THE MIRROR
OF
LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

YORK TERRACE, REGENT’S PARK.

YORK TERRACE,

REGENT’S PARK.

If the reader is anxious to illustrate any
political position with the “signs of the
times,” he has only to start from Waterloo-place,
(thus commencing with a glorious
reminiscence,) through Regent-street
and Portland-place, and make the architectural
tour of the Regent’s Park. Entering
the park from the New Road by
York Gate, one of the first objects for his
admiration will be York Terrace, a splendid
range of private residences, which has
the appearance of an unique palace. This
striking effect is produced by all the entrances
being in the rear, where the vestibules
are protected by large porches. All
the doors and windows in the principal
front represented in the engraving are
uniform, and appear like a suite of princely
apartments, somewhat in the style of a
little Versailles. This idea is assisted by
the gardens having no divisions.

The architecture of the building is
Græco-Italian. It consists of an entrance
or ground story, with semicircular headed
windows and rusticated piers. A continued
pedestal above the arches of these
windows runs through the composition, divided
between the columns into balustrades,
in front of the windows of the principal
story, to which they form handsome balconies.
The elegant windows of this and the
principal chamber story are of the Ilissus
Ionic, and are decorated with a colonnade,
completed with a well-proportioned entablature
from the same beautiful order.
Mr. Elmes, in his critical observations
on this terrace, thinks the attic story “too
irregular to accompany so chaste a composition
as the Ionic, to which it forms a
crown;” he likewise objects to the cornice
and blocking-course, as being “also too
small in proportion for the majesty of the
lower order.”

York Terrace is from the design of Mr.
Nash, whose genius not unfrequently
strays into such errors as our architectural
critic has pointed out.

VALENTINE CUSTOMS.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

As some of the customs described by your
correspondent W.H.H.¹ are left unaccounted
for, I suppose any one is at
liberty to sport a few conjectures on the
subject. May not, for instance, the practice
of burning the “holly boy” have its
origin in some of those rustic incantations
described by Theocritus as the means
of recalling a truant lover, or of warming
a cold one; and thus translated:—

Virgil, too, in his 8th Eclogue, alludes
to the same charm:—

The “holly bush” being made to represent
the person beloved, may also be
borrowed from the ancients:—

The burning wax candles may be more
difficult to account for, unless it refer to
the custom of melting wax in order to
mollify the beloved one’s heart:—

For a woman to compose a garland
was always considered an indication of
her being in love. Aristophanes says,

Should the charms resorted to by lovers
two thousand years ago, appear to you,
even remotely, to have influenced the love
rites as performed by the village men and
maidens of the present day, perhaps you
may deem this string of quotations worthy
of a corner in your amusing miscellany.

E.

LINES

On the Sarcophagus² which contains the remains
of Nelson in St. Paul’s Cathedral.

(For the Mirror.)

COINAGE OF THE ANCIENT BRITONS.

(For the Mirror.)

In 1749, a considerable number of gold
coins were discovered on the top of Karnbre,
in Cornwall, which are clearly proved
to have belonged to the ancient Britons.
The figures that were first stamped on the
coins of all nations were those of oxen,
horses, sheep, &c. It may, therefore, be
concluded, that the coins of any country
which have only the figures of cattle
stamped on them, and perhaps of trees,
representing the woods in which their
cattle pastured,—were the most ancient
coins of the country. Some of the gold
coins found at Karnbre, and described by
Dr. Borlase, are of this kind, and may be
justly esteemed the most ancient of our
British coins. Sovereigns soon became
aware of the importance of money, and
took the fabrication of it under their own
direction, ordering their own heads to be
impressed on one side of the coins, while
the figure of some animal still continued
to be stamped on the other. Of this kind
are some of the Karnbre coins, with a royal
head on one side, and a horse on the other.
When the knowledge and use of letters
were once introduced into any country, it
would not be long before they appeared
on its coins, expressing the names of the
princes whose heads were stamped on
them. This was a very great improvement
in the art of coining, and gave an
additional value to the money, by preserving
the memories of princes, and giving
light to history. Our British ancestors
were acquainted with this improvement
before they were subdued by the Romans,
as several coins of ancient Britain have
very plain and perfect inscriptions, and
on that account merit particular attention.

INA.

ANIMAL FOOD.

(For the Mirror.)

It is generally allowed, that a profusion
of animal food has a tendency to vitiate
and debase the nature and dispositions of
men; notwithstanding, the lovers of flesh
urge the names of many of the most eminent
in literature and science, in opposition
to this assertion.

Plutarch attributed the stupidity of his
countrymen, the Boeotians, to the profusion
of animal food which they consumed,
and even now, our lovely, soup drinking,
coffee sipping friends on the continent,
attribute the saturnine, melancholy, and
bearish dispositions of John Bull, to his
partiality for,

A facetious, philosophical, friend of
mine, lately amused me with some remarks,
on the nature and properties of
different kinds of food. “We know,”
said he, “that one herb produces this
effect, and another that; that different
species and varieties of plants have different
virtues; and, why may we not infer
that the same rule extends to animated
nature; that our fish, flesh, and fowl, not
only serve as nutriment, but that each
kind possesses peculiar and individual
properties.”

This will account for the piggish habits
and propensities so conspicuous in the inhabitants
of certain places in England,
and whose partiality for swine’s flesh, is
proverbial. The sheepish manners of our
students and school-boys, may also be
attributed to the mutton so generally alloted
to them. I might continue my observations,
ad infinitum. I might say,
that the wisdom of the goose was discoverable
in—whose love of that, “most
abused of God’s creatures,” is well
known: and that the sea-side predilections
of a certain Bart., of festive notoriety, were
occasioned by his partiality for turtle.

QUÆSITOR.

WHITEHALL.

MARRIAGE OF ANNE BOLEYN

(For the Mirror)

The extraordinary revolution which took
place in our religious institutions in the
time of Henry VIII., has rendered his
reign one of the most important in the
annals of ecclesiastical history. For the
great changes at that glorious æra, the
reformation, when the clouds of ignorance
and superstition were dispelled, we are
principally indebted to the beauteous, but
unfortunate Anne Boleyn, whose influence
with the haughty monarch, was the
chief cause of the abolition of the papal
supremacy in England; one of the greatest
blessings ever bestowed by a monarch on
his country. Intimately associated with,
and the principal scene of these important
events, was the ancient palace of
Whitehall,³ which Henry, into whose
[pg 132]
possession it came on the premunire of
Wolsey, considerably enlarged and beautified,
changing its name from that of
York Place, to the one by which it is still
designated.

In this building, an event, the most important,
in its consequences, recorded in
the history of any country, took place,—the
marriage of Anne Boleyn, who had been
created Countess of Pembroke, with the
“stern Harry.” The precise period of
these nuptials, owing to the secrecy with
which they were performed, is involved
in considerable obscurity, and has given
rise to innumerable controversies among
historians; the question not being even
to this hour satisfactorily decided as to
whether they were solemnized in the
month of November, 1532, or in that of
January, 1533. Hall,⁴ Holinshed,⁵ and
Grafton, whose authority several of our
more modern historians⁶ have followed,
place it on the 14th of November, 1532,
the Feast Day of St. Erkenwald; but
Stow⁷ informs us, that it was celebrated
on the 25th of January 1533; and his
assertion bears considerable weight, being
corroborated by a letter from Archbishop
Cranmer, dated “the xvij daye of June,”
1533, from his “manor of Croydon,” to
Hawkyns, the embassador at the emperor’s
court. In this letter the prelate
says, “she was marid muche about St.
Paules daye last, as the condicion thereof
dothe well appere by reason she ys now
sumwhat bygg with chylde.”⁸ This
statement, coming as it does from so authentic
a source, and coinciding with the
accounts of Stow, Wyatt,⁹ and Godwin¹⁰
may, we think, be regarded as the most
correct. Her marriage was not made
known until the following Easter, when
it was publicly proclaimed, and preparations
made for her coronation, which was
conducted with extraordinary magnificence
in Whitsuntide. Her becoming
pregnant soon after her marriage “gave
great satisfaction to the king, and was regarded
by the people as a strong proof of
the queen’s former modesty and virtue.”¹¹
This latter circumstance, however, has
not met with that consideration among
historians which it appears to merit; for
we must remember that Elizabeth was
born on the 7th of the following September,
an event, which would perhaps rather
tend to confirm the opinion of Hall, in
contradiction to that of Stow, if, indeed,
Anne had been proof against the advances
of Henry, previous to their marriage,
which some writers have doubted.

Lingard, whose History is now in the
course of publication, intimates that the
ceremony was performed “in a garret, at
the western end of the palace of Whitehall;”¹²
this, however, when we consider
the haughty character of Henry, is totally
improbable, and rests entirely on the authority
of one solitary manuscript. There
is no reason, however, to doubt but that
they were married in some apartment in that
palace, and most probably in the king’s
private closet.¹³ Dr. Rowland Lee, one
of the royal chaplains, and afterwards
Bishop of Coventry officiated, in the presence
only of the Duke of Norfolk, uncle
to the Lady Anne, and her father, mother,
and brother. Lord Herbert,¹⁴ whose authority
has been quoted by Hume, says,
that Cranmer was also present, but this is
[pg 133]
undoubtedly an error, as that prelate had
only just then returned from Germany,
and was not informed of the circumstance
until two weeks afterwards, as appears
from the following passage in his letter to
Hawkyns, before quoted:—”Yt hath bin
reported thorowte a greate parte of the
realme that I married her; which was
playnly false, for I myself knew not
thereof a fortenyght after it was donne.”

It may not, perhaps, prove uninteresting
to our readers, or quite irrelevant to
the subject, to close this brief account of
the marriage of Anne Boleyn, with the
copy of a letter from that queen to “Squire
Josselin, upon ye birth of Q. Elizabth,”
preserved among the manuscripts in the
British Museum.¹⁵

“By the Queen—Trusty and well
beloved wee greet you well. And whereas
it hath pleased ye goodness of Almighty
God of his infinite mercy and grace to
send unto vs at this tyme good speed in
ye deliverance and bringing forth of a
Princess to ye great joye and inward
comfort of my lord. Us, and of all his
good and loving subjects of this his
realme ffor ye which his inestimable beneuolence
soe shewed unto vs. We have
noe little cause to give high thankes,
laude and praysing unto our said Maker,
like as we doe most lowly, humbly, and
wth all ye inward desire of our heart.
And inasmuch as wee undoubtedly trust
yt this our good is to you great pleasure,
comfort, and consolacion; wee therefore
by these our Lrs aduertise you thereof,
desiring and heartily praying you to give
wth vs unto Almighty God, high thankes,
glory, laud, and praising, and to pray for
ye good health, prosperity, and continuall
preservation of ye sd Princess accordingly.
Yeoven under our Signett at my Lds
Manner of Greenwch,¹⁶ ye 7th day of
September, in ye 25th yeare of my said
Lds raigne, An. Dno. 1533.”

S.I.B.

Memorable Days.

COLLOP MONDAY.

Collop Monday is the day before
Shrove Tuesday, and in many parts is
made a day of great feasting on account
of the approaching Lent. It is so called,
because it was the last day allowed for
eating animal food before Lent; and our
ancestors cut up their fresh meat into
collops, or steaks, for salting or hanging
up until Lent was over; and even now in
many places it is still a custom to have
eggs and collops, or slices of bacon, for
dinner on this day.

In Westmoreland, and particularly at
Brough, where I have witnessed it many
times, the good people kill a great many
pigs about a week or two previous to
Lent, which have been carefully fattened
up for the occasion. The good housewife
is busily occupied in salting the
flitches and hams to hang up in the “pantry,”
and in cutting the fattest parts of
the pig for collops on this day. The
most luscious cuts are baked in a pot in
an oven, and the fat poured out into a
bladder, as it runs out of the meat, for
hog’s-lard. When all the lard has been
drained off, the remains (which are called
cracklings, being then baked quite crisp)
resemble the crackling on a leg of pork,
are eaten with potatoes, and from the
quantity of salt previously added to them,
to preserve the lard, are unpalatable to
many mouths. The rough farmers’ men,
however, devour them as a savoury dish,
and every time “lard” is being made,
cracklings are served up for the servants’
dinner. Indeed, even the more respectable
classes partake of this dish.

PIG-FRY—This is a Collop Monday
dish, and is a necessary appendage to
“cracklings.” It consists of the fattest
parts of the entrails of the pig, broiled in
an oven. Numerous herbs, spices, &c.
are added to it; and upon the whole, it is
a more sightly “course” at table than fat
cracklings. Sometimes the good wife indulges
her house with a pancake, as an
assurance that she has not forgotten to
provide for Shrove Tuesday. The servants
are also treated with “a drop of
something good” on this occasion; and
are allowed (if they have nothing of importance
to require their immediate attention)
to spend the afternoon in conviviality.

AVVER BREAD.—During Lent, in
the same county, a great quantity of
bread, called avver bread, is made. It
is of oats, leavened and kneaded into a
large, thin, round cake, which is placed
upon a “girdle“¹⁷ over the fire. The
bread is about the thickness of a “lady’s”
slice of bread and butter.

[pg 134]
I am totally unable to give a definition
of the word avver, and should feel
much gratified by any correspondent’s
elucidation. I think P.T.W. may possibly
assist me on this point; and if so, I
shall be much obliged. There is an evident
corruption in it. I have sometimes
thought that avver means oaten, although
I have no other authority than from knowing
the strange pronunciation given to
other words.

W.H.H.

The Contemporary Traveller.

DESCRIPTION OF MEKKA.

Mekka maybe styled a handsome town;
its streets are in general broader than
those of eastern cities; the houses lofty,
and built of stone; and the numerous
windows that face the streets give them a
more lively and European aspect than
those of Egypt or Syria, where the houses
present but few windows towards the exterior.
Mekka (like Djidda) contains
many houses three stories high; few at
Mekka are white-washed; but the dark
grey colour of the stone is much preferable
to the glaring white that offends the
eye in Djidda. In most towns of the
Levant the narrowness of a street contributes
to its coolness; and in countries
where wheel-carriages are not used, a
space that allows two loaded camels to
pass each other is deemed sufficient. At
Mekka, however, it was necessary to
leave the passages wide, for the innumerable
visiters who here crowd together;
and it is in the houses adapted for the reception
of pilgrims and other sojourners,
that the windows are so contrived as to
command a view of the streets.

The city is open on every side; but
the neighbouring mountains, if properly
defended, would form a barrier of considerable
strength against an enemy. In
former times it had three walls to protect
its extremities; one was built across the
valley, at the street of Mala; another at
the quarter of Shebeyka; and the third at
the valley opening into the Mesfale.
These walls were repaired in A.H. 816
and 828, and in a century after some
traces of them still remained.

The only public place in the body of
the town is the ample square of the great
mosque; no trees or gardens cheer the
eye; and the scene is enlivened only during
the Hadj by the great number of
well stored shops which are found in
every quarter. Except four or five large
houses belonging to the Sherif, two medreses
or colleges (now converted into
corn magazines,) and the mosque, with
some buildings and schools attached to it,
Mekka cannot boast of any public edifices,
and in this respect is, perhaps,
more deficient than any other eastern city
of the same size. Neither khans, for the
accommodation of travellers, or for the
deposit of merchandize, nor palaces of
grandees, nor mosques, which adorn
every quarter of other towns in the East,
are here to be seen; and we may perhaps
attribute this want of splendid buildings
to the veneration which its inhabitants
entertain for their temple; this prevents
them from constructing any edifice which
might possibly pretend to rival it.

The houses have windows looking towards
the street; of these many project
from the wall, and have their frame-work
elaborately carved, or gaudily painted.
Before them hang blinds made of slight
reeds, which exclude flies and gnats while
they admit fresh air. Every house has
its terrace, the floor of which (composed
of a preparation from lime-stone) is built
with a slight inclination, so that the rain-water
runs off through gutters into the
street; for the rains here are so irregular
that it is not worth while to collect the
water of them in cisterns, as is done in
Syria. The terraces are concealed from
view by slight parapet walls; for throughout
the east, it is reckoned discreditable
that a man should appear upon the terrace,
whence he might be accused of
looking at women in the neighbouring
houses, as the females pass much of their
time on the terraces, employed in various
domestic occupations, such as drying
corn, hanging up linen, &c. The Europeans
of Aleppo alone enjoy the privilege
of frequenting their terraces, which
are often beautifully built of stone; here
they resort during the summer evenings,
and often to sup and pass the night. All
the houses of the Mekkawys, except
those of the principal and richest inhabitants,
are constructed for the accommodation
of lodgers, being divided into
many apartments, separated from each
other, and each consisting of a sitting-room
and a small kitchen. Since the pilgrimage,
which has begun to decline,
(this happened before the Wahaby conquest,)
many of the Mekkawys, no longer
deriving profit from the letting of their
lodgings, found themselves unable to afford
the expense of repairs; and thus
numerous buildings in the out-skirts
have fallen completely into ruin, and the
town itself exhibits in every street houses
rapidly decaying. I saw only one of recent
construction; it was in the quarter
of El Shebeyka, belonged to a Sherif,
and cost, as report said, one hundred and
fifty purses; such a house might have
been built at Cairo for sixty purses.

[pg 135]
The streets are all unpaved; and in
summer time the sand and dust in them
are as great a nuisance as the mud is in
the rainy season, during which they are
scarcely passable after a shower; for in
the interior of the town the water does
not run off, but remains till it is dried up.
It may be ascribed to the destructive
rains, which, though of shorter duration
than in other tropical countries, fall with
considerable violence, that no ancient
buildings are found in Mekka. The
mosque itself has undergone so many repairs
under different sultans, that it may
be called a modern structure; and of the
houses, I do not think there exists one
older than four centuries; it is not, therefore,
in this place, that the traveller
must look for interesting specimens of
architecture or such beautiful remains of
Saracenic structures as are still admired
in Syria, Egypt, Barbary, and Spain.
In this respect the ancient and far-famed
Mekka is surpassed by the smallest provincial
towns of Syria or Egypt. The
same may be said with respect to Medina,
and I suspect that the towns of Yemen
are generally poor in architectural remains.

Mekka is deficient in those regulations
of police which are customary in Eastern
cities. The streets are totally dark at
night, no lamps of any kind being lighted;
its different quarters are without
gates, differing in this respect also from
most Eastern towns, where each quarter
is regularly shut up after the last evening
prayers. The town may therefore be
crossed at any time of the night, and the
same attention is not paid here to the security
of merchants, as well as of husbands,
(on whose account principally,
the quarters are closed,) as in Syrian or
Egyptian towns of equal magnitude. The
dirt and sweepings of the houses are cast
into the streets, where they soon become
dust or mud according to the season.
The same custom seems to have prevailed
equally in ancient times; for I did not
perceive in the skirts of the town any of
those heaps of rubbish which are usually
found near the large towns of Turkey.

With respect to water, the most important
of all supplies, and that which
always forms the first object of inquiry
among Asiatics, Mekka is not much better
provided than Djidda; there are but
few cisterns for collecting rain, and the
well-water is so brackish that it is used
only for culinary purposes, except during
the time of the pilgrimage, when the
lowest class of hadjys drink it. The famous
well of Zemzem, in the great
mosque, is indeed sufficiently copious to
supply the whole town; but, however
holy, its water is heavy to the taste and
impedes digestion; the poorer classes besides
have not permission to fill their
water-skins with it at pleasure. The
best water in Mekka is brought by a conduit
from the vicinity of Arafat, six or
seven hours distant. The present government,
instead of constructing similar
works, neglects even the repairs and
requisite cleansing of this aqueduct. It
is wholly built of stone; and all those
parts of it which appear above ground,
are covered with a thick layer of stone
and cement. I heard that it had not
been cleaned during the last fifty years;
the consequence of this negligence is,
that the most of the water is lost in its
passage to the city through apertures, or
slowly forces its way through the obstructing
sediment, though it flows in a
full stream into the head of the aqueduct
at Arafat. The supply which it affords
in ordinary times is barely sufficient for
the use of the inhabitants, and during
the pilgrimage sweet water becomes an
absolute scarcity; a small skin of water
(two of which skins a person may carry)
being then often sold for one shilling—a
very high price among Arabs.

There are two places in the interior
of Mekka where the aqueduct runs
above ground; there the water is let off
into small channels or fountains, at which
some slaves of the Sherif are stationed,
to exact a toll from persons filling their
water-skins. In the time of the Hadj,
these fountains are surrounded day and
night by crowds of people quarrelling and
fighting for access to the water. During
the late siege, the Wahabys cut off the
supply of water from the aqueduct; and
it was not till some time after, that the
injury which this structure then received,
was partially repaired.

There is a small spring which oozes
from under the rocks behind the great palace
of the Sherif, called Beit el Sad; it
is said to afford the best water in this
country, but the supply is very scanty.
The spring is enclosed, and appropriated
wholly to the Sherif’s family.

Beggars, and infirm or indigent hadjys,
often entreat the passengers in the streets
of Mekka for a draught of sweet water;
they particularly surround the water-stands,
which are seen in every corner,
and where, for two paras in the time of
the Hadj, and for one para, at other
times, as much water may be obtained
as will fill a jar.—Burckhardt’s Travels
in Arabia.

The Naturalist.

FLAKES OF SNOW MAGNIFIED.

FLAKES OF SNOW MAGNIFIED.

Snow is one of the treasures of the atmosphere.
Its wonderful construction,
and the beautiful regularity of its figures,
have been the object of a treatise by
Erasmus Bartholine, who published in
1661, “De Figurâ Nivis Dissertatio,”
with observations of his brother Thomas
on the use of snow in medicine. On examining
the flakes of snow with a magnifying
glass before they melt, (which
may easily be done by making the experiment
in the open air,) they will appear composed
of fine shining spicula or points,
diverging like rays from a centre. As the
flakes fall down through the atmosphere,
they are joined by more of these radiated
spicula, and thus increase in bulk like
the drops of rain or hail-stones. Dr.
Green says, “that many parts of snow
are of a regular figure, for the most part
so many little rowels or stars of six points,
and are as perfect and transparent ice as
any seen on a pond. Upon each of these
points are other collateral points set at
the same angles as the main points themselves;
among these there are divers others,
irregular, which are chiefly broken points
and fragments of the regular ones. Others
also, by various winds, seem to have been
thawed and frozen again into irregular
clusters; so that it seems as if the whole
body of snow was an infinite mass of icicles
irregularly figured. That is, a cloud
of vapours being gathered into drops,
those drops forthwith descend, and in their
descent, meeting with a freezing air as
they pass through a colder region, each
drop is immediately frozen into an icicle,
shooting itself forth into several points;
but these still continuing their descent,
and meeting with some intermitting gales
of warmer air, or, in their continual waftage
to and fro, touching upon each other
are a little thawed, blunted, and frozen
into clusters, or entangled so as to fall
down in what we call flakes.” But we
are not, (says the author of the “Contemplative
[pg 137]
Philosopher,”) to consider snow
merely as a curious phenomenon. The
Great Disposer of universal bounty has
so ordered it, that it is eminently subservient,
as well as all the works of creation,
to his benevolent designs.

P.T.W.

MONKEYS AT GIBRALTAR.

Though Gibraltar abounds with monkeys,
there are none to be found in the
rest of Spain; this is supposed to be occasioned
by the following circumstance;—The
waters of the Propontis, which
anciently might be nothing but a lake
formed by the Granicus and Rhyndacus,
finding it more easy to work themselves a
canal by the Dardanelles than any other
way, spread into the Mediterranean, and
forcing a passage into the ocean between
Mount Atlas and Calpe, separated the
rock from the coast of Africa; and the
monkeys being taken by surprise, were
compelled to be carried with it over to
Europe, “These animals,” says a resident
at Gibraltar, “are now in high
favour here. The lieutenant-governor,
General Don, has taken them under his
protection, and threatened with fine and
imprisonment any one who shall in any
way molest them. They have increased
rapidly, of course. Many of them are as
large as our dogs; and some of the old
grandfathers and great-grandfathers are
considerably larger. I had the good fortune
to fall in with a family of about ten,
and had an opportunity of watching for a
time their motions. There appeared to
be a father and mother, four or five
grown-up children, and three that had
not reached the years of discretion. One
of them was still at the breast; and although
he was large enough to be weaned,
and indeed made his escape as rapidly as
the mother when they took the alarm, it
was quite impossible to restrain laughter
when one saw the mother, with great gravity,
sitting nursing the little elf, with
her hand behind it, and the older children
skipping up and down the walls, and
playing all sorts of antic tricks with one
another. They made their escape with
the utmost rapidity, leaping over rocks
and precipices with great agility, and evidently
unconscious of fear.”

W.G.C.

The Selector,

AND

LITERARY NOTICES OF

NEW WORKS

THE GREAT WORLD OF FASHION.

Satire is the pantomime of literature,
and harlequin’s jacket, his black vizor,
and his eel-like lubricity, are so many
harmless satires on the weak sides of our
nature. The pen of the satirist is as effective
as the pencil of the artist; and
provided it draw well, cannot fail to prove
as attractive. Indeed, the characters of
pantomime, harlequin, columbine, clown,
and pantaloon, make up the best quarto
that has ever appeared on the manners
and follies of the times; and they may
be turned to as grave an account as any
page of Seneca’s Morals, or Cicero’s Disputations;
however various the means,
the end, or object, is the same, and all is
rounded with a sleep.

“The Great World,” in the language
of satire, is the “glass of fashion and
the mould of form.” Its geography and
history are as perpetually changing as the
modes of St. James’s, or the features of
one of its toasted beauties; and what is
written of it to-day may be dry, and its
time be out of joint, before it has escaped
the murky precincts of the printing-house.
It is subtlety itself, and we know
not “whence it cometh, and whither it
goeth.” Its philosophy is concentric, for
this Great World consists of thousands of
little worlds, usque ad infinitum, and we
do well if we become not giddy with
looking on the wheels of its vicissitudes.

We know not whom we have to thank
for the pamphlet of sixty pages—entitled
“A Geographical and Historical Account
of the Great World”—now before
us. It bears the imprint of “Ridgway,
Piccadilly,” so that it is published at the
gate of the very region it describes—like
the accounts of Pere la Chaise, sold at
its concierge. Annexed is a Map of the
Great World—but the author has not
“attempted to lay down the longitude;
the only measurements hitherto made being
[pg 138]
confined to the west of the meridian
of St. James’s Strait.” Then the author
tells us of the atomic hypothesis of the
formation of the Great World. “These
rules, for the performance of what appears
to be an atomic quadrille, are furnished
by Sir H. Davy, elected by the Great
World, master of the ceremonies for the
preservation of order, and prescribing
rules for the regulation of the Universe.”
“The surface of the Great World, or
rather its crust, has been ascertained to be
exceedingly shallow.”

The inhabitants of the Great World,
in its diurnal rotation, receive no light
from the sun till a few hours before the
time of its setting with us, when it also
sets with them, so that they are inconvenienced
for a short time only, by its
light. In its annual orbit, it has but one
season, which, though called Spring, is
subject to the most sudden alternations of
heat and cold. The females have a singular
method of protecting themselves
from the baneful effects of these violent
changes, which is worthy of notice:—they
wrap themselves up, during the
short time the sun shines, in pelisses,
shawls, and cloaks, their heads being protected
by hats, whose umbrageous brims
so far exceed in dimensions the little umbrellas
raised above them, that a stranger
is at a loss to conjecture the use of the
latter. Shortly after the sun has set,
these habiliments are all thrown off,
dresses of gossamer are substituted in
their place, and the fair wearers rush out
into the open air, to enjoy the cool night
breezes.

This is but the “Companion to the
Map.” The Voyage to the several Islands
of the Great World, “is in a frame-work
of the adventures of Sir Heedless
Headlong, who neither reaches the Great
World by a balloon, nor Perkins’s steam-gun.
He cruises about St. James’s
Straits, makes for Idler’s Harbour, in
Alba; is repulsed, but with a friend,
Jack Rashleigh, journeys to Society Island,
lands at Small Talk Bay, and makes
for the capital, Flirtington. He first visits
a general assembly of the leaders
of the isle. At the house of assembly
the rush of charioteers was so great,
that it is impossible to say what might
have been the consequence of the general
confusion, or how many lives might
have been lost, but for the interference
of a little man in a flaxen wig, and broad-brimmed
hat, with a cane in his hand, whose
authority is said to extend equally over
ladies and pickpockets of all degrees.”¹⁸
Then comes an exquisite bit of badinage
on that most stupid of all stupidities, a
fashionable rout.

“On entering the walls, my surprise
may be partly conceived, at finding those
persons, whom I had seen so eagerly
striving to gain admittance, crowded together
in a capacious vapour bath, heated
to so high a temperature, that had I not
been aware of the strict prohibition of
science, I should have imagined the meeting
to have been held for the purpose of
ascertaining, by experiment, the greatest
degree of heat which the human frame is
capable of supporting. That they should
choose such a place for their deliberations
upon the welfare of the island, appeared
to me extraordinary, and only to be accounted
for upon the supposition that it
was intended to carry off, by evaporation,
that internal heat to which the assemblies
of legislators of some other countries are
known to be subject. Judging from the
grave and melancholy countenances of the
persons assembled, I councluded the affairs
of the island to be in a very disasterous
state; and I could discover very
little either said or done, at all calculated
to advance its interests. Of the capital
itself, some members said a few words;
but, to use the language of our Globe, in
so inaudible a tone of voice, that we could
scarcely catch their import. The principal
subject of their discussion consisted
of complaining of the extreme heat of the
bath, and mutual inquiries respecting
their intention of immersing themselves
in any others that were open the same
night.”

He next satirizes a fashionable dinner,
the parks, the Horticultural Society, some
pleasant jokes upon a rosy mother and
her parsnip-pale daughters, and an admirable
piece of fun upon the female oligarchy
of Almacks.

“From hence I made a trip to Crocky’s
Island, situated on the opposite side of
the Strait. On landing at Hellgate, within
Fools’ Inlet my surprise was much excited
by the prodigious flocks of gulls,
pigeons, and geese, which were directing
their flight towards the Great Fish Lake,
whither I, too, was making my way. I
concluded their object was to procure
food, of which a profusion was here
spread before them, consisting of every
thing which such birds most delight to
peck at; but no sooner had they settled
near the bank, than they were seized upon
by a Fisherman, (who was lying in wait
for them,) and completely plucked of
their feathers, an operation to which they
very quietly submitted, and were then
suffered to depart. Upon inquiring his
motive for what appeared to me a wanton
act of cruelty, he told me his intention
[pg 139]
was to stuff his bed with the feathers;
‘or,’ added he, ‘if you vill, to feather
my nest.’ Being myself an admirer of
a soft bed, I saw no reason why I should
not employ myself in the same way; but
owing, perhaps, to my being a novice in
the art, and not knowing how to manage
the birds properly, they were but little
disposed to submit themselves to my
hands; and, in the attempt, I found myself
so completely covered with feathers,
that which of the three descriptions of
birds aforesaid I most resembled, it would
have been difficult to determine. The
fisherman, seeing my situation, was proceeding
to add to the stock of feathers
which he had collected in a great bag, by
plucking those from my person, when,
wishing to save him any further trouble,
I hurried back to Hellgate.”

We cannot accompany Sir Heedless
any further; but must conclude with a
few piquancies from the Vocabulary of
the Language of the Great World, which
is as necessary to the enjoyment of fashionable
life, as is a glossary to an elementary
scientific treatise:—

At Home.—Making your house as unlike
home as possible, by turning every
thing topsy-turvy, removing your furniture,
and squeezing as many people into
your rooms as can be compressed together.

Not at Home.—Sitting in your own
room, engaged in reading a new novel,
writing notes, or other important business.

Affection.—A painful sensation, such
as gout, rheumatism, cramp, head-ache,
&c.

Mourning.—An outward covering of
black, put on by the relatives of any deceased
person of consequence, or by persons
succeeding to a large fortune, as an
emblem of their grief upon so melancholy
an event.

Morning.—The time corresponding to
that between our noon and sun-set.

Evening.—The time between our sun-set
and sun-rise.

Night.—-The time between our sun-rise
and noon.

Domestic.—An epithet applied to cats,
dogs, and other tame animals, keeping at
home.

Reflection.—The person viewed in a
looking-glass.

Tenderness.—A property belonging to
meat long kept.

An Undress.—A thick covering of
garments.

A Treasure.—A lady’s maid, skilful
in the mysteries of building up heads,
and pulling down characters; ingenious
in the construction of caps, capes, and
scandal, and judicious in the application
of paint and flattery; also, a footman,
who knows, at a single glance, what visiters
to admit to the presence of his mistress,
and whom to refuse.

Immortality.—An imaginary privilege
of living for ever, conferred upon heroes,
poets, and patriots.

Taste.—The art of discerning the precise
shades of difference constituting a bad
or well dressed man, woman, or dinner.

Tact.—The art of wheedling a rich old
relation, winning an heiress, or dismissing
duns with the payment of fair promises.

Album.—A ledger kept by ladies for
the entry of compliments, in rhyme, paid
on demand to their beautiful hair, complexions
fair, the dimpled chin, the smiles
that win, the ruby lips, where the bee
sips, &c. &c.; the whole amount being
transferred to their private account from
the public stock.

Resignation.—Giving up a place.

A Heathen.—An infidel to the tenets
of ton, a Goth; a monster; a vulgar
wretch. One who eats twice of soup,
swills beer, takes wine, knows nothing
about ennui, dyspepsia, or peristaltic persuaders,
and does not play ecarté; a
creature—nobody.

Vice.—An instrument made use of by
ladies in netting for the purpose of securing
their work.

A Martyr.—A gentleman subject to
the gout.

Temperate.——Quiet, an epithet applied
only to horses.

Bore.—A country acquaintance, or relation,
a leg of mutton, a hackney-coach,
&c., children, or a family party.

Love.—Admiration of a large fortune.

Courage.—Shooting a fellow creature,
perhaps a friend, from the fear of being
thought a coward.

Christmas.—That time of year when
tradesmen, and boys from school, become
troublesome.

OLD POETS.

A KISS.

SIGHT.

MERCY AND JUSTICE.

INGRATITUDE.

HEAVEN.

MARRIAGE.

PRIDE.

SPIRIT OF THE

Public Journals.

NOTES FROM THE LONDON REVIEW,

NO. 1.

ANCIENT AND MODERN LUXURIES.

As a learned doctor, a passionate admirer
of the Nicotian plant, was not long since
regaling himself with a pinch of snuff, in
the study of an old college friend, his
classical recollections suddenly mixed
with his present sensation, and suggested
the following question:—”If a Greek or
a Roman were to rise from the grave, how
would you explain to him the three successive
enjoyments which we have had
to-day after dinner,—tea, coffee, and snuff?
By what perception or sensation familiar
to them, would you account for the modern
use of the three vulgar elements,
which we see notified on every huckster’s
stall?—or paint the more refined beatitude
of a young barrister comfortably
niched in one of our London divans, concentrating
his ruminations over a new
Quarterly, by the aid of a highly-flavoured
Havannah?” The doctor’s friend, whose
ingenuity is not easily taken at fault, answered,
“By friction, which was performed
so consummately in their baths.
It is no new propensity of animal nature,
to find pleasure from the combination of
a stimulant, and a sedative. The ancients
chafed their skins, and we chafe our stomachs,
exactly for that same double purpose
of excitement and repose (let physiologists
explain their union) which these
vegetable substances procure now so extensively
to mankind. In a word, I would
tell the ancient Greeks or Romans, that
the dealer in tea, coffee, tobacco, and
snuff, is to us what the experienced practioner
of the strigil was to them; with
this difference, however, that while we
spare our skins, our stomachs are in danger
of being tanned into leather.”

THE STAGE.

We may compare tragedy to a martyrdom
by one of the old masters; which,
whatever be its merit, represents persons,
emotions, and events so remote from the
experience of the spectator, that he feels
the grounds of his approbation and blame
to be in a great measure conjectural. The
romance, such as we generally have seen
it, resembles a Gothic window-piece, where
monarchs and bishops exhibit the symbols
of their dignity, and saints hold out
their palm branches, and grotesque monsters
in blue and gold pursue one another
through the intricacies of a never-ending
scroll, splendid in colouring, but childish
in composition, and imitating nothing in
[pg 141]
nature but a mass of drapery and jewels
thrown over the commonest outlines of
the human figure. The works of the
comedian, in their least interesting forms,
are Dutch paintings and caricatures: in
their best, they are like Wilkie’s earlier
pictures, accurate imitations of pleasing,
but familiar objects—admirable as works
of art, but addressed rather to the judgment
than to the imagination.

ENGLISH WOMEN.

Nothing could be more easy than to
prove, in the reflected light of our literature,
that from the period of our Revolution
to the present time, the education of
women has improved among us, as much,
at least, as that of men. Unquestionably
that advancement has been greater within
the last fifty years, than during any previous
period of equal length; and it may
even be doubted whether the modern rage
of our fair countrywomen for universal
acquirement has not already been carried
to a height injurious to the attainment of
excellence in the more important branches
of literary information.

But in every age since that of Charles
II, Englishwomen have been better educated
than their mothers. For much of
this progress we are indebted to Addison.
Since the Spectator set the example, a
great part of our lighter literature, unlike
that of the preceding age, has been addressed
to the sexes in common: whatever
language could shock the ear of
woman, whatever sentiment could sully
her purity of thought, has been gradually
expunged from the far greater and better
portion of our works of imagination and
taste; and it is this growing refinement
and delicacy of expression, throughout the
last century, which prove, as much as
any thing, the increasing number of female
readers, and the increasing homage
which has been paid to the better feelings
of their sex.

Mr. Lee, the high-constable of Westminster,
in the Police Report, says, “I
have known the time when I have seen
the regular thieves watching Drummonds’
house, looking out for persons coming
out: and the widening of the pavement
of the streets has, I think, done a great
deal of good. With respect to pick-pocketing,
there is not a chance of their
doing now as they used to do. If a man
attempts to pick a pocket, it is ten to one
if he is not seen, which was not the case
formerly.”

CRIME IN PARIS.

Vidocq, in his Memoires, relates, that
in 1817, with twelve agents or subordinate
officers, he effected in Paris the number
of arrests which he thus enumerates:—

WITNESSES.

The protracted proceedings of our criminal
courts are productive of one serious
evil, which we have never seen noticed.
Domestic servants, and others who appear
as witnesses, must frequently wait, day
after day, in the court-yard and avenues,
or in the adjacent public-houses, until the
cases on which they have been subpoenaed
are called for trial. During these intervals
they converse and become acquainted
with others in attendance, a large proportion
of whom are generally friends or associates
of the prisoners. It is thus that
the most dangerous intimacies have been
formed; and many instances have occurred
where servants, who have been seen
in the courts as witnesses for a prosecution,
have soon afterwards appeared there
as prisoners.

YOU’LL COME TO OUR BALL.

“Comment! c’est lui?—que je le regarde encore!—c’est
que vraiment il est bien changé;
n’est pas, mon papa?”—Les premiers Amours.

PARTY.

Two dogs cannot worry one another in
the streets without instantly forming each
his party among the crowd; much more
then does the principle apply to higher
contests.

The Anecdote Gallery.

MOLIERE.

At the town of Pezénas they still show
an elbow-chair of Molière’s (as at Montpelier
they show the gown of Rabelais,)
in which the poet, it is said, ensconced in
a corner of a barber’s shop, would sit for
the hour together, silently watching the
air, gestures, and grimaces of the village
politicians, who, in those days, before
coffee-houses were introduced into France,
used to congregate in this place of resort.
The fruits of this study may be easily
discerned in those original draughts of
character from the middling and lower
classes with which his pieces everywhere
abound.

Molière’s celebrated farce of Les Précieuses
Ridicules; a piece in only one
act, but which, by its inimitable satire,
effected such a revolution in the literary
taste of his countrymen, as has been accomplished
by few works of a more imposing
form—may be considered as the
basis of the dramatic glory of Molière,
and the dawn of good comedy in France.
The satire aimed at a coterie of wits who
set themselves up as arbiters of taste and
fashion, and was welcomed with enthusiastic
applause, most of them being present
at the first exhibition, to behold the
fine fabric, which they had been so painfully
constructing, brought to the ground
by a single blow. “And these follies,”
said Ménage to Chapelin, “which you
and I see so finely criticised here, are
what we have been so long admiring.
We must go home and burn our idols.”
“Courage, Molière,” cried an old man
from the pit; “this is genuine comedy.”
The price of the seats was doubled from
the time of the second representation.
Nor were the effects of the satire merely
transitory. It converted an epithet of
praise into one of reproach; and a femme
precieuse, a style precieux, a ton precieux,
once so much admired, have ever
since been used only to signify the most
ridiculous affectation. There was, in
truth, however, quite as much luck as
merit, in this success of Molière; whose
production exhibits no finer raillery, or
better sustained dialogue, than are to be
found in many of his subsequent pieces.
It assured him, however, of his own
strength, and disclosed to him the mode
in which he should best hit the popular
taste. “I have no occasion to study
Plautus or Terence any longer,” said he,
“I must henceforth, study the world.”
The world accordingly was his study;
and the exquisite models of character
which it furnished him, will last as long
as it shall endure.

[pg 143]
Though an habitual valetudinarian,
Molière relied almost wholly on the temperance
of his diet for the reestablishment
of his health. “What use do you
make of your physician?” said the king
to him one day. “We chat together,
Sire,” said the poet. “He gives me his
prescriptions; I never follow them; and
so I get well.”

In Molière’s time, the profession of a
comedian was but lightly esteemed in
France at this period. Molière experienced
the inconveniences resulting from
this circumstance, even after his splendid
literary career had given him undoubted
claims to consideration. Most of our readers
no doubt, are acquainted with the
anecdote of Belloc, an agreeable poet of
the court, who, on hearing one of the servants
in the royal household refuse to aid
the author of the Tartuffe in making the
king’s bed, courteously requested “the
poet to accept his services for that purpose.”
Madame Campan’s anecdote of
a similar courtesy, on the part of Louis
the Fourteenth, is also well known; who,
when several of these functionaries refused
to sit at table with the comedian,
kindly invited him to sit down with him,
and, calling in some of his principal
courtiers, remarked that “he had requested
the pleasure of Molière’s company
at his own table, as it was not
thought quite good enough for his officers.”
This rebuke had the desired
effect.

Molière died in 1673, he had been long
affected by a pulmonary complaint, and
it was only by severe temperance that he
was enabled to preserve even a moderate
degree of health. At the commencement
of the year, his malady sensibly increased.
At this very season, he composed his
Malade Imaginaire; the most whimsical,
and perhaps the most amusing of the
compositions, in which he has indulged
his raillery against the faculty. On the
17th of February, being the day appointed
for its fourth representation, his
friends would have dissuaded him from
appearing, in consequence of his increasing
indisposition. But he persisted in
his design, alleging “that more than
fifty poor individuals depended for their
daily bread on its performance.” His
life fell a sacrifice to his benevolence.
The exertions which he was compelled to
make in playing the principal part of
Argan aggravated his distemper, and as
he was repeating the word juro, in the
concluding ceremony, he fell into a convulsion,
which he vainly endeavoured to
disguise from the spectators under a
forced smile. He was immediately carried
to his house, in the Rue de Richelieu,
now No. 34. A violent fit of
coughing, on his arrival, occasioned the
rupture of a blood-vessel; and seeing
his end approaching, he sent for two ecclesiastics
of the parish of St. Eustace,
to which he belonged, to administer to
him the last offices of religion. But
these worthy persons having refused their
assistance, before a third, who had been
sent for, could arrive, Molière, suffocated
with the effusion of blood, had expired
in the arms of his family.

Molière died soon after entering upon
his fifty-second year. He is represented
to have been somewhat above the middle
stature, and well proportioned; his features
large, his complexion dark, and his
black, bushy eye-brows so flexible, as to
admit of his giving an infinitely comic
expression to his physiognomy. He was
the best actor of his own generation, and
by his counsels, formed the celebrated
Baron, the best of the succeeding. He
played all the range of his own characters,
from Alceste to Sganarelle; though
he seems to have been peculiarly fitted
for broad comedy.

He produced all his pieces, amounting
to thirty, in the short space of fifteen
years. He was in the habit of reading
these to an old female domestic, by the
name of La Forêt; on whose unsophisticated
judgment he greatly relied. On
one occasion when he attempted to impose
upon her the production of a brother author,
she plainly told him that he had
never written it. Sir Walter Scott may
have had this habit of Molière’s in his
mind, when he introduced a similar expedient
into his “Chronicles of the Canongate.”
For the same reason, our
poet used to request the comedians to
bring their children with them, when he
recited to them a new play. The peculiar
advantage of this humble criticism, in
dramatic compositions, is obvious. Alfieri
himself, as he informs us, did not
disdain to resort to it.

Molière was naturally of a reserved
and taciturn temper; insomuch that his
friend Boileau used to call him the Contemplateur.
Strangers who had expected
to recognise in his conversation the sallies
of wit which distinguished his dramas,
went away disappointed. The same thing
is related of La Fontaine. The truth is,
that Molière went into society as a spectator,
not as an actor; he found there
the studies for the characters, which he
was to transport upon the stage; and he
occupied himself with observing them.
The dreamer, La Fontaine, lived too in
a world of his own creation. His friend,
Madame de la Sablière, paid to him this
untranslateable compliment; “En vérité,
[pg 144]
mon cher La Fontaine, vous seriez bien
bête, si vous n’aviez pas tant d’esprit.”
These unseasonable reveries brought him,
it may be imagined, into many whimsical
adventures. The great Corneille, too,
was distinguished by the same apathy.
A gentleman dined at the same table
with him for six months, without suspecting
the author of the “Cid.”

Molière enjoyed the closest intimacy
with the great Condé, the most distinguished
ornament of the court of Louis
the Fourteenth; to such an extent indeed,
that the latter directed, that the
poet should never be refused admission to
him, at whatever hour he might choose
to pay his visit. His regard for his
friend was testified by his remark, rather
more candid than courteous, to an Abbé
of his acquaintance, who had brought
him an epitaph, of his own writing, upon
the deceased poet. “Would to heaven,”
said the prince, “that he were in a condition
to bring me yours.”

DOMESTIC HABITS OF NAPOLEON.

At nine o’clock the emperor came out of
his sleeping apartments, dressed for the
whole day. First the officers on duty
were admitted, and received their orders
for the day. Then the grandes entrees
and the officers of the household not on
duty were introduced; and if any one
had any particular communication to
make, he staid till the public audience
was concluded. At half after nine o’clock
Napoleon breakfasted, on a small mahogany
table with one leg, and covered with
a napkin. The prefect of the palace stood
close by this table, with his hat under
his arm. The breakfast rarely lasted beyond
eight minutes. Sometimes, however,
men of science or literature, or distinguished
artists, were admitted at this
time, with whom Napoleon is represented
to have conversed in an easy and lively
style. Amongst these were M. Monge,
Costaz, Denon, Bertholet, Corvisart, David,
Gerard, Isabey, Talma, and Fontaine.
Dinner was served at six o’clock;
the emperor and the empress dined alone
on the common days of the week, but on
Sunday all the imperial family attended,
upon which occasion Napoleon, the empress,
and Madame Mère had arm-chairs,
and the rest chairs without arms. There
was only one course. The emperor drank
no wine but Chambertin, and that usually
mixed with water. Dinner lasted in general
from fifteen to twenty minutes. All
this time the prefect of the palace had to
superintend the affair en grand, and to
answer any questions put to him. In the
drawing-room a page presented to the
emperor a waiter with a cup and a sugar-stand.
Le chef d’office poured out the
coffee; the empress took the cup from
the emperor; the page and the chef
d’office retired; the prefect waited till the
empress had poured the coffee into the
saucer and given it to Napoleon. After
this the emperor went to his papers again,
and the empress played at cards. Sometimes
he would come and talk a little
while with the people of the household in
the apartments of the empress, but not
often, and he never staid long. Upon
his retiring, the officers on duty attended
the audience du coucher, and received
their orders for the morrow. This was
the ordinary economy of the emperor’s
time, when not with the army.

Napoleon read the English newspapers
every day in French, and M. de Bausset
says the translation was rigorously exact.
One day in January, 1811, the emperor
gave some of these extracts to de B., and
ordered him to read them aloud during
dinner. The prefect got on pretty well,
till he stumbled at some uncouth epithets,
with which he was puzzled how to
deal, especially in the presence of the
empress, and a room full of domestics.
He blew his nose, and skipped the words—”No!”
said Napoleon, “read out!
you will find many more.” “I should
be wanting—” “Read, I tell you,” repeated
the emperor, “read every thing!”
At last de B. ran upon “tyrant or despot,”
which he commuted for “emperor.” Napoleon
caught the paper out of his hands,
read the real phrase aloud, and then ordered
M. de B. to continue. These translations
used to be made by Maret, Duke
of Bassano.

The Gatherer.

RETENTIVE MEMORY.

The historian, Fuller, in 1607, had a
most retentive memory; he could repeat
500 strange, unconnected words, after
twice hearing them; and a sermon verbatim,
after reading it once. He undertook,
after passing from Temple Bar to
the farthest part of Cheapside and back
again, to mention all the signs over the
shops on both sides of the streets, repeated
them backwards and forwards, and
performed the task with great exactness.

J.T.S.

EVE’S TOMB.

About two miles northward of Djidda
is shown the tomb of Howa (Eve), the
mother of mankind; it is, as I was informed,
[pg 145]
a rude structure of stone, about
four feet in length, two or three feet in
height, and as many in breadth; thus
resembling the tomb of Noah, seen in the
valley of Bekaa, in Syria—Burckhardt’s
Travels in Arabia.

ACROSTIC ON THE EYES.

VOLTAIRE.

When Voltaire was once ridiculing our
immortal author of “Paradise Lost,” in
the presence of Dr. Young, it is said the
latter delivered the following extempore:

VENTILATION.

Garrick told Cibber, “that his pieces
were the best ventilators to his theatre at
Drury Lane; for as soon as any of them
were played, the audience directly left the
house.”

ACROSTIC TO BRAHAM.

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Footnote 1: (return)

See No. 356 of the MIRROR, “Valentine’s Day.”

Footnote 2: (return)

See MIRROR, No. 306, p 234.

Footnote 3: (return)

WHITEHALL was originally erected in the
year 1243, by Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent,
who bequeathed it to the House of the Blackfriars,
near “Oldborne,” where he was buried.
It was afterwards purchased by Walter Gray,
Archbishop of York, who made it his town residence,
and at his death, left it to that See,
whence it acquired the name of York House.
Cardinal Wolsey, on his preferment to the
Archbishoprick of York, resided here, in great
state; but on his premunire it was forfeited (or
as some authors assert had been previously
given by him,) to the king. Henry VIII. made
it his principal residence, and greatly enlarged
it, the ancient and royal palace of Westminster
having fallen to decay; at the same time he enclosed
the adjoining park of St. James’s, which
appertained to this palace as well as to that of
St. James’s, which that monarch had erected on
the site of an ancient hospital, founded before
the conquest for “leprous sisters.” For some
curious details of Wolsey’s magnificence and
ostentation during his residence at York Place,
we refer the reader to the second volume of Mr.
Brayley’s Londiniana.

Footnote 4: (return)

Hall’s “Chronicle,” p. 794. edit. 1809.

Footnote 5: (return)

Holinshed says, “he married priuilie the
Lady Anne Bullougne the same daie, being the
14th daie of Nouember, and the feast daie of
Saint Erkenwald; which marriage was kept so
secret, that verie few knew it till Easter next
insuing, when it was perceiued that she was
with child.”—”Chronicles,” vol. iii. p. 929.
edit. 1587.

Footnote 6: (return)

Hume and Henry place the marriage in November.
Lingard and Sharon Turner in January.

Footnote 7: (return)

Vide Stow’s “Annals,” by Howes, p. 562.
edit. 1633. “King Henry priuily married the
Lady Anne Boleigne on the fiue and twentieth
of January, being St. Paul’s daie: Mistresse
Anne Sauage bore vp Queene Annes traine, and
was herselfe shortly after marryed to the Lord
Barkley. Doctor Rowland Lee, that marryed
the King to Queene Anne, was made Bishop of
Chester, then Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield,
and President of Wales.”

Footnote 8: (return)

Harleian MSS. No. 6148. This letter is
quoted by Burnet in the first volume of his
“History of the Reformation:” it may be found
printed entire in the eighteenth volume of the
“Archæologia:” and also in the second volume
of Ellis’s “Original Letters,” first series, p. 33.
The MS. consists of a rough copy-book of the
Archbishop’s letters, in his own hand writing.

Footnote 9: (return)

Wyatt’s Life of “Queen Anne Boleigne.”
Vide Appendix to Cavendish’s “Life of Wolsey,”
by Singer, vol. ii. p. 200. This interesting memoir
was written at the close of the sixteenth
century, (with the view of subverting the calumnies
of Sanders,) by George Wyatt, Esq, grandson
of the poet of the same name, and sixth
son and heir of Sir Thomas Wyatt, who was decapitated
in the reign of Queen Mary, for his
insurrection.

Footnote 10: (return)

“Annales,” p. 51. edit. 1616. “Ulterioris
moræ perlæsus Rex, Boleniam suam iam tandem
Januarij 25, duxit uxorem, sed clauculum,
& paucissimis testibus adhibitis.” Polydor Virgil
makes no mention of the period of the marriage,
he only says, “in matrimonium duxit
Annam Bulleyne, quam paulò antè amare cæperat.
ex quâ suscepit filiam nomine Elizabeth.”
p. 689. edit. 1570.

Footnote 11: (return)

Hume’s “History of England,” vol. iv. p 3.

Footnote 12: (return)

Lingard’s “History of England,” vol. iv.
p. 190. 4to edit.

Footnote 13: (return)

Vide Speed’s “Annals,” p. 1029.

Footnote 14: (return)

“Life and Raigne of Henry the Eighth,”
p. 341. edit. 1649.

Footnote 15: (return)

Harleian MSS. No. 787.

Footnote 16: (return)

Queen Elizabeth was born at the ancient
Palace of Greenwich, or as it was then called,
“the Manner of Plesaunce,” one of the favourite
residences of Henry VIII.

Footnote 17: (return)

Rutherglen, in Lanarkshire, has also long
been celebrated for baking sour cakes—See
vol. X. MIRROR, p 316.—I am of opinion these
cakes are of precisely the same make and origin
as those to which the writer alludes under the
above name of “sour cakes,” which I presume
he must have forgotten the name of. I should
have mentioned, that when these cakes (for they
are frequently called avver cakes) are baked,
the fire must be of wood; they never bake them
over any other fire. These cakes are of a remarkably
strong, sour taste. I should further
note, that the girdle is attached to a “crane”
affixed in the chimney.

Footnote 18: (return)

Quasi Townsend

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