great and wise, as he was beneficent and just, who would not suffer himself to be hurried away by the instigations of evil counsellors. Yet those whose conduct Miron had arraigned, endeavoured to persuade Henry to punish him, and deprive him of his office, for disobedient actions, and seditious discourse. The king’s answer contained memorable expressions:—“Authority does not always consist in carrying things with a high hand: regard must be paid to times, persons, and the subject-matter. I have been ten years in extinguishing civil discord, I dread its revival, and Paris has cost me too much for me to risk its loss; in my opinion, it would unquestionably be the case, were I to follow your advice; for I should be obliged to make terrible examples, which, in a few days, would deprive me of the glory of clemency, and the affection of my people; and these I prize as much, and even more than my crown. I have experienced, on many occasions, the fidelity and probity of Miron, who harbours no ill intentions, but undoubtedly deemed himself bound, by the duties of his office, to act as he has acted. If unguarded expressions have escaped him, I pardon them, on account of his past services; and, should he even desire a martyrdom in the public cause, I will disappoint him of the glory, by avoiding to become a persecutor and a tyrant.”
Henry ended the affair by receiving the apology and submission of Miron, and revoking the orders concerning the annuities, which had occasioned the popular alarm.[93]
LIBELLOUS DRAMA.
On the 26th of January, 1607, a pleasant farce was acted at the Hotel de Bourgogne, at Paris, before Henry IV., his queen, and the greater part of the princes, lords, and ladies of the court. The subject of the piece was a quarrel between a married man and his wife. The wife told her husband, that he staid tippling at the tavern while executions were daily laid upon their goods, for the tax which must be paid to the king, and that all their substance was carried away. “It is for that very reason,” said the husband in his defence, “that we should make merry with good cheer; for of what service would all the fortune we could amass be to us, since it would not belong to ourselves, but to this same noble king. I will drink the more, and of the very best: monsieur the king shall not meddle with that; go fetch me some this minute; march.” “Ah, wretch!” replied the wife, “would you bring me and your children to ruin?” During this dialogue, three officers of justice came in, and demanded the tax, and, in default of payment, prepared to carry away the furniture. The wife began a loud lamentation; at length the husband asked them who they were? “We belong to Justice,” said the officers: “How, to Justice!” replied the husband; “they who belong to Justice act in another manner; I do not believe that you are what you say.” During this altercation the wife seized a trunk, upon which she seated herself. The officers commanded her, “in the king’s name,” to open it; and after much dispute the trunk was opened, and out jumped three devils, who carry away the three officers of justice. The magistrates, conceiving themselves to have been insulted by this performance, caused the actors to be arrested, and committed them to prison. On the same day they were discharged, by express command of the king, who magnanimously told those that complained of the affront, “You are fools! If any one has a right to take offence, it is I, who have received more abuse than any of you. I pardon the comedians from my heart; for the rogues made me laugh till I cried again.”[94] [93] Perefixe.
[94] L’Etoile, Hist. d’Henri IV.
CUSTOM AT SCARBOROUGH.
The fish-market is held on the sands, by the sides of the boats, which, at low water, are run upon wheels with a sail set, and are conducted by the fishermen, who dispose of their cargoes in the following manner.
One of the female fishmongers inquires the price, and bids a groat; the fishermen ask a sum in the opposite extreme: the one bids up, and the other reduces the demand, till they meet at a reasonable point, when the bidder suddenly exclaims, “Het!” This practice seems to be borrowed from the Dutch. The purchase is afterwards retailed among the regular, or occasional surrounding customers.
LINES TO A BARREL ORGAN.
FortheTableBook.
How many thoughts from thee I cull, Music’s humblest vehicle!
From thy caravan of sounds, Constant in its daily rounds, Some such pleasure do I find
As when, borne upon the wind, The well-known “bewilder’d chimes”
Plaintively recall those times, (Long since lost in sorrow’s shade,)
When, in some sequester’d glade, Their simple, stammering tongues would try
Some heart-moving melody.
Oldest musical delight
Of my boyish days! the sight Or sound of thee would charm my feet, And make my joy of heart complete
How thou luredst listeners
To thy crazy, yearning airs!—
Harmonious, grumbling volcano!
Murm’ring sounds in small piano, Or screaming forth a shrill soprano, Mingled with the growling bass.
Fragments of some air I trace, Stifled by the notes which cram it
Scatter’d ruins of the gamut!
Sarcophagus of harmony!
Orpheus’ casket! guarded by A swain who lives by what he earns
From the music which he churns: Every note thou giv’st by turns.
Not Pindar’s lyre more variety
Possess’d than thou! no cloy’d satiety
Feel’st thou at thy perpetual feast
Of sound; nor weariness the least: Thy task’s perform’d with right goodwill.—
Thou art a melodious mill!
Notes, like grain, are dribbled in, Thou grindestthem, and fill’st the bin
Of melody with plenteous store.
Thy tunes are like the parrot’s lore, Nothing of them dost thou wot, But repeatest them by rote.
Curious, docile instrument!
To skilless touch obedient: Like a mine of richest ore, Inexhaustible in store, Yielding at a child’s command All thy wealth unto its hand.
Harmonicon peripatetic!
What clue to notes so oft erratic Hast thou, by which the ear may follow Through thy labyrinthine hollow, Which its own echo dost consume, As stoves devour their own fume. Mysterious fabric! cage-like chest!
Behind whose gilded bars the nest
Of unfledg’d melodies is hid
’Neath that brazen coverlid.
In thy bondage-house of song, Bound in brazen fetters strong, Immortal harmonies do groan!
Doleful sounds their stifled moan. A vulture preys upon their pangs, Round whose neck their prison hangs, Like that tenanted strong box
By eagle found upon the rocks Of Brobdingnag’s gigantic isle.
Like Sysiphus, their endless toil Is hopeless: their tormentor’s claw Turns the wheel (his will’s their law)
Which all their joints and members racks, Ne’er will his cruelty relax.
Miniature in shape and sound
Of that grand instrument, which round Old cathedral walls doth send Its pealing voice; whose tones do blend The clangor of the trumpet’s throat, And the silver-stringed lute.
To what else shall I compare thee? Further epithets I’ll spare thee.
Honest and despised thing, To thy memory I cling.
S it f ll th f lt I
Spite of all thy faults, I own I love thy “old, familiar” tone.
GASTON.
MINISTERIAL FAVOUR.
A gentleman who had been long attached to cardinal Mazarine, reminded the cardinal of his many promises, and his dilatory performance. Mazarine, who had a great regard for him, and was unwilling to lose his friendship, took his hand, and explained the many demands made upon a person in his situation as minister, which it would be politic to satisfy previously to other requests, as they were founded on services done to the state. The cardinal’s adherent, not very confident in his veracity, replied, “My lord, all the favour I now ask at your hand is, that whenever we meet in public, you will do me the honour to tap me on the shoulder in an unreserved manner.” The cardinal smiled, and in the course of two or three years tapping, his friend became a wealthy man, on the credit of these attentions to him; and Mazarine and his confidant laughed at the public security which enriched the courtier at so little expense to the state.
DUDLEY OF PORTSMOUTH.
“I’M A GOING!”
FortheTableBook.
Barbers are not more celebrated by a desire to become the most busy citizens of the state, than by the expert habit in which they convey news. Many a tale is invented out of a mere surmise, or whisper, for the gratification of those who attend barbers’ shops. An old son of the scissors and razor, well known at Portsmouth, was not, however, quite so perfect a phiziologist, as his more erudite and bristling fraternity. One evening, as he was preparing his fronts, and fitting his comb “to a hair,” two supposed gentlemen entered his shop to be dressed; this being executed with much civility and despatch, a wager was laid with old Dudley, (for that was his name,)
that he could not walk in a ring three feet in diameter, for one hour, and utter no other words than “I’m a going!” Two pounds on each side was on the counter; the ring was drawn in chalk; the money chinked in the ear, and old Dudley moved in the circle of his orbit. “I’m a going!—I’m a going!—I’m a going!” were the only words which kept time with his feet during the space of fifty-five minutes, when, on a sudden, one of the gentlemen sprang forward, and taking up the money, put it into his pocket. This device threw old Dudley off his guard, and he exclaimed, “That’s not fair!”—“Enough!” rejoined the sharpers, “you’ve lost the wager.” They departed, leaving him two pounds minus, and to this day old Dudley is saluted by the appellation of “I’m a going!”
JEHOIADA.
ROYAL DECISION.
In the reign of George I. the sister of judge Dormer being married to a gentleman who afterwards killed a man very basely, the judge went to move the king for a pardon. It was impossible that he could offer any thing to the royal ear in extenuation of the crime, and therefore he was the more earnest in expressing his hope that his majesty would save him and his family from the infamy the execution of the sentence would bring upon them. “So, Mr. Justice,” said the king, “what you propose to me is, that I should transfer the infamy from you and your family, to me and my family; but I shall do no such thing.” Motion refused. Biographiana.
REV. THOMAS COOKE.
TotheEditor .
Sir In reply to the inquiries of your correspondent G. J. D. at p. 136, I beg to state, that the person he alludes to was the translator of Hesiod, immortalized by Pope in his Dunciad.
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