Read Ebook: The Mirror of Literature Amusement and Instruction. Volume 12 No. 337 October 25 1828 by Various

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 118 lines and 18205 words, and 3 pages

BEAUTIFUL INFLUENCES.

Who hath not felt the magic of a voice,-- Its spirit haunt him in romantic hours? Who hath not heard from Melody's own lips Sounds that become a music to his mind?-- Music is heaven! and in the festive dome, When throbs the lyre, as if instinct with life, And some sweet mouth is full of song,--how soon A rapture flows from eye to eye, from heart To heart--while floating from the past, the forms We love are recreated, and the smile That lights the cheek is mirror'd on the heart! So beautiful the influence of sound, There is a sweetness in the homely chime Of village bells: I love to hear them roll Upon the breeze; like voices from the dead, They seem to hail us from a viewless world.

We know a reverend vicar who once took the trouble to count all the quotations from Scripture, which occurred in a charity sermon he had just printed: and his great satisfaction at the conclusion was, that his was indeed "a scriptural sermon."

PERSECUTION OF THE JEWS.

ABSENTEES

Soon become detached from all habitual employments and duties; the salutary feeling of home is lost; early friendships are dissevered, and life becomes a vague and restless state, freed, it may seem, from many ties, but yet more destitute of the better and purer pleasures of existence.

ITINERANT OPERAS.

THE GAMUT.

GHOST STORY, BY M.G. LEWIS.

A gentleman journeying towards the house of a friend, who lived on the skirts of an extensive forest, in the east of Germany, lost his way. He wandered for some time among the trees, when he saw a light at a distance. On approaching it he was surprised to observe that it proceeded from the interior of a ruined monastery. Before he knocked at the gate he thought it proper to look through the window. He saw a number of cats assembled round a small grave, four of whom were at that moment letting down a coffin with a crown upon it. The gentleman startled at this unusual sight, and, imagining that he had arrived at the retreats of fiends or witches, mounted his horse and rode away with the utmost precipitation. He arrived at his friend's house at a late hour, who sat up waiting for him. On his arrival his friend questioned him as to the cause of the traces of agitation visible in his face. He began to recount his adventures after much hesitation, knowing that it was scarcely possible that his friend should give faith to his relation. No sooner had he mentioned the coffin with the crown upon it, than his friend's cat, who seemed to have been lying asleep before the fire, leaped up, crying out, "Then I am king of the cats;" and then scrambled up the chimney, and was never seen more.

RIDICULOUS MISTAKE.

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

ENGLISH COUNTRY LIFE.

The country seats of England form, indeed, one of the most remarkable features, not only in English landscape, but yet more in what may be termed the genius and economy of English manners. Their great number throughout the country, the varied grandeur and beauty of their parks and gardens, the extent, magnificence, and various architecture of the houses, the luxurious comfort and completeness of their internal arrangements, and their relation generally to the character of the peasantry surrounding them, justify fully the expression we have used. No where has this mode of life attained so high a degree of perfection and refinement. We will allude to two circumstances, amongst many others, in illustration. The first of these is, the very great number of valuable libraries belonging to our family seats. It has been sometimes remarked as singular, that England should possess so few great public libraries, while a poorer country, like Germany, can boast of its numerous and vast collections at Vienna, Prague, Munich, Stutgard, Goettingen, Wolfenbuttel, &c. The fact is partly explained by the many political divisions and capitals, and by the number of universities in Germany. But a further explanation may be found in the innumerable private libraries dispersed throughout England--many of them equal to public ones in extent and value, and most of them well furnished in classics, and in English and French literature.

FLOWERS.

When summer's delightful season arrives, rarely in this country too warm to be enjoyed throughout the day in the open air, there is nothing more grateful than a profusion of choice flowers around and within our dwellings. The humblest apartments ornamented with these beautiful productions of nature have, in my view, a more delightful effect than the proudest saloons with gilded ceilings and hangings of Genoa velvet. The richness of the latter, indeed, would be heightened, and their elegance increased, by the judicious introduction of flowers and foliage into them. The odour of flowers, the cool appearance of the dark green leaves of some species, and the beautiful tints and varied forms of others, are singularly grateful to the sight, and refreshing at the same time. Vases of Etruscan mould, containing plants of the commonest kind, offer those lines of beauty which the eye delights in following; and variform leaves hanging festooned over them, and shading them if they be of a light colour, with a soft grateful hue, add much to their pleasing effect. These decorations are simple and cheap.

Lord Bacon, whose magnificence of mind exempts him from every objection as a model for the rest of mankind, , was enthusiastically attached to flowers, and kept a succession of them about him in his study and at his table. Now the union of books and flowers is more particularly agreeable. Nothing, in my view, is half so delightful as a library set off with these beautiful productions of the earth during summer, or indeed, any other season of the year. A library or study, opening on green turf, and having the view of a distant rugged country, with a peep at the ocean between hills, a small fertile space forming the nearest ground, and an easy chair and books, is just as much of local enjoyment as a thinking man can desire--I reck not if under a thatched or slated roof, to me it is the same thing. A favourite author on my table, in the midst of my bouquets, and I speedily forget how the rest of the world wags. I fancy I am enjoying nature and art together, a consummation of luxury that never palls upon the appetite--a dessert of uncloying sweets.

Madame Roland seems to have felt very strongly the union of mental pleasure with that afforded to the senses by flowers. She somewhere says, "La v?e d'une fleur carresse mon imagination et flatte mes sens ? un point inexprimable; elle r?veille avec volupt? le sentiment de mon existence. Sous le tranquil abri du toit paternel, j'?tois heureuse des enfance avec des fleurs et des livres; dans l'?troite enciente d'une prison, au milieu des fers impos?s par la tyrannie la plus revoltante, j'oublie l'injustice des hommes, leurs sottises, et mes maux, avec des livres et des fleurs." These pleasures, however, are too simple to be universally felt.

There is something delightful in the use which the eastern poets, particularly the Persian, make of flowers in their poetry. Their allusions are not casual, and in the way of metaphor and simile only; they seem really to hold them in high admiration. I am not aware that the flowers of Persia, except the rose, are more beautiful or more various than those of other countries. Perhaps England, including her gardens, green-houses, and fields, having introduced a vast variety from every climate, may exhibit a list unrivalled, as a whole, in odour and beauty. Yet flowers are not with us held in such high estimation as among the Orientals, if we are to judge from their poets.

Bowers of roses and flowers are perpetually alluded to in the writings of eastern poets. The Turks, and indeed the Orientals in general, have few images of voluptuousness without the richest flowers contributing towards them. The noblest palaces, where gilding, damask, and fine carpeting abound, would be essentially wanting in luxury without flowers. It cannot be from their odour alone that they are thus identified with pleasure; it is from their union of exquisite hues, fragrance, and beautiful forms, that they raise a sentiment of voluptuousness, in the mind; for whatever unites these qualities can scarcely do otherwise.

Whoever virtuously despises the opinion that simple and cheap pleasures, not only good, but in the very best taste, are of no value because they want a meretricious rarity, will fill their apartments with a succession of our better garden flowers. It has been said that flowers placed in bedrooms are not wholesome. This cannot be meant of such as are in a state of vegetation. Plucked and put into water, they quickly decay, and doubtless, give out a putrescent air; when alive and growing, there need not be any danger apprehended from them, provided fresh air is frequently introduced. For spacious rooms, the better kinds, during warm weather, are those which have a large leaf and bossy flower. Large leaves have a very agreeable effect on the senses; their rich green is grateful to the sight; of this kind, the Hydrangaea is remarkably well adapted for apartments, but it requires plenty of water. Those who have a greenhouse connected with their dwellings, have the convenience, by management, of changing their plants as the flowers decay; those who have not, and yet have space to afford them light and occasionally air, may rear most of those kinds under their own roof, which may be applied for ornament in summer. Vases of plaster, modelled from the antique, may be stained any colour most agreeable to the fancy, and fitted with tin cases to contain the earthen pots of flowers, to prevent the damp from acting on them, will look exceedingly well.

The infinite variety of roses, including the Guelder Rose; the Rhododendron, and other plants of similar growth, are fitted for the saloon, but they please best in the library. They should be intermingled with the bookcases, and stands filled with them should be placed wherever practicable. They are a wonderful relief to the student. There is always about them a something that infuses a sensation of placid joy, cheering and refreshing. Perhaps they were first introduced at festivals, in consequence of their possessing this quality. A flower garden is the scene of pleasurable feelings of innocence and elegance. The introduction of flowers into our rooms infuses the same sensations, but intermingles them more with our domestic comforts; so that we feel, as it were, in closer contact with them. The succession might be kept up for the greater part of the year; and even in winter, evergreens will supply their places, and, in some respects, contrast well with the season. Many fail in preserving the beauty of plants in their apartments, because they do not give them sufficient light. Some species do well with much less light than others. Light is as necessary to them as air. They should not be too often shifted from one place to another. Those who will take the trouble, may quicken the growth of some plants, so as to have spring flowers in winter. Thus Autumn and Spring might be connected; and flowers blooming in the Winter of our gloomy climate possess double attraction.

In the flower garden alcove, books are doubly grateful. As in the library ornamented with flowers they seem to be more enjoyed, so their union there is irresistibly attracting. To enjoy reading under such circumstances most, works of imagination are preferable to abstract subjects. Poetry and romance--"De Vere" and "Pelham"--lighter history-- the lively letters of the French school, like those of Sevign? and others--or natural history--these are best adapted to peruse amidst sweets and flowers: in short, any species of writing that does not keep the mind too intently fixed to allow the senses to wander occasionally over the scene around, and catch the beauty of the rich vegetation. To me the enjoyment derived from the union of books and flowers is of the very highest value among pleasurable sensations.

PRINCIPLES OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

CURSES OF ABSENTEEISM.

What is the condition of the country-seat of the absentee proprietor? The mansion-house deserted and closed; the approaches to it ragged and grass grown; the chimneys, "those windpipes of good hospitality," as an old English poet calls them, giving no token of the cheerful fire within; the gardens running to waste, or, perchance, made a source of menial profit; the old family servants dismissed, and some rude bailiff, or country attorney, ruling paramount in the place. The surrounding cottagers, who have derived their support from the vicinage, deprived of this, pass into destitution and wretchedness; either abandoning their homes, throwing themselves upon parish relief, or seeking provision by means yet more desperate. The farming tenantry, though less immediately dependent, yet all partake, more or less, in the evil. The charities and hospitalities which belong to such a mansion lie dormant; the clergyman is no longer supported and aided in his important duties; the family pew in the church is closed; and the village churchyard ceases to be a place of pleasant meeting, where the peasant's heart is gladdened by the kindly notice of his landlord.

SOLILOQUY.

THE KING OF DARKNESS.

They're gone to ply their ineffectual labour,-- To sow in guilt what they must reap in woe,-- Heaping upon themselves more deep damnation. Thus would I have it.--Little once I thought, When leagued with me in crime and punishment They fell,--condemned to an eternity Of exile from all joy and holiness-- And the first stains of sinfulness and sorrow Fell blight-like o'er their cherub lineaments-- Myself the cause--Albeit too proud for tears, Yet touch'd with their sad doom, I little thought I e'er should hate them thus.--Yet thus I hate them, With all that bitter agony of soul Which is the punishment of fiends. Alas! It was my high ambition, to hold sway, Sole, paramount, unquestion'd, o'er a third Of Heaven's resplendent legions:--Power and glory Dwelt on them, like an elemental essence That could not be destroyed.--I could not deem That aught could so extinguish the pure fire Of their sun-like beauty--yet 'tis changed!-- I gain'd them to my wish, and they are grown Too hateful to be look'd on.--Thus I've seen The frail fair dupe of amorous perfidy, The victim of a smile,--by man beguiled-- Won to debasement, and then left in loathing:-- Alas! I cannot leave my fatal conquest!-- Man! would I were the humblest mortal wretch, That crawls beneath yon shadowing temple's tower, Under the sky of Canaan; so I might Lay down this weight of sceptred misery, And fly for ever from myself and these! But Pride reproves the wish; and--it is useless; The unatonable deeds of ages rise Like clouds between me and the throne of Grace. I may not hope,--or fear,--still unsubdued, As when I ruled the anarchy of Heaven, I stand in Fate's despite,--firm and impassive To all that Chance, and Time, and Ruin bring. --In that disastrous day, when this vast world Shall, like a tempest-shaken edifice, Rock into giant fractures--as the sound Of the Archangel's trump, upon the deep, Bids fall the bonds of nature, to let forth Destruction's formless fiend from world to world, Trampling the stars to darkness,--Even then, Like that proud Roman exile, musing o'er The dust of fallen Carthage, I shall stand, Myself a solemn wreck, calm and unmoved Among the ruins of the works of God. And my last look shall be a look of triumph O'er the fallen pillars of the deep and sky; The wreck of nature by my deeds prepared-- Deeds--which o'erpay the power of Destiny.

THE GATHERER.

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."

SHAKSPEARE.

ON A PICTURE OF HERO AND LEANDER.

On a tombstone in the churchyard of Christchurch, Hants, is the following curious inscription, which I copied on the spot. Perhaps some of your numerous readers can explain the same:--

WE WERE NOT SLAYNE BVT RAYSD RAYSD NOT TO LIFE BVT TO BE BVRIED TWICE BY MEN OF STRIFE

WHAT REST COVLD'TH LIVING HAVE WHEN DEAD HAD NONE AGREE AMONGST YOV HERE WE TEN ARE ONE HEN: ROGERS DIED APRILL 17, 1641. I R.

EPICURISM.

Thomas a Becket gave five pounds, equivalent to seventy-five pounds of the present money, for a dish of eels.

HALBERT H.

A famous scholar of the last century, when a boy, was exceedingly fond of the Greek language, and after he had been a short time at school, had acquired so much of the sound of the language, that when at home at dinner one day his father said, "Shall you not be glad, Harry, when you can tell me the names of every dish on the table in Greek?" "Yes," said he; "but I think I know what it must be." "Do you?" said the father; "what do you know about Greek?"--"Nothing," said the boy; "but I think I can guess from the sound of it what it would be." "Well, say then," said the father. He quickly replied, "Shouldromoton, alphagous, pasti- venizon." It appears the dinner consisted of a shoulder of mutton, half a goose, and venison pasty.

SNUFF AND TOBACCO.

In the year 1797, was circulated the following proposals for publishing by subscription, a History of Snuff and Tobacco, in Two Volumes:--

C.F.E.

THE "ILL WIND," &c.

In debt, deserted, and forlorn, A melancholy elf Resolved, upon a Monday morn, To go and hang himself. He reach'd the tree, when lo! he views A pot of gold conceal'd; He snatch'd it up, threw down the noose, And scamper'd from the field. The owner came--found out the theft, And, having scratch'd his head, Took up the rope the other left, And hung himself, instead.

OLD COOKERY.

OLD EPITAPH.

As I was, so are ye, As I am, you shall be. That I had, that I gave, That I gave, that I have. Thus I end all my cost, That I left, that I lost.

C.K.W.

PAINTERS.

Lavater affirms, that no one whose person is not well formed can become a good physiognomist. Those painters were the best whose persons were the handsomest. Reubens, Vandyke, and Raphael possessed three gradations of beauty, and possessed three gradations of painting.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet