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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 12, No. 335, October 11, 1828 online

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assurance in his favour; and in his own idea, at the least, was what I
heard a poor devil of a candle-snuffer once denominate George Frederic
Cooke, the tragedian, - "a rare specimen of exalted humanity;" and the
actor was certainly in a rare spirit of exaltation at the moment. His
delicate frame was enveloped by a dandy harness, so admirably ordered and
adjusted, that he moved in fear of involving his Stultz in the danger of a
plait; his kid-clad fingers scarcely supported the weight of his
yellow-lined Leghorn; all that was man about him, was in his spurs and
mustachios; and, even with them, he seemed there a moth exposed to an
Alpine blast, - some mamma's darling, injudiciously and cruelly abandoned
to the risk of cold, in a land where Savory and Moore were yet unheard of,
"Beppo in London" wholly unknown, Hoby unesteemed, Gunter misprized, and
where George Brummell had never, never trod. After having bestowed a wild
inexpressive stare at the cannibals assembled, male and
female, - depositing his Vyse, running his digits through his perfumed
hair, raising his shirt-collar so as to form an angle of forty-five with
his purple _Gros de Naples_ cravat, and applying his gold-turned
snuff-box to his nose, Money (who has lived long in England, and speaks
its language well) ventured to address him, by demanding if he should
place a cover for him. "Sar! - your - appellation - if - you please?" the
drawling and affected response of the fop. "Money, Sir." "the sign of the
place - the thing - the _auberge_?" "The Three Crowns, Sir." "Money of
the country, I presume! - Good - stop - put that down - Mem:" and he took his
tablets from his pocket. "Money - Three Crowns - Capital that - will do for
Dibdin, - if not, give it Theodore Hook. And the name of your - your town,
my man?" "Vevay, Sir!" "And that liquid concern I see from the
wind_ar_?" "The Lake, Sir - the Lake of Geneva." "Good gracious!
_all_ Geneva?" "Otherwise termed the Leman, Sir." "Lemon! ha! a sort
of gin-punch, I presume - acidulated blue-ruin - Vastly vulgar, by
Petersham - only fit for the Cider-cellar, Three Crowns - And
that - that - white thing there on the other side of the punch-bowl, Money?"
"That is Gin-goulph, Sir." "Gin-gulp! appropriate certainly, but
de-ci-ded-ly - low." "Will you please, Sir, to dine? dinner is on the
table." "Din_nar_! Crockford, be good to us! - Why - why - it is
scarcely more than noon, Crowns. - What would Lady Diana say? - But true! I
rose at eight - so, I think, I will patronize you, my good
fell_ar_ - Long journey that from _Low_san - queer name for a
place so high; - Vastly bad country this of yours, Crowns. - What are all
those stunted poles, like _cerceau_ sticks, placed in the ground?
What do you cultivate, Crowns?" "The vine, Sir." "Wine! wine! dear me!
never knew wine grew before. In England it is a manufactory. One
moment - pardon - Mem: - Wine grows in - in - " "The Canton de Vaud, Sir." "In
the Canton de Vo, - Tell that to Carbonel and Charles Wright when I go
back. Is it Port, pray?" "No, Sir, a thin white wine." "Thin - white
- wine - runs up sticks in said Vo." "Will you permit me to help you, Sir?"
demanded Money, rather impatiently. "What have you, may I ask?"
"_Bouilli_, Sir." "Bull, what? have you no other beef? - Mem: people
living near punch-bowl eat bull beef," "There is a very nice
_culotte_, Sir, if you prefer it." "_Cu_ - what, Three Crowns?
_Culotte_! - why, in France, that is - is - inexpressibles - Mem: eat
inexpressibles roasted - Breaches of taste, by Reay - the savages! - that
will do for the Bedford - mention it to Joy - the brutes! - Neither bull nor
breeches, thank you inexpressibly, Money." "A _Blanquette de Veau_,
then, if you like, Sir." "Blanket de Vo! a cover to lay, indeed, Crowns.
Mem: inhabitants of Gin stew blankets of the country, and then eat
them - the Alsatians!" "Poultry, Sir, if you desire it." "Ah! some hopes
there, Money - What is that you hold?" "A _Poularde_, Sir." "Obliged,
Crowns - no Pull-hard thank you, devilish tough I doubt - Mem: fowl called
Pull-hard at Gin - Try again, my man." "A _Dindon_ and _dans son
jus_, Sir." "Ding dong and a dancing Jew! - sort of stewed Rothschild, I
suppose - Well! if I don't mean exactly to starve, I fear I must even
venture on the Jew. - Not bad, by Long - Mem: Dancing Jews in sauce
capital - mention that to young G - - , of the Tenth." The business of
mastication arrested for a moment the sapient remarks of the
_Impayable_, until our notice was again attracted by his leaping from
his chair, and cutting divers capers around the room, which, if they did
honour to his agility, harmonized but ill with the precisian starchness of
his habiliments, the order whereof was grievously _derangé_ by his
antics. - "Water! water! Crowns. - I have emptied the vinegar cruet by
mistake - Oh Lud! can scarcely breathe - Water! Crowns, water! in mercy."
"It was the Vin du Pays, I assure you, Sir, - nothing else upon my word."
"Water! water! oh - here - here I have it." "No, Sir; I beg - that is _Eau
de Cerises - Kirschen-wasser_ - Cherry water." - "Any - any water will
do," - and, ere Money could arrest his hand, the water-sembling but fiery
fluid, the ardent spirit of the cherry, had been swallowed at a draught.
He gaped and gasped for breath - he groaned and writhed in torment - and,
borne out in the arms of Crowns and his men, the spirit-stirring Dandy was
removed to bed, whence he arose to return, without delay, to London by the
shortest possible road, even with the fear of another _fieri facias_
before his eyes, to descant on vinous acidities, Gin Lakes, and the
liver-consuming Spa of Vo. - _New Monthly Mag._

* * * * *


ENCOMIUM MORIÆ, OR THE PRAISE OF FOLLY.


If from our purse all coin we spurn
But gold, we may from mart return.
Nor purchase what we're seeking;
And if in parties we must talk
Nothing but sterling wit, we balk
All interchange of speaking.

Small talk is like small change; it flows
A thousand different ways, and throws
Thoughts into circulation,
Of trivial value each, but which
Combin'd, make social converse rich
In cheerful animation.

As bows unbent recruit their force.
Our minds by frivolous discourse
We strengthen and embellish,
"Let us be wise," said Plato once,
When talking nonsense - "yonder dunce
For folly has no relish."

The solemn bore, who holds that speech
Was given us to prose and preach,
And not for lighter usance,
Straight should be sent to Coventry;
Or _omnium concensu_, be
Indicted as a nuisance.

Though dull the joke, 'tis wise to laugh,
Parch'd be the tongue that cannot quaff
Save from a golden chalice;
Let jesters seek no other plea,
Than that their merriment be free
From bitterness and malice.

Silence at once the ribald clown.
And check with an indignant frown
The scurrilous backbiter;
But speed good-humour as it runs,
Be even tolerant of puns,
And every mirth-exciter.

The wag who even fails may claim
Indulgence for his cheerful aim;
We should applaud, not hiss him;
This is a pardon which we grant,
(The Latin gives the rhime I want,)
"Et petimus vicissim."

_Ibid._

* * * * *


Your love is like the gnats, John,
That hum at close of day:
That sting, and leave a scar behind,
Then sing and fly away.

_Weekly Review_.

* * * * *



VILLANOVA MILL.

[Illustration]


The Portuguese mills have a very extraordinary appearance, owing chiefly
to the shape of their arms or sails, _the construction of which differs
from that of all other mills in Europe_.

Villanova de Milfontès is a little town, situated at the mouth of a little
river which flows from the _Sierra de Monchique_. Formerly there was
a port here, formed by a little bay, and defended by a castle, which might
have been of some importance at a period when the Moors made such frequent
incursions upon the coasts of the kingdom of the Algarves; at present a
dangerous bar and banks of quicksands hinder any vessels larger than small
fishing-boats from entering the port.

Fig trees from 20 to 30 feet high overshadow the moat of the castle, and
aloes plants as luxuriant as those of Andalusia, shoot up their stems
crowned with flowers along the shores of the bay, and by the sides of the
roads, whose windings are lost amongst the gardens that surround
Milfontès.

* * * * *

We have seen Mr. HAYDON'S PICTURE of the _Chairing of the Members_;
but must defer our description till the next number of the MIRROR. In the
meantime we recommend our readers to visit the exhibition, so that they
may compare notes with us. "The Chairing" is even superior to the
"Election."

* * * * *



NOTES OF A READER.

* * * * *


STORY OF RIENZI.

(_The original of Miss Mitford's New Tragedy._)


In the year 1437, an obscure man, Nicola di Rienzi, conceived the project
of restoring Rome, then in degradation and wretchedness, not only to good
order, but even to her ancient greatness. He had received an education
beyond his birth, and nourished his mind with the study of the best
writers. After many harangues to the people, which the nobility, blinded
by their self-confidence, did not attempt to repress, Rienzi suddenly
excited an insurrection, and obtained complete success. He was placed at
the head of a new government, with the title of Tribune, and with almost
unlimited power. The first effects of this revolution were wonderful. All
the nobles submitted, though with great reluctance; the roads were cleared
of robbers; tranquillity was restored at home; some severe examples of
justice intimidated offenders; and the tribune was regarded by all the
people as the destined restorer of Rome and Italy. Most of the Italian
republics, and some of the princes, sent embassadors, and seemed to
recognise pretensions which were tolerably ostentatious. The King of
Hungary and Queen of Naples submitted their quarrel to the arbitration of
Rienzi, who did not, however, undertake to decide it. But this sudden
exaltation intoxicated his understanding, and exhibited feelings entirely
incompatible with his elevated condition. If Rienzi had lived in our own
age, his talents, which were really great, would have found their proper
orbit, for his character was one not unusual among literary politicians; a
combination of knowledge, eloquence, and enthusiasm for ideal excellence,
with vanity, inexperience of mankind, unsteadiness, and physical timidity.
As these latter qualities became conspicuous, they eclipsed his virtues,
and caused his benefits to be forgotten: he was compelled to abdicate his
government, and retire into exile. After several years, some of which he
passed in the prison of Avignon, Rienzi was brought back to Rome, with the
title of senator, and under the command of the legate. It was supposed
that the Romans, who had returned to their habits of insubordination,
would gladly submit to their favourite tribune. And this proved the case
for a few months; but after that time they ceased altogether to respect a
man who so little respected himself in accepting a station where he could
no longer be free, and Rienzi was killed in a sedition.

"The doors of the capitol," says Gibbon, "were destroyed with axes and
with fire; and while the senator attempted to escape in a plebeian garb,
he was dragged to the platform of his palace, the fatal scene of his
judgments and executions;" and after enduring the protracted tortures of
suspense and insult, he was pierced with a thousand daggers, amidst the
execrations of the people.

At Rome is still shown a curious old brick dwelling, distinguished by the
appellation of "The House of Pilate," but known to be the house of Rienzi.
It is exactly such as would please the known taste of the Roman tribune,
being composed of heterogeneous scraps of ancient marble, patched up with
barbarous brick pilasters of his own age; affording an apt exemplification
of his own character, in which piecemeal fragments of Roman virtue, and
attachment to feudal state - abstract love of liberty, and practice of
tyranny - formed as incongruous a compound.

* * * * *


ENGLISH WARS.


A pamphlet, entitled, _A Call upon the People of Great Britain and
Ireland_, has lately reached us; but as its contents are purely
political, we must content ourselves with a few historical data. Thus, of
the 127 years from the Revolution to 1815, 65 have passed in war, during
which "high trials of right," 2,023-1/2 millions have been expended in
_seven wars_. Of these we give a synopsis:

Lasted Cost
Years. in
Millions.
War of the Revolution, 1688-1697 9 36
War of Spanish Succession, 1702-1713 11 62-1/2
Spanish War, 1739-1748 9 54
Seven Years' War, 1756-1763 7 112
American War, 1775-1783 8 136
War of the French Revolution,
1793-1802 9 464
War against Napoleon, 1803-1815 12 1159

Of this expenditure we borrowed 834-1/2 millions, and raised by taxes
1,189 millions. During the 127 years, the annual poor-rates rose from 3/4
of a million to 5-1/2 millions, and the price of wheat from 44s. to 92s.
8d. per quarter.

But it is time to clear _the table_, for it "strikes us more dead
than a great reckoning in a little room."

* * * * *


CHAIN OF BEING.


Our thanks are due to Mr. Dillon for a copy of the second edition of his
_Popular Premises Examined_, which we have read with considerable
interest. The "opinions" are as popularly examined as is consistent with
philosophical inquiry; but they are still not just calculated for the
majority of the readers of the MIRROR. We, nevertheless, make one short
extract, which will be acceptable to every well-regulated mind; and
characteristic of the tone of good-feeling throughout Mr. Dillon's
important little treatise.

"The spheres which we behold may each have their variety of intelligent
'being,' as links in nature's beautiful chain, connecting the smallest
insect with the incomprehensible and immutable God. The beautiful variety
we see in his works portrays His will, and we are justified in following
this variety up to His throne. His attributes of love and joy beam forth
from the heavens, and are reflected from every species of sensitive being.
All have different capacities for enjoyment, all have pleasure and
delight, from the lark warbling above her nest, to man walking in the
resplendent gardens of heaven, and enjoying, under the smiling approbation
of Providence, the flowers and fruits that surround him."

* * * * *

No man without the support and encouragement of friends, and having proper
opportunities thrown in his way, is able to rise at once from obscurity,
by the force of his own unassisted genius. - _Pliny's Letters_.

* * * * *


RABBIS

Constitute a sort of nobility of the Jews, and it is the first object of
each parent that his sons shall, if possible, attain it. When, therefore,
a boy displays a peculiarly acute mind and studious habits, he is placed
before the twelve folio volumes of the Talmud, and its legion of
commentaries and epitomes, which he is made to pore over with an
intenseness which engrosses his faculties entirely, and often leaves him
in mind, and occasionally in body, fit for nothing else; and so vigilant
and jealous a discipline is exercised so to fence him round as to secure
his being exclusively Talmudical, and destitute of every other learning
and knowledge whatever, that one individual has lately met with three
young men, educated as rabbis, who were born and lived to manhood in the
middle of Poland, and yet knew not one word of its language. To speak
Polish on the Sabbath is to profane it - so say the orthodox Polish Jews.
If at the age of fourteen or fifteen years, or still earlier, (for the Jew
ceases to be a minor when thirteen years old,) this Talmudical student
realizes the hopes of his childhood, he becomes an object of research
among the wealthy Jews, who are anxious that their daughters shall attain
the honour of becoming the brides of these embryo santons; and often, when
he is thus young, and his bride still younger, the marriage is completed.

* * * * *


BARBER-SURGEONS.


Jacob de Castro was one of the first members of the Corporation of
Surgeons, after their separation from the barbers in the year 1745. On
which occasion Bonnel Thornton suggested "_Tollite Barberum_" for
their motto.

The barber-surgeons had a by-law, by which they levied ten pounds on any
person who should dissect a body out of their hall without leave. The
separation did away this and other impediments to the improvement of
surgery in England, which previously had been chiefly cultivated in
France. The barber-surgeon in those days was known by his pole, the reason
of which is sought for by a querist in "The British Apollo," fol. Lond.
1708, No. 3: -

"I'de know why he that selleth ale
Hangs out a chequer'd part per pale;
And why a barber at port-hole
Puts forth a party-colour'd pole?"

ANSWER.

"In ancient Rome, when men lov'd fighting,
And wounds and scars took much delight in,
Man-menders then had noble pay,
Which we call _surgeons_ to this day.
'Twas order'd that a huge long pole,
With basen deck'd, should grace the hole.
To guide the wounded, who unlopt
Could walk, on stumps the others hopt;
But, when they ended all their wars,
And men grew out of love with scars,
Their trade decaying, to keep swimming,
They join'd the other trade of trimming;
And to their poles, to publish either,
Thus twisted both their trades together."

From Brand's "History of Newcastle," we find that there was a branch of
the fraternity in that place; as at a meeting, 1742, of the
barber-chirurgeons, it was ordered, that they should not shave on a
Sunday, and "that no brother shave John Robinson, till he pay what he owes
to Robert Shafto." Speaking of the "grosse ignorance of the barbers," a
facetious author says, "This puts me in minde of a barber who, after he
had cupped me, (as the physitian had prescribed,) to turn a catarrhe,
asked me if I would be _sacrificed_. _Scarified_? said I; did
the physitian tell you any such thing? No, (quoth he,) but I have
sacrificed many, who have been the better for it. Then musing a little
with myselfe, I told him, Surely, sir, you mistake yourself - you meane
_scarified_. O, sir, by your favour, (quoth he,) I have ever heard it
called sacrificing; and as for scarifying, I never heard of it before. In
a word, I could by no means perswade him but that it was the barber's
office to _sacrifice_ men. Since which time I never saw any man in a
barber's hands, but that _sacrificing_ barber came to my
mind." - _Wadd's Nugæ_.

* * * * *

Sir Theodore Mayerne may be considered one of the earliest reformers of
the practice of physic. He left some papers written in elegant Latin, in
the Ashmolean Collection, which contain many curious particulars relative
to the first invention of several medicines, and the state of physic at
that period. Petitot, the celebrated enameller, owed his success in
colouring to some chemical secrets communicated to him by Sir Theodore.

He was a voluminous writer, and, among others, wrote a book of receipts in
cookery. Many were the good and savoury things invented by Sir Theodore;
his maxims, and those of Sir John Hill, under the cloak of _Mrs_.
Glasse, might have directed our stew-pans to this hour, but for the more
scientific instructions of the renowned Mrs. Rundall, or of the still more
scientific Dr. Kitchiner, who has verified the old adage, that the
"_Kitchen is the handmaid to Physic_;" and if it be true that we are
to regard a "good cook as in the nature of a good physician," then is Dr.
Kitchiner the best physician that ever condescended to treat "_de re
culinaria_."

Sir Theodore may, in a degree, be said to have fallen a victim to _bad
cookery_; for he is reported to have died of the effects of bad wine,
which he drank at a tavern in the Strand. He foretold it would be fatal,
and died, as it were, out of compliment to his own prediction. - _Ibid._

* * * * *



THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

* * * * *


THE COFFEE-DRINKER'S MANUAL.


We would say of coffee-making in England, as Hamlet did of acting, "Oh,
reform it altogether." Accordingly, the publication of a pleasant trifle,
under the above name, is not ill-timed. Like all our modern farces, it is
from the French, and as the translator informs us, the editor of the
original is "of the _Café de Foi_, at Paris."

It opens with the _History of Coffee_, from its discovery by a monk
in the 17th century, to the establishment of _cafés_ in Paris, of
which we have a brief notice, with additions by the translator.

Next is "the French method of making coffee, with the roasting, grinding,
and infusion processes"; and an interesting chapter on "coffee in the
East." Under the "medicinal effects" we have the following, which is full
of the _gaiete de coeur_ of French writing: -

_Influence of Coffee upon the Spirits_. If coffee had been known
among the Greeks and Romans, Homer would have taken his lyre to celebrate
its virtues; Horace and Juvenal would have immortalized it in their
verses; Diogenes would not have concealed his ill-humour in a tub, but
would have drunk of this divine liquid, and have directly found the honest
man he sought for; it would have made Heraclitus merry; and with what odes
would it have inspired the muse of Anacreon!

In short, who can enumerate the wonderful effects of coffee!

Seest thou that morose figure, that pale complexion, those deadened eyes,
and faded lips? It is a lamentable fit of spleen. The whole faculty have
been sent for, but their art is unavailing. She is given over. Happily one
of her friends counsels her against despair, prescribes a few cups of
Moka, and the dying patient, being restored to health, concludes with
anathematizing the faculty, who would thus have sacrificed her life.

The complexion of this young girl was, as the poets would say, of lilies
and roses; never was there a form more celestial, or one more gifted with
life and vigour.

Arrived at this stage, so fatal to the existence of females, the young
girl sickened, lost her colour, and those cheeks, but yesterday so
brilliant, were dull and heavy. "Travelling," said one; "a husband," said
another; "coffee, coffee," replied a doctor. Coffee flowed in abundance,
and then the drooping flower revived, and flourished again.

O! all ye who have essayed at rhyme, say if you have not often derived
your happiest thoughts from this inspiring beverage. Delille has some
beautiful lines, and Berchoux, in his poem of _Gastronomie_, has a
pompous eulogium on its virtues.

Coffee occupies a grand place in the life and pursuits of the
_gastronomer_. Oft-times on leaving table his head aches and becomes
heavy; he rises with pain; the savoury smells of viands, the flame of
wax-lights, and the imperceptible gases which escape from innumerable
wines and liqueurs, have produced around him a kind of mist or shade,
equal to what the poet calls darkness visible. Coffee is quickly brought;
our _gastronomer_ inhales the aroma, sips drop by drop this ambrosian
beverage, and his head already lightened, he walks with his accustomed
vigour. What gaiety smiles in his countenance! the liveliest sallies of
wit flow unnumbered from his lips; he is another being - a new man; but
coffee alone has produced this regeneration. The late Doctor Gastaldi, who
was an excellent table companion, used to say that he should have died ten
times of indigestion if he had not accustomed himself to take coffee after
dinner.

Would you then sleep tranquilly after your meal, and never fear those
dreams which are so fatal to _gourmands_, quaff your coffee; it will
fall like dew upon your lips, and sweetly temper with all those juices
which oppress your exhausted stomach. If you can, drink your coffee
without sugar, for then it preserves its natural flavour, and is much more


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Online LibraryVariousThe Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 12, No. 335, October 11, 1828 → online text (page 2 of 4)