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 THE

LONDON MAGAZINE.

NEW SERIES.

MAY to AUGUST,

1827.

VOL. VIII.

Honiron:
PUBLISHED BY HUNT AND CLARKE,
No. 4, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.

1827.
James Whiting, Engraver ami Printer to His Majesty for the Prevention of Forgery
Beaufort Houset Strand.
 ALPHABETICAL INDEX

VOL. VIII. NEW SERIES.

Alexander's Journey from India io- :Diary for the month of April, 63—for
England, reviewed, 212. "• -' • ■ the month of May, 161—for the month
American Navy, reviewed, 425. of June, 338—for the month of July,
Anecdotes of Animals, 531—difference 458.
between Man and Apes, ib. — Dr. Dibdin (Thomas), Autobiography of, re
Abel's account of an Orang Outang of viewed, 221.
Borneo, 532 — the delicacy of the
Morikina, 535—the Squirrel Monkey,
t&.—of the Mole, 536—of the Ursus
Candescens, or American Bear, ib.— Eldon (Lord), Life of, reviewed, 477.
character of the South American Coati, Emigration, 263.
537—of the Badger, ib.—of the Gris-
son, (Viverra Vittata,) ib.—description
of the Yagouare of Azara, and the Flagellum Farliamentarium, reviewed,
American Skunk, 538—description of 115.
a Pack of Dogs ; from Burchell's French Theatre in Tottenham-street, 180.
Travels in Africa, 539—anecdote of a Funds, Prices of the English and Foreign,
Wolf, 540. 136, 284, 424, 572.
Anonymous Criticism, 556.

Goodhugh's Library Manual, reviewed,

Banking, Small Notes, 327. 453.
Barrington's(SirJonah) Personal Sketches
of his Own Times, reviewed, 241.
Bees, reviewed, 50.
Ben Nazir, reviewed, 320. Harael, the Obeah Man, reviewed, 182.
Burman Empire, Judson's Mission to the, Hamiltonian System, the, 1—explana
reviewed, 285. tion of the System, 2 — method of
teaching, ib.—advantage of the double
Translation, 5—General Observations,
8.
Canning (Mr.) and his Opponents, 78. High- Ways and By- Ways: Third Series,
reviewed, 448.
Historiettes, by the Author of " The
De Vere, reviewed, 36. English in Italy," reviewed, 187.
IV ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO VOL. VIII. NEW SERIES.

Journal of a Traveller on the Continent, Magaziniana : —

reviewed, 200. Account of the Sea Serpent, 275.
The Way to obtain Three Rounds of
Applause, 276.
Korner (Theodore), the Life of, re African Cascade on the Orange Ri
viewed, 541. ver, 276.
When to kill a Lion, 277.
View from beyond Bergheim, 277.
Lapland, a Winter in, reviewed, 92. Orange Toast, 277.
Letters from a Travelling Artist to his Lion Anecdote, 277.
Friend, in the Sixteenth Century, A republican Frenchman, 277.
No. II. 361. Account of the Carrion Crow, 278.
Literary Intelligence, 134, 283, 423, The Sublime and Beautiful, 278. ~
57-1. A polite Come-off — Garrick and
West the Painter, 279.
Visitors at a German Castle, in the
Madeira, reviewed, 437. Vacation, 279.
Magaziniana :— Change of Theatrical Costume—the
ldeot Bee-eater, 125. Gods in Opposition, 279.
African Bushman's Power of sup The Wooden Walls of Ireland, 279.
porting Hunger, 126. The English on the Continent, 279.
Scarabaean Reasoning, 126. The younger Burke, a Coxcomb, 280.
Pilotage of Enthusiasm, 126. Homage to Great Men, 280.
Scenery in South Africa, 126. Mrs. Jordan's Delight in the Stage,
Elephant Hunting, 127. 280.
Santa Scala, 128. German and English Recruits, 281.
Suspended Animation, 128. Power of the Human Eye, 281.
The Virtue of Scandal, 128. .; • Pressing an Actor, or Stage Emer-
Rich Legs, 128. • ; - _• gencies, 281.
St. Peter's at Rome, 192. Fashionable Conversation, 282.
Intelligence in a Wasp, 192. The celebrated Greek Professor Por-
New Measure of Sin, 192. son, 282.
Singular Disease of Lapland Rein Franciscan Sans Culottes, 282.
deer, 192. Ecclesiastical Discernment at Rome,
African Sporting, 130. 418.
Life of French Military Officers, 130. Turkish Law at Smyrna, 418.
Hardiness of Lapland Women, 130. Lord Chatham and Mr. Canning,
Dying Consolation, 331. 419.
Character of Hindoos, 131. Turkish Sobriety, 420.
African Travelling, 132. Mercantile Catechism, 420.
Baby-making, 132. More Turkish Law, 421.
A Lunar Guide-post, 132. Biography, 421.
Controversial Dialogue between Dr. Rapid Communication, 421.
Judson and a Burmese, Oo Oung- Turkish Opium-Eaters, 421.
meng, 133. A Quaker in Rome, 421.
Cowardice of the Lion, 133. First Hebrew Bible, 422.
John Kemble's Definition of Inde A Quaker in Turkey, 422.
pendence, 271. Southern African Eloquence, 422.
Fatal Boast, 271. Abernethy Anticipated, 563.
Mrs. Jordan's "Old Habits," 271. Indian Hardiness, 563.
The elder Sheridan's poetical Ear, Persian Whittington, 564.
271. Setting in of au Indian Monsoon,
Difficulty of acquiring Oriental Lan 564.
guages, 272. Petticoat Government, 564.
Emery at the Theatrical Beef- steak Hospital for the Dumb, 565.
Club, 272. American Travelling, 565.
Othello saved from Suicide, 272. Ursine Epicurism, 566.
The Wild Pigeons of America, 273. Royal Familiarities, 567.
Letters, 274. Angelic Embassy, 567.
Inveterate Covetousness, Henderson Early Adoption of Theatrical Cos
the Actor, 275. tume, 567.
Bushman's Rice, 275. Most extraordinary Document, 567.
 ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO VOL. VIII. NEW SERIES.
Maoaziniana :— Parr's (Dr.) Library of a Peer, reviewed,
Punctilious Waiters, 567. 357.
Ice-boats, 568. Philosophy in Sport, reviewed. 384.
Empress Maria Theresa and the Due Pitt, (William, Earl of Chatham,) His
de Choiseul, 568. tory of, reviewed, 412.
Insect Sagacity, 568. Political Economy, reviewed, 313.
Kangaroo Waggery, 569.
Portuguese Ladies, 569.
The Aborigines of New South Wales, Reviewers Reviewed, the, 15.
569. Royal Institution of Great Britain, Pro
May Fair, reviewed, 208. ceedings of the, 124.
Military Sketch-Book, reviewed, 108.
Moody (Major) on Negro Labour, and
the Edinburgh Review, 84. Shakspeare Meeting at the Garrick's
Musical Reminiscences respecting the Head, Bow-street, 9.
Italian Opera in England, reviewed, Shares, Prices of, in the principal Canals,
151—Grassini, 153—Braham, 154— Docks, Waterworks, Mines, &c. 134,
Catalani, 155—Curioni, Zucchelli, and
Ronzi de Begnis, 1 56—Velluti, Cara- 282, 423, 570.
dori, and Bonini, ib.—on the misman
agement of the Opera, 158.
Thompson's Travels in Southern Africa,
reviewed, 487.
Tone, (Theobald Wolfe,) Memoirs and
New South Wales, Two Years in, re Journal of, reviewed, 137.
viewed, 517.
Niebuhr's Roman History, reviewed, 374.
North American and Quarterly Reviews,
the, 400. .Wellesley Case, the, 508.

ERRATUM.
Page 525, note, for gnue, read emv.
 NEW SERIES. No. XXIX.

CONTENTS OF TUB

LONDON MAGAZINE
FOR MAY 1, 1887.

Page
Thi [Link] System. \
Shakspeare Meeting at the Garrice's Head, Bow-street 9
The Reviewers' Reviewed to
Sibyl Leaves 39
De Verb 36
Bees 50
Diary for the Month of April 63
Mr. Canning and his Opponents 78
Major Moody on Negro Labour, and the Edinburgh Review 84
A Winter in Lapland 92
Military Sketch -Hook 108
Flaoellium Parliamentarism 115
Proceedings of the Royal Institution of Great Britain 124
Magaziniana— Idiot Bee-Eater ; African Bushman's Power of supporting
Hunger ; Scarabsn Reasoning ; Pilotage of Enthusiasm ; Scenery in South
Africa ; Elephant Hunting ; Santa Scala ; Suspended Animation ; the
Virtue of Scandal ; Rich Legs ; St. Peter's at Rome ; Intelligence in a
Wasp ; New Measure of Sin ; Singular Disease of Lapland Rein-deer ;
African Sporting ; Life of French Military Officers; Hardiness of Lapland
Women ; Dying Consolation ; Character of Hindoos ; African Travelling ;
Bahy-Making; a Lunar Guide-post ; Controversial Dialogue between Dr..
Judson and a Burmeseon ; Cowardice of the Lion 125—132
Prices of Shares in Canals, Docks, &c 154
Literary Intelligence LSI
Works lately published 135
Prices of the English and Foreign Funds 156
 THE

LONDON MAGAZINE.

M A Y 1, 1827.

THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM.

Nothing is more difficult in this transitory state than to choose the
proper medium between modesty and quackery. In the management of
useful ideas, it is equally fatal to pretend too little and to pretend too
much ; to let an invention die for want of breath, or to burst it by
excessive puffing. It is not in the way of modesty that the inventor,
as he calls himself, of the Hamiltonian " System," as he calls it, is
likely to fail.
At the outset, it must be confessed, that the weakness of human
nature affords a great encouragement to extravagant pretensions. A
man who promises to creep into a pint bottle, will attract a greater
crowd than he who promises to creep into a quart ; but when, after
a trial, the multitude have been satisfied that they cannot be de
ceived by the greatest pretender, he will have a smaller chance of
obtaining attention when he shows them that he can really thrust his
finger into the neck of the bottle.
It is the business of those sanguine and inventive geniuses who are
somewhat unjustly, though compendiously, classed under the general
name of quacks, to catch at all events public attention. For this
purpose, they not only give the greatest air of improbability to the
pretended results, but the greatest possible novelty to their. means;
they pretend to attain by expedients altogether new, an end altogether
impossible ; this would be the perfection of quackery ; and towards
this unattainable point of perfection quacks always strive.
As people are too apt in the first instance to attribute undue im
portance to such pretenders ; so they are also too ready when they
discover gross instances of exaggeration and absurdity in the pre
tensions, t<J set them aside as altogether worthless.
The acquisition of a knowledge of languages is so useful, but so
tedious a process, that it is worth while to examine whether there is
really any thing in " the Hamiltonian system " which is calculated to
shorten it. Our opinion of it may he shortly expressed in the old
French sentence :—There is much in it novel and valuable ; "but that
which is novel is not valuable, and that which is valuable is not novel.
The subject is, however, too important to be thus summarily dismissed.
May, 1827. B
2 THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. [May,
" The Hamiltonian System " which is applied in exactly the same
fashion to all languages, to the simple and the complex, to the unin-
flected and the deeply inflected, is this.—Some easy book in the
language to be acquired is chosen, in which the teacher reads aloud
each word with a literal translation, after the mode which is known
in grammar schools, as construing ; but without any regard to
elegance in the English version. Each word in the original is rendered
by him uniformly by the same English word. The learner repeats
after him sentence by sentence. In this way, without paying atten
tion to the grammar, or looking into a grammar or dictionary, the
mind is furnished with a stock of words. After the pupil has made
some progress in this kind of knowledge, " A grammar," says Mr.
Hamilton, " containing the declensions and conjugations, and printed
specially for my classes, is then put into the pupil's hands, (not to be
got by heart, nothing is ever got by rote in this system,) but that he
may comprehend more readily his teacher on grammar generally, but
especially on the verbs." The teacher then explains the grammatical
rules, and illustrates them by examples ; and finally, the pupils
translate from English into the language to be acquired. According
to this plan, it is pretended that a pupil will in ten lessons of an hour
each, acquire ten thousand words ; and that he will acquire a know
ledge of any language with very little labour, and in a very short time,
compared with that employed in the ordinary methods of teaching.
What is and what is not new in this system ? We shall refer, in
answering this question, not to barren speculations or forgotten books—
which it would be unfair to plead in bar of the pretensions of a prac
tical teacher, but to the general practice of other instructors and to
ordinary school-books.
In the first place, the practice of furnishing learners with a stock
of words at the very commencement of their study of the modern
languages, especially French and Italian, by the practice of literally
translating after the masters, or by the help of interlincal transla
tions, is not new even in England. It has been the common practice
-of French teachers in this country, at least from the commencement
of the present century, and was at a much earlier period general on
the Continent. But the Hamiltonian System is peculiar in this, that
while the process of fixing these words on the mind is going forward,
attention to the grammar is altogether excluded. The teachers of
the simple languages, according to the received system first taught (by
rote, which Mr. Hamilton so much dreads) the articles, the plurals
of the nouns, then the verbs, step by step, while they acquire that
stock of words which serves to give interest to the study of a language.
Mr. Hamilton endeavours to give them the stock of words first.
It is peculiar also to Mr. Hamilton, that he applies this plan rigidly
to deeply inflected languages.
Now in these his peculiarities, a little reason and a little expe
riment would show Mr. Hamilton to be wrong.
There is one grand error in his system, that he considers the know
ledge of grammar as a matter quite distinct from the knowledge of
the signification of words. But a grammar of any language is a
system of rules concerning the signification of words, and intended
to facilitate the knowledge of them ; and it is only a good grammar
1827-] THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. 3
in as much as it answers that purpose. Thus by the conjugations of
verbs are taught the meanings which in each mood and tense ara
superadded to the simple signification of the root ; or the time and
manner which are connoted, as logicians call it, with that root,
when certain terminations, inflexions, or prefixes are employed. Now
as these terminations, inflexions, and prefixes are the same in many
roots, and are, by reason of their analogy, easily remembered, as
compared with the radical syllables, it has been commonly deemed
worth while, first to commit them to memory, in order that the learner,
abstracting himself from the consideration of them, may the more
easily remember the roots themselves. This is the methodization of
memory, which it is the purpose of Mr. Hamilton to confuse.
We will give in Hamilton's own words the account of the manner
in which he supposes his pupils learn grammar. After an account
of the first ten lessons, in which the learners read the Gospel of St.
John (in Greek) in the way we have described, he says :—
From what has been stated, it would seem that it is intended to communicate a
knowledge of words only in this section, [he chooses to call ten lessons a section,]
and this certainly is the primary and ostensible object of it ; but from the mode of
teaching, pronouncing, repeating, analytical transposition, and translation, a correct
pronunciation, and a familiarity with the construction, idiom, and grammar of the
language, are also infallibly obtained.— [Good Lord !] —To these advantages the
teacher must not hesitate to sacrifice the harmony of English periods ; nay, his
translation must not be the English of the phrase, but the English of each word,
taken according to the grammatical construction, which must never be deviated from ;
the teacher rendering each word by a corresponding part of speech ; and giving to
each word one definite, precise meaning, and one only. So far is the accuracy in
this point carried, that should the English language furnish no word which exactly
corresponds with the word translated, then a word must be made for the purpose, as
for the Latin word tenebraz, or the French word tenebres, the word darhiesses must bo
used in English. In the thirteenth verse of the first chapter, the Greek word had-,
nation occurs, it must be rendered of blood, to show that it is used by the Greeks
plurally, and that it is the genitive case. Thus is every case of every declinable
word marked by its corresponding preposition ; and thus also is every verb marked
by such a sign in English as will point out its mood, tense, and person to the pupil
(each tense having its appropriate and exclusive sign). In the participles and in the
infinitive and imperative moods, these signs are used to the total neglect of all rule
of language, as respects the English, which is used only as a vehicle to convey to the
mind of the pupil the mode in which a Greek expressed himself. Thus, the twenty-
second verse of the first chapter must be translated thus : —'iva that, Sioptv we might
give, airoKpiaiv answer, roic to the, iriutyaaiv sent-ing, i)uac. thus ; senting being
intended
The pupiltohaving
mark the
thus
Greek
read word,
and translated
is the participle
the whole
derived
of the
from
Gospel
the aorist.
of St.------
John, has

acquired a practical knowledge of the verbs, and of the construction of the language
generally, much more accurate and extensive than is acquired -by the study of gram
mar during many months ; he may then occasionally read the verbs as they are found
in grammars, during the second and third sections, and thus unite theory with practice.
Five sections of ten lessons each have been found abundantly sufficient to commu
nicate the knowledge of any modern language, to write and speak it with correctness
and facility.—Preface to a Key to the Greek Testament, executed under the immediate
Direction of James Hamilton,—p. xii.
This last sentence we have not been able to refrain from quoting,
though we shall endeavour to subdue our enormous indignation at the
quack who ventures, in a sentence which shows that he cannot write
English—not to assert, for nothing is asserted in this string of words—
but to insinuate, that he can, by his mummery, teach a man or boy of
common capacity, to write and speak any modern language, German
for instance, in fifty hours. Neither will we remark on the blunders in
B2
 4 THE IIAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. [May,
detail—on the improbability tliat his pupils, learning from his " appro
priate signs" the modes, tenses, and persons, when, by the supposition
that his instructions only have been listened to, they cannot know in
this section, that there are such things as modes, tenses, and persons,
in nature—or the impossibility, with all his barbarisms, of his noting,
by one invariable, and at the same time appropriate and exclusive
sign, each Greek tense. We only look, at present, for the object he
blunders in the pursuit of—which is, the attempt, in his section of ten
hours, to make a learner form for himself a Greek grammar. A
person of ordinary capacity is expected, while he is listening to the
teacher, attending to the pronunciation, and fixing in his memory the
primary significations, so far to abstract and compare, as to be more
familiar with the grammar than a man, of the same capacity, who has
studied it for months—that is, he is to make a grammar, and learn it also,
in a thirtieth part of the time in which he could learn it when made for him.
Oh, fie ! James Hamilton. But this is not all—he is obiter to make
a grammar, containing, of course, all the persons of all the tenses of
all the moods of the verbs, out of a book, in which—the odds are
Lombard-street to a China orange—not half of them are to be found.
Fie, James Hamilton !
Now, let the experiment be made in the body of a school-boy of
the brightest capacity, who shall have the advantage of knowing
previously the Latin grammar—let it be " executed under the im
mediate direction of James Hamilton," and we will bet five shillings
to James Hamilton's reputation, that after the first section the learner
shall not be able to decline any one noun in the Greek language,
whatever process be applied to him. How could a boy, even if he
possessed the ingenuity of Young, or Champollion, give the duals of
nouns, from the perusal of a book in which there is not, we think, one
instance of that number ?
But if we take a language of a simple construction, the French for
instance, what rational man can doubt that much time would be saved,
if, instead of setting the pupils to learn by rote, (for that is the real
process,) words in a language, of the connexion and analogies of
which they have no previous ideas, for an hour each day—half, a
third, or a quarter of that time were devoted to the perusal of the
articles, substantives, adjectives, pronouns, verbs, not perhaps in the
order of their arrangement in the grammar, but in that of the
frequency of their recurrence, and their practical importance. To
begin early with translations is of use, because it gives an interest to
the study of a language, flatters the pupil with the appearance of
progress, and induces him to encounter that labour for which it would
be otherwise difficult to find a motive. But to continue and go on
with it, to the exclusion of the grammar, which is Hamilton's pecu
liarity, is a waste of time ; because it is an attempt to teach gram
matical rules by a method the most difficult that can be devised.
The plan of Hamilton is defended by a reference to the mode in
which foreign languages are acquired, by men who pass into foreign
countries. There can not be any more practical and ready method of
proving its absurdity. Let two persons make the experiment in a
country, of which the language is unknown to them, the one aiding
himself by a grammar of the language, the other dispensing with it,
 1827-] THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. 5

and the result will soon be apparent. Or let one of these persons use
a grammar from the beginning, and the other take it up after attempt
ing for a month to learn some of the words by rote—who can doubt
which of them would be found to have lost his time ?
Voltaire's History of Charles XII. has been published with a double
translation,* to which are prefixed, some observations on the Hamil-
tonian System, which—though somewhat too indulgent—though they
attribute too much importance to Hamilton's peculiarities, are the
best we have seen on the subject. The writer of the preface intro
duces Roger Ascham's (Queen Elizabeth's tutor) account of his own
method of teaching, with the following remark :—
Ascham's favourite method of double translation, would form a most useful sup
plement to (say substitute for) the system ; and as many of bis remarks are strictly to
our purpose, we shall extract some of them from his " Schoolmaster," together with
two very remarkable illustrations of their truth.
" After the child hath learned perfectly the eight parts of speech, let him then learn
the right joining together of substantives with adjectives, the noun with the verb, the
relative with the antecedent. And in learning farther his syntazis, by mine advice, ho
shall not use the common order in common scholia, for making of Latines ; whereby
the child commonly learned), first, an evil choice of words, then a wrong placing of
words : and lastly, an ill framing of the sentence, with a perverse judgment, both of
words and sentences. These faults, taking once root in youth, be never, or hardly,
plucked away in age. Moreover, there is no one thing that halh more either dulled
the wits, or taken away the will of children from learning, than the care they have to
satisfy their masters in making of Latines.
" There is a way touched in the first book of Cicero de Oratore, which, wisely
brought into scholes, truly taught, and constantly used, would not only take wholly
away this butcherly fear in making of Latines, but would also with ease and pleasure,
and in short time, as I know by good experience, work a true choice and placing of
words, a right ordering of sentences, an easy understanding of the tongue, a readiness
to speak, a facility to write, a true judgment both of his own and other men's doings,
what tongue soever he doth use.
" The way is this ■ after the three concordances learned, as I touched before, let the
master read unto him the Epistles of Cicero, gathered together, and chosen out by
Sturmius, for the capacity of children.
" First, let him teach the child chearfully and plainly the cause and matter of the
letter ; then, let him construe it into English, so oft as the child may easily carry away
the understauding of it ; lastly, parse it over perfectly. This done thus, let the child,
by and by, both construe and parse it over again ; so that it may appear, that the child
doubteth in nothing that his master taught him before. After this, the child must
take a paper book, and sitting in some place, where no man shall prompt him, by
himself, let him translate into English his former lesson. Then shewing it to his
master, let the master take from him bis Latin book, and pausing an hour at the least,
then let the child translate his own English into Latin again in another paper book.
When the child bringeth it turned into Latin, the master must compare it with Tully's
book, and lay them both together ; and where the child doth well, either in chusing or
placing Tully's words, let the master praise him, and say, Here you do well. For I
assure you, there is no such whetstone to sharpen a good wit, and encourage a will to
learning, as is praise. --------
" This is a lively and perfect way of teaching of rules ; where the common way
used in common scholes, to read the grammar alone by itself, is tedious for the master,
hard for the scholar, cold and uncomfortable for them both.
" I had once a proof hereof, tried by experience, by a dear friend of mine, when I
came first from Cambridge to serve the Queen's Majesty, then Lady Elizabeth, living
at worthy Sir Anthony Denny's in Cheston. John Whitney, a young gentleman, was
my bedfellow ; who, willing by good nature, and provoked by mine advice, began to
learn the Latin tongue, after the order declared in this book. We began after
Christmas ; I read unto him Tully de Amicitia, when he did every day twice translate
out of Latin into English, and out of English into Latin again. About St. Laurence-
tide after, to prove how he profitted, I did chuse out Torquatus' talk de Amicitia, in
* A great improvement (especially as it is executed in this instance) on a single
interlinear translation, which is generally either unintelligible or unfaithful.
 6 THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. [MaV,
the latter end of the first book de Finibu, ; because that place was the same in matter
like in words and phrases, nigh to the form and fashion of sentences, as he had learned'
before in de Amicitia. I did translate it my self into plain English, and gave it him to
turn it into Latin ; which he did so choicely, so orderly, so without any great miss in
the hardest points of grammar, that some in Beven year in grammar scholes, yea and
some in the University too, cannot do half so well.
" And abetter and nearer example herein may be, our most noble Queen Elizabeth,
who never took yet Greek nor Latin grammar in her hand, after the first declining of a
noun and a verb ; but only by this double translating of Demosthenes and Isocrates
daily, without missing, every forenoon, and likewise some part of Tully every after
noon, for the space of a year or two, hath attained to such a perfect understanding in
both the tongues, and to such a ready utterance of the Latin, and that with a judgment,
both
as they
tongues
be few comparable
in number inwith
bothher
the Majesty.
Universities,
Andor to
elsewhere
conclude;
in England, thatsurely
be in

the mind by daily marking, first, the cause and matter ; then, the words and phrases ;
next, the order and composition ; after, the reason and arguments ; then the forms and
figures of both the tongues ; lastly, the measure and compass of every sentence, must
needs, by little and little, draw unto it the like shape of eloquence, as the author doth
use, which is read."
The principle upon which both these systems are founded is the same, i. e. that
the structure and peculiarities of a language are best learned by habitual observation
and imitation ; by considering the structure as a whole, (and not in its disjointed
parts, ) and by noting its peculiarities as they occur.
To fix these peculiarities in the mind, one of two ways must be resorted to ; either
they must be made the subject of distinct and separate rules, and impressed on the
memory by the ordinary process of learning by rote, or they must be translated so
litarally as to arrest the attention by their very discordance with, and remoteness from,
our own idiom. This is the real secret of the Hamiltonian method ; and therefore the
observation of an intelligent foreigner, that " the more barbarous the translation, the
better," however startling at first, will be found, on reflection, to be the result of an
accurate consideration of the subject. If your translation be such, as to be at all
readable,— if it fall in with the language which is familiar to the pupil's ear, with his
accustomed manner of arranging his words and clothing his thoughts,—he will read it,
and will understand that a given sentence in French is equivalent to the corresponding
one in English ; but he will not acquire a habit of putting his thoughts into a French
dress. The repetition of the un-English turns of expression, which it is impossible he
should read glibly, will, it is presumed, impress on his memory whatever is usually
learnt by rules.
It never was imagined by the enlightened advocates of the system, that the use of
interlinear translations ought to supersede the study of grammar. It is obvious that a
language might be acquired, in its purest and most correct form, by what is called the
natural mode, that is, by mere imitation, without so much as the consciousness that
speech is the subject of rules. To this end nothing would be requisite but the absence
of all vicious models. No such situation of things can, however, be commanded ; nor,
if it could, would the knowledge so acquired be any thing more than vocabulary know
ledge. The mind, having gone through no process of generalization, would, of course,
neither be furnished with principles applicable to other languages, nor trained to habits
of accurate thinking. It is therefore, on all accounts, necessary to master the rules,
both general and particular, by which language is governed. But the advocates of the
Hamiltonian system contend, that the study and application of the rules of a language
ought to follow, and not to precede, the acquisition of the words and phraseology :
that the examples being already in the mind, the rules are learned with great com
parative ease, and take rapid and deep hold on the memory ; whereas nothing can be
conceived less likely to engage the attention of a child, or even to baffle the perseverance
of a man, than a series of unapplied grammar rules.—p. xii.
With regard to inflected words, we are strongly inclined to think the old way the
Best, particularly with young children, whose ear is caught with the jingle of sounds.
We believe that a child would learn the parts of a noun or verb with much less trouble
in the sing-song way, than by picking them up detached as they occur. This is,
however, a question of fact and experience. Whichever way it may be determined, it
has nothing to do with the learning of grammar rules, which take no hold on the ear,
nor, with very few exceptions, on the understanding of a child. Ascham, as we have
seen, sets out with supposing the accidence learnt ; aud his royal pupil, though all her
knowledge of the syntax and idiom of the Greek and Latin tongues was gained by
reading and imitating the best authors, began by learning the inflexions uf the nouus
and verbs.—p. xvi.
1827-3 THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. 7
What the ingenious writer of this preface is strongly inclined to
think with regard to inflected words, and in the case of young chil
dren, we feel confident with regard to all simple grammatical rules, and
people of all ages. It is, in short, easier to understand any rule when it
is framed, than to frame it from our own observation ;—a principle
so simple and universal in its application, not merely to grammar, but
to all branches of science, that if we did not know the effect of
juggling and bold assertions, we should think the man crazy who
seemed to doubt it. It is certainly necessary that, in order to
fix a rule in the memory, and to ensure the understanding of it,
the pupil should he exercised in the application of it ; and it is
better that the correct application should be made the test of the
pupil's remembrance, rather than the repetition of its words. Wc
must not suppose, because Queen Elizabeth never took a grammar in
hand, after learning the accidence, that having, as she had, a careful
tutor, the rules of Syntax .were not carefully pointed out to her atten
tion, and impressed on her memory.
When the comparative facility of different modes of acquiring the
knowledge of the parts of speech is spoken of as " a question of fact
and experience," it is necessary to say a word or two of the ex
periments on which the advocates of the Hamiltonian in part rest its
pretensions. It is not fair to compare the weeks or months spent in
a grammar-school, with the weeks or months spent by a boy under
an experiment on the Hamiltonian System. In a grammar-school,
scarcely an hour in the day is spent by each boy in learning, or in
being taught, and that hour is not spent well. The greater part of
the time is spent in mere mischief or idleness ; in cutting desks, skin
ning books, dog's-earing leaves, drawing profiles, dreaming of tops,
speculating on marbles, whispering, scribbling. No task is set which the
dullest boy of a class cannot overcome with moderate diligence, during a
moderate portion of his time. He is not taught, but ordered to learn—
as Hamilton observes, and it is the best observation he has ever made.
This does not arise so much from the defect of the system, as from the
insufficient number and idleness of the teachers; the number being
insufficient, as compared with the pupils, to admit of the utmost
efficiency in teaching, and forming an excuse for not aiming at that degree
of efficiency which it might admit of. When two lazy parsons, as some
times happens, undertake to teach eighty or a hundred boys, how is
it possible that the time of the lads can be employed to the best
advantage. To lead them by hand up the thorny path of knowledge
seems impossible ; they are urged like a drove of pigs, by a cart-whip,
some bolting aside into the ditches—some scrambling back between
the driver's legs—some before, others behind, all irregular, but all
slow ; while the divine swineherd revenges himself for his tardy
progress, by laming and ham-stringing the most refractory. On the
other hand, if a Hamiltonian teacher (supposing him to understand
any thing he professes to teach) makes an experiment on a half-dozen
boys, perhaps chosen for the quickness of their talent, he can make
sure that the whole of their time is really employed in learning ; and
as in six months they will really have spent as many minutes and
hours in that labour as in a grammar-school in three or four years,
he may astonish all beholders at their progress, and throw the world
 8 THE HAMILTONIAN SYSTEM. [May,
into ccstacies at the wonderful effect of beginning at the end. A
pedestrian, some time ago, walked backward for a number of days,
and covered, in the time, a much greater quantity of ground not only
than many gouty gentlemen who followed their noses, but than some
sturdy persons who sat at home ; the " enlightened advocates " of
retrogression will, on that account, contend, that it is the most
rapid mode of locomotion—but if the fellow had gone forward with
the same perseverance, he would have accomplished a still greater
number of miles.
We may sum up the good points in Hamilton's practice and obser
vations. First—It is much better to be taught than to be flogged
for not learning. Second—It is good in most cases not to have the
trouble of hunting words in a dictionary. (A proposition which follows
naturally from the preceding one.) Third—It is interesting to fancy
you make some progress in a language by translating, before you have
a very accurate knowledge of grammar. Fourth—It is better to fix
rules in the mind, by the practice of applying them, than by com
mitting them verbally to memory. No one of these points is new.
The novelties are the following: First—Attempt to get a number
of words by rote, before you know any thing of grammar; that is,
obstinately reject the aid of general rules. Second—Endeavour to
collect all the inflexions of words, by observation, and that in a book
where only a few of them are to be found. Neither of these novelties
is good.
Perfectly literal translations may have some novelty and utility, for
the purposes of self-instruction; though, inasmuch as they form part
of the plan for preventing the pupil from learning systematically, and
from a grammar, the articles, auxiliaries, and other short words of
frequent recurrence, they are delusive and troublesome. At any rate,
they are very inferior to the double translation, after the manner of
the edition of Charles XII. the preface of which we have referred to.
The ordinary mode of teaching Latin is certainly susceptible of
improvement; but of the advantages which it possesses for the in
struction of children, the advocates of the Hamiltonian plan seem to
have no conception. Of the system of instruction by which a language
is acquired, not by rote or imitation, but by the application of general
rules, and by research founded on those rules, the smallest benefit in
the case of children, is the acquisition of the language itself. The
habits of exercising the reason, and of rendering the stores of memory
available, which children acquire by being well grounded in grammar,
are of much greater advantage than the smattering of one or two
languages. A boy in a frontier town may pick up the jargons of two
or three nations, by talking and hearing—a Negro who is kidnapped
on the coast of Africa, learns the language of his kidnappers on the
Hamiltonian system, without dictionary or grammar : but these
linguists will be in a state of mental culture very different from youths
who have received grammatical instruction. The latter may not
know more—" the facts of language " may not be more familiar to
them ; but they have acquired greater powers of learning ; they have
better trained and exercised minds. —This is what is wanted for the
purposes of civil life.
1827-] SHAKStJiARE MEETING.

SHAKSPEARE MEETING AT THE GARRICK'S HEAD,

BOW STREET.

There are few under the age of twenty-four, who have not felt the
indescrihable charm, the irresistible fascination produced by any thing
approaching to the smell of the lamps, I mean any thing connected
with theatrical matters ; it is not therefore to be wondered at, that I,
somewhat under the prescribed age, and insanely devoted to theatricals,
should, on my reappearance in London, after some years absence,
have my attention much excited by an advertisement which set forth
that a second Shakspeare meeting would take place at the Garrick's
Head, Bow-street, on such a day, when a gentleman of theatrical
celebrity would take the chair ; dinner on table at half-past five for
six ; tickets, including a bottle of wine, 15s. In the country I had
always interested myself greatly about the London stage, and I knew
by name almost every actor at either of the theatres. I only longed
for an opportunity of changing my nominal acquaintance with them
into a personal one, and here, thought I, was an unlookcd for, heaven
born opportunity, which seemed made for me. A Shakspeare
meeting at the Garrick's Head—those two great names coupled
together, gave me an exalted idea of the uature of this theatrical
entertainment, the company I should meet with, the conversation I
should listen to, and the information I should gain concerning much
dramatic literature of former days ; seasoned with the wit, anecdote,
and green-room gossip of the present time, which the company of
theHighly
celebrated
elatedtheatrical
with my chairman
good fortune
and his
in friends
happening
promised
to fall
to in
ensure.
with

such a dramatic literary treat during my visit to London, I immediately

proceeded to the tavern with the inviting name, to make inquiries,
and ensure my ticket. The waiter received me and my money
with great satisfaction and civility—showed me a long spacious room
where we were to dine, and was profuse in his assurances of the
delightful evening I should pass among the many theatrical gentlemen
who would attend the dinner. Upon my asking him to particularize
a few, he ran over several names, which were not quite familiar to my
ear, and which I could not exactly catch, from his rapid manner of
pronouncing them ; however, those of Young and Mathews I dis
tinctly heard, which was quite enough for me, as it sufficiently proved
the high respectability of the party, knowing, as I did full well,
there are not. two men in the profession who rank higher in the better
circles of society than those gentlemen. The waiter and I parted
with low bows on one side, and high anticipations on the other.
The next day being that of the dinner, I entered the house a few
minutes after six, and in the dining room I found about fifty persons
already sat down, busily, it struck me, rather voraciously engaged
with the dishes before them : these seemed good enough of their
kind, though not very elegant, plenty of boiled beef, stewed beef
steaks, boiled pork, harricoed mutton, some large roast fowls, ditto
boiled, &c. ; with numerous side dishes of mashed potatoes, enormous
carrots, the vegetable called cabbage, pickled walnuts, peas pudding,
10 SHAKSPEARE MEETING AT THB [May,
and parsley and butter. This might have passed with me, but to
my great amazement, and no small mortification, the company did
not seem as good as the dinner, though quite as elegant. I easily got
a place about the centre of the table, and looked about me with
some very disagreeable misgivings. The people around me were
dressed well enough, as far as clothes went. Blue surtout coats were,
I think, most prevalent, interspersed with bottle green jackets and
white buttons, neckcloths invariably black or coloured ; I was the
only white neckcloth among them, and I felt a little annoyed at being
also the only one of the party who was duped. The looks, style,
air, bearing, and conversation of the company was not certainly of
the first class, and did not give me, in the least, the idea of first-rate
London actors. Could the aristocratic Mr. Young and the gentle
manlike Mr. Mathews be of the party, as the waiter informed me they
surely would ? I looked round the room in vain, for faces which I
could fancy theirs, and then applied myself in silence to my portion
of boiled pork, and awaited patiently the conclusion of dinner, and
the removal of the cloth, which I knew at public dinners was generally
attended with the removal also of a great deal of restraint; while
the lesser trouble of drinking gives opportunity for more sociality
than the more serious and solemn task of eating allows.
As it was, little passed between me and my neighbours, except
some well meant attentions on their part, and in their phraseology,
such as "shall I assist you to some turnip, sir?" " Allow me to pass
you the salt ; " and when I offered one of them the cheese plate, he
thanked me, and said, " Allow me, sir, to retaliate with the celery."
I must not forget to mention here what appeared to the company, by
their boisterous and continued laughter, a pun or joke of the first
order. I had taken the last piece of celery in the plate, which the
chairman perceiving, called out to the landlord of the house, who was
in the room, " We want some more celery, Mr. Harris," upon which
the wag of the company (such I found him to be afterwards) cried
out in a loud voice, " Yes, Mr. Chairman, there are a pretty many of
us gentlemen who would be glad of an increase of salary." The
laughter which followed this, as I said, was excessive, and continued
till the cloth was taken off, when the usual royal toasts were given
and drank. The chairman, whom I now recognized to be the same
man I had seen a few evenings before at Covent Garden, acting, or rather
singing, the part of the game-keeper, in a Roland for an Oliver, Isaacs
by name, now rapped the table for silence— 1 had seen him evidently
chewing the cud of a concocted speech some minutes before, and he
thus delivered himself of it: " Ladies and gentlemen—I mean
gentlemen—when I look around and behold the many highly respect
able members of a highly respectable profession, who have honoured
this meeting with their presence, (/ looked round too, but the
chairman, I suppose, had better eyes than mine,) and when I look
round and behold the numerous assemblage of gentlemen of every
honourable profession, gentlemen of the first rank and respectability,
who grace by their presence this convivial board, (I looked round
again, and the only object my eyes rested on was a large pier glass,)
I cannot but feel the greatest pleasure and satisfaction, as an actor,
18'i7] carrick's head, bow street. 11
as a gentleman, and as a man of conviviality ! (Hear, hear.) Gentle
men, as your chairman to-night, however unworthy I may be to take
that office upon me, but as your chairman to-night, 1 pledge myself to
do every thing which lies in my power to promote the harmony and
conviviality of the meeting—(oh, those cant words " harmony and
conviviality" they are uttered nineteen times of an evening by every
chairman and speech maker at every public dinner for any kind of
purpose.)—Gentlemen, continued the chairman, you come here with
the expectation of hearing some good singing, (/ never expected or
wished for singing at all,) and you shall not be disappointed, gentle
men, for I see several singing faces about me, and I have several
promises from kind friends which will keep us in uninterrupted
harmony for these several hours. (Devil seize it, thought I, is there
to be no talking then 1 Surely I might hear better singing than this
for less than 15«. to say nothing of dinner and company more to my
liking.) Gentlemen, it is beginning rather early, but my friend, Mr.
Gibbon, is obliged to attend his professional duties at the theatre
almost immediately ; however, before he goes, he is willing to oblige the
company with a song." * This address was received with " unbounded
applause," as the playbills call it, throughout ; but when the speaker
came to mention this Mr. Gibbon, I thought the din would never cease.
The table was thumped, the glasses danced, the wine was spilled,
(no great loss,) and in the midst of deafening bravos uprose Mr.
Gibbon, a gentleman of a singularly self-sufficient deportment, hard
featured, and of a plebeian cast of countenance—Gibbon, Gibbon,
Gibbon, I repeated to myself, this must surely be some famous singer,
by the tremendous importance the people here attach to his singing,
and he is going to perform to-night. I pulled out the little penny
Theatrical Observer from my pocket, and began conning over the
names of the different performers at both houses, but no Gibbon
could I find, and was just returning the paper to my pocket, when
my eyes fell on the sought-for name—it was in a line with many
others at the bottom of the list of principal characters, and I read,
" monks, peasants, alguazils, &c. Messrs. Tims, Simmons, Allgut,
Gibbon, Potter, &c. The specimen of singing which this gentleman
gave us, would not, I think, have induced the manager, had he been
present, to have promoted him on any future occasion from the hori
zontal line which he now occupied to the more honourable and per
pendicular one of favourite performers. The man had not a bad
voice, but, execrable taste, and appeared extremely proud of his
falsetto ; his song was about " crossing the foaming sea, and kissing a
tear from his Nancy, a loyal bold tar, and a true hearted maid,
braving the cannon's roar, and heaving a sigh for his lass, &c." and
was given with all the alternation of a good bass voice, and high
falsetto, which the change from "foaming sea" to "kissing a tear,"
"bold tar, and true hearted maid," "cannons roar, and heaving a
sigh," seemed to him to require.
* I suppose this was done in bumble imitation of what took place at the Drury
Lane Theatrical Fund dinner, where the chairman called upon Mr. Brahamforasong,
very soon after the cloth was removed, as Mr. Braham had an engagement elsewhere,
"Sic magnis componere parva solebam." ^
 If -SHAKSFEAKE MEETING AT THE C^aY'
After Mr. Gibbon had gone to his professional avocations, as they
were called, the singing went on, as the chairman had promised it
should, with little intermission. The object of every body seemed to
be the hearing, or the more wished-for gratification of singing a
song, and how like was each succeeding song to its predecessor. We
were drinking our bad port wine out of little, thick, stunted, funnel-
shaped glasses, yet every other song enjoined us to " fill high the
sparkling goblet," "drain the foaming bowl," or "quaff from jovial
cups." Finding several had lighted their segars, I gladly called for
one, and tried to puff away the growing disgust I was feeling for
every one around me : but previous to settling myself with my segar,
I could not help asking my next neighbour whether Mr. Young ; or
Mr. Mathews ever had been detected by any accident in coming to
this house—I should not have asked such a question, said I, apolo
getically, had not the waiter, a lying fellow, told me they would be
here to-night. " To be sure they are," said my neighbour, to my
great surprise—" They are both here to-night, as I have good,
reason to know." I stared, and asked, where? He laughed and
said, "I can answer for my own identity, for I am Mr. Young, and
the gentleman who just sang the ' Flowing Bowl,' is Mr. Mathews."
"What," said I incredulously, "did you play Pierre last night?"
" Pierre, no! " said he, I never played Pierre in my life—I see your
mistake, my name is spelt Y-o-u-n-g-e, and I belong to Drury Lane."
"I beg your pardon, sir,'' said I, "and that gentleman who sang
the,' Flowing Bowl,' is not of course Mathews of the English Opera
House ? " " Oh no, to be sure not, Mathews of the Surrey, at least
he used to sing there—I don't think he has got any engagement now."
My neighbour on the other side having nearly finished his bottle, and
therefore anxious to talk, seeing me for the first time inclined to do
the same, began to be communicative, and I, who had quite finished
mine for want of something better to do, and on whom the segar was
beginning to produce its sedative power, calming the ruffled spirit,
and causing my incipient disgust to evaporate with the smoke, was
well disposed to enter into conversation with him. He asked me if
I did not think the society to-night was highly respectable and
gentlemanlike ; and on my saying I was not acquainted even with the
names of the gentlemen present, he kindly pointed out to me some of
the best fellows, as he called them, about town, and some of the best
actors, too, I assure you, said he. " Yarnold, my boy, (he halloed
across the table,) come, let you and I finish the remainder of our
bottle together: your health, old chap." "There," said he, turning
to me, " that gentleman I spoke to, is Mr. Yarnold of Drury Lane ;
he is one of our right-hand men at the Coal-Hole, (good heavens,
what a nasty place that must be, thinks I,) many and many's the
order he's given me for the theatre. That fresh coloured gentleman
with the dark eyes, next to him, is Mr. Baker—you've heard of
Baker, haven't you ? plays every night at the Garden—they could
not do without him. By the bye, have you seen the pantomime at the
Lane ?—That fair gentleman with the runaway chin is the Man in the
Moon. How are you, Comer? What, I say, you've cut the Moon to
night; you're not the Man in the Moon, you're the Man out of the
 1827-] garrick's head, bow street. 13
Moon— not bad, eh? " He then sang, " How do you do old good Mr.
Mooney—how do you do-oo, how do you do-oo ? " Thus addressed,
what could Mr. Comer say, but answer very naturally in the words of his
part—" None the better, Mr. Spooney, for seeing you-oo, for seeing you,"
which of course " set the table in a roar." I asked the name of a round-
faced, good-natured looking man, who sat opposite to us, and who had
been singing one or two anacreontic songs with a very good voice.—
"Don't you know him 1" said my friend; "that's Evans of Covent
Garden, the prince of good fellows, and landlord of the Cyder Cellar.
Haven't you been to the Cyder Cellar this year? rare work there of a
Tuesday and Friday night—why, to my certain knowledge, Evans
could not have been in bed till six o'clock this morning ; I did not
leave till five, and I then left eight or nine of them up to their noses
in gin and tobacco—beats Offley's hollow, sir, not but what I like
Offley's too very well ; Lord bless you, there's the first tip-top set of
men at Offley's, aye, and at Evans's too. If one lives in town, you
know, one must do the thing a little bit fashionably, so I generally
contrive to go to one or other most nights; and it is not very often I
miss one of the theatres, I can tell you," said he, with the most
satisfied air, as if convinced he had been giving me unquestionable
evidence of his supreme bon ton. " Indeed," said I, " you must be
very fond of theatricals ; I suppose you are a little bitten that way."
" Not I," said he, " I only go for the lark, and because, as I said,
one likes to do the thing in style—'tisn't once in twenty times 1 know
what's doing on the stage ; trust me I can find plenty, of amusement
without sitting hum drum in the boxes ! I'm engaged all the morning,
you must know, so I make the best of my time at night ; to be sure,
Sunday morning I've got to myself, and then I never miss the Park
except it rains —aye, and always go well mounted too, and make the
man clap me on a bright new saddle ; might as well be out of the
world, you know, as out of the fashion." "Oh Lord! oh Lord!" I
muttered to myself, quite accable with the fellow's vulgarity and
volubility, " is this the high dramatic entertainment my foolish fancy
had pictured ? " " But I haven't told you half the people yet," rejoined
this unstoppable piece of loquacity. " All those are actors that you
see now talking in a knot together : there's Mr. Mercer, and Mr.
Thomson, Mr. Henry, and Mr. Atkins ; and that one marked with the
small pox is Lodge of the English Opera House. " And have all these
gentlemen engagements ? " said I ; " what sort of characters do they
play?" "Oh, I don't know," said he, " some of the best characters I
believe."—" Yes," said I, " no doubt they represent great characters,
senators, lords in waiting, high priests, courtiers, warriors, gentlemeu
in dominos at a masquerade, el id genus omne." " No doubt, no
doubt," said my friend, not in the least understanding what I meant ;
"and now, though we've been talking during the last song, we must
be silent now, for Sloman's going to sing, and I'll warrant you some
thing good—Go it, Sloman ; " and accordingly Mr. Sloman went it,
and the people laughed, while my friend, to my great delight, left me
to go and talk to him.
His place was taken by a thin, white faced, light haired simpering
sort of man, looking very yard-and-ribbonish, who had evidently taken
14 8HAKSPEAUE MEETING- AT THE GARRICK'S HEAD. [May,

the vacant chair with a view to get a listener in me. I anticipated his
opening ; " Delightful evening we've ad sir—fond of the drama, I
presume, sir?" "Very," said I, lighting another segar, to act as a
soother in case of any fresh excitement of bile. "Don't you admire
Mr. Kean very much, sir?" "Very much," said I, not thinking it
worth while to give my real opinion ; " Ah, he's an ero indeed, sir ; but
I'll tell you who I think almost comes up to him, and that's Mr.
of the Coburg. Oh, he is a first rate actor—I don't very often go to
Drury Lane or Covent Garden, but don't you think now with me, sir,
that they've quite as good, or better actors, at the Coburg and the
Surrey? I seldom go anywhere else, indeed, and I'm sure they play
much more interesting pieces there." " Do they really? " said I. "Oh
yes, I'm passionately fond of the drama, and knows what's what
pretty well. I know what stage effect is, and there's more of that
sort of thing at the Coburg, by ever so much, than at the big
theatres—you've seen Hobson in Orimdolpho I suppose ; what does
Kean do better than that? See his face, sir, when the dagger and
bloody handkerchief are produced, see the real blood a flowing when
he stabs himself after strangling his wife—that's what I call acting—
I like good tragedies, sir; " " Bloody ones it appears," said I. "I've
got a picture of Hobson in Grimdolpho," he continued, so I have of
Jenkins in the ' Daemon of the Flood.' I'll tell you where you may
get them, at that shop at the corner of Bow-street, nearly opposite
Drury Lane Theatre—oh, I've a great many more theatrical portraits,
for, as I said, I'm a true lover of the drama." He drew his chair
closer, and said in a whisper, " I can get orders for Sadler's Wells
whenever I like—did you ever see Miss Hopner that sings there
sometimes? We carry on such a flirtation, sir; she is the sweetest
creature ; do you know she has promised to take me behind the scenes
one night; that would be something like, wouldn't it—I do so long
to go behind the scenes, my whole soul's in the drama, as you
perceive, sir; come, sir, drink Amelia Hopner with me ; 'pon my word,
I'd marry her to-morrow if my aunt did not make such a fuss about
it."
How many more of his theatrical secrets he would have confided to
my unwilling ear I know not, for a squabble at one end of the room
interrupted our conversation, if such it could be called ; the harmony
was certainly all over, and a little discord beginning to take its place,
for sundry double goes of gin and water, acting upon the previous
port, had put the senses of many a little out of their equipoise, and
as the balance was rather descending with a little weight of black
guardism, sending good breeding up aloft, I determined, in the
phraseology of the room, to "cut the stick;" or as some of the
gentlemen of "theatrical celebrity," who were present, might have
said, I made my exit at the door in the left wing, upper entrance,
and the curtain was dropped on a very unsuccessful attempt, on my
part, at an entertainment.
1827-] TUB REVIEWERS REVIEWED. 15

THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED.

[The following article was sent to us " in proof," by an anonymous
correspondent. It had been accepted by the editor of another
periodical ; but after it had been set up, as our correspondent states,
the severity of its remarks prevented it from appearing, the editor
being " compelled " to countermand it. It is most true, that the
fellow-feeling which exists among publishers, stifles a great deal of
truth in its birth, while the more direct interests of each, serve to put
much falsehood in the world. For this reason, and for little else than
this reason, we shall give the paper insertion. Our notes will show,
that we are far from coinciding with the writer. The public are little
aware of the sinister motives which dictate the judgments of nearly
all the periodical publications of the day. Some day we shall
make an exposition of many of them, and accompany our assertions
with details which must carry conviction along with them, and at
length open the eyes of the innocent public. Whether we take
this step or not, we shall certainly not be deterred by the power
which booksellers possess, by a thousand petty arts, of injuring
the sale of a journal which is independent of, and frequently hostile
to their interests.—Ed.]
THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED.
The Quarterly. Notes.
We are surprised that articles of this cha
racter have not been given before in the higher
order of monthly publications (a)—especi- (a) It lias been repeatedly
magazines
ally when some
in theof mode
the reviews
of getting
are imitating
up their!?'1"6
done in tlle
"ot London
«"'y reviewed
; where
.? , . . .., . ., P. °. ' .^ some of the particular Num-
articles, but without the variety, vivacity, or bers of the Quarterly and
usefulness of those entertaining periodicals. Edinburgh, but had more ge
ls it that the formidable and often ferocious neral articles on their conduct,
air of the " great reviews" has hitherto de- as- ^ Stance the paper on
terred
. , the
.. conductors
°, . 01« magazines
■ rfrom sub-
r. occasion
Gifford. ofEd.
the death of Mr.
mitting them to the ordeal, through which
they drag the writers whom they mangle ?—
or that the public is content to submit to
their dictatorship, and is satisfied with a
political touchstone for the trial of literary
merit ? We think neither—but that it is
simply owing to inveterate habit, which makes
readers lose the changes of times and circum
stances in things to which they have been long
accustomed, and causes them to overlook the
decline of old works, and the existence of new
and superior tests in the dictates of a more
generally cultivated intellect. That a work
solely literary should be judged by the author's
political dogmas, did very well when the spirit
of party, a few years ago, precluded the
16 THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. [May,
exercise of cool judgment. One clan was ar
rayed against another—the same weapons
were adopted by each—and thus the balance
of the combat was prevented from inclining
too much to cither side.. That day is gone,
and with it should have passed away its
follies. Reviews should have changed with
the times, and taken' the real character of
literary works established for legitimate cri
ticism ; nor longer, under the mask of review
ing, put forth nothing but political essays,
and continued appeals to the world, made
(f>) The fact is just the under false pretences (4). If it be true that
reverse. The Edinburgh be- Mr MlllTay says « the age 0f reviewing is
gan with being, in reality, a . „ /. ., /-> . , . . .
literary reviewed has ended, Past —(in the sense Quarterly reviewing IS
as well as the Quarterly, in to be understood, we presume)—we congratu-
also
beingis the
a pamphleteer.
Westminster; which
Such late
bibliotheo]ist
public
;s n0
on bad
so beneficial
authority
anupon
[Link]
That a
though not by any means ..' j ., . , 1jj.11 i
liable to the censure of unjust question, and, we think, could tell us a ground
partiality in the text, is con- for the observation which has convinced him,
ducted far too closely on the feelingly , of its verity. It is amusing to take
plan of the other two.—Ed. tne three reviews, and compare their opinions
together upon the same work. It will be found
a most convincing argument of the fallacy of
putting faith in what are little more than out
pourings of political vituperation.
The attention of the editor of the oldest of
the three great reviews has been so absorbed
of late ytfars by professional pursuits, that its
readers have painfully experienced his neglect.
The age and infirmities of another editor have
had a still more fatal effect upon the conduct
of his review. The third, and most youth
ful publication of this class, has attained a
circulation beyond which it can hardly be ex
pected to rise, being confined principally to
(c) Supposing this charge the disciples of its venerable projector (c).
were true we see no reason Giving these publications credit for all to
in it which should limit the , . ," ., * , , . ...
circulation of this review. wh,ch th^ can laY clalm> we See nothing to
We believe, from all we have exempt them from occasional scrutiny—from
heard and seen, that a greater our doing for them what they have " done for
ifon thea3o "toons ^int thousands-" Even in their age of decline,
classes of the most3in°telligenet they have n0 riSht to murmur at any severity
part of society, than by the m our remarks. They have never hesitated
few Numbers of the West- to hew and lacerate writers and their works.
minster Review which have Provided their victims have been political
already been published-ED. opponent8j „0 sancrities of life have been
spared, and delicacy towards them is out of
the question.
We intend, therefore, to give an article on
them as they come out ; and shall begin with
the number of the Quarterly which has just
1827] THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED, 17
appeared. But-, first, a word or two on the
vicissitudes this review has undergone* Pro
jected by the late Mr. Gifford, in imitation of
the Edinburgh, but ultra-Tory in politics,
and supported with all the vigour, virulence,
and partizanship of that critic's pen, it at
tained its maximum of circulation with great
rapidity,
to
faction
its becoming
of(rf)theThis
country;
thewas,
organ
inbut
some
of itthe
degree,
was
aristocratic
alsoowing
un.>ad
no (d)
sucl»
existed
We
thing.
believe
for some
Thethat
Quarterly
time,
it and
did

. ,, ' j „, rfa J without much success; and

commonly well managed. Mr. Gifford was the pubiisuer uad begun to
not a man of genius, nor an original writer ; despair, when the acquisition
but he was an acute scholar, possessed of of Mr. Barrow, and more
sound judgment, the result of long years of abundant means enabled him
. * a , ', i .. ? ' ... j to give the work the benefit
experience—subtle—splenetic-acute—gifted of longer trial.—Kd.
with tact, and that knowledge of minutiae in
conducting a work of this nature, which, in
the aggregate, is of infinite importance. A
writer of first-rate genius and talent is rarely
equal to such a task ; his attention is gene
rally concentrated on one point, and he is
unable to view more at a time, (e) No man of (e) Can a man of second-
this class who attempts it will meet with Mr. rate genius view more than
Gifford's success: a wriggling, shrewd, per- onf P°intata time? It is «
• j. ^ ± j Jie vulgar error to suppose that a
severing,
it. Mr. Gifford
unsensitive
saw mind
a writer's
is best
weaknesses
adapted for
at ma°
for every
of geniu9
[Link]^t
Thatbewhich
unfit
a glance : he knew how to gloss over strong at present would most espe-
truths, or to distort them, so that the reader cij^ t«nd '° mak,e * Sood
W, . .. , ,. , editor of a Quarterly Review,
scarcely suspect the deception practised is ^j judgment, extensivs
upon him. He was well acquainted with the information, and a warm in
disposition of mankind, and had the power of terest in the progress and ad-
multiplying the fears of the timid for his own ™cement of knowledge. If
uses, *andj ofe marshalling
* t. «• all11 l'
his readers
j > pie- these
tilitv ofwere
mind>mined
a g^^
with wit>
fer-
judices on his side, to promote the end of his and a well stored memory, we
party, and torture the victim of his political presume that it would be all
dedignation. Mr. Gifford had no powers of the beWer; and this is not a
humour-the most vulgar was too polished a ~*~» £T to*3£
weapon for his coarse hands ; his satire was ways at once. Ed.
" horse-play," as Dryden terms it ; the lap-
stone and hammer of his early years were his
favourite weapons to the end of his career.
His unflinching obduracy of purpose, and
sacrifice even of reason herself, to serve his
political views, were rarely before equalled,
and never will be surpassed. These were the
best qualifications for supporting such a work
as the Quarterly Review. Mr. Gifford, too,
was invulnerable where most of his party were
defenceless. He was no renegade in politics ;
chance threw Tory-bread in his way in early } Mr.GiffbrdneverwT0t9
lite, and gratitude was his subsequent pnn- m^e tlian three or fuur ar_
ciple of action. (/) He must have been amused tides in his own review.—£».
May, 1827. C
18 THS REVIEWERS REVIEWED. [May,
at being ultimately assisted by contributors
to the Quarterly Review, furious in their
new-fledged politics, whom he had badgered
unsparingly in the Anti-Jacobin for their
revolutionary enthusiasm. Of these, Mr.
Southey was one. The present editor, such
as he is, is said also to be a deserted Whig.
— But to our subject. On Mr. Gifford's re
tirement, Mr. Murray beat about for a sub
stitute ; and, with a peculiar felicity of selec
tion, picked up a harmless barrister, who
itinerated the circuit, having the contribu
tions of the Quarterly in a blue bag with his
briefs—if, indeed, the said limb of the law
(g) We believe this to be were not briefless, (g) From town to town
an ill-natured and unjust traversed the unlucky articles of the con-
sketch of Mr. Coleridge. If tributors, like goods in a pedlar's pack, on
he had been briefless, his law wn}cn might have been marked not inappro-
SStSST uSSS P"ately> " Wares for the Quarterly." This
sible that Mr. Coleridge was " incestuous connexion" of literature and
not peculiarly qualified for the law could not last long; its offspring was
editorship of the Quarterly; abortive. The readers of the review soon
w^Te^TabaX^e detected the operations of legal dulness after
Review, and not the review the narcotic dose which had been adminis-
him.—Ed. tered. Another hand must be tried.
The next step taken was considered a
master-piece of bibliopolic acuteness, and was
expected to be overpowering. Because the
transceaidant talents of the once " Great
Unknown," unrivalled in his line of subject,
were universally confessed—ergo, Sir Walter
Scott must excel in every other department
W„. . , . ,. of literature ; and not only Sir Walter, but
WehavenoloveforMr. ,, . , • ' , ... , . ' ,
Lockhart; but if the novel of a11 ever s0 remotely connected with him by
Valerius is here meant, the relationship, and who sat under his shadow,
writer has either not read it, must partake of his inspiration ! This happy
or prefers to say a severe noti0n of Mr. Murray's (brilliant as the
odTm" r^rweYehCe Utopian scheme of the Representative news-
to be a man of a fertile ima- paper) was instantly carried into execution,
gination, when warmed; pos- The next supervisor of the Quarterly, there-
sessed of some scholastic in- fore> was a pCrson said to be a relative of
Sfsaisrsas;?' ™« f°»,s by rrriag;v and who'
serve to mix up well the from having been a contributor (if not some-
Quarterly twaddle ; but under thing more) to " Blackwood's Magazine," at
his management it can never least ]aJd claim to literary character. He
be either the sober or the in- tfc f , which jf ;t ever d
fallible oracle it ought to be, ., _, , . ' . , ' - . , ,
to suit the wants of the great the Tweed, is at present slumbering on book-
mass of its readers. Mr. seller's shelves, or gone to supply covers for
Murray should contrive a dull « defrauded pies." (A) The rumour of the
piece of gentlemanly correct- coadjutorship of Sir Walter himself was also
offend
ness, which
nor delight
should
any body.—
neither..insinuated;
. . j 'and. thus
., the
., falling
• ,,. periodical
. j. i
Ed. mounted higher than ever in Mr. Murray's
1827-] THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. 18
parental anticipations. The town was to be
astonished at the new display. The beau
ideal of a provincial Utterato was to crush
the London men of letters into obscurity.
The resuscitation of the work from the puling
feebleness it had acquired in the arms of its
forensic nurse, was to be effected at once for
more than the vigour of a prize-fighter's con
dition.
its re-glorified
An aurora
pagesborealis
; and even
wasits to
dun
illumine
covers •

were in future to dazzle the beholder's vision

with a halo, like the radiance round the head
of one of Raphael's Holy Marias. But the
coal -fire smoke of the metropolis casts
shadows which at times resist even the sun's
power. The self-opinionated ones of the
provinces, who think to carry things here with
a high hand, find their level. " Pert, prim
praters of the northern race," here pass un
noticed in the crowd. The Scottish peer,
who inherits half a county of irreclaimable
land, beggarly pride and a title, for which the
income of his acres will not find decent trap
pings, but who is a demi-god among his
thistles, is here jostled by a porter, or mis
taken for a city grocer. In short, there is
nothing more humiliating than this reflection
to provincial self-inflation. But can it be
otherwise, when the focus of every thing great,
wise, learned, and noble is here ; and, to at
tain consideration above the crowd, diligence,
time, and skill are indisputable essentials ?
The noontide hopes of Mr. Murray are again
clouded. The learning, judgment, tact, and
experience of Mr. Gifford have left not a
wreck behind : the present editor has pre
sumptuously grasped the thunderbolt he is
incompetent to wield. No gleam of the anti
cipated aurora appears. Thick darkness
encompasses the margin of the ultra-apostolic
Beview of England. " The age of reviewing
is over ! " The Quarterly is said to have
lost more than a thousand readers. The
public too is beginning to feel a distaste for
its Muscovite doctrines, now that free con
stitutions are patronized at court, and liberal
principles in politics by that part of the cabinet
which is neither in the intellectual obscurity
of age, nor owes its station to intolerance
and intrigue. In place of Gifford's learning,
vigour of pen, and bold sarcasm, intermingled
with instructive observations, and the fruits of
C2
20 THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. [May,
long and laborious research, we hare a con
ceited flippant work, full of unfounded pre
tensions—self-consequential in tone—Jesuit
ical in religion—vain in fashion—austere in
political creed—and over all this, an air of
foppishness—a lawyer's clerk's dandyism,
strutting in the pride of intellectual poverty,
and inflated with ignorant self-consequence.
Under the present Hyperborean management,
most of the old contributors write in the
review no longer. Of these, Mr. Southey is
reported to be one. Indeed, it is impossible
that a writer of his standing and experience, can
feel proper spirit if he submit to the degra
dation of having his articles judged by any
one whom chance and Mr. Murray may call
from the provinces to eke out their livelihood
by editing the Quarterly. But if he have
returned .again as a contributor, we are con
vinced he stipulates independence of such
control for himself.
It is now time we proceed to analyze the
contents of No. LXX. The first article is a
review of the " Report of Vlloa and Juan
on the Provinces of South America ; " and
the " Collection of Spanish Voyages, pub
lished by the authority of the Spanish
Government at Madrid in 1825."—This
article is very carelessly executed : it bears'
singular marks of editorial slovenliness. We
are pompously informed, that the value of
books of travels depends upon the characters
of the writers ; that Ulloa and Juan were
sent by the king of Spain to Quito, to mea
sure a degree of the meridian ; that. Ulloa
and Juan were not " smugglers," nor " wily
traders," but true men. What school-boy,
or boarding-school girl, who has been taught
geography, did not know this? Pseudo-
(i) There in some truth in metaphors, endless repetitions of words, odd
this allegation; the successors phraseologies—as, '" touches of a traveller's
1R ST2 SoUsS feelings dropping "-^selfishness , engrained
with some advantage. From on the part of the Madre Patria, — so-
the time of his retirement cieties destitute of all right principle of
from the Quarterly, the cor- cohesion,"—" the wickedness of climate ; "
S£ A.SJSSS5 J-Sical .similies - such as, « dislocations "
number, and especially in the from animosities, and " unsparing amputa-
laat, vulgarisms and Scotti- tions ; " inversions of language, and " pre-
cisms (perhaps they are, for cisely downright " inelegancies and confusions
ttey are not English) abound. f „ t abound. (0 But though the
We could quote more glaring . . •»»««« » j o
instances than are recorded reviewer is thus reckless of the English
in the text.—Ed. tongue, he lets us know enough to prove that
1827] TIIE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. $1
the book he is noticing is a most important
one, and deserved to be treated better. Mr.
Gifford would have had this article re-written.
It is wonderfully liberal for the Quarterly,
with which the South Americans were lately
" insurgents ; " but the Quarterly reviewers
change their opinions with each new minis
terial arrangement. This is a " fundamental
feature" of their conduct, as Castlereagh
would express it.
The next article is " Mitotan's Anna
Boleyn," which, as well as that on " Histo
rical Romance," is, we imagine, manufac- (fc) The manBer in which
tured by the editor himself: it is a lecture the writer speaks of Words-
on Shakspeare, at Mr. Milman's expense, worth, shows him either ut-
Wordsworth and Milton, and Wilson and tarly unacquainted with his
Dryden, are in his mind, on a poetieal j£*«^ EEftf
equality. This pleasant arrangement of the beauties of poetry. Neither
poet of Paradise Lost with the river Son- the partisans of Mr. Words-
neteer,(&) Dryden with cat-baptism, (/) is a worth, noT any intelligent and
lucid discovery of the Quarterly editors— *le critic' "» hoJ4 ««***•
.. .. , ,i , ,, Jr. -, ■* , guage concerning him.—£.d.
quite « refreshing ! as Theodore Hook says, 6 (f) Thi8> perhaps, alludes
and a proof of his superior talent in cri- to some piece of scandal with
ticism and adaptation to his post. It reminds which we are unacquainted,
us of a stanza of comparisons by the merry Ed'
Wolcot:—
" Matthias
Jove's
Lord Rolle
eagle
and
and
and
theAlexander."
atuneful
gander—
Pope—t.. r

81 91
The critic has wisely contrived to say as; little
as possible about Mr. Milman's play. He
laments every poet's misfortune who is born
after Shakspeare, whom he quotes and dis
serts upon by wholesale. He shows that Mr.
Milman has given one couple of " natural
touches " to a character in his play (Angelei);
compares his heroes to Shakspeare's, yet still
insinuates that he is but an " artificial poet ; "
and, after a remark on a hackuied subject—
the dearth of good dramatic productions—
closes by damning Mr. Milman with " faint
praise ; " having made the title of Anna
Boleyn a peg on which to hang his profound
observations upon the drama. Mr. Milman
is a respectable clergyman, and has denied
seeing the copy of a play on the same sub
ject, which was put by the author into Mr.
Murray's hand before his own appeared, and
in which there were passages which strongly re
sembled someof the reverend gentleman's. We
are in fairness bound to believe that the simi-
•ti. THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. [May,

litude was accidental. The world, however,

has lately come to the more than suspicion,
that manuscripts of authors, put into Mr.
Murray's hands for publication, are shown to
his contributing reviewers, and information
(m) This is too serious a taken from them for the Quarterly, (jn) The
charge to be made except on late Captain Cochrane, the Siberian traveller,
wa^nothin' ^tbe^caseTf 0pe"ly Stated h'S iU-nsa?e in this waY ! but
™khgham™&,JJ which >* did not become undeniable, until the case
proved this fact, though the of " Buckingham v. Bankes," when this cus-
circumstance alluded to was torn received open confirmation. The know-
certainly Mghly disgraceful to fe^ of thege doings on the part of Mr.
■""J" "' Milman's publisher, naturally gave a suspi
cion that the charge of plagiarism might be
founded on truth ; and it was unfortunate
that it seemed to render stronger the suspicion
against Mr. Milman. We believe Mr. Mil-
(n) There was no occasion man's assertion of his innocence sincerely.(»)
for Mr. Milman's assertion; Incidental resemblances are too often charged
forthe resemblances were only ftg ieg from the workg of otherg Original
m the brain of Mr. Glover.— ., ' „ rp, ., j i
y0i ideas are tew. 1 here are a thousand modes
of telling the same things ; and the greater
or less skill displayed in putting them into
form, constitutes, after all, the scale of literary
merit.
" Henderson's Biblical Researches, and
Travels in Russia, 8fc. by the Chevalier de
Gamba," form the cue for the third disserta
tion ifr' this number. In this paper—Mr.
Barrow's, we presume—there is nothing re
markable. " Lord Fanny might spin a hundred
such a-day." There are sneers at the late
(o) The late excellent Dr. excellent Dr. Clarke of Cambridge, (o) on
Clarke of Cambridge was a account of his correct statements respecting
man w]"om. ^^^'"^ Russian civilization, and the same at Dr.
fromTLyTus0piciorof™;defi.Lya1,s^confirmation of them; while the un-
ciency of moral worth on bis lucky Gamba, as a matter of course, is not
cident
part, but
of from
temperament,
an awkward
which
ac- to
wasbeFrench.
credited.
consul
Allathe
Teflis
says ! is heresy; for he

IhrougT rZk^oMS a Then comes the chapter on the « English

imagination. A more un- bynonymes of Taylor and Crabb," which Is
happy character for a writer worth perusal. Under the mention of" Tooke's
of travels cannot well be con- Diversions of Purley," a note is added about
ceived. Ld. & castrated edition of that work— (we sup
pose a speculation of Mr. Murray's)—which
is announced as " omitting every trait of per
sonal virulence or political animosity." This
is peculiarly graceful in the Quarterly, which
might be subjected to the same operation with
infinite advantage, both on the score of poli
tics and economy in bulk, and consequently
1827-] THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. 23
price. A shilling's-worth of its paper and
print would hold all the number contains
worthy of perusal.
" Byron's Voyage in the Blonde to the
Sandwich Islands," and " Ellis's Account
of Owyhee," follow. There is little in this
review worthy notice. The " Blonde " article
is a meagre review of a most meagre per
formance: but what more could Mr. Barrow
make of it, or any one else? We are told
jiothing but what the newspapers told us long
ago, except that Lord Byron was crowned by
some of the savages with a garland—whether
or not on the credit of his cousin's great po
etical name, we are left in the dark; and
also that he gave these islanders a scheme
of a good and perfect government. This-
he glories in not being constitutional, like
Bentham's (jb) nor allowing, like our (p) What is the meaning
own, a "liberal university" for " Christians °f being constitutional, like
dT, ,1 .. j T1 v. • Bentham b :—to.
Pagans united. It may be curious
for the reader to know that this scheme
is admirably simple, though purposely ar
ranged under eight heads—for the profit of
Owyhee advocates, we presume ! The people
are sworn to obey the king: property, save
of rebels, is to be sacred, except what the
king may fancy for his own use and^dignity,
and that of his establishment, tyfigj " king
or regent," (for Lord Byron's admirable fore
sight extended to futurity,) with the consent
of twelve of his courtiers, may put any one
to death : he alone can pardon ; the people
are to be free from any other chief. The es
tablishment of taxation, an Owyhee custom
house, and a preventive service, closes this
admirable system. Happy savages ! A tyrant
and council of twelve-property sacred from wh&> p^^n^he writer
all robbers but the king—life at the mercy calls minor, but if he means
of thirteen — taxation in its vilest shape ! the Weekly Gazettes, his eu-
Why, by and by, these people will erect logy sLould make ,,im blush'
statues to Lord Byron, for this precious gift ^TS^^SSS.
of his legislative wisdom, and to the Quarterly are a disgrace to the public
for its praises of it! Ellis's account of Owy- who supports them. We grant
hee has been fully as well noticed in many of tI,at theiT extracts are amus-
the minor publications of the day; and this ^^MSS
is now frequently the case with the reviews °f a review, since they have
of many other works. (<y) not the substance. A general
A review of" 3Iissionaries' Registers" and judgment these writers are
" Funeral Sermons on Calcutta Bishops » S^tEEr IS
we shall not go into ; it contains, however, a extracts might be in better
biographical noticg of that amiable and ac- hands.—Ed* t
24 THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. [May,
(r) This article, into which complished man (r) the late Reverend Re
cur correspondent will not go g;nald Heber bisnop 0f Calcutta. We shall
is a most interesting sketch of° . , ', *. i • i_ •
the labours of Heber in India. not analyze the next paper, which is ano-
His letters there quoted are, tice of " Snodgrass's Bunnese War," got up
without exception, the most to justify Lord Amherst and the Indian
valuable morceaus relative to Government for entering into a contest, in
the state and character of • . , j. . ,. j ° , ,
British India which we pos- whlch discipline and courage were employed
sess. The loss to England, in in combatting unworthy enemies ; («) thou-
Heber, is great, were it for sands and tens of thousands of brave lives
this one thing alone, that we wasted , and millions of money consumed, to
should have had some in- . - ,. ■ ., ,, 0 • u „ i.
formation communicated to an cxtent> wh,ch the more than Spanish system
the world which might have of secresy in India affairs will prevent the
been relied on, not only for its present age or history from ever knowing;
clearness, but for its unbiassed wh;]e a useless territory has been added to
the Company's overgrown possessions. Thus,
.1 Q ^e^,[Link] here.8l,,Ts by avoiding concentration, their means of
thatheistotallyienorantofthe ,•'. ° , , , ,, . - .
Burmese war. The article in defence are weakened, and their finances hur-
tbe Quarterly was got up for thened ; hastening the time when their debt
no such reason as he sup- must be shouldered upon the groaning people
poses' ™It„?'as got uP ,be; of England. With the reviewer, all this is,
cause Mr. Murray published r ; , • • '.. , .
Major Snodgrass's book, and of course, the result of sound policy and in-
because it afforded m&terialsfinite wisdom.
for an abridgment of curiosity An essay on " Historical Romance,"
and interest. This abndg- comes after Snodgrass. It professes to review
ment is a very close and work- . . • ? c. «r ,? em . l
manlike performance, done, as twenty volumes of Sir Walter Scott s novels,
we should tliink, by one of six of those ot Mr. Horace Smith, and Mr.
the regular hands of the Q«or- Coleridge's 'partial translation' of " Wal
ter/,/. Our correspondent lenstei».*?* What an " intolerable quantity
SS gotgt waf- ?f •»*! * t^ crumb of musty bread which
it is one of those shallow ac- is its accompaniment. Twenty-six volumes,
cusations that one often hears and a play cast in to make measure ! Really
from fast and frothy talkers in Falstaff himself was not so intolerably greedy
El^&KSSX: t "is Potations as thou art Mr Editor of the
except by the ignorant. W he- Quarterly ! This is, no doubt, written by
ther war could ever have been the grand bashaw himself: it is the experi-
prevented by the Indian go- mentum crucis on his powers, and, we think,
7£1M ItPh°ad Some "?» worthy the attention of the public, as it
inevitable long before Lord shows of what flights he IS capable, what
Amherst was called upon to critical acumen he possesses, how judicious
declare it. The writer talks an(i experienced he is in his vocation ; how
tT^Z^t^ii^^y ^ulated tab, by his literary
the
wasted
fact:" that
he isthe
little
amount
aware of even
opinions
the and
memory
accomplishments,
of , the
to Literary
obscure

the whole army that was sent Cerberus who preceded him.
to invade the Burmese empire jt h fe wWgpered that Sir Walter
reckoning reinforcements and „ , . . ., ., ' . . .. , ,
additional levies, did not alto- bcott ls thc author of this article, because It
getherequaltenthousandmen. was given out, as already hinted (perhaps for
The number when dead, we Mr. Murray's trade objects), that he occa-
* For our opinion of this » A very excellent and perfect translation of this
"very excellent and perfect " piece 0f Schiller's has just appeared in Edinburgh,
piece of translation, see our anonymously.
Article on it in our last No.
1827] THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. 25
sionally writes in the Quarterly. (/) No presume, did not exceed the
one ought to credit such a report. To re- numb« when alive, to say
, r i . . ',. i. j nothing of the surviving con-
view his own works, to praise himself, and quer01| ed
show jealousy of writers who make no pretence (() This \sM ^ m ^
or rivalship, to attack them with cold sneers, sura ana malevolent. En.
and unjust aspersions of their talents, because
the public has chosen to takeoff three editions
of their works, is an offence of which Sir
Walter Scott never could be guilty, (w) The (u) Sir Walter's fault lies
over-officious and injudicious zeal of his son- tue otuer way- He » to°
in-law, has thus far injured him, even by the J£- P-*£ J*~
rumour, it any thing can operate to do this J, Brambletye House" at the
with so great and good a man. But, in end of the preface to Wood-
truth, the cribbed, mean, narrow spirit of stock was sickening.—Ed.
jealously which this article exhibits, must
make him condemn such zeal in toto. Sir
Walter is a kind man, and has acquired too
much fame and respect to be hurt by the
literary labours of any who may choose to
follow in the track of historical novel writing,
which his transcendent abilities first opened1
to the world, and which one man is as free to
do as another. We, therefore, do not be
lieve one word of Sir Walter's authorship
of this paper.(u) In respect to the editor of the (t) There never was any
Quarterly, standing as he does in relation sucl1 rumour.—En.
to the great novelist, and possessing no more
talents nor better judgment than we give
him credit for, it is probable he may have
thought by this article to make the review
of service in a family sense, by preventing the
circulation of books which, in his contracted
ideas, he deems the fee-simple of his house.
But the meridian glory of Sir Walter Scott's
literary career can receive no aid from the
feeble ray reflected by his son-in-law's mi-
crocosmic talents in or out of the Quarterly.
As well might a rush-light be held up in
a summer's day to assist the noon-tide splen
dour. We, moreover, believe Sir Walter
Scott no adorer of the puling of Words
worth, in " Peter Bell," nor likely to degrade
Milton by any sympathy with the poetical
green-sickness of the lake school. Yet
this article begins by the exaltation of Words
worth with Milton, and a comparison between
the two poets—between " Jove's eagle and
a gander," as we have before said. Long
ago would Mr. Wordsworth have been for
gotten, but for the incessant puffing of his
literary disciples in ode, elegy, review, and
ballad. Still, as iu free-masonry, none but
26 THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. C^a}'>
the initiated understand ; the world is not yet
enlightened enough to comprehend what of
Wordsworth is not incomprehensible. Words
worth's books are never bought or read.
" Well," say his disciples, " it was the same
with Milton." But there were but four mil
lions of people in England in Milton's
time, and little public education ; yet thir
teen hundred copies of " Paradise Lost" sold
in two years. The population has increased
to fourteen millions, and every one reads : yet
who have purchased thirteen hundred copies
of " The Excursion" in any ten years ! Then
the obscurity of Wordsworth is compared
to the sublimity of Milton, by his votaries ;
and if his forty unreadable pages in " The
Excursion" for one readable, are mentioned
—" Oh ! it is the same in " Paradise Lost !"
Shakspeare—as before, in the review of
" Milman's—AnnaBoleyn "—is again brought
forward for comparison and dissertation. He
is the editor's Gunter for gauging every depth
of power, poetical, dramatic, or metaphysical.
Numerous pages are consumed to show the re
semblance
ter's geniusbetween
; not very
Shakspeare's
intelligibly
anddone,
SirWal-
and

sufficiently self-opinionated. Then there is a

com pMUMtalbetween Sir Walter and Schiller,
in Quewtin Durward and Wallenstein, with
copious extracts from Mr. Coleridge's trans-
Cm) Ignorance truly ridi- latiou of an imperfect copy of that tragedy.(w)
culous. Mr. Coleridge's trans- The reader is told a vast deal of what he
lation was from a prompter's knew a]ready ; and the object of all is to
copy ; and the alterations af- . u c • ulni it.
terwards made by Schiller, make a shew of P™Ving what all know not to
are unimportant, and do not be true—that there is no falling off in the
weigh one moment against later novels of Sir Walter Scott,—that Quen-
t^nsladon —E * ^ °W tin Durward is as &ood as Waverlcy, and
Woodstock better. But we will not go on—
attributing, in charity, to a blundering
feeling of serving objects at home not
literary, this jumble of Scott, Shakspear,
Schiller, Coleridge, Smith, and the editor,
and to prove that none but Sir Walter has a
right to attempt historical novel writing ;
and, finally, that Mr. Smith is an ass. If
this display of the preceding four writers,
and, above all, the exquisite tact, judgment,
and experience of this Mr. Gibson Lockhart
(the reputed editor of the Quarterly) do not
completely put him down, he must have more
than common powers of buoyancy ! How
dares Mr, Smith attempt that which the afore
1827-] TJi'E REVIEWERS REVIEWED. 27
Said editor insists shall be a branch of litera
ture as exclusively for his family, as a Ger
man college once insisted for hereditary
mathematics 1 The whole of the precious
display in this paper—the marshalling three
or four great names, and placing Sir Walter
Scott's inferior productions with Schiller's
best—is a sort of Scotch ruse to depreciate
Mr. Smith by the contrast, (y) The whole . (?) Nothing can be mora
matter and, truth
.'.[Link] that,
.1 . just
• f as Sir
a- Air u Jci8m
Walter just or sensible
ofthe than the these
Quarterlvon criti-

published one of his' least successful works, very dull and absurd novels of
" Woodstock,"—the best part of its Story Mr. Smith's. The observa-
borrowed from Dr. Plot, and re-printed in {jjJSjJ? bu^"'"'^. "he'
the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," from " Plot's ,"gh'arn ^t' o7 oekg^very
Oxfordshire," many years ago,—Mr. Smith true. Mr. Smith's novels are
brought out " Brambletye House." The the merest pieces of journey-
writer of this chanced to go into a library at work that ever came from the
,, , j /. ., . f i c u. xxr J press. I hey are the elabo-
the west end of the town to ask for Wood- £te works £ a mnae imita.
Stock ; " he was there told that more copies tor, with some little portion
of " Brambletye House " were asked for than of taste, but who is wholly
of « Woodstock." At Cheltenham, at the destitute of talent. No task
,., - •. u .v e j i_ is easier, no merit is more
libraries, it was altogether preferred by many dleap and vulgar than the
readers.
be a sin, with
charged God
If perusing
the
helpsame
Sirmemoirs
Walter
crime. and
! In
Hechronicles
some
may be
of power
"
blance,
*" i{*
of
which
[Link]>.
making
shall
and
aberesem-
utter|y
exact

his noblest productions, he has inserted whole *££* g^1 IflkJZHu

this,
tion
pages,
Walter,
will
not
translated
which
allow
to depreciate
neither
us from
to do,
our
thebut
power
German.
great
to show
<ii«cr>inclina-
tittinehow
We
of say
Sir
far 0f
originals.
"Tor
£•• ^SEt
Brambletye
Hill,"The
as regards
facts
HouseSS£
which
"their
and

the
own
in describing
"Quarterly
pardons
unchantablenesscs
his
forwill
virtues.
using
carry
so decorous
him—we
of the editor
abegword,
our
of lished
explained
which ft^S^'S'J'ST
"V- These
he in
frequents,
books
a verywere
different
maypub-
be

? , ., . name is the fashion just now.

The "Rejected Addresses are first cited, Mr. Murray's used to be. Now
to prove that Mr. Smith is a mere mimic, mark how good things may
The reviewer travels out of the record to gra- come by mean- Had not thia
tify the bias of his own malign spirit, to the JS^E*"
utmost possible extent. Then there is the race Smith would never have
charge of his perusing the chronicles, and been so justly appreciated in
borrowing from the same sources that Sir the Qn*>*>Tl9 Review. So
Walter has done—this, in the writer's eyes, ™^,|,e oracles of the
is sedition towards Sir Walter, who, we are
sure, thinks it no such thing. The exclusive
care of the Chronicles of England, is, no
doubt, to descend to the aforesaid editor,
with the mantle of his father-in-law, and so
on to his bairns' bairns, in secula seculorum !
The reviewer then gives three or four of his
sneering pages to the plots of the novels he
is labouring to slander and sink beneath their
merits—apologizes for doing it, in an affected
28 THE REVIEWERS REVIEWED. [May,
regard for the patience of his readers !—re
commends Mr. Smith to Dryden and Wilson
—" Jove's eagle and the gander " again !—
to learn how to define (we recommend him
the Quarterly too, for this, both in precept
and example)—and then proceeds to vitupe
rate the " Tor Hill ; " a work by no means
equal to " Brambletye House ; " and, there
fore, less severely treated on the whole, be
cause it is less feared. Sir Walter Scott and
his Crusaders are again lugged in as a con
trast. Mr. Smith is styled a " specimen,"
not superior to a " regiment of writers " of
the same kind ; a poor compliment to the
public, by the bye, who purchased as many
or more copies of Brambletye, than of Wood
stock, which never would have sold at all
but for the great and honoured name it bore.
The reviewer next returns to his eternal dis
sertations upon Shakspeare, Lessing, the
Germans, but not to Milton's fearful rival,
Wordsworth—we miss him at the winding-up
of this exquisite morsel of criticism. This
article displays no power, but of cunning,
and proves the reviewer deficient in judg
ment, guilty of gross impolicy towards his
father-in-law's honest fame—(by affording
ground for the inference that he was jealous
of Mr. Snath.) Had the author of " Bram
bletye House " been thought as miserable a
scribe as the reviewer insists he is, the Quar
terly would never have noticed him.
We should have preferred noticing this
article, paragraph by paragraph, but we have
not space, and the little history of the Quar
terly at our commencement occupied some
portion of our room ; this, however, cannot
happen in future ; and we assure the editor
of Mr. Murray's review, that we shall re
turn to him again, nor suffer him to go forth
as a literary Colossus, because he fights from
behind the shield of his predecessor's name.
There is still another article in this num
ber, which, we imagine, is the production ef
a lawyer ; it is both subtle and absurd. It
is on the law of libel ; and its principal de
sign is to defend indictment proceedings, and
to support the doctrine that " truth is a libel."
It shows an artful defence of the existing law,
under the mask of disinterested argument,
and is curious from convicted libellers ; the
last proceeding against the Quarterly was,
1827-3 SIBYL LEAVES. 29
we believe, by action. Hence that mode is
undervalued. No one doubts the convenience
of the " indictment " practice when the
Quarterly is concerned. The judges always
precede their gratuitous harangues to jurors
in libel cases, by avowing their sincere at
tachment to the freedom of the press, as the
Quarterly does, with much the same since
rity, we think. We must leave this paper to
be refuted by the daily journals. The lesser
papers will find it no hard task ; for with
Tory, Whig, or Radical—with all—it is a
common and serious subject. The editor of
" Bell's Life in London," or any of his po
lice-reporters, may expose its sophistry, pro
vided he dare try an article under the apos
tolic covers of the Quarterly, and stand not
in awe of the flatulent criticism, and over-
weaning pretensions of a work, the name of
which is now sunk to pretty nearly the level
in merit of its contents.

SIBYL LEAVES.»
It is one of. the commonest delusions for a man to fancy that he is
a poet, when in fact he is very far;from being any thing of the kind.
Why do men fall into this mistakeyond not into similar ones ? No
one erroneously imagines that he is a mathematician—no one sets up
for a carpenter or a watchmaker without a knowledge of the craft.
Until it is settled what poetry is, men will never know whether they
are poets or not. The uncertainty as to what it is that constitutes
the art leads to the uncertainty as to the qualifications necessary to
practise it. In the works of real poetry there is so much trick and
shallow artifice, that we must not be surprised if young men, finding
that they can perform the trick, and understand the artifice, suppose
that they are thereby poets. In the poetry of Milton, for instance,
there is a sustained march, a pomp of diction, and an affectation of
learning, which are very easily reached by men utterly destitute of
ideas. It is the same with Byron—his starts, his fitfulness and his
gloominess are all particularly easy to imitate. The truly valuable
and original part of his writings is hardly that which gained him his
fame, and rarely that which arrests the attention of the would-be
poet. When strut, and frown, and start are acquired, it is conceived
that the thing is done ; the only circumstance which ever occurs as
being wanted to the young versifier is that he is not a lord. There
is some truth in this notion—the union of peer and poet is a powerful
recommendation. It will not however do every thing, as may be seen
* Sybil Leaves ; to wliich is added, A Vision of Eternity. By Edmund Reade,
Esq., author of the Broken Heart, and other Poems. London : Longman and Co.
1827. 8vo.
30 sibyl leaves. [Mayy
in the instances of Lords Thurlow and Porehester. In the case of
Lord Thurlow, his title has even thrown a ridicule upon the portion
of merit which his poems really possess. In the case of Lord Por-
chester * it has not even gained him a hearing. These are excep
tions which might easily he explained. But to return—a stock of
phrases acquired from a popular poet, and properly arranged in a
.tolerably retentive memory, are the raw material. The aspirant, on
beginning to weave them together, finds the process one of great
simplicity and ease. The paper is rapidly covered—he reads his
production aloud—the swell and roll fill the mouth, and there remains
nothing but the eye to be satisfied. A printer and his hot-presserquickly
gratify this sense. The poems follow one another in beautiful order—
a neat little table of contents appears to usher in the reader to their
society—the titles of each poem stand up in handsome capital letters
—the Sonnet, To Thyrza, Stanzas, catch the eye. Some lines are
long, and some are short ; sometimes two or three start from the same
point, 'and sometimes they set out from a shorter distance, and do
not travel so far over the page. They are moreover packed up in
little packets of four or six or eight lines each, and numbered with
the neatness of a pin-maker, with venerable looking Roman letters.
Seeing all this, how is the youthful author to help exclaiming with
the Italian painter ed io son pittore ! Then come the critics, the
weekly critics, the Literary Gazettes and Literary Chronicles, which
find their account in universal praise ; who find " beautiful passages,"
" tender thoughts," " harmony," " ease of numbers," and " effusions
of genius." Backed by such authorities, who can be surprised that the
versifier himself begins to wonder at his own unconscious merit: hut
when at the end of the month the young poet finds himself raised to the
skies in the puffing department of the New Monthly—Campbell's
Magazine—the magazine of all the talents—then, though the praise is
indeed in very small type, perhaps it maybe written by the poet himself,
and consequently the happy man's self-satisfaction is greatly magnified.
To be sure, the book does not sell, but then there are peculiar causes for
that accident—the next attempt will be more successful, and doubtless
bring the solid pudding as well as the empty praise,—and, at any rate,
gaining or losing, great poets are not to be sordid ; it is fame that raises
the clear spirit ; posterity must be considered, and present pelf wholly
disregarded. Paradise Lost did not sell, at least so they say. Behold
then the now confirmed poet daily at his task, with his phrenzied pen,
scribbling more tomes, to be gathered unto those that still encumber
the catacombs of the publisher's warehouses.
A gentleman of the name of Reade, some short time ago, published
a little volume called the Broken Heart. We did not read it, but
placed it for future notice by the side of four hundred and ninety-
nine poetce minutissimi which adorn our shelves, and do honour to
the state of the typographical art in this country. Mr. Reade has
however again opened his battery upon the public, and prefixed to
his second work a preface of so much vanity and conceit, that we
are tempted to pick him out of the ranks, and expose his folly, for
the benefit of himself and the rest of mankind.
• We lately saw in some unsuspected quarter a eulogy of tbe talents of tliis noble
man, that will lead us to look at his Moor once more.
1827-] BJBYI. LEAVES, 31

Mr. Reade commences by stating, that after the publication of his

earliest poem, it had been his intention to give himself up to the com
position of a drama on a subject he had long meditated. This great
purpose was put aside by, it seems, the limited circulation of that
poem. It was noticed, he states, with much approbation by some
distinguished periodicals (mark the mischief done by these Literary
Gazettes, &c, who are at least critics in the eyes of all they praise)
yet, says the author, " owing to his name being hitherto unknown to
the public either in periodical publications, or indeed elsewhere, and
from other peculiar circumstances," (want of merit of course not
being in the number) the public would not lay out its money upon it.
This unfortunate accident did not, he says, in the least damp his
ardour, but somehow or other he assigns it as a reason why he has
not gone into the great design, the completion of which perhaps the
public were getting anxious about. In the mean time the poems called
the Sibyl Leaves were " fitfully composed," and " from the circum
stance of being detached [a rare merit], and consequently more dwelt
on [by whom ? and why ?J are offered with an increased confidence."
If any apology be requisite for not offering pieces of greater length, I would ob
serve, that long poems of considerable excellency already popular are almost count
less : that among such, even in the very first authors, there is much of detail and
otherwise inferior matter, which must necessarily be comparatively heavy ; that
pieces such as these cannot, at least, fatigue, inasmuch as the candidate for poetical
talents, if he has any, must be felt and appreciated almost immediately, each poem
standing by itself, in its own unsupported strength or weakness, open to, and chal
lenging the most rigid scrutiny. Moreover, it is in such concentered efforts that the
nearest advances to excellence have been made, gold with scarcely an alloy of tinsel ;
need I make more than an allusion to such names as Gray and Collins 1 or from the
crowd of more modern works, the " Ode in the Vale of Chamouni," by Coleridge,
and " The Last Man," by Campbell, the chef-d'reuvres of either author. I need
hardly observe that I do not particularly insist on the last of my alleged motives
above, though at the same time I will not for a moment be guilty of any false affecta
tion in underrating the following pieces ; they cost me much of time and thought,
which I feel conscious, whatever the harvest may be, has not been thrown away.
This is a most singular apology for a volume of short poems. Long
ones are countless, and short ones being of course scarce, Mr. Reade
patriotically steps forward to stop the gap. Then long poems con
tain " inferior matter ; " now "inferior matter " Mr. Reade cannot
tolerate ; " no alloy," " no tinsel,"—all above proof, all light, all
perfect. But the poet has other reasons for giving to the world these
" fitful compositions."
I wish to clear my name and pretensions to be more fully admitted before I offer
any composition of a higher stamp, which, whatever its merits or demerits might be,
would, in this age of universal poetry, speedily sink and be forgotten, without some
fixed and established recollection, even though I should prove myself ever so well
qualified for the task. For my own part, 1 have too much indolence, and no inclina
tion to strive in the crowd of those
" Who dabble in the pettiness of fame ; "
the mark of excellence I have set up for myself in poetry is high, and so is the hope
through a life of comparative seclusion and meditation, to near, or attain it ; not
through the hasty ebullitions of continual effort, but from "years that bring the
philosophic mind.
These " Sibyl Leaves " then are to stamp the author's name with
a " fixed and established recollection : " the meaning of which we
take to be, that when the great drama appears, then that all the
32 SIBYL LEAVES. [Ma)',

world are tosing, hallelujah ! this is the author of the " Siby) Leaves,"
the great poet—who has published another book.
From the first part of the preface it appeared that " detached
poems " were offered the more confidently on the ground of their
being detached, but it is not so.
It appears to me indeed almost impossible that in the overwhelming mass of
poetry still increasing, detached poems, of whatever merit or demerit they may be,
can endure for any length of time. It may then be asked, thinking so, why do I now
publish such 1 I answer, my wish is simply to be appreciated 6y them }\>r a capa
bility of rising to a higher subject, and thus establishing for myself some faint recol
lection hereafter, when the task to which I am now devolved is completed ; and this
I think will be considered satisfactory and moderate.
Very moderate, and very satisfactory indeed ; but neither so mode
rate nor so satisfactory as what comes afterwards. We shall now see
why it is the great poets do not now spring up to succeed the great
who are going by ; and this will account for Mr. Reade's bespoken
celebrity.
It strikes me that the poets of the present day (of course those who have long since
taken their niche in Fame's temple excluded) want an aim in what they write.
Dramatic poems and pieces are almost daily offered us, written with more or less
force and elegance, and are admired, and then laid down ; they pleased for the
hour, and attempting no loftier effort—are forgotten. I think the only chance a
writer has of being named a century hence is, instead of wasting away his powers on
sketches and madrigals, to concenter his scattered energies to one point, [what
point?] to form a regular design, and build up a whole, in which he might [may]
develop the habitual philosophical bias of his mind, and infuse all his peculiar modes of'
thought and feeling, [Here is an aim /] It might, or might not be, a " monumentum
aere perennius," at all events the attempt would show a noble ambition, and conse
quently an aspiring mind, which would be honourable even in its failure. [Not a bit
more honourable than any other miscalculation.] The various works of the eternal
Byron all more or less point to one end : [to what end ?] those of Wordsworth,
though by a very different path, do the same ; and a glow of enthusiasm, and a
generous love of liberty pervade, [are these ends ? a pretty tale] and are caught alike
from the strains of Moore and Campbell. As to Coleridge, I, as one among the
countless admirers of his transcendantly fine genius, can only hope his career is not
yet done.
In a subsequent paragraph Mr. Reade explains the reason (for no
thing must go unexplained) why he has given the name of Sibyl Leaves
his work—the reason is, " that he could find no other name." Surely
it was not so utterly impossible ?—there are other appellations which
might have been thought equally appropriate. We can see nothing so
prophetic in them as to remind us of the Sibyls or their leaves. But
our readers shall have an opportunity of judging. Great poetical
talent would not exonerate the author from the chastisement merited
by arrogant folly; much less is he to be screened by the slight defence
which these poems can afford him.
Mr. Reade's poetry is of that flatulent description which most
frequently blows up young men of indifferent digestive powers, with
a notion of their own sublimity. It is vague—it is wordy—it is high
sounding, and altogether thin and unsubstantial—the reader knows
not where to have it. The sense flickers about his brain like a
shadow, and is never caught. . Through this sublime no-meaning,
the poet wings his lofty way, and as he toils on among fog and
mizzle and rain, no doubt hugs himself with the idea that all
the world is staring at the altitude of his flight. He may not be
1827] SIBYL LEAVES. 33

entirely wrong ; there are many people who think the better of
writing because it is incomprehensible—some because it is the part of
the ignorant to wonder at what they cannot understand—some because
they amuse themselves with the task of depositing their own meaning
in the words which the author has arranged for the reception of his own.
But this is only done in the case of great names—a Kant, or a Goethe,
or a Boehmen, never want a meaning—nay, fifty—in the minds of the
faithful. We will take as an example Mr. Beade's poem, entitled, The
West Wind—we consider it about the best in the book : had this poem
been attributed to an Apostle iD poetry, it had not wanted many fine
interpretations. The words are poetical, the metre is rhythmical ;
and there is a kind of wildness about it such as young poets have who
go about plantations, gravel walks, and canals, with an open shirt
collar, and a little volume (" Boscan or Garcilasso") in their hands—
and who call the said plantations, gravel walks, and canals—groves,
wood paths, and fountains.
TO THE WEST WIND.
I.
0 thou West Wind ! thou breath of life decaying;
Slowly and mournfully o'er yon red sky :
Where the far Day, her steep course still delaying,
Sinks in the bosom of eternity :
Her hues of beauty fade, her cheek is cold,
And light and warmth are gone, and yon pale star
Watcheth her rest, and Darkness like a fold
Mantles around her, and first heard afar—
Then nearer o'er the waters hushed and dim
Thou raisest o'er her couch thy gentlest requiem hymn !
n.
Hear me, even now, thou Spirit of the Air !
Thou viewless thing, that as a presence dost give
Life and elastic gladness—Oh, that I were
Like thee, a bodiless essence; and could Jive
All freshness and all purity ; and leave
The passions that do waste this clay behind,
Sorrow, and pain, and hopelessness ; and grieve
No more for aught of earth, but like thee, Wind,
Revel before the path of that bright sun.
And pass away at last [Link] when done.

Child of the elements ! who so blest as thou t

When the rich twilight fades along the skies
Steeping in hues of heaven the earth's wan brow,
Thou wanderest from the gates of Paradise.
The flowers give thee their perfume, from above
The dews sink °n thy wings, and thou goest on
Hallowing each spot thou visitest, while Love
Breathes to thee, bowered in his deep haunt alone,
A blessing when thou com'st, a sigh when thou art gone.
IV.
1 hear thee now—the scattered leaves are sighing'—
To thy sweet breath they never more shall feel !
From the seared woods a voice is heard replying,
Where the last lingering tints of Autumn steal :
AHAnd
breathe
hopedecay
with them
and sadness,
lies buried—
they unlike
are dead,
thee,

Who, while man's mightiest works as leaves are fled,

Still wanderest o'er the bright earth wild and free.
Like Love, the awakening soul, that liveth on eternally.
May, 1827- D
34 sibyl leaves. [May,
V.
Requiem of Melody ! chaunted as from heaven,
Now,
Which
while
through
life rests
great
in Nature's
holiest commune
temple swells
given, along !

What
I sitdost
and thou
listenteach
thy inwoven
me 1 nothing
song ;can be known ;

That
Lulled
Enough
Then
I, by
like
let
that
the
me
thee
inmurmurs
dream
this
at last,
bright
awhile
ofshall
thy
day
from
find
dreamy
1 am
thought
myblest,
tone
placeoppressed
: of rest.

Were we to end here, Mr. Reade might cry out upon us, and
declare that we had been ill-natured, unjust, and God knows what !
To avoid such a scandal, we must, greatly against our inclination,
give further specimens of his quality. That we may not entirely
throw away our space, we shall select the poems we are inclined to
esteem the best. It is possible they may please some of our readers
whose tastes differ from ours—we will at least hope so in charity.
We think the poem called Sunset is what young ladies call " beauti
fully wild." It is no doabt true, that if slipped in at the end of some
of Byron's " metaphysical " (!) poems, it would pass master as well as
several of his " dreams " and " darknesses."

I adore
-The Sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no mon.—Shntrtpeare.
O thou departing god !
Or idol of that God—before whose brow
The clouds, and heaven, and earth do robe themselves
In hues of beauty caught but from thy presence.
I see thee still—and feel thy warmth of rays,
While thou dost lighten up this inward being
With glory and with joy ! I look on thee,
Dust though I am, and darkly comprehend
The life—the visions of beatitude
They feel, who stand before the Almighty's throne,
Of whom thou art the shadow ! Glorious orb !
I yield the adoration of dim sense,
Absorbed and lost in light ineffable !
Of clay, which, quickened by thy beams, grew up
Expanding like thy flowers, and whence, oh whence
Doth the soul draw its earnest inspiration,
And springing thoughts, and passion, life, and love.
But from thine urn of fire t Thou risest—and
Earth in her visible creation wakes,
Glowing with light and beauty, and man's heart
Pours forth in gratitude, o'erflowing with
The feeling and the consciousness of being,
The blessing, and the luxury—to be !
Thou sink'st and nature fades : her energies,
And all her mighty action is at rest ;
The passion and the life from thee inspired,
The informing soul, is gone— and like a corse
Vaulted beneath night's starry sepulchre,
She sleeps as in her grave.
There thou art throned.
Like him, on whom the angels dare not gaze.
Alone in trackless solitude. The stars
Live round thee, drinking hope, and light, and joy
1827] SIBYL LEAVES. 33
From thee, their centre and their soul—but thou
Lost as a speck in the abyss of space,
With the swift motion of the heavens, and midst
Innumerable worlds art born along
In whirlwind round the Eternal ! Earth grows grey.
Sinks and lives on through ruin, and the nations
Rise, change, and vanish ; but they turned to thee
As to a visible god, and drew down thence
An impress of divinity—a hope,
A spark of kindred immortality ;
And truth and wisdom ; and knelt to thee in temples
Not reared by human hands, but on the mountains
The free and natural steps to thy great shrine,
Where thou wert worshipped o'er the hosts of Heaven !
Altar of Deity unrevealed ! who first
From this all beautiful earth, o'ercome with love,
Offered his heart up in thanksgiving there 1
Who last shall look on thee when thou thyself
Dost change in heaven—for worlds as atoms change
Before the everlasting : or wilt thou
Stand, and while stars as dew-drops melt before thee
Quenched in the abyss, still self existent burn,
The life— the centre— the enduring soul 1 I'm
O thou most living light ! I have drawn from tlree
As from a fountain, purity and love,
And a deep knowledge of the world ; from boyhood
To thee the yearnings of my heart were sent,
A wandeier on the hills. I watch thee now
And feel ambition : not to rise o'er men
Or to be loved or feared ; I would not die
Like them, but in the inspiration of this song
Live as a spirit when I am no more ;
A record not of pride, but gratitude,
To tell of one who was—who blessed thee once,
And left his words to be forgot, or dwelt on
With an affectionate memory. For oh, thou sun !
Like the Chaldean I have bowed to thee,
And from the mountains, and the ocean waves
Stretched forth my hands to thee, while thou didst take
Thy glorious departure from the world !
Thou didst inspire me like a prophet then,
With thoughts sublime, and visions not my own ;
For gazing there, I saw with inmost eye
The good, the beauty of things visible !
And through this film of sense that darkens all
With doubt and disbelief, and through the evil
That makes us what we are—the hidden love,
The order, and the prescience of the unknown.
Moments
Life's
Farewell—if
Restless,
Of thywick
Promethean
of
andout
passionate
Tquick,
inherited
ere its
fire,
and
time—yet
feeling
making
too
wayward,
much
and
thou
meof
wasting
here
love,
hast given
thus

And
Not
Which
even
mywere
last
poets
hour
eternities
shape
when forth
ingazing
joy
in; their
such
on thee
dreams.
as shall

Be happy ! these frail atoms which but met

To tremble and to suffer, then shall part
And sleep in calm quiescence ; or through space
Float on thy beams, and dew earth's sleeping Dowers :
And whither may this animating soul
Wander, thou glorious centre, but to thee !
D2
36 de verb. [May,
To an Autumn Rose is another address in a different style, with
which we shall conclude : it is indeed an imitation of Moore's " Last
Rose of Summer."
TO AN AUTUMN ROSl-

And is thy beauty gone.

Sweet rose, for ever,
And wilt thou, lovely one,
Bloom again never 1
Thy boughs are all stooping
Bent down by the blast,
Thy
Lieleaves
scentless
fadedatand
lastdrooping
!

Yon sun that shines brightly

No more shall awaken :
The wind passeth lightly,
And leaves thee forsaken !
Thy day thou has revelled,
And those seared leaves beneath
,j Shall, torn and dishevelled,
■ 1UI103 Be tossed o'er the heath.
St Adreise.
-non. Yet why should I mourn thee,
Thou thing of a day !
No sorrow hath worn thee
With early decay ;
Thy life was bereft not
Of joy unconiined ;
Thou art gone—and hast left not
One tear-drop behind.

DE VERE.*

In our review of Tremaine, we estimated its author rather as a

shrewd observer than a profound philosopher. The present work
confirms this impression. De Vere is superior in every way to its pre
decessor, and if it has not altered our opinion of the nature of the
writer's capacity, it has very much exalted our opinion of its powers.
He is not, we repeat, a deep or an accurate thinker, hut he has looked
at the world as a painter views a landscape, with a fine perception of
every variety of hue and form, though uninstructed and perhaps in
curious respecting their causes. The artist may not sketch the less
faithfully, or feel a less lively sense of the beauties of nature, because
he is unacquainted with botany, geology, and astronomy ; and our
author may not paint humanity in many of its nicest phases with less
exactness because he is not profoundly grounded in moral science.
He has seen much of men, and seen them well, with a piercing sight
and a liberal allowance for peculiarities, a just distaste for littleness
in all its disguises, and a fervent love of simplicity and singleness of
mind. He notes, but he does not rage, against foibles, while he
pourtrays the virtues with a tone of calm enjoyment which indicates
the depth and sincerity of his pleasure in the task, and gives a rich

* De Vere ; or the Man of Independence. By the Author of Tremaine. In four

Volumes. London : Colbum, 1827.
 1827-] BB VERB. 37
character of repose to the picture under his hands. He has lived
much in the great world, and has carried out of it a taste unvitiated,
a mind stored with observations, and above all, an uncorrupted heart.
This last attribute is one of the most pleasing characteristics of the
work, which breathes throughout a spirit of benevolence, and bears
on every page the stamp of goodness. We occasionally feel that the
writer is weak, often that he is diffuse to tediousness, but he never
ceases to be respectable. There is a fine temper about the book
which acts as a charm on the reader, and inclines him to a congenial
mood of indulgence. He sees much nobleness of sentiment, and a
keen relish for the beautiful in all its shapes moral and natural, in
combination with feebleness of judgment; but he grants a kindly tole
ration to the failing, in consideration of the amiable qualities asso
ciated with it. It is the property of sun-shine to lend cheerfulness to
the dullest objects, and of goodness to grace even error. We cannot
explain why it is that a man uniformly exact in taste is often signally
deficient in judgment ; the same faculty which we call taste in trifles
should be judgment in matters of superior importance ; but we see
that it is not so, and that he who comes to a right conclusion almost
without the aid of thought, arrives, nine times out of ten, at a wrong
one, when he applies more of his reasoning powers to a subject. He
has a ready perception of beauty, fitness, and concord ; there is, in
truth, always a beauty, a fitness, and a concord, and how is it that
in graver inquiries he does not catch a glimpse of these things, of
which in trifles he has almost an instinctive apprehension ; and that
they do not give him a clue at least to a just judgment ? If taste is
not an undeveloped reason, how is it that it does not come in aid of
reason ? We have daily examples that it does not ; we observe it
superseding higher principles, but never guiding to them. There are
many men in public life who are enemies to injustice and oppression,
not from principle but from taste. It offends them to see cruelty,—
there is deformity in it, and they oppose it, because they dislike it ;
it gives them pain, uneasiness; it is to their minds as the setting of a
saw or the grating of a slate pencil is to their ears. Others, without a
particle of taste, or an atom of heart, concur with them in their con
clusion, being brought to it by the light of their reason alone. Our
author presents a remarkable example of the phenomenon we have
noted. Wherever the demand is on his perceptions he is exquisitely
exact, and discovers, without parading it, his critical apprehension of
every shade of distinction in the objects he is setting before us ; but
when something more than perception is called for, when he has to
penetrate and explore, to pierce the flimsiest disguises of falsehood,
or to utthusk the truth, his want of energy and vigour is manifest.
He has no wings for speculation ; his strength is with sensible images.
In the province of taste he is excellent, and he has certainly aggran
dized this province, extended its bounds very far ; but where taste
ends and the higher judgment begins, he is powerless. In support of
this position we could fill some pages with examples of extraordinary
weakness, confusion, and inaccuracy of reasoning. Of logic we
should infer that the author was entirely ignorant, and yet his
writings give us an idea of so accomplished a man, that we can
hardly prevail upon ourselves to assume him unpossessed of any
38 de verb. [May,
necessary acquirement. Certain it is, however, that some very re
markable solecisms in the forms of argumentation occur in his hook.
In the dialectical combats a remark is often made, and a triumphant
objection is offered, having nothing whatever to do with it.
The fable of De Vere is inartificial and uninteresting, and it is
barren of incident or stirring adventure. Those, therefore, who take
it up as a mere novel, will probably lay it down with considerable
disappointment. The plot is but. the slender thread on which the
author strings his pearls—his characters. De Vere is not a drama, it
is rather a gallery of sculpture in which we see a number of finely
chiselled forms, many of them admirable copies of nature, but having
no
dredrelation
of truth.
with Our
each eye
other,
firstexcept
reposes
that
on indeed
one figure,
of the
andcommon
then passes
kiu-

over a naked space to another, and another, excellent but still—there

is every feature of life, but its warm motion is wanting, and the effect,
though imposing, is cold. Among these statues are some perfect per
formances. There is a kind of moral centaur, a being, one half
knavery, and tfhe other the keenest sensibility, which is unmatched ;
it is a species ^tfl rogue which has never been described in print be
fore, but the^trtAh of it will be confessed at once, as it is often seen.
Clayton, this sensitive scoundrel, is a refinement on the Blifil of Field
ing ; he has his sleekness, meanness, and hypocrisy, together with the
addition of fine feelings, which stamps him an original character on
paper, though by no means a rare one in the world.
It is the custom of inferior artists to make their villains uniformly
men of coarse minds and depraved, or, at least, merely animal appetites.
Clayton is one of elegant desires, and when the master passion of
self-interest does not possess him and turn him to roguery, he has a
soul delicately sensible of excellence. An idea may be formed of his
moral composition from this passage—
We have failed (says the author) in our contemplation of human nature, and parti
cularly failed in delineating Clayton's character, if we have not shown that the strong
est contrasts, nay contradictions, may sometimes be found in the same bosom, and that
very keen susceptibilities are not always incompatible with considerable laxily of prin
ciple. That Clayton had an eye for beauty, and could feel even the raptures of tender
ness through all the avenues to the soul, is no more than true ; although beauty, rap
ture, and tenderness itself, could all be abandoned in a moment, whenever the finger
of self-interest beckoned him away. While this beckon was not perceived, and still
more, if self-interest lay in the same road with feeling, of feeling no man had a prettier
stock. In short no man went beyond him in that sort of sentiment which emanates
from the imagination, but has nothing to do with the heart.
The character of Lord Mowbray comes next to Clayton's in merit.
He is the Lord Westmorland of the political drama. A man with
about the same tenacity to office which an oyster has to its bed, which
rests undisturbed by a hundred tempests, and opens its shell for every
change of tide—till in an unlucky hour it is dredged up and destroyed.
Lord Mowbray is the head of a noble house, and the possessor of a splendid
fortune, who looks upon office on any terms as the only basis of human
happiness, and is content to submit to every kind of humiliation for
the retention of it. The end of existence with him is place ; this
secured, the grand object is a lasting administration. Identifying his
own convenience with the nation's good, he supposes that a permanent
ministry is the main point necessary to its welfare. Of its composi
1827-] v »B VERE. 39
tion, like some other greater men, he is regardless. If he is in it,
that is enough—all is well. " At the same time," says his historian,
" there was a part of his character which, for the undeviating consis
tency as well as energy that he displayed in it, entitled him to all
respect. This was a notion of what he called political discipline.
As throughout his career he had acted upon a principle amounting
to sacred, of unqualified obedience to all who were above him ; so
even in his first advances, lie exacted, to the letter, from his official
inferiors, all that he himself had paid to those above him.* A subal
tern in office, he used to hold, could have no opinion but that of his
chief; a member of Parliament none but that of his party ; and any
show of deviation from these duties was treated by him as treason,
and as such held in abhorrence. These, and other such maxims,
were laid down by him in a manner little less than oracular ; they
were paramount to all others in his notions of government ; indeed,
they were almost the only notions of government which he possessed ;
for as to all great views of policy, foreign or domestic, he left them to
those whom he at the time supported ; satisfied himself, with support
ing them." This Lord Mowbray is the patron of the ftarvenu Clayton,
who having incurred the abhorrence of all honourable minds by some
dirty work, a base piece of ratting, is judged by his noble protector
worthy of a sinecure, by way of a salve for his wounds in the service.
The minister to whom the request is urged objects, " It may gild
him, but it will be with tarnished gold."
" Gild him, however," said Lord Mowbray. This is one of those
anecdotes which give a stamp to a character. It is impossible to misap
prehend the manner of the man after hearing these three words reported
of him. He speaks, and we know him. And this brings us to another
fine stroke. De Vere reproaches his then friend Clayton for accept
ing the post—
" Far from accepting new appointments," said be with some indignation to the
latter ; " you should have laid down the old one."
Clayton, in reply, deeply lamented the miserable state of affairs ; wished himself a
thousand times out of politics in some calm retreat, and said he had been inhumanly
and unjustly treated by the ex-minister, whose cause he had always advocated, till ha
found him really too dangerously ambitious. But, in regard to his keeping or accept
ing new offices, he pleaded that he really was not his own master, but a mere follower
of Lord Mowbray on that point. Nor could he prevent his patron, if he thought his
honour concerned, from insisting that his accession to the new arrangement should not
be stigmatized, either in his own, or his friend's person, and that therefore a strong
demonstration should he made in their favour.
" That," said De Vere, little moved, " would require some high notice of my lord
himself."
" You are right," returned Clayton, " and you therefore cannot be surprised if you
find that he has accepted the red ribband."

Nothing can be more exquisite than this misapprehension of Clayton.

The high notice which the honourable De Vere had in his thoughts
was one of a very different nature—a high notice to mark the sense
of the purity of his uncle's (for such is Lord Mowbray) motives, but
the parvenu instances the price of his meanness.

* It is this which always makes the truckling jack in office so insolent to his inferiors.
He thinks himself entitled to exact from them the prostration which he offers to his
superiors, and it soothes his self-love to compel others to be as supple as himself.
40 i>e veke. [May,
We introduce these illustrations, as we shall do others, rather
abruptly, because in no other way can we deal with the book. Like
Ticmaine, the pattern is of such Brobdignag proportions, that we
cannot reduce it to the limits of our pages, and all that we attempt is
to take a bit here and a bit there, which appear to us of a kind that
will bear insulation. The story we do not think it worth while to
follow ; it is so lumbering and void of interest. It is the waggon in
which the characters are stowed, and it travels along at a snail's
pace, with a prodigious creaking, and cracking, and grinding of its
great broad wheels. To pursue the course of such a machine is not
at all to our tastes, and our readers would derive little gratification
from learning its different lingering stages ; we shall therefore run
before it or lag behind it, according to the temptation that offers.
The character of Wentworth is obviously a portrait of Mr. Canning
en beau ; and the political incidents in which he figures strikingly
and singularly accord with those which have just surprised and de
lighted the world. Wentworth, like the original, is a man of prodi
gious talents, which are understood rather than expressed ; they are
of an iibove-proof kind, and without evidence we are called upon to
give him credit for them, which of course, as in all such cases, we
implicitly do. In his little moments of petulance, the likeness between
Wentworth and our distinguished statesman is very strong, and we
are willing to believe that it is equally so in those of his generosity.
Take it all and all, however, this is not one of the best characters.
We turn from it to the two Flowerdales, excellent in their respective
ways. The one a man steeped and starched in office, formal, worldly,
yet—here is the talent—respectable, nay amiable ; the kind of
person whom we meet in the world and esteem, but who never before
looked well upon paper. The artist shows his powers in making a
good painting of so difficult a subject. His brother, a country gen
tleman, the very opposite of this, is one of those beings in the existence
of which it delights and elevates us to believe. We would fain
transfer the portrait of him from the author's canvass, but thirty-
nine pages present an insuperable obstacle to our wish, and there is not
a part which we can omit without destroying the charm of the whole.
We may give some idea of our author's manner by stating that this
space is occupied by a dialogue over bread and cheese ! Few, how
ever, will, we think, quarrel with its length. There is, to our minds,
great freshness and a fineness of tone about this quiet scene. Simple
in its effect, but most elaborate in its execution, it is a sample of the
style of the writer's labours, and an example of the difficulty of exhi
biting his more finished performances in a narrow compass. He does
not deal in bold strokes and grand efforts, but in minute touches and
patient developments which remind us of the manner of Richardson,
divested, however, of its repulsive homeliness.
Indeed, though the author indulges in one or two quiet sneers at
this antiquated model, we cannot but think that he has moulded his
conceptions of excellence on it. De Vere himself seems to us a
descendant of the Grandison family. He is a man of good birth,
small fortune, and much pride, who cannot advance an inch in the world
by reason of his excessive virtues. His uncle, Lord Mowbray, wishes
to launch him into politics, that is, to qualify him for a placeman ;
18-27-] nE VERB. 41
but Dc Vcre has too much honesty and independence for this voca
tion. He refuses to creep, and not having wings to fly, remains a
cypher. He is in love with his cousin Constance, the daughter and
heiress of Lord Mowbray, but as he is poor and she is rich, pride
forbids him to pretend to her hand. He is in every way unfortunate.
He sees his mistress besieged by a profligate nobleman, Lord Cleve
land, and his seat in Parliament stolen from him by his treacherous
friend Clayton, and goes abroad in despair with Wentworth, who
retires from political life for a season, for reasons which it is not
necessary to our rough sketch to explain. At last, by a clumsy pro
cess, after the death of Lord Mowbray, his right to a part of the pos
sessions of Constance is established, and he is blessed, according to
the dispensation of novels, with all his desires, not, be it observed,
by means of any meritorious exertion on his own part, but by an
accident arising from the villany of his rival. Throughout the book
we take no interest in De Vere. Pride may be a good accessory, but
it is a bad staple commodity for a character, and we are weary of the
set parade of He Vere's. The author has endeavoured also indeed
to invest him with the charm of simplicity, but has miscarried, and
in effect almost made him a simpleton. There are two-dtore prominent
persons whom we must not leave unnoticed, Harclai, and the Pre
sident Herbert. The first is a common-place character ; a man with
a heart all benevolence and a tongue all misanthropy, such as we
have in scores in the D'Arblay novels, et id genus omne. The last
is a worldly priest ; a kind of trumpeter, who though he does not
engage himself as a combatant, is perpetually sounding the charge
for action in the field of public affairs. How the author intended this
personage to be regarded we do not know, but it is impossible to
imagine him other than an unprincipled rogue at bottom. By the
bye, he does the orthodox duty of the work ; he is the mouth-piece
of the writer's theology, and a precious organ he is. We shall extract
a discussion, exemplifying the weakness in reasoning to which we
have before adverted. The question mooted is the perceptible inter
position of Providence ; we regret to see such points agitated by
incompetent disputants.—
" The time, as I observed," said the President Herbert," is over when visible interpo
sition was the condescending mode of directing the world ; for, unhappily for us, there
is now
' No more of talk when God or angel guest
With man, as with his friend familiar, us'd
To sit indulgent.' "
'' That must indeed have been a happy time," said De Vere ; and to that sentiment
his cousin, by her looks, evidently responded.
" Instead of poetry, give me facts," said Cleveland. " What does history say
toil?"
" Will you believe history if I tell you 1 " asked the divine.
" I will not believe Livy's silly stories of voices in the air, any more than my Lord
Clarendon, with his sleeping dream about the Duke of Buckingham, or his waking one
of Lord Brooke, at Litchfield."
'* You wish to touch me home," said the doctor, " in mentioning the last. But
setting aside my partiality for my favourite cathedral, if you ask me seriously to say
what I think, I am not one of those enlightened persons, like your lordship, who have
so settled the matter as not to consider the circumstances of Lord Brooke's death as
peculiarly awful."
" Ihave never gone by the spot where he fell," said De Vere, who had been most
attentive to this part of the conversation, " without feeling it so; nor can I laugh at
42 de vere. [May,
Clarendon for appearing to favour the notion, (be does no more,) that this death was
an absolute and immediate judgment."
"That such a mind as your's," cried Cleveland, "should think so! But I will
refer you to a far better confutation than mine of so ridiculous a legend ;" and he took
a letter from his pocket-book, which he bad just received from a man of high fashion,
and some research in the olden literature of the country, though of little depth as a
real philosopher, which he was even then affecting to be. He was a correspondent of
Cleveland's on these subjects, on which they much agreed ; but Herbert, who perfectly
knew his shallowness, at the same time that he admitted his agreeable wit, observed
instantly, on hearing his name, " He will make it ridiculous if he can, for he lives but
to ridicule all that is serious. Barring his wit, however, which is delightful, his
reasoning is in general as shallow, as his presumption is offensive."
" The cleverest man of the age," replied Cleveland.
" At an epigram if you will," said Herbert ; " but at a truth no conjuror. Let us
first see what is Clarendon's story, and then hear the comment. Lord Brooke,
perhaps a sincere and, as it should seem, a pious man, had resolved to storm the Close
at Litchfield, which held for Charles. A little doubtful, it would appear, of the law
fulness of his cause, (he should have thought of that before he commenced rebel,) he
knelt down before the assault began, and prayed, if the cause he had engaged in was
not just, that he might be cut off. Soon afterward he was shot. Now what does your
cleverest man of the age say to this ? "
" Why, he asks," replied Cleveland, " * Does the ruler of the universe inflict
sudden destruction, as the way to set right a conscientious man ? ' "
"And is this alii" said Herbert. " If it is, and it be witty, most unfortunately
for the wit, Lord Brooke had not prayed to be set right, but to be " cut off " if wrong.
So far, therefore, the wit depends upon a false statement, for his real prayer was com
plied with. But even without this, could there be no other reason for his death, than
what concerned Lord Brooke 1 The notoriety of the prayer, and its issue, made it of
the last importance to those who witnessed the facts. To them, opinion was set right,
as far as such an example could set it right ; and hence the argument against inter
position, on account of absurdity, falls to absolute nothing."
This is downright folly. What can be less miraculous than the fall
of a man in battle ?—what more in the common course of things ?
Certain persons hold, that play-going is sinful. Let us suppose, that
a worthy gentleman begins to feel some misgivings of the lawfulness
of his favourite pleasure ; that he kneels down and prays, that if it
be sinful, his pocket may be picked in going into the pit—would any
one regard the larceny as a miracle 1 And yet a greater proportion of
lives are lost in battles, than of Barcelonas in crowded houses.
Nothing can be conceived more flimsy, on both sides, than these
discussions of spiritual matters ; the scoffer and the divine are equally
imbecile. Lord Cleveland asks Herbert whether he has ever heard su
pernatural voices ? The dignitary says he has—the voice of his Maker ;
and he declares, that it is like the music of enchantment, the
description of which we have all admired in certain lines of poetry!—
he affirms the disputed manifestation, by likening it to a thing that
has no existence ! It were well that subjects of this nature were not
touched upon at all in works of fiction.
We shall endeavour to cite some more creditable example of the
author's powers, for the benefit of those who have not the oppor
tunity of contemplating them at full length, and in their full vigour,
in his own pages. This, as we have premised, is a difficult attempt.
It strikes us, however, that the subjoined sketch of day-break in
Westminster on the morning of a grand debate in the House, will
bear abstraction. The truth of the introductory remarks on the
effect of the repose of a great city, when all nature is in action,
cannot fail to be felt ; and the picturesque force of the description
will be acknowledged by every observer. De Vere is leaving town
1827] DE VERE. 43
in company with Wentworth, whose health and spirits compel him
to a temporary retirement from politics at the very moment of a
grand parliamentary struggle.
This contrast, which often exists between the cheerful appearance of inanimate
objects and the deep rest of man, is, to a contemplative person, always full of interest ;
nor, perhaps, of all the scenes on which such a person loves to fasten, is there one
more pregnant with philosophic food than this—the exhibition of a great city at the
dawn of day. The myriads which it is known to contain, and is soon to pour forth,
are then invisible to the eye, and the houses, teeming with life, appear abandoned and
desolate. At best they are buried in peaceful forgetfulness, from which it seems
almost a pity to rouse them. How many thousands of those who were thus lost in
happy oblivion, were soon to awake to care, to doubt, to struggle, or to certain
affliction ! Many, however, to joy ; though neither De Vere nor his companion made
these last any part of the visions they indulged ; yet with other feelings than those
which preyed upon each, the softness of the morning, and the journey before them,
might have created very different sensations.*
The sun had been up above an hour, but was now tempered by clouds which had
just shed the blessing of a gentle rain on the earth, enough (and no more) to allay
heat, and turn every thing to freshness. But the busy dwellers of Whitehall were
still steeped in sleep, save now and then, where an earlier stirrer than the rest had
opened his window aloft, to inhale the air. On advancing, however, towards Parlia
ment-street, symptoms of bustle and watchfulness displayed themselves. At first a
desultory straggler was seen, with jaded step and night-worn looks, creeping like
snail (though with any thing but shining morning face) towards that ominous place of
combat, where the fate of nations was often decided, and might be then deciding.
Another and another still succeeded, till at length whole groupes, by threes and fours
at a time, swept the pavement, arm in arm, hurrying faster and faster, in the appre
hension of being too late for the question, or anxious with mutual fear at the sight of
each other's strength.
These had all been summoned to vote from their respective clubs, where, tired of a
ten-hours' debate, they had sought a temporary and feverish refuge. Dim as were
their eyes, and furrowed their temples with watching, their countenances still gleamed
with what agitated them within ; and hope and doubt, and anxious calculation, and
(with many, let us cordially add) real patriotism, excited them all by turns ; and this
gave a momentary ardour to their spirits, and an accelerating impulse to their steps.
It was a sight which neither Wentworth, nor, indeed, De Vere could view without
emotion. The former saw many of his friends and many of his opponents, as the
carriage rolled past them. Amongst these was Clayton, whose quick but solitary pace
and disconcerted air rather surprised them. He had in fact been dispatched to bring up
a detachment of hesitating, though general supporters of Lord Oldcastle ; had met with
a cold reception from a knot of county members ; and was, in truth, ruminating on the
coarseness and ingratitude too, of country gentlemen, when, with irregular step, and
face full of care, he was thus seen hurrying to his patrons with apprehensions of
something little short of mutiny. Both the friends observed the phenomenon, and
Mr. Wentworth argued from it, that all was not well with the ministerial party. This,
with the eventful discussion which was pending, and his possible power of influencing
it, but, above all, the proximity of the scene, staggered his resolution. His hand was
several times on the glass, to order the postillion to stop, and his heart beat high at
the thought of gallant encounter ; when the weakness of his chest, and the solemn
promise he had given to Wilmot (of which De Vere forcibly reminded him), turned
him from his design, and he too threw himself back in the carriage, that he might not
be noticed either by the former companions of his glory, or the rivals of his power.
Having at length escaped by driving over Westminster-bridge, he could not help
stretching through the window, to take a view of the House, which reared itself in
placid and quiet dignity to the grey morning, unconscious (and it seemed almost
strange that it should be so) of the agitating scene that was passing within. For

* The modern reader, in the foregoing description of the early dawn in London, may
recollect something of the same cast in the novel of Granby ; only (as I am most
willing to allow) it is better executed in that lively and very agreeable picture of the
manners of the day. Nevertheless, as the tone of sentiment is somewhat different, and
as it introduces a different course of action, I am content to let this description stand.
[This note is perfectly unnecessary. There is nothing in Granby which can enter
into comparison with De Vere.]
44 de verb. . [May,
Wentworth was but right in supposing that at this moment the doors were closed, and
the speaker engaged in the act of putting the question. The thought so got the better
of him, that, had he not been a little ashamed of his eagerness, he would have con
fessed then (what he did afterwards), that though absolutely out of hearing of the
House, he mistook the hailing of some distant watermen across the river, for the well-
known sounds of Aye and No ! Such, and so great, on particular subjects, is the power
of habitual excitement and local association.
We shall extract two more scenes, and with them close our review.
Lord Mowbray gives a country dinner. The invitations of course
produce a commotion in the domestic circles of the district for some
days. The question, to dine or not to dine, is thus characteristically
discussed in a family of doubtful station :—
" I think you should go," said Mrs. Greenwood, who was a woman of ambition in
her way. " The girls never have an opportunity of seeing good, that is, high
company, from year's end to year's end."
" And why should it be good because it is high? and what good will it do them, if
they do see it? " said her eldest son, Walter,
"It will shew them proper models, and polish their manners ; " answered the as
piring mamma.
" As if the models of Castle Mowbray weTe fit for us of the Grange," returned
Walter, in rather a surly tone. " No ! no ! we are too downright for such fine titled
people, where nothing but my lord, or Sir John, will go down."
" Nay," answered the mother, " though we are not titled, we are as old a family
as any without titles, in the county."
" And as poor," returned Walter, with sourness.
"That's no reason we should be lowered," said Mrs. Greenwood.
"But it is a reason why the girls should not expose themselves."
" Expose themselves! cried the mother, and Miss Charlotte, the youngest
daughter, bridling up.
"Yes;" continued Walter ; "for they will be either left in a corner, unnoticed,
which will make them miserable ; or they will be quizzed for want of fashionable
airs. At best, if they meet with any attention, they will be spoiled for ever for their
own home."
" But what says Lizzy 1 " asked Mrs. Greenwood, turning to her eldest daughter.
Miss Lizzy was rather a sentimentalist, and passed a very idle life in reading,
without being greatly the better for it. She was even almost a woman of genius, and
like many other women of genius, being rather a slattern, she affected to despise
dress. In fact, her wardrobe all started up before her, on hearing the proposal, and
not having a very good opinion of it, she answered with great decision, " 1 quite
agree with Walter. I am formed for the shade, and not made to swell the train of
any Lady Constance, or be triumphed over by fine London people."
" And what says William?" asked the mamma, turning to her second son, who
had silently, but observingly, if not sneeringly, listened to the conversation.
" Why, that both Walter and Lizzy are prouder than Lord Mowbray and Lady
Constance themselves," said William. " Charlotte, I trust, has more sense."
"I confess, lam not afraid of the great," said Charlotte; "and as to what you
say of Lady Constance, I am told she has no pride in her ; and I am sure her note is
very pretty : for my part I should like to go."
'* To be made to feel your insignificance," said the elder brother.
"Dear Walter; you frighten one," cried Charlotte. "Do, William, say what
you think."
William was a man of ambition too ; and, as it should seem, a philosophical one,
but of the school of Aristippus, though he had never heard of him. His philosophy
was, practically at least, useful to himself.
"My opinion is, that we should go," answered William.
"Towhat, andtowhom?" returned Walter. "To a man who does not know you;
and thinks he stoops in inviting you ; and only invites you for the sake of getting your
interest in county business ?
"And I go for the sake of getting his entertainments," said William.
" He will not know you out of his own house," said Walter.
" But he knows me in it, and a merry house it is," returned William. " And there
is Foxleigh, and Fairburn, and a heap of old cronies to talk with at the bottom
of the table, so what care I for what is going on at the top."
" But, my lord," observed Walter.
1827-] DE verb. 45
"Oh! if I went to see a friend," interrupted William, "I allow it would be diffe
rent. But I go as I would to a play, to see tilings and people I have little opportunity
of- seeing elsewhere. I go, too, to eat turtle and venison, which I never get any
where. I generally also come away with leave for a day or two's shooting, and thus
I make as much use of my lord, as my lord makes of me."
"If you called upon him in town, his door would be shut against you," said
Walter.
"Therefore, I never do call upon him in town," answered William.
" Do as you will," said Walter, gloomily ; and whistling his spaniel, he walked to
the neighbouring market town, where, in his shooting coat and gaiters, he dined
with two or three gentlemen who farmed, like himself, small estates of their own :
and who, together with a topping brewer, an attorney, and a thriving tradesman or
two, formed a club, of which he was frequently happy to be chairman.
Here he forgot Lord Mowbray and his castle, and defied his invitations, in the
respect which was paid him by the club, and particularly by the landlord and waiters,
to whom all he said was law.
" There go pride and poverty with a vengeance," said William, as he lost sight
of bis brother. " For my part, I am resolved to take the world as it goes ; 1 hope
Charlotte will do so too, and if Lady Constance looks cold upon her, she may look
cold upon Lady Constance, that's all."
"I love your spirit," said his mother, "it is like my own." With this, it was
settled that as mamma was very infirm, she should stay at home with her two poor-
spirited children, as she called them, and send the more adventurous couple to seek
their fortunes at the castle. 't l>>'
We proceed to the eventful jour de f§te :—
It wanted an hour to dinner, and half an hour to dressing-time ; and this odd half
hour was dedicated to the reception of such guests as, coming from town, or a great
distance, were to sleep at the castle, and dress for dinner. Some of these (as no intro
duction was expected before dinner-time) remained below ; others sought their noble
hosts.
Among these, the earliest arrived, (she never failed of being in time,) was a Mrs.
Oldbury, the whimsical wife of a neighbouring and reverend gentleman, who, from
being bookish and indolent, preferred residing in his prebendal house at Litchfield, to
either their own mansion-house on his own estate, or a town life. Mrs. Oldbury, there
fore, was one of those amiable little aristocrats of a cathedral town, to whom we for
merly alluded, as being most exact in enforcing the line of separation between the
provincial beau monde of the Close, and the vulgar thriving people composing the trad
ing part of the city. Her husband was a high Tory, and as firm a political supporter of
Lord Mowbray as his disposition would let him ; he was, however, too indolent or too
shy to attend his public days.
" Seldom at/lie, 'twas such a busy life,
But duly sent his family and wife."
We have called Mrs. Oldbury whimsical, and surely she was so ; for being really as
we have described her, a woman of respectable rank and consequence, who might have
received as a right those attentions from the great and fashionable, which really well-
bred people never refuse where they are merited, she seemed to prefer suing for them
as an alms, by a pertinacity of humiliation and a too obvious flattery, to which a mere
dependant would hardly have submitted. She watched the eye of a person of fashion
with a sort of feline anxiety, and calculated the exact advances or retrogrades in favour
which she made, or thought she had made, with those who really were, or assumed to
be, higher bred than herself.
But a very high-looking personage was presently seen mounting the steps of the
terrace, much entangled with his travelling pelisse, which, to Lord Cleveland's horror,
he found to be the counterpart of his own. Colour, pattern, wadding, and above all,
the braided Brandenburgs, were precisely the same ; only there having been a hot sun,
the house-party rather wondered at its having been worn. Mr. Freshville, the new
arrival, declared, however, it had been very cold, and he was glad to put it on.
" But how the devil did you come by it," said the Earl, giving him a finger, rather
than a hand ; " I thought mine had been the only one in England, and it came from
Paris but three or four days ago."
" Exactly the time of mine," answered Freshville, mincing his words, but with an
assumption
The Earloflooked
[Link], and said he had already found it such an ugly affair
 46 de vere. [May,
that he had resolved to give it immediately to his valet. " It may, however, keep you
warm enough," added Lord Cleveland.
Both Constance and her aunt marked this little piece of insolence, but to their
surprise, the Marchioness, who, with all her rectitude, as it has been hinted, loved a
little badinage, where she thought it fair to iudulge it, was most diverted with the
solemnity of astonishment with which Freshville received it. In fact, Mr. Freshville's
pride was cruelly affronted as he bowed his thanks for this speech, which was more
mortifying than it seemed : for Freshville, a new man, though of fortune, had made
his way into most of the fashionable classes, only by the studied stiffness of his
manners. It was not that this was exactly the disposition of his nature ; but having
resolved to be fashionable, he had viewed the different roads to that enviable lot, and
finding all others preoccupied, had pitched upon a well-pursued, though artificial,
fastidiousness, as the best means of success. All his deportment therefore was serious ;
he seemed to be governed by rule andline j his looks, manner, voice, and speech were
wrapped up in a gravity worthy a Spaniard. His dress was always most fashionably
exact ; he took snuff with peculiar grace ; and his bow was as if from the height of
elevation. The speech of the Earl, therefore, was a blow to him, and a severer one
than at first appeared. For whether from his want of pedigree, or want of genius in
the walk of ambition he had chosen, he still was at a great distance from the enviable
point of supreme bon ton ; a distinction higher than mere fashion, of which all, even
of the fashionable, are not always aware.
But Freshville, unlike many other coxcombs, had made this discovery ; and, as a
remedy, he thought, that being admitted to the companionship of the Earl of Cleve
land, he could not do better than become the double of that illustrious person.
Accordingly, he copied him at least in the fastidious part of his manner, it not being
convenient to imitate his agremens ; and not only in London, but even in Paris, he
employed the same tailor. On the present occasion, therefore, the French operator
had only (according to a general order when any thing particularly rich or new had
been commissioned by Cleveland) obeyed his instructions ; and hence the travel
ling pelisse.
Lord Cleveland, however, soon resumed his good humour ; for in fact Freshville was
his devoted follower in politics, and not only gave him his own vote in parliament,
but often aided him in elections,—all which was cheaply repaid by Cleveland,
though sometimes in a manner unpalatable to his pride, by suffering his political
to give himself the airs of a fashionable friend.
" I have just received a letter from him," said Freshville one day, on the eve of a
ball which Cleveland was about to give at Richmond. " I wanted to go to Paris, but
he says he must have me : indeed, I know he cannot do without me. This is a little
unreasonable ; but it is a debt of friendship, and I suppose I must pay it ; still, it is
really a greet bore."
The sufferance of such language by the Earl, secured Freshville's vote uponevery
question during the whole of the session.
A landau now drove up, from which landed a gay bevy of a mother and daughters,
who challenged all eyes. These were the females of a family nothing less than right
honourable. Mr. Partridge, the father, had advanced through a long political life to
hia dignity of a privy counsellor ; which, in truth, was enjoyed much more by his wife
and daughters, than himself; for it had been bestowed upon him, by way of (not
letting him down, but) gently pushing him out of an appointment of value.
The lady of this gentleman had the misfortune (as Harclai once shocked her by
saying,) to be the daughter of an Irish Earl, though nowise connected with Ireland.
He called it a misfortune, pretty much upon the principle of the Lady Lidia Loller, of
Addison, whose chief reason for desiring to be sent to the infirmary for bad temper
was, that she had the misfortune to be a lady of quality married to a commoner. It is
very certain, that the inequality of birth and connexions, to say nothing of dispositions,
between Mr. Partridge and his lady, occasioned some little mortification to the latter,
and a great deal to her daughters : as they, through their mother, looked to be con
sidered among the first ranks of fashion ; while, through their father, they were
reduced to fear (for they did not confess it even to themselves) that they might be
thought a little too plebeian. This must account for the extreme jealousy which both
mother and daughters showed, lest their pretensions should be called in question ; and,
in particular, for a sort of studied and contemptuous distance, at which they all agreed
in keeping persons either on a level with their father's family, or any way approaching
to a rivalry with themselves.
Both Mr. and Lady Elizabeth Partridge were the great allies of Lord Mowbray,
who had more than once entreated their assistance in doing the honours of his castle
1827-] DE VERB. 47

parties, and putting the natives (as Lady Elizabeth called them) into good humour
with his lordship.
As, however, her ladyship, and still more her daughters, were really of extremely
high monde, and the higher, from being reduced sometimes (for the reasons above
stated) to fear it might be disputed, this was a favour not absolutely conferred without
sacrifice. Lady Elizabeth, who had points to carry with Lord Mowbray, and was
moreover his relation, consented to it with tolerable grace : but her daughters were by
no means so complying. For though they liked the castle parties sufficiently, it was,
perhaps, more because they there felt themselves to be members of a privileged few,
who could indulge in the exaction of almost divine honours from the many, than
because they felt under any obligation to submit their cloth of gold to the cloth of
fries of country families. The political considerations which led to it, they were too
young to understand, or to care for them if they did. Their mother had indeed given
them very proper lectures upon this subject, which they heard with about as much
attention, as they heard all other lectures, to which in the course of their education
they had been obliged to listen.
This party had now begun to ascend the terrace steps, and Lady Elizabeth passed
through the lane made for her at bottom, bowing to those of her acquaintance whom
she recognized, with distant condescension, till she reached the high personages who
waited for her at top. Her daughters (two in number) followed her, with a most
assured air, seeming to think that several persons who saluted them as they passed,
were mere statues, whom it was not in the smallest degree incumbent upon them
to notice.
They were in a very fashionable deshabille de voyage, consisting of loose travelling
gowns of scarlet, well trimmed and flounced, and clasped with gold. The face of
one at least was blooming, and the figures of both tall and striking ; of all which
advantages they seemed to be fully sensible. There was, however, a difference be
tween them. For, while Miss Zephyrina, the youngest, was sweet seventeen, the
eldest, Miss Partridge, was at that uneasy (we had almost said unhappy) age, when
the world pronounces a lady's girlhood to be gone, and the patient is not disposed to
agree in the decision. What that age is, we dare not say ; for it is different in dif
ferent subjects, and every one must apply it for herself. " U n'u a qu'un printems
dans I'annie," says an old French proverb—and Miss Partridge thought so too ; but
then she also thought that the printems lasted longer with her than it did with any
body else. In short, that bloom and alacrity of spirit, which render a young girl so
charming to herself and others, had left her ; and she had not (yet) acquired those
other graces, from sense and manner, which, by making a woman more estimable,
cause her to be infinitely more attracting.
Nothing pleased the elder Miss Partridge so much as when she was classed with
her sister, under the name of " the girls." She was fond of telling stories wherein
her father would say, " Come along, girls, " or talk of his girls; and she was even
once known to be civil for ten minutes to a man she had determined to cut, because
she heard he had spoken of her as a " charming girl,"
These sisters advanced with a quick step, laughing loudly with one another, and
staring through their glasses at the persons who made way for them, to the right and
left.
De Vere, who met their view, was honoured with most radiant smiles ; while, as
to Harclai, who was standing by him, and perfectly well known to them, they almost
laughed in his face. But the attraction of the great magnet, the family party above,
increasing (like other attractions) in increased proportion as they approached, they
were at last drawn into its focus with irresistible velocity.
But, horrible to relate ! Mrs. Oldbury, whom they had settled in their way down
not to speak to, was almost close to them ; though having watched long, and in
vain, for their eyes, which were somehow or another always averted, she was forced
to console herself as well as she could, by talking to her neighbour, the unpretend
ing and happier wife of the clergyman of Mowbray.
In time, however, and by dint of most pertinacious endeavours, Mrs. Oldbury
succeeded so far as to nestle close to the objects of her envy and admiration, and
deprived them of all pretext to avoid returning a part, at least, of the very low curtesy
•he made them. But having now advanced with an absolute threat of conversation,
these daughters of fashion and ill-breeding looked at their watches, and declaring
that they had not a minute to lose, scudded away to their room to dress ; leaving
Mrs. Oldbury in possession of mamma.
Lady Elizabeth, to do her justice, carried off the misfortune with fortitude ; and
knowing that Lord Mowbray had reason for courting the Oldburys in the country, as
48 db verb. [May,
well as that Mr. Partridge had reasons for courting Lord Mowbray in town, she
deigned to speak several sentences to Mrs. Oldbury, one of which actually was,
*' Is that pretty looking young woman with you, your niece 1 "
Mrs. Oldbury was charmed ; and beckoning her niece, she was presented to Lady
Elizabeth in all due form. Nor did the high town lady leave it, even here ; for
looking at Miss Oldbury with the utmost force of condescending protection, she
added, " Ihear you are very accomplished, and play, sing, and dance, as if you had
never been out of London."
Miss Oldbury blushed, and made a modest retreat behind her aunt, who almost bent
double with acknowledgment ; when Lady Elizabeth, sliding off to Lord Mowbray,
whispered him, loud enough to be heard by Lady Eleanor and Constance, and all
but loud enough for Mrs. Oldbury herself, " There, my Lord, you surely owe me
something for that. I think I have complied with your wishes to a tittle."
" Constance," said Lady Eleanor, as she took her arm and retired to dress, " I
do not like this lady, and still less her daughters. Your modest friend Euphemia
Oldbury, whom she frightened away by her stare, is worth all of them put together."
Sir Bertie Brewster, who shortly afterwards joins the party, is an
excellent character. His exact counterpart is to be found in Miss
Austen's admirable novel, Pride and Prejudice. We know not whe
ther the writer of De Vere is aware of this fact ; we incline to think
that he is not, as in his introductory remarks on the superior novel
ists, he has omitted to mention Miss Austen ; whence we must infer
that he is unacquainted with her excellent works, unrivalled in their
peculiar style. When Mr. Robert Ward reads these productions, he
will find, despite of their alliterative titles, ominous of trash, and a
fame miserably disproportioned to their merits, that even his happiest
conceptions of character will suffer no degradation by comparison with
the exquisitely faithful portraits of the ill-appreciated author to whom
we have referred.
Another gentleman now approached the circle, who occasioned dismay, not only
to the Partridge family, but to some of the male wizards who defended it. This was
Sir Bertie Brewster, an ambitieux, whom Le Sage has described as one of those bans
rotuviers whom the king converts into a " mauvais gentUhomme, par d'excelUntes lettres
de noblesse." And yet, if originality of design and perseverance in pursuing it, can
entitle a man to the praise of genius, he was one of the most considerable geniuses of
the age.
This gentleman, being the son of a great manufacturer of that day, was, for his
sins, smitten with the love of great people, and the court. How to get among them
was a question which might have puzzled a less aspiring man than himself : however,
his father being dead, his first step was to dispose of all his commercial concerns ;
his next, to wliitewash himself as well as he could by a title. He tried in vain for a
baronetcy, but luckily being made sheriff of the county, where, among the potteries,
he had an estate, he succeeded for a knighthood. It was going up with an address that
first kiudled his love for the Court, which he worshipped afterwards like an idol. No
levee, or drawing-room, scarcely ever took place without seeing him, sometimes in
embroidery, sometimes in his militia coat, surrounded by persons of superior rank, not
one of whom he knew, much Jess dared speak to.
Here, however, he had a resource which we confess was original, and bespoke that
felicitous genius on which we have so deservedly complimented him. For he fell
upon the happy expedient of engaging in a sort of make-believe acquaintance, by
inducing people to suppose that he saw friends at a distance whom he did not see,
and received bows which he did not receive. With these, therefore, he pretended to
engage in an interchange of nods and smiles ; nay, a " How do you do, my Lord 1 "
has frequently been heard to escape him in a low voice, as if he could not prevent
it, though the noble addressee was (luckily for Sir Bertie) so far off that he knew he
could not hear him.
But there was another still finer trait in his history, which made us both call and
think him a man of genius : we mean the manner in which he acquired the aristo
cratic Christian name of Bertie, by which he waB latterly known. We say latterly,
because (believe it who will) the name given him by his plain and primitive god
fathers, was the plain and primitive one of Bartholomew ; of which growing ashamed,
 1S2".] DE VEflE. 49
somewhere about his seven-and-tvventieth year, he actually applied to the bishop of
the diocese to know whether it jnight uot be changed, and was mortified to be told
that no power in Christendom could effect it. He therefore made a virtue of neces
sity, and remembering that in his extreme youth, the long, old, scriptural Bartho
lomew had been, per syncopen, shortened into Barty, the transition from that to the
noble name of Bertie was so easy, that he contrived not only to call himself, but to
make his friends designate him also, by that high-sounding appellation, lie was
even knighted by it by the sovereign, and was so recorded in the Heralds' College
when the fees came to be paid : and thus originally vamped up, he was now univer
sally known by the name of Sir Bertie Brewster.
Upon the whole, this personage reaped some of the benefit which surely his
genius and perseverance deserved ; for, by dint of his regular appearances at Court,
be at least got his name enrolled in those high lists of fame—the lists of the per
sons who frequented the drawing-room. He even obtained a bowing acquaintance
with two or three old lords, one of them absolutely of the bed-chamber, and once had
the glory of being serviceable even to the Partridge family themselves. This hap
pened when their coach broke down in drawing up to the gate of the palace, when,
alas! no acquaintance was at hand, and it was impossible to get chairs for so many.
To complete the ill-luck it rained hard, and the crowd prevented their making their
way back. In this emergency their ill (and Sir Bertie's good) star ordained, that his
own fine roomy coach stopt the way. It was impossible uot to offer it, and scarcely
possible not to accept it, and Lady Elizabeth and two of her daughters were that day
conveyed to Berkeley-square in the carriage of Sir Bertie Brewster.
We may be sure, a circumstance so joyful did not fail to be blazoned to the world.
It appeared in the finest colours of a Court Circular, in all the papers of the next
day. What was worse, the incident produced a call of enquiry ; cards were left,
which Mr. Partridge was forced to return ; and, worst of all, Lady Elizabeth was
obliged by her husband to send an invitation for her earliest rout, (it was, luckily,
when few people were in town,) which Sir Bertie joyfully and thankfully came fifty
miles from the country on purpose to attend, 'lis very true that none of the Misses
Partridge spoke a word to him, Mr. Partridge very little, and Lady Elizabeth less.
But he went early ; stayed to the very last ; and made himself familiar with the face,
air, and dress, of one or two persons of fashion, who happened at the time to be in
London.
Such was the redoubtable person who now approached the females of the house of
Partridge, and (to their horror,) with all the ease and intimacy of an old acquaint
ance.
The young ladies had no resource but to turn their backs upon him, which they
did as suddenly, and with as much precision, as a rank of soldiers ordered to face
about ; so that Lady Elizabeth was forced to bear the brunt of the attack, as she had
just sustained that of Harclai.
' Lord Cleveland, who, though he allowed all her pretensions to be a woman of
quality, knew also, and secretly laughed at her finery, was inwardly amused. In
fact, dismay and anger clouded her biow, turning by degrees to scorn itself, when Sir
Bertie, with the familiar tone of an old friend, asked her how she did ; how long
she had been in the country ; and reminded the young ladies of the happy evening
he had once passed in Berkeley-square.
" I have no hesitation," observed he, " in saying it was by far the most elegant
party in London during the season."
Nothing could exceed the contemptuous and scarcely suppressed laugh which he
received in return for this sally.
Sir Bertie is now in the seventh heaven, seated at dinner next to
Lord Eustace, a young nobleman, whose whole soul is given to party
politics.
Sir Bertie now began to revel in the delightful opportunity he had achieved of cul
tivating such a neighbour as Eustace, and conceived it behoved him to show some
knowledge of high acquaintance ; he therefore began to criticise the party assembled,
observing it was a very mixed one.
" These parties generally are," said Lord Eustace.
" You
They ought
must be
rather
very to
amusing
say noussometimes
autres," to
replied
vous autres,"
Eustace,added
with as
Sir much
Bertie.
gravity ;.s

he could command.
May,
Sir 1827.
Bertie E the table.
bowed till his nose almost touched
so bees. L*'ay>
" There is, however, some good company," continued the Knight ; " and how
very well Lord Westbrook looks."—Here he fixed his eyes on a gentleman in Lord
Mowbray's neighbourhood, of the name of Stapylton.
" Lord Westbrook ! " exclaimed Eustace, " he is in Italy! "
" Oh ! I see I am mistaken," replied Sir Bertie, taking out his glass ; " I am
really quite blind : X see it is Lord Melton, whom I have sometimes met at Court."
" Lord Melton is in France," replied Eustace ; " and is at least twenty years older
than that gentleman, who is a Mr. Stapylton, and who, indeed, is often at Court,
having a place in the household."
<f I knew I had seen him there," rejoined Sir Bertie, almost disconcerted; and,
willing to forget Mr. Stapylton, immediately added, •' I am afraid the poor Bishop
of Salisbury begins to break ; " and he looked pointedly at Dr. Herbert, over against
him.
" If you mean the dignitary over the way," said Eustace, excessively amused,
" that is Dr. Herbert, Head of College, Oxford."
" Impossible ! " returned Sir Bertie, now much confused ; " I cannot surely be so
blind ! " and here his countenance fell, and he was silent for three whole minutes.
But Harclai, who, as we have said, sat next him, and to his great enjoyment had
heard the whole conversation, was kind enough not to let him languish in obscurity ;
and knowing his history, observed, loud enough for Eustace to hear, " Yours is a
very fine christian name. Sir Bertie."
" Are you related to the Ancaster family 1 " asked Eustace.
" No ; not related," answered Sir Bertie j but not disliking the question.
" Perhaps a godson of the Duke 1 " pursued Harclai drily.
The Knight had no wish to destroy the supposition, but could not decently confirm
it ; he therefore was silent, wisely considering that if Harclai was wrong, it was no
part of his duty to set him right. At the same time feeling hemmed up between two
persons whose curiosity he did not exactly make out, but began to suspect, he knew
not which way to look, and felt, for a time at least, uncomfortable enough to give
Harclai all the satisfaction he had intended to derive from him.

BEES.*
The difference between ignorance and knowledge in entomology is
more distinct and tangible than in almost any other study. It is the
difference between blindness and perfect vision. There are many
departments of science in which a man, after having made some
progress, is not very sure of his quantity of improvement ; but in the
branch of natural history we are speaking of, a man's state of informa
tion is clear. To read Kirby and Spence is exactly like putting your
eyes to the glass of a show, a cosmorama, or any thing of the sort. To
look in is to see a new world—to look away is to turn the vision
upon an unsatisfactory chair or table. Entomology raises a veil from
myriads and myriads of beings living and flourishing where we least
suspected the presence of life. A closer observation discloses to lis
their habits and manners. We are surprised to find the creatures
excessively busy and happy ; a little short-lived perhaps, but in that
quite in proportion to their bodies. Further assistance from art enables
us to discover their organization ; a little patience, and we positively
learn how insects, of whose existence we never dreamed, perform the
most minute and secret of their operations with all the accuracy
and familiarity of a member of their republic. The habits of
insects that we see every day, are nearly as unknown to us gene
rally as are the ways of the almost invisible tribes. It requires
* The Honey-bee ; its Natural History, Physiology and Management. By Edward
Bevan, M.D. London, Baldwin and Co. 1827. 12$. Pp. 404.
1827] BBKS. 81
nothing but the naked eye to see a bee ; but naturalists at the present
day understand more thoroughly the ways of the creatures that
inhabit a pore of the skin, than did the ancients those of that respect
able, useful, and ingenious animal, the honey-bee. Aristotle and
Virgil both alike talk nonsense on the subject ; the first drily and the
last poetically. It was many centuries since their time that the
apiarian commonwealth began to be understood. At present, though
several little things are not very clear, a flood of light has been let
in upon the wonderful ways of the bee. The most amusing, instruc
tive, and pregnant reading we know is the natural history of this
animal. The facts that have been laid open by several patient and
intelligent observers fill the reader with a delightful astonishment.
Since these facts are scattered about in the different essays and pub
lications of the various writers on the subject, we feel grateful to the
compiler of them in a convenient form. But Dr. Bevan has done
more ; he has himself been a student of the laws of the apiarian
republic, has weighed the evidence on which information was founded,
and tried the truth of the facts by the test of his own experience.
Thus while he communicates the opinions of others, he corrects them
by his own, and having maturely and patiently passed the whole
subject through his mind, his book is so far from being a crude collec
tion of extract, that it is a well-digested, freshly conceived, and elegantly
composed compendium of the present state of apiarian science. Dr.
Bevan's book comprises all that is really known of the bee, and all
that is supposed, and the evidence on which such suppositions are
grounded. We propose to run over the principal points of his agree
able little work, partly out of gratitude for the pleasure it has
afforded us, and in the hope of communicating some of the amusement
to our readers which we have ourselves derived.
Dr. Bevan first occupies himself with the history and physiology
of the bee. The occupants of the hive are of three descriptions, the
queen bee, the workers, and the drones. The queen is the parent and
mistress of the hive, and is born to sovereignty. The workers do all
the business of the establishment, rear the young, guard the en
trances, elaborate the wax, and store the provision. The drones are
the males, and the only way in which they promote the welfare of the
society is the sexual one. The queen bee is distinguished from the
other two kinds by the greater length of her body, by the shortness
of her wings, and her bent sting. Her colours are likewise of a more
brilliant hue, and her legs are of a deep golden yellow. She lays all
the eggs of the colony. The workers are sterile females with unde
veloped ovaries. In a single hive the number of workers varies from
12,000 to 20,000 : they are the smallest members of the community,
are furnished with a long flexible proboscis, have a peculiar structure
of the legs and thighs, on the latter of which are made hollows, or
baskets, adapted to the reception of the propolis and farina they
collect. The drones in a hive amount to the number of perhaps
1,500 or 2,000. They make their appearance about the end of April,
and are never to be seen after the middle of August. They are
one-third larger than the workers, and are of a dark colour. They
make a greater noise in flying, and have no sting.
Among bees, the females alone exhibit activity, skill, diligence,
E2
52 BEKf. [May,
and courage, whilst the males take no part whatever in the labours of
the community, but are idle, cowardly, and inactive, and possess not
the offensive weapon of their species.
Immunis que sedens aliena ad pabula fucus.— Virgil.
It has been imagined that the drone sets upon the eggs as the queen'
lays them. The opinion, however, is probably founded in a mistake.
"Sir. Morris, of Islewc-rth, says, that he has often seen them sit in a
formal manner on the combs when the brood is hatching. But Dr.
Bevan suspects that Mr. Morris mistook sleeping for brooding,
and that the drones were only taking a nap. Fabricius says that
insects never sit on their eggs. Messrs. Kirby and Spence, how
ever, have observed that the female ear-wig does so ; they also
make one other exception in favour of the field-bug. De
Guer has given, says Dr. Bevan, a very interesting account of both
these insects. The female of the ear-wig assiduously sits upon her
eggs as if to hatch them, and after they are hatched, broods over the
young as a hen over young chickens. And when the eggs of the field-
bug are hatched, she also goes about with the brood, consisting of
thirty or forty in number, and never leaves them ; they cluster round
her when she is still, and follow her closely wherever she moves
(interesting family—Mrs. Bug and the forty Miss Bugs !)
It is the duty of the queen bee to lay eggs, which she deposits in
cells constructed for their reception by the working bees. Mr. Dunbar
gives a peculiarly edifying description of the manner in which the
queen disposes her royal person in the performance of this high office.
The Rev. W. Dunbar, minister of Applegath, who has recently added some impor
tant particulars to our general stock of knowledge respecting bees, states that when
the queen is about to lay, she puts her head into a cell, and remains in that position
for a second or two, probably to ascertain its fitness for the deposit which she is about
to make. She then withdraws her head, and curving her body downwards, inserts her
tail into the cell : in a few seconds she turns half round upon herself and withdraws,
leaving an egg behind her. When she lays a considerable number, she does it equally
on each side of the comb, those on the one side being as exactly opposite to those on
the other, as the relative position of the cells will admit. The effect of thifl is to pro
duce a concentration and oeconomy of heat for developing the various changes of the
brood.
In four days the egg becomes a grub, and in five or six days more
the grub nearly fills the whole of its cell. The nursing bees then
seal it up with a light brown cover. It is no sooner perfectly inclosed,
than it begins to labour, alternately extending and shortening its
body, whilst it lines the cell by spinning round itself a whitish silky
film, or cocoon, by which it is encased. It is now a nymph or pupa.
The working bee-nymph spins its cocoon in thirty-six hours. When
it has reached the twenty-first day of its existence, counting from the
moment the egg is laid, it quits the exuviae of the pupa state, and
comes forth a perfect winged insect.
The royal bee passes three days in the egg, and is five a worm ;
the workers then close her cell, and she immediately begins spinning
the cocoon, which occupies her twenty-four hours ; on the tenth and
eleventh, as if exhausted by her labour, she remains in complete
repose, and even sixteen hours of the twelfth. Then she passes four
days and one-third as a nymph. It is on the sixteenth day, there
fore, that the perfect state of queen is attained.
 1827-N1 sues. 53
The drone passes three days in the egg, six and a half as a worm,
and is metamorphosed into a fly on the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth
day after the egg is laid.
The young hees break through the envelope which imprisons them
in their cell, with their teeth : the moment they arc out, the nursing
bees proceed to lick them clean ; and when by this aid, and their
■own efforts, the operation of cleansing is performed, they instantly
take wing, and in a few minutes are gathering provision in the fields.
Maraldi says he has seen bees loaded with two balls of wax (he should
have said pollen) returning to the hive the same day they become bees.
As soon as the young insect has been licked clean, and regaled with a
little honey by its companions, they clean out the cell, preparatory to
its being re-occupied by a new tenant, or with honey.
A curious circumstance occurs with respect to the hatching of the
queen bee. She is assisted by the workers, who pare away a part of
the envelope, and when she is ready to fly, they keep her a prisoner for
■some time, lest probably she should be subject to any failure in her
first attempt to fly, or lest she should immediately proceed to destroy
the other queen nymphs not yet hatched ; for such is the instinctive
enmity against her rivals in power, that the instant she is left alone
she proceeds with full intent to slaughter all the young princesses of
the blood royal.
%
When tbe pupa or nymph is about to change into tlie perfect insect, the bees render
the cover of the cell thinner, by gnawing away part of the wax ; and with so much
nicety do they perform this operation that the cover at last becomes pellucid, owing to
its extreme thinness, thus facilitating the exit of the fly. After tbe transformation is
complete, the young queens would, in common course, immediately emerge from their
cells, as workers and drones do ; but tbe former always keep tbe royal infants pri
soners for some days, supplying them in the mean time with honey for food, a small
hole being made in the door of each cell, through which the confined bee extends its
proboscis to receive it. The royal prisoners continually utter a kind of song, the modu
lations of which are said to vary. Huber heard a young princess in her cell emit a very
distinct sound or clacking, consisting of several monotonous notes in rapid succession,
and he supposes the working bees to ascertain, by tbe loudness of these tones, the
ripeness of their <jueens. Huber has suggested that the cause of this temporary impri
sonment may possibly be to enable the young queens to fly away at the instant they
are liberated.
The queen is a good deal harassed by the other bees on her liberation. Tbis has
been attributed to their wishing to impel her to go off with a swarm as soon as possi
ble, but this notion is probably erroneous ; it certainly is so, if Huber be correct, in
saying that the swarms are always accompanied by the older queens. The queen has
the power of instantly putting a stop to their worrying, by uttering a peculiar noise,
which has been called tbe voice of sovereignty. Bonner however declares that he
never could observe in the queen any thing like an exercise of sovereignty. Bat
Huber's statement was not founded upon a solitary instance ; he heard the sound
on various occasions, and witnessed the striking effect which it always produced. Oa
one occasion, a queen having escaped the vigilance of her guards and sprung from the
cell, was on her approach to the royal embryos, pulled, bitten, and chased by the.
other bees. But standing with her thorax against a comb and crossing her wings
upon her back, keeping them in motion but not uufolding them, she emitted a parti
cular sound, when the bees became, as it were, paralysed, and remained motionless.
Taking advantage of this dread, she rushed to the royal cells; but tbe sound having
ceased as she prepared to ascend, the guardians of the cells instantly took courage,
and fairly drove her away. This voice of sovereignty, as it has been called, resem
bles that which is made by young queens before they are liberated from their cells ; it
is a very distinct kind of clicking, composed of many notes in the same key, which
follow each other rapidly. The sound accompanied by the attitude just described,
always produces a paralysing effect upon the bees.
64 BE£9. [May,
It is a singular thing that bees, when deprived by accident of their
queen, create a substitute. One of the working grubs is elevated to
the throne, but not without an extraordinary education, which fits
them to perforin the duties of sovereignty. Nature takes especial care
that no ambitious subject shall destroy the peace of the commonwealth,
by thrusting the monarch from her throne, and usurping her throne.
There can be no bee-Cromwell or bee-Napoleon, for the moment the
intrnder found himself in the royal palace, he would perceive him
self entirely deficient in the organs of reigning. What bloodshed
and confusion would it have prevented in the world had it been neces
sary for a monarch not only to wield the sceptre, but to lay a peculiar
egg. This is a test which can admit of no doubt. A usurper might
be instantly called to account. Lay your egg, sir, or madam ; prove
your legitimacy, or vacate the place for the occupation of one who
can perform the royal functions.
Bees, when deprived of their queen, have the power of selecting one or more grubs
of workers, and converting them into queens. To effect this, each of the promoted
grubs has a royal cell or cradle formed for it, by having three contiguous common cells
thrown into one ; two of the three grubs that occupy those cells are sacrificed, and the
remaining one is liberally fed with royal jelly. This royal jelly is a pungent food pre
pared by the working bees, exclusively for the purpose of feeding such of the larva; as
are destined to become candidates for the honours of royalty, whether it be their lot to
assume them or not. It is more stimulating than the food of ordinary bees, has not the
same mawkish taste, and is evidently acescent. The royal larvae are supplied with it
rather profusely, and there is always some of it left in the cell, after their trauforma-
tion. Schirach, who was secretary to the Apiarian Society in Upper Lusatia, and
vicar of Little Bautzen, may be regarded as the discoverer, or rather as the promul
gator of this fact ; and his experiments, which were also frequently repeated by other
members of the Lusatian Society, have been amply confirmed by those of Huber and
Bonner.
Although the sovereign bee has nothing to fear from ambitious
subjects, yet the moment she arrives at her queen's estate she becomes
conscious that there are rivals near the throne, and proceeding in the
spirit of an oriental despot, she determines upon securing the peace of
her reign in the surest manner. She will suffer no bee nurtured with
the royal jelly, and thus qualified for sovereignty, to exist. Her first
thought, on emerging from her cell, is to put to death all the in-
dwellers of the royal cradles. Of the manner in which this instinc
tive animosity displays itself, we find a curious description by Mr.
Dunbar :—
In July, when the hive had become filled with comb and bees, and well stored with
honey ; and when the queen was very fertile, laying a hundred eggs a-day, Mr. Dun
bar opened the hive and took her majesty away. [Oh! treason !] The bees laboured
for eighteen hours before they appeared to miss her ; but no sooner was the loss disco
vered than all was agitation and tumult ; [what loyalty !] and they rushed in crowds
to the door, as if swarming. [Unhappy subjects !] On the following morning he
observed that they had founded five queen cells, in the usual way under such circum
stances ; and in the course of the same afternoon, four more were founded, in a part
of the comb where there were only eggs a day or two old. On the fourteenth day
from the old queen's removal, a young queen emerged and proceeded towards the other
royal cells, evidently with a murderous intent. She was immediately pulled away by
the workers, with violence, and this conduct on their part was repeated as often
as the queen renewed her destructive purpose. At every repulse she appeared
sulky, and cried peep peep, one of the unhatched queens responding, but in
a somewhat hoarser tone. This circumstance affords an explanation of the
two different sounds which are heard prior to the issuing of second swarms.
On the afternoon of the same day, a second queen was hatched ; she immedi
ately buried herself in a cluster of bees. Next rooming Mr^ X>. observed a hot pur
1827.] bees. 65
suit of the younger queen by the elder, but being called away, on his return half an
hour afterwards, the former was dying on the floor, no doubt the victim of the other.
[Here is a tragedy !] Huber has slated that these artificial queens are mute; but the
circumstance noticed by Mr. Dunbar of the two queens, just referred to, having answered
each other, disproves that statement. Contrary also to the experience of Huber, Mr.
D. found that the cells of artificial queens were surrounded by a guard. I have just
adverted to the protection which they afforded to the royal cells, when assailed by the
first hatched queen.
We have stated that the working hees are females. It is proved
in two ways ; first, by the fact of their having laid eggs, and next, by
its being the eggs in the cells of working bees which are chosen for
the purpose of being educated into future queens, the general egg-
layers. The fertility of these workers in all probability arises from
their having accidentally partaken of the royal jelly, for they arc
observed always to issue from cells adjoining those inhabited by grubs,
that have been raised from the plebeian to the royal rank. The food
reserved for the infants of the blood is so virtuous, that even an acci
dental drop falling on a lowly subject elevates him in part to the
distinctions of sovereignty. Such is the happiness of living even
next door to royalty. But it is remarkable that these fertile workers,
although they lay eggs, only lay the eggs of drones.
It has been seen that the queen bee lays the eggs of the hive. The
number laid by one bee is extraordinary. According to Huber, the
queen ordinarily lays about 12,000 eggs in two months. It is not to be
supposed that she lays this number every two months, but she docs so
at the principal laying in April and May : there is also another great
laying in August.
Reaumur states the number of eggs laid by a queen in two months at double the
amount of Huber's calculation ; viz. 200 a day, on an average. This variation may
have arisen from variety of climate, season, or other circumstances. A moderate swarm has
been calculated to consist of from 12,000 to 20,000, which is about a two months' laying.
Schirach says that a single queen will lay from 70,000 to 100,000 eggs in a season. This
sounds like a great number ; but it is greatly exceeded by some other insects. The
female of the white ant extrudes not less than 60 eggs in a minute, which gives 3600
in an hour, 86,400 in a day, 2,419,200 in a lunar month, and the enormous number of
211,449,600 in a year. Though she does not lay all the year probably, yet, setting
the period as low as possible, her eggs will exceed the number produced by any other
known animal in creation.
The impregnation of the eggs is a difficult and disputed point.
Several hypotheses have been broached on the subject; but it seems
to be settled that the queen is fecundated during an aerial excursion,
and that the agent is the drone.
In the course of his experiments, Huber found that the queens were never impreg
nated, so loDg as they remained in the interior of the hive ; but that impregnation
always takes place in the open air, at a time when the heat has induced the drones to
issue from the hive ; on which occasions, the queen soars high in the air, love being
the motive for the only distant journey she ever takes. " The rencontre and copula
tion of the queen with the drone take place exterior to the hive," says Lombard, " and
whilst they are on the wing." They are similarly constituted with the whole family
of flies. A corresponding circumstance may also be noticed with respect to the queen-
ant ; and Bonnet, in his Contemplations de la Nature, has observed that she is always
impregnated whilst she is on the wing. The dragon-flies copulate as they fly through
the air, in which state they have the appearance of a double animal.
The importance of this excursion is immense—without it her
majesty gives no heirs to the hive. It is also as efficient as it is impor-
taut, for its virtue endures upon the eggs that are laid, for two years.
 56 bees. [May,
If the queen-bee be confined, though amid a seraglio of males, she continues barren.
Prior to her flight, (which is preceded by the flight of the drones,) she reconnoitres the
exterior of the hive, apparently for the purpose of recognition, and sometimes, after
flying a few feet from it, returns to it again : finally she rises aloft in the air, describing
in her flight horizontal circles of considerable diameter, till she is out of sight. She
returns from her aerial excursion in about half an hour, with the most evident marks
of fecundation. Excursions are sometimes made for a shorter period, but then she
exhibits no sign of having been impregnated. It is curious that Bonner should have
remarked those aerial excursions, without suspecting their object. " I have often,"
says he, " seen the young queens taking an airing upon the second or third day of
their age." Yet Huish says, " It is an acknowledged fact that the queen-bee never
leaves the hive, on any account whatsoever." Perhaps Huish's observations were
made upon first swarms ; and these, according to Huber, are uniformly conducted by
old queens. Swammerdam also made the same observation as to Jirst swarms being
always led ojfby old queens. Old queens have not the same occasion to quit the hives
that young ones have,—viz. to have intercourse with the drones ; for, according to
Huber, one impregnation is sufficient to fertilize all the eggs that are laid for two
years afterwards, at least. He thinks it sufficient to fertilize all that she lays during
her whole life. This may appear to some an incredible period ; and Huish inquires,
admitting that a single act of coition be sufficient to fecundate all the eggs existing in
the ovaria at the time, how those are fecundated which did not exist there ? But
when we consider that in the common spider, according to Audebert, the fertilizing
effect continues for many years; and that the fecundation of the eggs of the female
aphides or green lice, by the males of one generation, will continue for a year, passing,
(Turing that period, through nine or ten successive generations of females, the causes for
doubt will, I think, be greatly diminished : at any rate we are not at liberty to reject
the evidence of fact, because we cannot understand their modus operandi. With
respect to the aphis, Bonnet says the influence of the male continues thiough^iBe gene
rations, but Lyonnet carried his experiments to a more extended period ; and according
to Messrs. Kirby and Spence, who give it " upon the authority of Mr. Wolnoughof Hol-
Iesley (late of Boyton) in Suffolk, an intelligent agriculturist, and a most acute and accu
rate observer of nature, there may be I wenty generations in a year." Reaumur has proved
that in Jive generations one aphis may be the progenitor of 5,904,900,000 descendants.
It may be objected to me here, that the aphis is a vivaporous insect, and that the
experiments which prove what I have referred to, do not therefore bear upon the
question. It has been ascertained, however, that they are strictly oviparous at the
close of the year (one species is at all times so), at other times ovo -viviparous ; and in
either case the penetrating influence of the male sperm is surely still more remarkable
where there has been no immediate commerce with the male, than in the direct case
of the oviparous bee ! It has been observed, however, that the further the female
aphides are removed from the first mother, or that which had known the male, the
less prolific do they become.
The absence of impregnation produces remarkable effects even upon
the form of the bee ; if it be retarded beyond the twentieth or twenty
first day of the queen's life, she seems to be deprived of her usual
intelligence. The order in which she lays her eggs is changed, and
she disposes of them in improper places. She puts the drones where
the workers should be, and the workers in the place of the drones. She
has been known to blunder so egregiously as to profane even the royal
cell, by"depositing in it the egg of a drone. But Dr. Bevan shall tell
all about it :—
If the impregnation of a queen be by any means retarded beyond the 20th or 21st
day of her life, a very extraordinary consequence ensues. Instead of first laying the
eggs of workers, and those of drones, at the usual period afterwards, she begins from
the forty-fifth hour to lay the latter, and lays no other kind during her whole life. It
should seem as if the rudiments of the workers' eggs withered in the oviducts, but
without obstructing the passage of the drones' eggs. The only known fact analogous
to this is the state of certain vegetable seeds, which lose the facultyof germi
nation from age, whatever care may have been taken to preserve them. This retar
dation seems to have a singular effect upon the whole animal ceconomy of the queen.
" The bodies of those queens," says Huber, " whose impregnation has been retarded,
1S27-1 BE£S' ft7
are shorter than common ; the extremities remain slender, whilst the first two rings
next the thorax, are uncommonly swollen." In consequence of the shortening- of their
bodies, their eggs are frequently laid on the sides of the cells, owing probably to their
not being able to reach the bottom ; the difficulty is also increased by the two swollen
Tines. In these cases of retarded impregnation and exclusive laying of drones' eggs,
the prosperity of the hive soon terminates ; generally before the end of the queen's
laying. The workers receiving no addition to their number, hut on the contrary,
finding themselves overwhelmed with drones, sacrifice their queen and abandon the
hive. These retarded queens seem to have their instincts impaired ; for they deposit
their cgs indiscriminately in the cells, whether originally intended for drones or for
workers,—a circumstance which materially affects the size of the drones that are
reared in them. There aie not wanting instances of royal cells being occupied by
them, and of the workers being thereby so completely deceived as to pay the tenants,
in all respects, the honours of royalty. This circumstance appears the more ex
traordinary, since it has been ascertained that when eggs have been thus inappro
priately deposited, by fertile workers, they are uniformly destroyed a few days after
wards, though for a short time they receive due attention.
The workers have been supposed by some apiarians to transport the eggs from place
to place ;—if ever such were the case, this would seem to be an occasion calling for
the practice : on the contrary, instead of removing the eggs from the sides to the
bottoms of the cells, for the sake of better accommodation, this object is accomplished
by their lengthening the cells, and advancing them two lines beyond the surface of the
combs. This proceeding affords pretty good evidence that the transportation of eggs forms
no part of the workers' occupation. It is still further proved by their eating any workers'
eggs, that a queen may, at any time, be forced to deposit in drones' cells, or drop at
random in other parts of the hive ; a circumstance which escaped the notice of former
naturalists, and misled them in their opinion respecting transportation. A somewhat
similar circumstance was noticed by Mr. Dunba'r in his mirror hive. (For an account
of this hive see Chap. X.) Mr. Dunbar observed that whenever the queen dropped
her eggs carelessly, they were eagerly devoured by the workers. Now if transpor
tation formed a part of their employment, they would in these cases, instead of eating
the eggs, have deposited them in their appropriate cells. It seems very evident there
fore that the proper disposition of the eggs is left entirely to the instinct of the
queens. The workers having been seen to run away with the eggs, in order to devour
them, in all probability gave birth to the mistaken notion that they were removing
them to their right cells. Among humble-bees, there is a disposition, among the
workers, to eat the eggs, which extends even to those that are laid in proper cells,
where the queens often have to contend for their preservation.
The unhappy drones, when the end of their being is answered, are
ruthlessly massacred. The scene of fury to which they fall a sacri
fice is thus described by Dr. Bevan :—
After the season of swarming, viz. towards the end of July, as is well known, a
general massacre of the drones takes place. The business of fecundation being now
completed, they are regarded as useless consumers of the fruits of others labour.
" fruges consumere nati ;" love is at once converted into furious hate, and a general
proscription takes place. The unfortunate victims evidently perceive their danger ;
for they are never, at this time, seen resting in one place, but darting in and out of
the hive, with the utmost precipitation, as if in fear of being seized. Their destruction
has been generally supposed to be effected by the workers harassing them till they quit
the hive : this was the opinion of Mr. Hunter, who says the workers pinch them to
and fro, without stinging them, and he considers their death as a natural rather than
an untimely one. In this Bonnet seems to agree with Mr. Hunter. But Huber has
observed, that their destruction is effected by the stings of' the workers : he ascertained
this by placing his hives upon a glass table, as will be stated under the anatomy of the
bee, article " Sting." Reaumur seems to have been aware of this, for he has remarked
that " notwithstanding the superiority which the drones seem to have from their bulk,
they cannot hold out against the workers, who are armed with a poniard which conveys
poison into the wound it makes." The moment this formidable weapon has entered
their bodies, they expand their wings and expire.
This is a strange subversion of the laws which regulate other
societies, where the male is invariably invested with power and autho
rity. One of the most remarkable points of this curious procedure
is, that the creatures seem to understand the why and the wherefore
of this murderous purpose. For should it happen that the hive has
58 BKE9. [May,
no queen, and that consequently the drones will be again wanted, no
massacre takes place.
This sacrifice is not the consequence of a blind indiscriminatiug instinct, for ;/' a.
hive be deprived of its qtieen, no massacre takes place, though the hottest persecution rage
in all the surrounding hives. This fact was observed by Bonner, who supposed the
drones to be preserved for the sake of the additional heat which they would generate
in the hives during winter ; but according to Huber's theory, they are preserved for
the purpose of impregnating a new queen. The lives of the drones are also spared
in hives which possess fertile workers only, but no proper queen, and likewise in hives
governed by a queen whose impregnation has been retarded ; but under any other
circumstances the drones all disappear before winter. Not only all that have under
gone their full transformation, but every embryo, in whatever period of its existence,
shares the same fate. The workers drag them forth from the cells, and after sucking
the fluid from their bodies, cast them out of the hive. In all these respects the hive-
bees resemble wasps, but with this difference ; among the latter, not only are the
males and the male larvae destroyed, but all the workers and their larvae, (and the
very combs themselves,) are involved in one indiscriminate ruin, none remaining alive
during the winter but the queens, which lie dormant in various holes and corners till
the ensuing spring,—of course without food, for they store none. The importance of
destroying these mother wasps in the spring will be noticed in another place.
From the physiology of the bee, Dr. Bevan proceeds to a consi
deration of the best situations for an apiary, the best kind of hives
or boxes, and the important subject of pasturage. Under the last
head, that which is popularly termed honey-dew may be considered
to come. This honey-dew is of two kinds ; the one is an exudation
from the foliage of the plants on which it appears ; the other is a
secretion from the body of the insect aphis. This latter kind is a
favourite food with ants as well as bees, and the terms on which the
ant and the aphis stand to each other is a most interesting point of
natural history.
The other kind of honey-dew which is derived from the aphis, appears to be the
favourite food of ants, and is thus spoken of by Messrs. Kirby and Spence in their
late valuable Introduction to Entomology. " The loves of the ants and the aphides
have long been celebrated ; and that there is a connexion between them you may at
any time, in the proper season, convince yourself ; for you will always find the former
very busy on those trees and plants on which the latter abound ; and if you examine
more closely, you will discover that the object of the ants, in thus attending upon the
aphides, is to obtain the saccharine fluid secreted by them, which may well be deno
minated their milk. This fluid, which is scarcely inferior to honey in sweetness,
issues in limpid drops from the abdomen of these insects, not only by the ordinary
passage, but also by two setiform tubes placed, one on each side, just above it. Their
sucker being inserted in the tender bark, is without intermission employed in absorb
ing the sap, which, after it has passed through the system, they keep continually
discharging by these organs. When no ants attend them, by a certain jerk of the
body, which takes place at regular intervals, they ejaculate it to a distance." Tire
power of ejecting the fluid from their bodies, seems to have been wisely instituted to
preserve cleanliness in each individual fly, and indeed for the preservation of the
whole family ; for pressing as they do upon one another, they would otherwise soon
be glued together, and rendered incapable of stirring. " When the ants are at
hand, watching the moment at which the aphides emit their fluid, they seize and
suck it down immediately : this however is the least of their talents ; for the ants
absolutely possess the art of making the aphides yield it at their pleasure ; or in
other words of milking them." The ant ascends the tree, says Linnaeus, that it may
milk its cows the aphides, not kill them. Huber informs us that the liquor is volun
tarily given out by the aphis, when solicited by the ant, the latter tapping the aphis
gently, but repeatedly with its antennas, and using the same motions as when caress
ing its own young. He thinks, when the ants are not at hand to receive it, that the
aphis retains the liquor for a longer time, and yields it freely and apparently without
the least detriment to itself, for even when it has acquired wings, it shows no disposi
tion to escape. A single aphis supplies many ants with a plentiful meal. The ants
occasionally form an establishment for their aphides, constructing a building in a
secure place, at a distance from their own city, to which, after fortifying it, they
1827] BEES. 69
transport those insects, and confine them under a guard, like cows upon a dairy farm,
to supply the wants of the metropolis. The aphides are provided with a hollow
pointed proboscis, folded under the breast, when tlie insects are not feeding, with
which instrument they puncture the turgid vessels of the leaf, leaf-stalk or bark, and
suck with great avidity their contents, which are expelled nearly unchanged, so that
however fabulous it may appear, they may literally be said to void a liquid Bugar.
A hive of bees in the autumn ought not to weigh less than twenty-
five to thirty pounds, and should contain half a bushel of bees. In
the purchase of them, it should be remembered, that the weight of
the nive is not alone a sufficient criterion of its value, for it may be
partly made up of old materials. There is a good deal of difference
as to the size and shape of the bee boxes. It is to the discovery of
the glass hive that we owe almost all our knowledge of the ways of
the bee. The hive recommended by Dr. Bevan is a cubical box, with
windows ; but if the amateur wish to watch more particularly the ope
rations of the labourers, or to witness the survey which the queen
now and then takes of them, he should have a large bell-glass sur
mounted by a straw hive, which latter may be occasionally raised for
the purpose of inspection. The pleasure of beholding the proceedings
of the queen is very rarely afforded, and apiarians, it is said, have
passed their lives without enjoying it.
Reaumur himself, even with the assistance of a glass-hive, acknowledges that he
was many years before he had that pleasure. Those who have been so fortunate,
agree in representing her majesty as being very slow and dignified in her movements,
and as being constantly surrounded by a guard of about a dozen bees, who seem to
pay her great homage, and always to have their faces turned towards her, like cour
tiers, in the presence of royalty.
" But mark, of royal port, and awful mien,
Where moves with measur'd pace the Insect Queen !
Twelve chosen guards, with slow and solemn gait,
Mr. Dunbar's observations,
Bend at her nod,
upon
and
the
round
movements
her person
of wait."
the queen
— Evans.
in his mirror hive,

do not correspond altogether with what is here stated. He says that he did not find
her majesty attended in her progress by a guard, but that wherever she moved the
way was cleared ; that the heads of the workers whom she passed upou her route
were always turned towards her, that they fawned upon and caressed her, touching her
softly with their antennae ; but that as soon as she moved onwards, they resumed their
labours, whilst all that she passed in succession paid her the same homage. This
sort of homage is only paid to fertile quant ; whilst they continue virgins, they are
not treated with much respect.
One of the most singular as well as delicate kinds of respect shown
to her majesty is, that when she is in the act of depositing her first
eggs in the cells, her attendants connect themselves together, and
form a screen, to shroud her from the vulgar gaze while discharging
her most sacred function. Among all the curious and wonderful
things in the natural history of these insects, this true act of courtesy
is the most worthy of note. No court in the world can boast a supe
rior gracefulness or delicacy in the expression of its reverential
homage. .,
The queen is very numerously surrounded, when depositing her first eggs in the
cells, her attendants then cling to one another and form a living curtain before her,
so completely impenetrable to our eyes, as to preclude all observation of her proceed
ings ; unless the apiarian use the leaf-hive of Huber, or the mirror-hive of Dunbar,
it is hardly possible to snatch a sight of her, excepting when she lays her eggs near
the exterior parts of the combs. The manner iB which bees attach themselves to
each other, when forming a curtain, or when suspending themselves from a bough, or
taking their repose, is, by each bee, with its two fore claws, taking hold of the two
hinder legs of the one next above it, thus forming as it were a perfect grape-like
cluster or living garland. Even when thus intertwined with each other, as Swam
60 bees. [May,
merdam has observed, tliey can fly off from the bunch, and perch on it again, or
make their way out from the very centre of the cluster, and rush into the air. This
mode of suspension, so voluntarily adopted, must be agreeable to them, though the
uppermost bees evidently bear the weight of all the rest. Mr. Wildman supposes
that they have a power of distending themselves with air, like fishes, by which they
acquire buoyancy.
Another trait of delicate attention to the queen is also observable
in these loyal people, whose attachment endures beyond death.
Huber states that he has seen the workers, " after her death, treat her body as
they treated herself when alive, and long prefer this inanimate body to the most fer
tile qneens he had offered them." And fir. Evans relates a case, in which a queen
was observed to lie on some honey-comb in a thinly peopled hive, apparently dying,
and surrounded by six bees, with their faces turned towards her, quivering their
wings, and most of them with their stings pointed, as if to keep off any assailant.
On presenting them honey, though it was eagerly devoured by the other bees, the
guards were so completely absorbed in the care of their queen, as entirely to disre
gard it. The following day, though dead, she was still guarded; and though the
bees were still constantly supplied with honey, their numbers were gradually dimi
nished by death, till, at the end of three or four days, not a bee remained alive.
It was by uniting the principle of terror with that of this exceed
ing loyalty that Wildman was enabled to perform such extraordinary
feats with bees.
When under a strong impression of fear, says Wildman, they are rendered subser
vient to our wills, to such a degree as to remain long attached to any place they
afterwards settle upon, and will become so mild and tractable, as to bear any handling
which does not huit them, without the least show of resentment. " Long experience
has taught me, that as soon as I turn up a hive, and give some taps on the sides and
bottom, the queen immediately appears." " Being accustomed to see her, I readily
perceive her at the first glance ; and long practice has enabled me to seize her in
stantly, with a tenderness that does not in the least endanger her person." " Being
possessed of her, I can, without exciting any resentment, slip her into my other
hand, and returning the hive to its place, hold her, till the bees missing her, are all
on the wing, and in the utmost confusion." When in this state, he could make
them alight wherever he pleased ; for on whatever spot he placed the queen, the
moment a few of them discovered her, the information was rapidly communicated to
the rest, who in a few minutes were all collected round her. In this way he would
sometimes cause them to settle on his head, or to hang clustered from his chin, in
which state they somewhat resembled a heard. Again he would transfer them to
his hand, or to any other part of his body, or if more agreeable to the spectators
before whom he exhibited, he would cause them to settle upon a table, window, &c.
Prior to making his secret generally known, he deceived his spectators by using words
of command ; but the only magic that he employed was the summoning into activity
for his purpose the strong attachment of the bees to their queen.
" Such was the spell, which round a Wildman's arm
Twin'd in dark wreaths the fascinated swarm ;
Bright o'er his breast the glittering legions led.
Or with a living garland bound his head.
His dextrous hand, with firm yet hurtless hold,
Could seize the chief, known by her scales of gold,
Prune, 'mid the wondering train, her filmy wing,
Or, o'er her folds, the silken fetter fling."—Evans.
Cautioning his readers as to the hazard of attempting, what he himself accomplished
only by long experience and great dexterity, Wildman concludes his account with a
parody of the reply of C. Furius Cresinus, a liberated Roman slave, who, being
accused of witchcraft in consequence of his raising more abundant crops than his
neighbours, and therefore cited before a Roman tribunal, produced his strong imple
ments of husbandry, his well-fed oxen, and a hale young woman his daughter ; and
pointing to them, said, " These, Romans ! are my instruments of witchcraft ; but I
cannot show you my toil, my sweats, and anxious cares," *' So," says Wildman, " may
I say, " These, Britons .' are my instruments of witchcraft ; but I cannot show you my
hours of attention to this subject, my anxiety and carefor these useful insects ; nor can I
communicate to you my experience, acquired during a course if years."
1827] 15EES- 6l
Besides the attention and dexterity employed by Wildman, it is pro-
liable that he was a favourite with them on another ground. It is
observed that the sense of smell in bees is particularly fine ; each
hive of bees has its peculiar odour, which is a sort of bond of union
among themselves, and a cause of separation from others. This fact
has been skilfully made use of by Mr. Walond, a friend of Dr. Bevan,
in combining two weak swarms. It is well known that bees show
decided hostility against particular individuals, and we have our
selves known persons who dared not venture within a considerable
distance of a hive. The following anecdote of Mr. Hofer, related
by Dr. Bevan, throws considerable light on the cause of the different
reception which different persons receive from this curious animal.
The different reception which persons experience on approaching the domicile of
hees is attributed by some apiarians to the different degrees of confidence manifested
in the approach : they are of opinion, that if the visitors could avoid the exhibition of
all apprehension, they would not be attacked. My own experience has long con
vinced me of the erroneousness of this opinion : and a circumstance which occurred to
Monsieur de Hofer, Conseilleur d'etat du Grand Due de Baden, strengthens my
dissent from it. He had for years been a proprietor and admirer of bees, and almost
rivalled Wildman in the power he possessed of approaching them with impunity : he
would at any time search for the queen, and taking hold of her gently, place her upon
his hand. But having been unfortunately attacked with a violent fever, and long con
fined by it ; on his recovery he attempted to resume his favouiite'amusement among
the bees, returning to them with all that confidence and pleasure which he had felt
on former occasions ; when to his great surprise and disappointment he discovered that
he was no longer in possession of their favour ; and that instead of being received by
them as an old friend, he was treated as a trespasser : nor was he ever able after this
period to perform any operation upon them, or to approach within their precincts,
without exciting their anger. Here then it is pretty evident that some change had
taken place in the counsellor's secretions, in consequence of the fever, which, though
not noticeable by his friends, was offensive to the olfactory nerves of the bees. I had
this anecdote from Monsieur de Hofer's son, with whom I passed a very agreeable
evening in London at the house of my friend Joseph Hodgetts, Esq.
So much for the sensitiveness of the bee ; the following anecdote is
a remarkable instance of its sagacity :
M. P. Huber of Lausanne, in his Observations on Humble-bees, published in the sixth
volume of the Linnaean Transactions, has given a curious detail of some experiments in
which the bees conducted themselves somewhat similarly to those of Mr. Walond.
Having enclosed twelve humble-bees in a bell-glass upon a table, he gave them a part
of their cones or chrysalids, containing about ten silken cocoons, and freeing the latter
as much as possible from wax, he fed the bees for some days with pollen only. The
cells containing the cones being very unequal, the mass was so unsteady as extremely
to disquiet the bees. Their affection for their young led them to mount upon the
cocoons, to impart warmth to the inclosed larva?: they could not do this without
causing the comb to totter or lean on one side, and having no wax for fastening the
work to the table, they had recourse to the following ingenious expedient. Two or
three bees got upon the comb, and descending to the lower edge of it, with their heads
downwards, hung from it by the hooks of their hind feet, and clung to the table by
those of the second pair, which are very long ; thus did they keep this piece of cell-
work steady by their own muscular strength. When fatigued by this constrained and
irksome position, they were relieved by their comrades ; even the queen assisted.
Having kept the bees in this state till nearly the end of the third day, and shown them
to several persons, Huber introduced some honey, to enable them to form wax : they
soon constructed pillars, extending from the most projecting parts of the cell-work to
the table, and kept the cell-work in a firm position. The wax, however, getting gra
dually dry, the pillars gave way ; when the poor insects adopted their former straining
expedient for steadying the comb, and continued, perseveringly, to sustain it in this
manner, till Huber took pity on them and glued the cake of comb firmly to the table.
Could the most intelligent architect have more judiciously propped a tottering edifice,
Ml adequate supports could be applied t
62 BEEfl. [May,
The interest which we take in this subject, and the fertility
of Dr. Bevan's work in interesting facts, has induced us to extend
this article to a great length. And if we are now compelled to
leave the consideration of it by the necessary economy of our
space, we turn to other topics with a very unsatisfied feeling. There
are numerous points which fill the mind with that intelligent
surprise so delightful to the observer, that we have not even alluded
to, and those which have been mentioned are very far from being
exhausted. However, the pleasure of reading and reviewing Dr. Bevan,
like all other pleasures, must have an end, and we must conclude with
one—only one—more extract. It relates to the collection and disposal
of pollen—the farina of flowers, which serves for the food of the larvae.
The whole process puts the bee in a most respectable grade in the
order of intelligent beings.
The bees may frequently be observed to roll their bodies on the flower, and then
brushing off the pollen which adheres to them, with their feet, form it into two masses,
which they dispose of in the usual way. In very dry weather, when probably the
particles of pollen cannot be made to cohere, I have often seen them return home so
completely enveloped by it, as to give them the appearance of a different species of
bee. The anther-dust thus collected, is conveyed to the interior of the hive, and there
brushed off by the collector or her companions. Reaumur and others have observed,
that bees prefer the morning far collecting this substance, most probably that the dew
may assist them in the moulding of their little balls. " I have seen them abroad,"
says Reaumur, " gathering farina before it was light ;" they continue thus occupied till
about ten o'clock.
" BrusVd from each anther's crown, the mealy gold.
With morning dew, the light fang'd artists mould,
Fill with the foodful load their hollow'd thigh,
And to their nurslings bear the rich supply."—Evans.
This is their practice during the warmer months ; but in April and May, and at the
settlement of a recent swarm, they carry pollen thronghout the day ; but even in these
instances, the collection is made in places most likely to furnish the requisite moisture
for moulding the pellets, namely, in shady and sometimes in very distant places.
When a bee has completed her loading, she returns to the hive, part of her cargo
is instantly devoured by the nursing-bees, to be regurgitated for the use of the larvee,
and another part is stored in cells for future exigencies, in the following manner. The
bee, while seeking a fit cell for her freight, makes a noise with her wings, as if to
summon her fellow citizens around her ; she then fixes her two middle and her two
hind legs upon the edge of the cell which she lias selected, and curving her body,
seizes the farina with her fore legs, and makes it drop into the cell : thus freed from her
burthen, she hurries off to collect again. Another bee immediately packs the pollen,
and kneads and works it down into the bottom of the cell, probably mixing a little
honey with it, judging from the moist state in which she leaves it ; an air-tight
coating of varnish finishes this storing of pollen.
It is at length ascertained that the bee never visits more than one
gpecies of flower on the same journey. This pollen is of a cap
sular structure, and the particles of pollen from different flowers would
not aggregate conveniently. Thus also is the multiplication of
hybrid plants prevented.
Our parting recommendation is. that every body who loves to read
an instructive and entertaining book should buy the Honey-bee. The
inhabitant of the metropolis, however, should be warned, that the
perusal of it will hugely dispose him to the possession of a hive, and
that this is a taste that cannot be commodiously gratified either in the
Strand or Oxford-street.
1827-] DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. 63

DIARY
FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL.

It is lamentable to observe the number of good stories that are

daily maimed, mangled, and spoilt in the telling. Lord Holland has
quoted in the House of Peers, an excellent old Joe illustrative
of the true principle of retaliation, but has almost destroyed it by
the clumsiness of his phrasing. It reads as if translated into the
language of dulness:—
" He remembered to have read in a Spanish jest book, a story,
stating that in a certain district, persons were obliged to go armed,
and be attended with dogs, in order to preserve themselves from
wolves, and other beasts of prey. On some particular occasion a
person killed one of those dogs with his spear, and being brought
before the alcalde, he was asked why he had not used the butt end,
instead of the point of the spear? 'For this plain reason,' he
replied, * because the dog ran at me with his mouth, and not
with his tail.' "
For, "for this plain reason," and all that stiff stuff, read, "So
I would," replied the fellow, " if he had run at me with his tail."
The better version, however, of the story is, that the dog-slayer was
an English Serjeant, armed with his halberd, and that his reprover
was a lady of sentiment. " Ah, you cruel wretch, why did not you
strike the pretty dumb creature with the bottom of your halberd ? "—
"So I would, ma'am, if he had run at me with his tail." That
particularly wise man of the east, Doctor Gilchrist, has also just been
murdering a story. Something or other,of course not the least in point,
" reminded him of an old woman in the country, who put over her
door, * whiskey sold here to-day for three-pence a gill ; to-morrow to
be sold for nothing. Some simple clowns went in the next day, expecting
to get the gill for nothing ; ' but of course to-morrow never came."
The origin of this is a common French pot-house jest. It is written
over the door, " pay to-day and good credit to-morrow." They say
that a certain Irish judge, and illustrious debtor, on first going to
France, and being gladdened with the promise of this notice, put up
at an aubergc by the road side, and stayed there six months, waiting
for the day of credit, as his creditors had, for more years, done for
that of pay.
In a preceding Diary, I have noticed M. Thibadeau's absurd story
of Napoleon's having objected to the proposal that civil death should
dissolve marriage, on the strange ground that such a circumstance
would be an additional punishment, and that it would, therefore, be
better to put the criminal to death at once, (the reasoning is imperial,)
as in that case his wife might raise an altar of turf in her garden,
and retire there to weep. Here is a letter which presents a plea
sant practical illustration of the truth of this superfine sentimentality.
It is written by a wife whose husbamd is transported ; her name is
omitted, because, for want of the law which Napoleon thought so
severe on persons of fine sensibilities, she has been compelled to seek
comfort in a capital felony. Had the honest man been hung instead
 04 DIARY FOR THE .MOXTII OP APRIL. £Mo\*,
of transported, we wonder whether this fond creature would have
solaced herself with a turf altar to his memory, and made a watering
pot of her eyes.
(Copy.)
Feb. Ind, 1827.
Dear husband,
I take this opportunity of addressing these few- lines to you, hoping to find you
in good health, as it leaves me at present, thank God for it—dear husband I am
going to change my line of life and I hope it will be for the better I must tell you I
am going to be married and hope you have no objection for you know you have not
behaved to me as a husband ought to have done both you and your famely have used me
very ill But every one knows that I never gave you any reason to ill treat me—
I have been to the Overcears to ask theyre advice what I am to do and they told me
I had better get another husband as T did not expect you would ever come home
again. You need not fret about it nor make yourself in the least alarmed at what I
say for I can ashure you it is true.
The Overcears of the Parish is going to give the man ten pounds to take me out of
the
homeParish
to make
I have
one invited
among us—I
your Brother
shall tellRobert
you thetomans
the wedend
name isand
William
I wish you was at

You need not forget me for all that If you should ever come where I am I hope
you will call and see me So I conclude and still remain your affectionate wife
William Catharine .
Gadameed Ship
Woollege
Kent.
Apropos of this subject, it is a curious fact that men stationed in
light-houses are not permitted to have their wives with them, pro
bably because it is apprehended that the trimming of the lamps would
be neglected for the trimming of the husbands—and yet none but
married men are to be found in these posts, which are greatly sought
after by persons coveting a quiet life, and who, by a long course of
curtain lectures, have been trained to watchfulness, and accustomed to
sleepless nights. The wives of these monsters are unanimously of
Buonaparte's opinion, that it would be better to kill the wretches at
once, and to let them raise turf altars, and weep over them when
they have nothing better to do in the garden.
9th. There has been a rumour, probably intended as a suggestion,
that Mr. Canning is to have the premiership stripped of the church
patronage. This idea has called forth the following elaborate and
affecting simile in the leading article of The Times, which would
draw tears from a stone. It is a prodigiously pathetic piece of
writing, and places a patronageless premier in a most piteous point
of view :—
" The constituting a statesman to be a prime minister, and at the
same time depriving him of an important part of his power and
influence—of the power and influence which others have enjoyed, we
say not how properly,—is like commissioning a dove to fly over sea
and over land with the behests of his master, and at the same instant
tearing from him one of his wings ; the maimed sufferer falls at once
impotent to the earth, and with whatever vigour and energy he
may flutter and shake his other pinion, he cannot advance an inoh.
" Oh," if he could speak, would he exclaim, " Give me back my
other wing—rob me not of a feather—and I will carry your orders,
and procure the execution of your wishes, over all the world."
This is too much for mortal sensibility. It is too, too touching to
think of poor lop-sided Mr. Canning hopping about the treasury
18-27-] DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. 66
chambers lHce a jackdaw with a clipped wing, making awkward
attempts to fly, aud ca-ca-iug his discomfiture at his consequent
ungainly tumbles. With a soul to soar to the church steeple, the
unhappy fowl finds himself unequal to the altitude of an office stool ;
and with the spirit of an eagle he discovers that every abject cur which
haunts Whitehall, is more than his match. "Oh," he exclaims, for
he can speak, " give me back my other wing—rob me not of a black
feather, and I will fetch and carry, aspire, chatter, pick, and poke,
and perform the part of a daw over all the world."
In the same number, The Times is wonderfully sublime on another
subject. Some one said something uncivil to Mr. Plunkett in the
House of Commons. The editor forthwith adumbrates the affair in
this magnificent fashion.
■" The lion of the forest, when lying under the semblance of disease
•r feebleness, has met with indignities from the meanest of the animal
creation. We take no pains to bring home a parallel case to the
imagination of our political readers; but if they will be them
selves at the trouble of looking over last night's debate, on the pre
senting of a petition against the Catholics, and then examine in what
manner Mr. Plunkett, th* attorney-general for Ireland, was abused
on account of his ministerial forbearance, and by whom,—they will,
no doubt, begin to suspect that there are circumstances now on foot
which may lead to the official paralysis of this great and powerful
Irishman."
Mr. Plunkett is not yet then, we are glad to learn, in the state of
the lion in the fable, and certainly The Times is not playing the part
of the ass, in this cumbrous and admirably inapplicable illustration.
— Those persons who wish to understand the character of Lord
EldoD, and the principle, if we may so abuse the word, on which he
shapes his course as a legislator, should study the following brief
remark which he uttered in the spring-gun debate on the 6th, and
which will serve as a key to his views on matters of jurisprudence.
" The Lord Chancellor said, it was [Link] dangerous to
TAKE UPON THEMSELVES TO SAY WHAT WAS THE LAW UPON SUCH A
subject (i. e. the setting of spring-guns.) The [Link]|fMUST depend
ENTIRELY UPON ALt, THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE CASE."
The first proposition is, that it is dangerous for legislators who
make and alter the laws, to say what the law is.
The second, that the Jaw must depend upon the circumstances of
the case, or in other words, that there is to be no distinct rule of
law stated, but that judges are to make it according to the taste,
fancy, or whim of the moment.
This speech, containing the very essence of the most fatal error in
jurisprudence, was delivered' in the first legislative assembly, by the
highest judicial character in this country, and passed unnoticed and
unrebuked !
It has hitherto been accounted a first maxim, a truism, that law
should be a clear rule of command or prohibition known and intelli
gible to all ; but Lord Eldon, like Moliere's quack, has changed all
this; he avers that the law is to grow out of the circumstances of the,
case; that when the man is shot by the spring-gun, it will be time
May, 1827. F
CO DIART FOR THI MONTH OF APRIL. [MsT,
enough to inquire whether the engine was legally set, and he was
legally killed or not. It is hetter to let it then depend on the circum
stances, such as the character of the party killed, as for instance,
was he a poacher, or the servant of the game preserver; obnoxious
to, or regarded by the superior classes of the neighbourhood ?
The doctrine we have quoted, furnishes a striking illustration of
the chancellor's ideas of law, and shows on what grounds he advocates
all that is vicious in our system, and resists every measure of whole
some reform.
On the same night, in a discussion on the game laws, he gave an
example in an insignificant matter of the confusion which reigns in
his mind on most subjects. The chancellor has as much logic as
a cow.
" The great increase of crime, (poaching,) said his lordship, was
owing to the introduction of battues; and if their lordships did not
find some means of destroying these battues, they might as well say
that the moon shall not shine, a3 that there shall not be poachers."
It was by this method of reasoning that the Goodwin sands were
laid to the account of Tenterdon church steeple. The battues have
nothing whatever to do with the poaching, and one sufficiently grand
battue would put an end to poaching altogether, by destroying all
the game. The evil of which the chancellor should have spoken, is
the excessive game preserving which allows of battues, or great
massacres. The game is preserved till it swarms, and then it is-
slaughtered in swarms ; but it is clearly not the massacre which
provokes the poaching, but the temptation of the extraordinary
abundance of game. The chancellor however thinks that the cause
is the battue, because since there have been battues, there has been
more poaching ; just as the old man thought that Tenterdon steeple
was the cause of the Goodwin's, because since the building of the
steeple, the sands had increased—hut if Lord Eldon inquires, he
will find that the battues have been introduced only where game is
preserved in superabundance, and resorted to in order to thin the
unmanageable swarms of birds.
10th.A It is pleasing to find our legislators imbued with sound prin
ciples of jurisprudence. It is satisfactory to the whole community
to know that a nobleman is born to the privilege of making laws for
them, who holds such a doctrine as that laid down last night by Lord
Ellenborough in the House of Lords :—
" The object of setting spring-guns," said that illustrious sage,
"was not personal injury to any one, but to deter from the commission
of theft; and that object was as completely obtained by hitting an
innocent man as a guilty one."
What a pity it is that this enlightened peer is not a chief justice,
in which high office, so long and temperately filled by his amiable
father, he might have given practical effect to this brilliant idea,
generalizing it thus for common occasions:—
" The object of punishment is not personal injury to any one, but
to deter from the commission of theft ; and that object is as completely
obtained by hanging an innocent man as a guilty one."
- The Chronicle, pleasantly suggests to Lord Ellenborough, the pro
lS'27-1 DIARY FOR THK MONTH OF APRIL. ti/
priety of his permitting himself to be made an example of under his
own rule. " Perhaps," says the editor, " his lordship would have no
Objection, by way of demonstrating the efficacy of his theory, to
allow himself to be disposed of by that important personage who gives
to the law its chief efficacy, without the, formality of a proof of
guilt in order to reconcile the country to the indiscriminate slaughter
of innocence and guilt."
Fanners are in the habit of nailing crows, hawks, weasels, pole
cats, &c. to their barn doors, as terrible examples to the other members
of these felonious tribes ; but they have not yet discovered that it
would answer exactly the same purpose to transfix their doves, barn
door fowls, geese, and turkeys, in the same fashion. We must not,
however, expect to find Ellenboroughs in farm yards; such wisdom
and fine ideas of the fitness of things, and the true principles of
jurisprudence, can only be looked for in the House of Lords, where
men are Solons by inheritance.
As admirable is it often to see the grounds' on which our legislators
go right, as those on which they go wrong. When right, they in
nine cases out of ten, give the worst conceivable reason for it, and
frequently discover that their motive leans to error's side. In very
properly resisting a clause legalizing trespasses in thechace, the Duke,
of Buckingham stated that " nothing was more annoying than the
trespasses committed by those who followed game into grounds. They
trampled upon ladies' flower gardens, and did a great deal of mis
chief long before any one could possibly warn them off."
To humbler men it would have rather occurred as an instance of
more important injury, and one more deserving of the consideration
of the legislature, that they trampled upon the poor man's kitchen
garden, and demolished his cabbages and cauliflowers.
The tyrannical vagrant act in its passage through the Commons,
was opposed, not on account of its oppressive enactments, but because
it might prevent minstrels from serenading ladies, and further, might
deprive them of the intellectual gratification of seeing Punch. Flower-
gardens, serenades, and Punch, (which is now our first dramatic
entertainment,) are unquestionably excellent things in their way; but
there are other interests which would occur to men out of Parliament,
as entitled to superior consideration.
Wth. This is the session of bon mots in both houses of Parliament.
Sir Francis Burdett declared last night that Englishmen have an
inheritance in the laws. A fine portion it is! Looking at the
character of our code, we should certainly appear a people eminently
born to be hung.
13th. This extract of a letter from Vienna has appeared in the
journals, Foreign and English :
Beethoven.—The public is deeply affected by the death of this great Composer ; and
they are not a little surprized at learning, that M. Moschelles, who", however, has him
self had occasion to know the support which the numerous amateurs in this city afford
to distinguished talents, should have taken the liberty to make a subscription at London
for the benefit of the deceased.—This news has excited universal discontent. Beeth
oven had no need of such support, and nobody had a right thus to anticipate govern
ment, the protector of all the arts, and a people who are remarkably attached to them.
A single word would have sufficed to make thousands of persons fly to the assistance
of the great composer. Besides, people esteemed him too much to conceive such a thought,
F2
 C8 DIARV FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. [M»V>

and they knew, besides, tliat he received pensions from the Archduke Rudolph,
and many families in the highest ranks of the uobility. Ileal artists in Austria,
certainly have no need, considering the sense which animates our government and
nation in favour of all that is noble and good, to implore the vaunted generosity of
the English nation, of which C. M. Von Weber lately made a trial (1). This thought
was certainly more foreign to the mind of Beethoven than of any other person.
(1) Note.—Many promises lavished in England on C. M. Von Weber were not
realised. The higher classes had encouraged him to give a grand concert, the expense
of which was immense, and which cost him much trouble. The concert-room (salle)
was hardly half full. When Weber saw this scanty audience he nearly fainted, and
said sorrowfully to one of his friends— " You see how Weber is appreciated in London."
Three weeks afterwards he was no more.
On the last circumstance it is only necessary to observe that Weber
died, poor fellow, of a cold, and not of a concert. But for the con
dition of Beethoven. The Chronicle, without a moment's hesitation,
received the above statement as gospel ; first, because it was written
by a German, and secondly, because it inculpated the English. There
are three grand points of faith with the Chronicle,—that German
people are always right ; that English people are always wrong ; and
that the Scotch are perfection, or something even plusquam German.
On the above quoted thesis the Editor holds forth thus:—
" We confess it did surprise us not a little, that in a country
like Austria, in which musical genius is so highly appreciated, aman
like Beethoven should be allowed to starve. We can almost
pardon the sensitiveness of the citizens of Vienna on this tender
point. The defence of the Austrians is coupled with an accusation
of illiberality brought against the English nation, founded on the
treatment of M. Von Weber by the higher ranks. But allowance
ought to be made for the taste of nations." *
The next day The Times very quietly publishes the subjoined
letter from poor Beethoven to a professor in London, which shows
what the fine sentiment of the people of Vienna is worth. Perhaps,
as their champion says in his epistle, " They esteemed him too much
to conceive such a thought," as that he needed their pecuniary aid ;
and this is certainly a kind of esteem which would allow a man of
genius to die of hunger in the midst of his admirers. " You look
squalid and cold,'* they would say, "but we esteem you too much to
conceive that you want food or raiment, and our paternal government
lets none of its children pine in penury."
" Vienna, March 6.
" Dear Sir, —I do not doubt but that you have already received, through Mr,
Moschelles, my letter of the 22d of Feb. Having however, by chance, found your
address amongst my papers, I do not delay writing to you, once more, most pressingly,
to urge your kind attention to my unhappy situation. Alas ! up to the present day, I
see no hopes of a termination to my dreadful malady ; on the contrary my sufferings,
and with them my dares, increase. On the 27th of February I was operated upon
(tapped) for the fourth time j and perhaps the fates will that I may expect to undergo
this operation a fifth time, or even oftener. If this continues, my illness will then
last half the summer—and in that case what is to become of me 1 Upon what am I
to live until I regain my lost strength, so as to enable me to earn my subsistence with my

* Certainly, and we are not bound to worship a composer who has produced one
work of genius, and a thousand and one others of no genius at all. The Frieschutz
appears to have been "a lucky accident." It is the vulgar fashion to disparage
Rossini for his occasional miscarriages, and to deify Weber for his solitary successful
effort—one among so many—that one indeed, grand.
1827-] DIARY FOR TUB MONTH OF APRIL. 69
pen ? But I will not weary you with new complaints, but merely refer to my letter of the
22d of February, and entreat you to exert all your influence to persuade the Philharmonic
Society to carry promptly into effect their former resolution, relative to the academy, for
my advantage. My strength does not permit me to say more ; and I am so fully
convinced of your friendly sentiments towards me, that I need not fear being mis
understood.—Accept the assurance of the highest respect with which, anxiously
looking forward to your early reply, I always am, dear sir, your's devotedly,
(Signed) Lupwic Von Beethoven.
How does the Chronicle take this discovery,—why even thus, as if
it had not in any measure committed itself hy its ready, its greedy
adoption of the suspicious misrepresentation. The Chronicle is, on
general suhjects, the ablest, the most intelligent of the morning
papers, but occasionally it is the most silly; and when notoriously
committed by some folly, it is the most imprudent in backing out, or
eating its own words, and, indeed, with the provoking air of one still
delivering oracles of established infallibility, without any acknow
ledgement of error.
"The following letter, which appeared in The Times of yesterday,
forms a more than sufficient justification for the exertions of M.
Moschelles, to awaken the sympathies of the rich in this country, in
behalf of the dying Beethoven. We do not think that it reflects
any particular credit on the rich amateurs of Vienna, of which so
pompous an account was given in the Vienna letter, in the Allgcmeinc
Zeitung, that this poor man, after having been four times tapped,
should be under the necessity of oxclaiming, with all the horror of
dereliction before him, "Upon what am 1 to live until 1 regain my
lost strength, so as to enable me to earn my subsistence with my
pen?" Out upon such amateurs ! If Beethoven had been an ordi
nary composer, or if the amateurs were insensible to musical merit,
this abandonment of him to want would be intelligible. After all,
we fear there is not a pin to choose in the way of liberality to genius,
between the nobility all the world over, and that a Prince E. or Prince
D. is pretty much the same as a Lord F. or Lord G."
Every one, we conceive, had some suspicion of this fact, except
tho Chronicle, which supposed that yellow-baired Scots and white-:
haired Germans were the cream of the human species.
A GENIUS DISCOVERED BY AN ALDERMAN.
It is the fashion to impute ignorance and custard to aldermen. A
splendid instance has just been afforded, of the falsehood of one half
of this imputation. Whether Sir Peter Laurie delights in custard or
not, we arc unable to say, but he has given the most decided proof
of his extraordinary conversance with polite literature, and of his
superior judgment as a critic. Some of us coxcombs imagine that we
know all that is worth knowing in literature, and that we can call
over the muster-roll of the effectives in the belles-lettres without
missing a man of any " mark or likelihood." Ask us, who are the
poets? and we reply, Wordsworth, Southey, Crabbe, Campbell, and
as a lyric, our matchless Thomas Moore. This is what we should
say, because it is all that we know ; but when we go into the city, we
hear from men of more extensive reading of the names of bards whose
works have not yet come within the narrow range of our reading,
although they arc daily bawled in our heedless cars, Ask Alderman
70 BIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APHIt. [May,

Sir Peter Laurie, who are the lyric poets, and he will tell you that
there are two. One, a Mr. Moore, whose melodies are hanged out of
the pianos by young ladies of sentiment, and the other a great genius
named Hudson, whose songs are sung by Charles Taylor and Fitz-
william, and pirated by the ballad-mongers—-whence it comes to pass
that his merit, like the voice of wisdom, "crieth in the streets, and no
one regardcth it." Never having had the honour of being in any
company in which Charles Taylor and Fitzwilliam sang, we have
never heard of Mr. Hudson's muse, and but for Sir Peter Laurie,
should have past our days in a brutal ignorance of the existence of
such a genius. We lay the whole revelation before our readers. The
astronomer who discovers a new star, is honoured for it ; is not the
city knight who discovers a new genius entitled to equal respect ?
Herschel's star was called the Georgium Sidus. It was an injustice to
name the star after the monarch instead of the astronomer. We
should propose to designate Mr. Hudson as the Poet Laurie ; or else
to style the alderman, Hudson's Bayes:—
Mansion* House.—Mr. Hudson, a freeman of the city, and the writer of a great
number of comic songs, stated to the Alderman, that he had an application to make
upon what he was informed was capable of being remedied, in some measure, by a
law of local operation in the city of London, but of very ancient date, and seldom
acted upon. He was the author of 500 or 600 comic songs, many of which, what
ever might be their merit, had been received by the public with some degree of appro
bation. Of those songs he was in the habit of making sale, in the first instance, to.
dramatic performers, and afterwanls to publishers ; and the profit he derived from a
great number of them was considerable, until a sort of piracy was established, which
lie did not know how to combat with until he heard that he could be assisted by the
city authorities. The moment Mr. Clementi, or any other high musical publisher,
sent forth one of the songs to the town, a number of the " twopenny halfpenny " pub
lishers advertised it at a fourth of the price set down by the holder of the copyright.
This example was followed by a still lower order of publishers, who were in the haliit
of uniting interests with ballad singers, and the song was bawled about the streets in
a string with many others until the public were quite disgusted with it. (A langh.)
He knew that there was an effectual way of putting an end to this practice if the
pirate happened to be respectable,* but unfortunately the expense to which an un
happy author would be subject by a proceeding in equity, or in any of the courts of
law, was so great that, except the defendant happened to be woith powder and shot,
destruction must be the consequence. Under those circumstances, Mr. Hudson
requested that, at all events, something might be done to prevent the dishonourable
sort of publication alluded to, as those who were in the habit of dealing with him
felt considerable hesitation at the idea of purchasing when they were sure of a com
parison with some musical beggar. (Laughter.)
Sir Peter Laurie said, that nothing could give him greater pleasure than the power
of protecting the applicant, whom he knew to be a man of great merit. He con
sidered that a song was literary property as well as a poem, although the latter
description of writing was not, lie believed, sung about the streets since the days of
Homer. (A laugh.) If there existed any act by which service could be rendered to
a man of genius under such circumstances, he should certainly resort to it for the
benefit of such a person.
Mr. Hobler said, he apprehended that there was no law to prevent the vocal
retailing of songs. In the act for the punishment of rogues and vagabonds, minstrels
were not mentioned as coming under that denomination. Parliament seemed to have
a special regard for minstrels, and gave them great privileges. A Member even de
clared in the House of Commons one night that Punch must be protected. (Laughter.)
Mr. Hudson said, that it was too hard that an author's brains, should be at the

• This abuse of the word respectable is essentially English. A rich rogue is ac

counted respectable in this trading land. Other people less idolatrous of wealth would
style him only responsible. But our pirates are respectable if they have money in
their purses. Such is commercial morality.
1827-] piARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. 71

command of any publisher whose circumstances placed him beneath the reach of the
law, and who was on the look-out for every thing that was convertible into pence,
however injurious to the proprietor.
Mr. Hobler advised that a civil proceeding should be adopted.* If one crow were
shot, all the other crows would fly to other quarters.
Mr. Hudson said the remedy was as bad as the disease. The protection of Chan
cery would cost him 30/.. He well knew the desperate evils of a court of equity or
justice.
Sir Peter Laurie said, that there could not be a better judge, if an opinion were to
be formed from the applicant's song, called " Law," which was bawled about the
town from morning till night. " 1 think, Mr. Hudson," said Sir Peter Laurie, " you
had better follow your own advice, and have nothing to do with the law, for those
who live best by it will certainly revenge themselves upon you."
Mr. Hudson assured Sir Peter, that the injury he sustained was most serious. A
Mr. Duncombe had pirated the very song just mentioned, for which Mr. Clementi
had paid him (Mr. Hudson) fifteen guineas, and as the profits of the purchaser were,
of course, greatly dimiuished, any future effort of the muse (if muse it can be called)
must fall in proportion. (A laugh.)
Sir Peter Laurie—I have heard a great number of your songs at public dinners, by
Charles Taylor and Fitzivilliam, and I am only surprised that you do not offer your ser
vices to one of the theatres, particularly as you can get them up, I xinderstand, at the
shortest possible notice.
An actor who accompanied Mr. Hudson, stated that since an American manager
had established himself, something might be expected, as Mr. Price was endeavouring to
cure tlie stage of its literary abominations, although he came over without any know
ledge of the taste of the town. The manager, however, would not be likely to pur
chase songs, although he might have no objection to pirate them, as he actually had
done with respect to some of the applicant's " infinite variety."
The actor spoke, as actors always do speak when they speak their
own words, like a goose. The emphatic " something to be expected"
from the American Manager, by the mime's own account, appears to be
piracy. The " literary abominations" therefore which Mr. Price is
endeavouring to cure are probably the purchases of copyrights—things
held in great abhorrence by those who have once tried the simpler
mode of acquiring the property.
As a proof of Mr. Price's extraordinary virtue as a Manager, it
is just stated that he offered Miss Foote a lucrative engagement on
the condition of her not singiug for Fawcett's benefit. Miss Foote,
to her credit, rejected the dirty overture, which can be ascribed to no
other motive than spite.
\\th. After the division of the Court of Chancery, Counsel soon
found that it would be impossible for them to earn bread and cheese
in Lord Eldon's Court alone, because little or nothing was done there,
while, as the superior tribunal, they could not consent altogether to
abandon it ; they therefore practised in the two Courts. This has
led to the inconvenience that when a cause is called on in the one
Court, it frequently happens that the leader is engaged in the other.
Mr. Montague, who has incessantly some disinterested little scheme
on the anvil for the benefit of the public, has just attempted a curious
remedy for this evil. When any cause is called on in which he is
junior, and the senior Counsel is not forthcoming, Mr. Montague
incontinently quits the Court, thus depriving the client of the benefit,
such as it may be, of his services, because he cannot have those of the
leader, and so leaving him altogether deserted—a proceeding similar
to that couched under the vulgar saying of " burning the candle at
* Mr. Hobler's son is an attorney ;—" there's nothing like leather," says the tan-'
uer in the fable.
72 DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. L'^Pr>'»
both ends." Mr. Montague's pretext in, that juniors are unequal to
the conduct of causes. It is a miserably shallow one. Mr. Montague's
modesty is notoriously great, but it cannot have led him to such a
conclusion. Junior Counsel are generally much better prepared
than their seniors, and there arc scores of young men who would
desire nothing better than the opportunity of distinguishing them
selves which the absence of a leader affords—an event that has made
the fame and the fortunes of many. The simple truth, as we con
ceive, is, that Mr. Montague desired to be regularly employed in the
first instance as leader, and hence this fine-spun scheme, which has
excited the wrath and brought down upon him the severe but not
undeserved animadversion of his brethren at the Bar. A Morning
Paper takes up the affair in a particularly inept vein, and comes to
some silly conclusion, adumbrated under an inapplicable illustration,
to the effect that let the merits of the dispute be what they may, the
public is the innocent sufferer. Newspaper writers are perpetually
breaking their hearts about the wrongs and the woes of the public ;
in this instance we cannot, however, see that the beast has any thing
to complain of, though we grant that the conduct of the Bar is not
the most liberal. Mr. Heald and others give fair notice when they
arc tendered briefs that they will not promise attendance—that it is
a chance—and if the parties with this warning force their fees on
them, they do so perfectly aware of their risk, and have no reason to
complain of any consequences. They must have the first practi
tioners on the worst terms ; they might have men indeed of less
business, but of sufficient efficiency and abundance of zeal on the best
■—with whom then is the fault?
— Mr. Justice Park, on the Western Circuit, suspecting that a
ruse had been practised to increase the expences of a prosecution,
observed with his accustomed curiosa felicitas—
" I don't like this trick at all, and some day or another I shall set
my face most furiously against it."
By the byo, the Learned Judge has been drastic in his treatment
these Assizes. For a paltry theft, and a first and unaggravatcd
offence, (so far as we are informed,) he calls six months in the House
of Correction and two good whippings a mild sentence !
He whips every body, and has hinted his regret that the Legis
lature have rescued the ladies from this his favourite chastisement.
He expressly desires in his sentence that the prisoner shall be well
whipped. A little whipping is a dangerous thing.
15th. There is an amusing piece of discretion in the John Bull of
this day. Having notified the sudden official deaths of the seven
sages, it proceeds to deliver good set elages on Wellington, Eldon,
and Peel, after this affecting fashion :
" The Illustrious Hero, to whom the country owes, under Provi
dence, its military glory and its honourable peace, quits the field.
That venerable man, whose rigid principles of equity and justice,
whose uncompromising and conscientious opposition to the innova
tions of those, with whose triumph comes the downfall of the Con
stitution, have rendered him obnoxious to the coarsenesses of Whig-
gcry and the brutalities of Radicalism, from which nciXhcr age nor
•lS'27-] DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL, 73

taleDt, rank nor character, public service nor private kindness, has
been able to protect him—the Chancellor retires from office.
" Mr. Peel—free as air, and independent in his mind as in his for
tunes—in youth, in health, in vigour, quits the Government ; he, who
in the course of his official duties has done more (we speak it not
idly, but upon the testimony of practical men of the highest charac
ter) to clear away the doubts, the difficulties, the intricacies, the in
consistencies, of the laws, to simplify proceedings, to improve the
administration of justice, and whose able and intelligent mind was
still directed to benefitting his fellow-creatures—this honest honour
able Minister retires."
Here he wisely stops, asking, " But why pursue this ? " Aye, why?
and how indeed ? It would not be easy, we conceive, to find any
thing to say for Lords Westmoreland, Bathurst, Bexley, &c. ; these
are, as little Isaac remarks, very difficult to compliment.
— It is perplexing, perhaps impossible, to define accurately what we
express by the word taste. The masterly author of De Vere declares
it to be a sense of proportions. This does not quite satisfy us. We
require something more comprehensive than "proportions." A per
ception of the to irpeirov is taste, but it is not English. A sense of
fitness is a clumsy phrase, because there is an uncouthness about that
word fitness, of excellent force, but rusty from disuse. Just per
haps is nearest to the right term. Taste is a perception of the just ;
in this word we include exact proportions, and the approval they
command. It is often difficult to account for the keen relish of plea
sure which some trifle, insignificant in itself, will give to our tastes.
All that we say in reply to our query, why are we so gratified ? is,
that the thing is exactly what the occasion required, or, as we phrase
it in our familiar colloquy, it is the very thing ; this, wherever it
occurs, is excellence, no matter how unimportant the shape that it
assumes, or homely the material in which it is found. Swift defined
composition, right words in right places. Good composition is by no
means uncommon, but how rare it is to meet with these right words
in right places—how great a pleasure to our taste ! In what a trifle
does the gratification too consist—it is but a particle perhaps, a con
junction, a pronoun, but it is just where it should be, exactly where
it was wanted ; the mark has been precisely hit, and taste is pleased.
The author of Vivian Grey, with all his many faults, is felicitous in
phrasing. Who can deny the force of his description of Ronzi Ves-
tris' style, as " the arrowy and rushing." In a love letter in the
fifth Volume, I have been much struck by a verbal grace of the kind,
on which 1 have disserted. Whether it will strike others as it strikes
me I know not ; but certain I am, that if it had appeared in Rous
seau, the fine critics would have discovered in it a gem. The writer
is a lady, severed by an untoward discovery from her lover :
" May this safely reach you ! Can you ever forgive me ? The
enclosed, you will sec, was intended for you, in case of our not meet
ing. It anticipated sorrow, yet that were its anticipations to our
reality ! "
Now what has so captivated me is simply that little word our,
which, applied as it is to reality, carries with it a volume of feminine
74 WARY FOH THE MONTH OF APRIL. [*!»}*>
sentiment. It will not boar disquisition ; the grace must be felt, not
explained. It is not grammatical to use a possessive with reality, but
as the reality is sorrowful, and it is the habit of the heart to cleave to
sorrow, as the poet's nightingale leans its breast to the t iorn, it is
most natural to make it our own. The reality and the affliction are
merely identified.
These minute beauties, as I think them, have great charms for me.
I know nothing in the exquisite lyrics of Moore that delights me more
than a little grace of the kind in the " Temple to Friendship." The
girl rejecting the sculptor's image of Friendship, and preferring that
of Love, says, " We'll make, if you please, Sir, a Friendship of him."
The a there is of matchless beauty. Never before was the indefinite
article so archly significant. Substitute the and we destroy the
naivete of the expression. Moore abounds in these delicious strokes.
No poet in our language is so delicate in his phrasing, and graceful in
h's idioms. These excellencies are, however, not to be found in his
prose; and perhaps they are only achievable in short pieces, which
allow of the nicest labour in every part.
\Tth. Mr. Campbell, the poet, has delivered a speech to the Glasgow-
University, on his installation as Lord Rector, which, in its way,
rivals Dogberry's famed charge to the Watch. Its prominent peculi
arities are, inconsequence and anticlimax, together with a noble free
dom from all the restraints of grammar. The orator uses relatives
without antecedents, conjunctions where there is no connection, and
objective particles where there is no distinction to be marked. In a
word, his harangue looks in some parts like an exercise to be turned
by the tyro into English, and in others like a rhetorical puzzle made
by breaking up a number of sentences, and jumbling their beginnings
and ends together, in order that the curious may try their skill and
ingenuity in first dislocating and then re-uniting them again, according
to the demands of sense. If this be indeed the design, it is certainly
rendered of very difficult execution ; and having ourselves no time
for the arrangement of puzzles, we must give the parts as we find
them, and leave our readers to guess at the process by which they are
reconcileable with reason. Referring to the University of Glasgow, as
apropos somehow or other to what began with Wickliff, at Oxford,
and passed over to Bohemia, the orator says—
" Though I do not intend to bring it into an odious comparison
with the institutions of England, that have formed the intellectual
character of that majestic race of men, [What majestic race of
men ? Institutions is the only antecedent] yet, [Observe the grand
point which he makes] I may remark, that all your professors
lecture daily, which might be imitated with advantage by those great
institutions.
" Amongst our professors, wo can enumerate names above the meed
of praise, as they are above detraction ; and, I am bold to affirm, that
the dynasty of professional talent is not to degenerate ; for [Mark
the closeness of the connexion—how much the one thing has to do
with the other ; and lastly the clenching and dignified effect of the
concluding illustration] ye are to remember, that neither the glory of
dead men's names, nor any such ideal sources can, of themselves^
18-27] DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. 75

animate the character of the student, without industry during the

season of youth, the bitter fruits of mis-spending which are so obvious
as to he lost sight of by their common occurrence ; like the great tree
in St. Paul's Church-yard, concerning which so many tvagers have
been gained and lost."
" It would be easy, no doubt, to invest this topic with a gloomy
interest, by tracing the life of a man to its end, in order to discover the
bitter fruits of bad education. But we will not appeal to the ignoble
principle of fear ; for though I might represent this to you, my young
friends—since the intimation would be all but welcome, and its co
lours all but bright—I will not do so. [Ye gods, what energy ! This
is surely the hivorric of the Greeks.] And, let me say, it is not a want
of boldness and vigour I most admire in youth ; [Who does he think
does admire most the want of boldness and vigour in youth ?
And pigeon-pies of
" Campbell's
water-rats are
headvery
is made
seldom
of reckoned
wood, good."

mire
Thesetheare
want
truisms
of boldness
; the orator,
and vigour,
however,
though
implies,
not most,
that yet
he does
in some
ad- '

degree] the want may present a negative quality ; it may, however,

prevent a positive acquirement — however long be the attainment
of that. [" The attainment of that ! " of what ? of the acquirement
prevented ?]
" Voltaire tells us of a youth whom he almost considered * horn with
experience.' Precocious indeed is that talent that can boast of but
a few of the effects of experience—and alas ! we have now no such
intellectual heroes, born with this useful commodity. [Sublime
diction!] There is a stage of intellectual advancement, to which no
talent, however precocious, can be conceived to attain, without the
demanded process. [What demanded process?] It is that ardour
[i. e. the stage is an ardour] with which an accomplished mind awaits
the next acquisition of new ideas, or the appearance of the next new
book, to a degree equal to that with which the gainer awaits
the transmission of his lottery prize." [A rich climax!]
We now come to something peculiarly in the spirit and manner of the
learned Dogberry. The philosophy is beautiful. The orator says
that there are some persons hostile to classical learning ; but he tells
his hearers not to inquire with what justice, and to rest content
that it is quite right.
" There is a spirit at present in existence that sets itself against
classical learning. I advise you not to meddle with it ; but con
tent yourselves that you are not applying at aught but the true
fountain of knowledge and virtue."
This is sublime. There is something beyond description happy
in the methodical manner of the allusion to pin-making. It is of
a fine phlegm—
" In your studies, I would not advise that formal division of
labour that keeps the pin manufactory in such exact order. Newlon
made geometry illustrate physical science ; and Richter, in later
times, has followed up the great example."
And this is a public instructor ! It may be imagined by those
unacquainted with the general style of Mr. Campbell's writing and
76 DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIt. [May,
speaking in prose, that there must be error in the report ; bnt from
our knowledge of his manner, we arc persuaded that this is not the
case. We admire him as a poet ; but, of a truth, he should con
fine himself to verse, and lisp only in the numbers of the New-
Monthly.
— In Captain Parry's published letter to the Admiralty, deve
loping his plans for the present expedition, he says that it will be
important to procure from Greenland the necessary number of dogs,
[for drawing the sledges over the ice,] as well as of their [the dogs'1
excellent water-proof bootsfor travelling." The boots here alluded
to are those famous seven-leagued boots spoken of in our nursery
histories, which were formerly worn by Puss when in the service of the
Marquis of Carabas, and which, on her decease, passed into the pos
session of the dogs of Greenland. With them on, Captain Parry will
hop from ice-berg to ice-berg, without wetting his feet, supposing the
distance do not exceed seven French leagues ; and he will step from
Spitzbergcn to the Pole in about twenty-eight strides and a half.
Apropos de bottes, the dogs, who are to be roasted and eaten if pro
visions run short, say that they do not at all like the name of Spitz-
bergen, and should prefer quarters which did not put such dangerous
thoughts of the kitchen into men's heads. They quote Homer, remark
with Ulysses, aiiroQ yap tysXcfrai avSpa ailripoQ—the name of the Spit
puts roast meat into the men's heads.
21st. Ours is a nation of barter and benevolence—in cheating and
charity we surpass all other people of the earth. It is admirable to
observe the union of philanthropy and profit among us. We can
break our hearts at a bankrupt's fall, and make excellent bargains at
the sale. " Oh," says Mrs. Larmoyante (drowned in tears, and with
a long lank pocket-handkerchief in her hand, like the lady in the
undertaker's sign) " our poor friends the Selby's are ruined, reduced
to destitution, to want, to misery. Oh ! Oh ! people that we have
known for so many years, that gave such pleasant parties, and were
so obliging and amiable, and now Oh ! I can't bear to think of
their distress ; it will kill me, I know it will—my sympathies are too
strong for my constitution—Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! Maria, my love, ring the
bell, and order the carriage ; the sale takes place at Philipps's at
two, and I should like of all things to have the candelabra, and dear
Mrs. Selby's sweet bronze ink-stand, if they go cheap. Bless me, we
shall be late, girls."
An advertisement fabricated for the English market appears in the
newspapers of this day, which moves the mind to benevolence and
bargains, with irresistible power. How skilfirlly we are first shocked
at the appalling distress, then soothed and consoled by the idea of
Irish linen for shirts at 1*. 9d. a yard ; and silk handkerchiefs, with
which to wipe our tears of sympathy, at Is. Qd. each.
" Dreadful Distress in Trade !—The Public are respectfully
informed, that of nineteen Bankrupts in the City, of Wholesale
Linen Drapers, Silk Weavers, and Irish Factors, seven have
absconded. The remaining stocks of the above bankrupts amount to
90,000/. sterling, which must be sold off forthwith. Families furnish
ing new establishments (with ready money) will find this an opportu
nity which will never again occur. The following is a brief list of
the property to be sold:— 17 boxes finest undressed Irish Linens, Is.
1827-3 DIARY FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. 77
9d. a yard, usual price 4s. Gd. ; 400 pieces undressed Scotch Holland,
finest qualily made, 2s. 9d. a yard, worth 5*. Gd.; 12 boxes, or 700
pieces, at 1*. a yard, suitable for gentlemen's wear, worth Is. Gd. ;
300 pieces, about 9d. a yard, worth double the money : 120 pieces
of Russia sheeting, requiring no seam, 1*. Ad. a yard, finest quality,
2s. 8d. a yard, trade price As. Gd. ; 200 pieces of Russia sheeting, 8{d.
a yard, worth Is. Ad. ; 37 pieces at Is. a yard, actually worth 2*. 3d. ;
2000 damask table cloths, Is. Gd. each ; large size, at 3*. Gd. ; the
best quality, 3 yards square, 10s. Gd., usual price one guinea ; 4 yards,
long, 13s. Gd. ; worth 31s. Gd. ; and 6 yards long, 18s. Gd. ; worth 45s.;
300 dozens damask napkins, 4s. 9d. per dozen ; those at 7s. Gd. and
10s. Gd. are very rich ; the largest and best quality, 16s. Gd. ; worth
25s. ; 200 pieces of Irish and Holland sheeting, G-4th wide, at Is. Ad.
a yard ; best quality, Is. 9d. ; trade price, 3s. Gd. ; 900 pair of blan
kets, Is. 6d. ; those at 3s. are very large ; excellent at 7s. ; the very
best lamb's wool, 3 yards square, 14s. Gd. ;,,cost the bankrupt 30s.;
large counterpanes, 2s. Gd. to 4s.; those at 3s. are 4 yards square;
Marseilles quilts, 8s. each ; 3 yards square, 12s. ; the largest and best,
18s. ; worth 3 guineas : 200 'pieces of Welch flannel, very fine, Is. a
yard ; the finest quality, Is. 9d. ; worth 4s. ; 13,000 yards rich sars
nets and gros de Naples, at 2s. Gd. a yard ; trade price, 3s. 9rf. to
As. Gd. ; 300 dozen gentlemen's silk handkerchiefs, Is. Gd. and 2s., Gd.
each ; real India, best quality, 3s. Gd. each ; retail price, 6s. Gd. ;
4000 rich silk shawls, at a reduction of 40 per cent, off the factor's
price ; 80 pieces rich damask for table cloths, at Is. and 2s. a yard ;
3000 green and blue table-covers, large size, 2s. Gd. each ; 180 pieces
Russia toweling, 3|rf. a yard ; worth 9d. ; strong huckaback, Ad.—
AH to be sold at the manufacturers' general warehouse, 86, east
corner of New Bond-street, Oxford-street.—Alderson and Thorpe,
managers."
Imagine Mrs. Batem returning with muff and pockets stuffed from
this sale, and communicating her joy at the cheapness of her pur
chases, mingled with her horror at the cause. " Oh ! my dear Mrs.
Tattle, dreadful doings,—nineteen wholesale linen-drapers bankrupts,
and seven absconded ! Terrible times ! Think of their poor families !
Things went shockingly cheap. Look at this beautiful flannel for
my under petticoats, would ye believe it, it stands me only in a shil
ling a yard ! And this sarsnet, ma'am,—two and sixpence ! Lovely,
is not it ? But to think of seven bankrupts absconded ! I'm sure
it breaks my heart [sheds a flood of tears]. You see this handker
chief; if you'll take my word for it, I bought it for three and six
pence,—real India." Well, as dear Mr. Squintem says, it's wonderful
how things accommodate themselves to our necessities in this vile
sinful world. If seven bankrupt linen drapers abscond, and we weep
for the dreadful distress in trade advertised in the newspapers,
why their handkerchiefs, you see, go the cheaper, and serve to wipe our
eyes. Providence tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and bandanas
fall with tears ! Mind you go to the sale to-morrow, Mrs. Tattle.
Such an opportunity, you know, may never occur again. Nineteen
bankrupts ! Horrible times indeed ; and such beautiful gros de
Naples
of;—it will
at two
makeandup
sixpence
into lovely
a yard
spencers.
;—the distress
- - - - is dreadful to think -
78 BIARV FOR THE MONTH OF APRIL. [May,

TENDER REQUEST AND ROMANTIC EXPEDIENT.

" Gcildhaix.—John Dixon, a young man, was charged with steal
ing a pair of trowsers from the shop of Mr. Oram, in Newgate-street.
The prisoner, it was stated, rushed into the shop, and tore down
the trowsers from the place where they hung, aud ran off with
them iu the most daring manner. On searching him, some letters
were found on him, from a female convict at Woolwich, assuring him
of her never dying affection, and imploring him to do something
that would enable him to come after her to Botany Bay."
" Ye Gods, annihilate hoth space and time, and make two lovers
happy," was, though a moderate, a foolish request, because the
disobliging nature of the Gods has in all times been notorious, and
it is pietty well known that they will not unhinge the universe for the
accommodation of any two persons, however amiable and enamoured.
John Dixon's princess showed her superior knowledge of things,
therefore, instead of asking Heaven to annihilate space and time for
the accomplishment of their re-union, in simply imploring her swain
to commit a felony. A youth in days of romance, so circumstanced
as John Dixon, would have hied him to the sea-shore, and spent his
time and wasted his breath in calling upon some dolphin to bear him
after the beloved of his heart to New South Wales, and other such
impossible demands, which our lovers of old ever preferred to the
slightest personal exertion. John Dixon, however, lives in an essen
tially practical age, and is evidently a practical man. He knew that
the Gods were not likely to alter the geography of the globe for the
convenience of himself and his princess ; but that the Judges would
very probably accomplish his wish in regard to time and space, by a
sentence of transportation for fourteen years, provided he took the
proper measures. He therefore perceived at once that a pair of
breeches would be the dolphin whicli would serve to speed him over
the seas to the desired haven of Botany Bay ; and seized them as we
have seen with a lover's fervour, saying, by these shall I be re-united
with my beloved. The means, it must be confessed, if not romantic,
were adequate, and admirably fitted to the end.

MR. CANNING AND HIS OPPONENTS.

Our worthy colleague, in his Diary of the Month, will no doubt
acquaint those who are not already informed of it, that on the 12th of
April, being the day before Good Friday, seven cabinet ministers
struck work simultaneously, like so many journeymen tailors, in con
sequence of the appointment of Mr. Canning to the Premiership. One
of them, Lord Bexley, has since become (to employ the language of
refractory workmen) a dung, and returned to his work, or rather to
his idleness, for he enjoys a snug sinecure, which nothing but an
access of extraordinary fury could have induced so pious a man to
tempt Providence by relinquishing. The rest continue flints. Tan-
tcence, as Mr. Canning would say, Tantcence animis ccelestibus iree !
Musa mihi causas memora. What the devil could have tempted
ISiTJ MR- CANNING AND HIS OPPONENTS. 79
seven ministers, grave reputable people, four of the seven certainly as
little suspected of any exuberance of fancy or understanding as any
men in the King's dominions ; people far too stupid, it was supposed,
even for a freak like this. What could have tempted them to throw
their bread upon the waters, in the hope of seeing it again after many
days ? One of the newspapers called them the pillars of the state ;
and considering the manner in which pillars are employed in modern
buildings, seldom ornamentally, never usefully, the simile was happy ;
and so commonly had they been considered as fixtures of this sort,
that their secession excited scarcely less surprise than would be felt if
some of the real pillars we have alluded to were to march from their
pedestals, and make amends for their existence by breaking the heads
of those who set them up.
As far, too, as can be judged from outward circumstances, no
punctilio need have forced them to this desperate step. Mr. Canning
is not a young man, or a man low in office, thrust over the heads of
his elders and superiors. He has been about thirty-five or six years
in public life, and has long held offices next in rank to the highest ;
and especially for the three last years has held the second place in
the ministry—in the opinion of the world, perhaps the first. If we
cannot explain satisfactorily the causes of the animosity which has
been displayed towards him, we shall say a few words on his character
and recent policy, in which perhaps some of the causes may present'
themselves.
Mr. Canning deserves, without doubt, the title of a finished orator
—according to the oratory and the finish of this age. There is no
speaker in Parliament, whoee speeches are so well suited to the assem
bly he addresses, and so well calculated, if not to convince, to bear
down those who oppose him, and to give the hearers a confidence
in his power. This is what is wanted in Parliament. When the
fixed opinions of the Members of the House of Commons on the main
questions submitted to them are considered, the great object of speak
ing—beyond the effect on the country through the reports, will be
found to be the confidence which is inspired on the adherents of a
party, by the manifestation of intellectual ability on the part of its
leaders. Though it is perfectly true that nothing is more rare than a
Vote gained by a speech, nothing is more erroneous than to suppose
that votes are not gained by speaking. Men support strength, and
desert imbecility; and a leader of a party is supported in propor
tion, not to the strength of his proof's of the justice of his propo
sition, but to the strength of the proof of his own talents, supposing
those talents not to be vitiated by some extraordinary moral infirmity.
Keeping this object in view, we doubt whether modern times have
seen an orator better suited to the House of Commons than Mr. Can
ning—better calculated to give confidence to those who follow him,
and to intimidate and embarrass those who annoy him. A mode of
expression as nearly approaching to the poetical, as is consistent
with the gravity of oratory, a mode of reasoning as nearly ap
proaching to the formality of syllogism, as is consistent with its
ease, and with the scope of political discussion,—sentences finished,
faultless and harmonious within themselves, and exactly cohering
80 Mfi. Canning and his opponents. [May,*
with each other as parts of a whole, playful and brilliant wit, a
rich store of allusions—all these, aided by an agreeable voice and
intonation, and a fine person, form a defence for his party which, like
the shield of ^Encas,
Too strong to take a mark from any mortal dart,
Yet shines with gold and gems in every part,
And wonders on it graved by the learned lund of art.
A shield that gives delight,
Kv'n to the enemies' sight,
Then when they are sure to lose the combat by it.
Mr. Canning's speeches are said to be studied, his intonation artifi
cial, and his quotations common-place ; and, to a certain extent, these
objections are true. Every speech in a public assembly ought to be
prepared, and as far as it is possible, prepared with care. There is
not a more audacious insult on an assembly of men, than to spout
forth an unpremeditated harangue, as it implies the assertion that the
mere froth and scum of the speaker's mind deserves the attention of
listening hundreds. If it be intended to convey the charge that Mr.
Canning cannot adapt his speeches for the accidental purpose of
debate, and give them life and colour from the circumstances of the
moment, there is no accusation less founded in fact. His speeches
are not more studied in appearance than those (for instance) of Sir
James Mackintosh, a speaker, who for neatness, clearness, and force,
rivals him ; and who, with the advantages of the same parliamentary
experience in early life, might, with the exception of a good organ,
have equalled him in all the requisites of an orator. The artifi
cial or measured intonation, agrees with the highly polished character
of his oratory. In regularly recurring elevations and cadences of the
voice, there is a degree of pretension which makes the hearer less
indulgent to blunders or negligence, and more wearied by mere trite
ness and common place. But when the pretension is found to be jus
tified by the matter, we are inclined to think that this peculiarity, as
far removed from the slovenliness of ordinary intonation, as the style
is from the looseness of ordinary conversation, adds to the effect which
is produced, and makes the hearer more completely captive of the
orator. Through similar arts in conversation, though Parr grew tire
some, except to bboobies, Johnson was undoubtedly imposing, even to
wise and learned men.
Under the head of quotations, it may be more difficult to defend Mr.
Canning. It is scarcely allowable, under any pretence, always to quote
from the first half of the iEneid, the Eton Grammar, or Gray's Elegy.
Yet it has been said, with some truth, that Mr. Canning adapts his,
quotations to the capacity of his hearers. They are the examples by
which he brings his poetical phraseology within the cognizance of
great school boys, who know not, to a certainty, the good or the
bad in poetry, except what they have been taught so to consider,
when exemplifying the concord between vapulant and verbcraut. It .
may be said, also, with equal justice, that to a fervid and poetical
mind those passages, which are in the mouths of all men, because they
are beautiful, do not lose their beauty by reason of their repetition.
It is a great proof of Mr. Canning's talents, that his common-places
 1827-] MR- CAW KING AND irlS OPPONENTS. 81
do not appear common place ; but derive freshness from the manner
in which they are introduced, and the unpalled sense of their beauties
which the orator evidently retains.
The claims of Mr. Canning and his friends, grounded on his recent
policy, are somewhat misplaced. The great feat of Mr. Canning is
the recognition of the independence of the New American States. Of
the propriety of it there can be no doubt—of its importance a great
deal. If, indeed, it were correct to say, as Mr. Canning said in
his speech on the affairs of Portugal, that he had called into exist
ence these states, all the credit which he assumes, as the author of a
great political change, would be due to him ; but he professedly
and carefully waited till the states in question had established their
independence before he recognized it, nor has he since given them,
the slightest assistance in maintaining it. No doubt the new states
owe much to the assistance of individual Englishmen ; but this aid
was given long before Mr. Canning's recognition. If Mr. Canning
called a coach in the street, it would be too much for him to boast
that his recognition called into existence a vehicle, which he would
probably find to have been built in the time of Queen Anne. All that
was really called into existence, by the recognition, was a crowd of
consuls and ambassadors.
The affair of Portugal has been also a little magnified. We do not
see that any minister could have refused to do what Mr. Canning
did—could have refused to afford an ally the protection which a treaty
guaranteed to her. Another minister might, perhaps, have done it
more quietly.
It is the pretension of Mr. Canning, the con strepito of his
5olicy, which appears in part to have annoyed the old Tories,
'hey would have been content that he should have done what he has
(and we have little doubt, in our own minds, that if Lord Lon
donderry had lived, he, too, would have recognized the new states
and aided Portugal) ; but they would have him do it quietly. Their
motto is Dame Quickly's, " I will bar no honest man my house, nor
no cheater—but I do not like swaggering." Mr. Canning's demerit
with them, and, perhaps, his merit with the rest of the nation, has
been his swagger. He has studiously displayed his dissent from the
Holy Alliance ; he took an opportunity, in the discussions with Spain
on the South American question, to call to mind that it had actually
been debated among the Allies, whether the Bourbons should be
restored, or no, to the throne of France ; and in his ^Eolus speech,
he reminded all the nations of the continent of the discontents of
their subjects. He has thus given, rather by words than by acts, a
character to his policy ; a character which will be differently judged
of by those who desire, and by those who dread, the alienation of
the governments of the Continent from this country. The aim of Mr.
Canning seems to have been to bring about this alienation, by all acts,
short of hostility ; or rather, by all declarations short of direct insult.
The tendency of this policy has, we think, been good, whether it has
been the effect of temper or of purpose.
The speeches of Mr. Canning, on the questions of foreign policy,
have been condemned by the high Tories as unstatesman-like, on
account of this very peculiarity. If, indeed, his tone has arisen from
May, 1827- G
82 MR. CANNING AND HIS OPPONENTS. [May,
mere personal vanity, from the desire to appear to play a great
part ; if his language can he fairly taken to convey threats, which it
is neither the interest nor the intention of this country to follow up
by acts, nothing can be more unstatesman-like and weak. But Mr.
Canning ought not to be interpreted according to the glosses of his
enemies. His language on questions of foreign policy has been that
of dissent from the principles of the continental monarchs ; forci
ble as every thing he says is forcible, but not stronger than the occa
sion has warranted. The despotic governments of the Continent
have not been sparing in declarations of their opinions, to which
the silence of the government of England, as a government, and
the language of its ministers, in controversy with democratical oppo
nents, had been taken for assent. Since the invasion of Naples by the
Austrian army, it has become manifest that no union could any longer
exist between this country and the sovereigns of the Holy Alliance ;
and if at that moment the swagger of Mr. Canning had been
brought into play, it is very probable that calamities which have since
fallen upon Europe, would have been avoided. Lord Londonderry
did dissent from that act,—we believe ; for though we have read his
paper, we as little remember its contents as those do, probably, to
whom it was addressed. This was statesman-like ; that is to say, no
one could well understand it at the time, or remember it afterwards.
By this piece of statesmanship the invasion of Spain was prepared and
justified.
At this sort of statesmanship the nations of the Continent would
always beat us. It is really the privilege and the duty of the states
men of this country to speak out. Their privilege, because they have
rights as citizens, which they do not sink by the acceptance of office ;
their duty, because, being accountable to Parliament, they ought to
address that body without disguise. This Mr. Canning has done.
He has spoken without any of the cant of diplomacy, and there is no
doubt that he has produced a good effect. His wisdom, as Lord
Bacon says of the ancient mythology, has been either great or happy
—great, if he intended to rally round England the affections of the
world ; happy, if he, intending nothing less, has been led by his tem
per or his genius to such a result.
Whether or no an action or a discourse is statesman-like, must be
judged by its fitness to produce the end aimed at. To hear some
people talk of statesmanship, it would seem that it signified to hem
and haw, not to know your own will, or let others know it ; to let the
world slide, to be baffled and betrayed. The truth is, that many find
fault with Mr. Canning's statesmanship, because his objects are not
their objects, because they really wish to see the remaining liberty of
Europe betrayed to those who choose to assail it.
On the subject of domestic policy, Mr. Canning has excited praise
and envy by the same process, by seeing clearly and speaking out. His
speech on the Silk Trade contains, in the following passage, the best
manifestation of his opinions.
" Why is it to be supposed that the application of philosophy (for I
will use that odious word) ; why is it to be supposed, that to
apply the refinement of philosophy to the affairs of common life, indi
cates obduracy of feeling or obtnseness of sensibility ? Wc must deal
1827-} MR- CANNING AND HIS OPPONENTS, 83
with the affairs of men on abstract principles, modified, of course;
according to times and circumstances. Is not the doctrine and spirit
ef those who persecute my right hon. friend, the same which in former
times stirred up persecution against the best benefactors of mankind ?
Is it not the same doctrine and spirit which embittered the life of
Turgot ? (Cheers.) Is it not a doctrine and spirit such as these
which consigned Galileo to the dungeons of the Inquisition ? (Cheers.)
Is it not a doctrine and a spirit such as these, which have at all times
been at work to roll back the tide of civilization—a doctrine and a
spirit actuating little minds, who, incapable of reaching the heights
from which alone extended views of human nature can be taken, con
sole and revenge themselves by calumniating and misrepresenting
those who have toiled, to those heights for the advantage of man
kind. (Cheers.) Sir, I have not to learn that there is a faction in the
country—I mean not a political faction—I should, perhaps, rather
have said, a sect, small in number and powerless in might, who think
that all advances towards improvement are retrogradations towards
Jacobinism. These persons seem to imagine, that under no possible
circumstances can an honest man endeavour to keep his country upon
a line with the progress of political knowledge, and to adapt its course
to the varying circumstances of the world. Such an attempt is branded
as an indication of mischievous intentions, as evidence of a design to
sap the foundations of the greatness of the country. Sir, I consider
it to be the dtity of a British statesman, in internal as well as external
affairs, to hold a middle course between extremes ; avoiding alike the
extravagance of despotism, or the licentiousness of unbridled freedom
—reconciling power with liberty ; not adopting hasty or ill-advised
experiments, or pursuing any airy and unsubstantial theories ; but not
rejecting, nevertheless, the application of sound and wholesome know
ledge to practical affairs ; and pressing, with sobriety and caution, into
the service of his country, every generous and liberal principle, whose
excess, indeed, may be dangerous, but whose foundation is in truth."
This is vague, it may be said, but vagueness of a very different
description from that which had long been fashionable among Tory
statesmen. " The progress of political knowledge," "Turgot," " Ga
lileo," " liberal, principles," are names and phrases which would not
have been a few years ago found in the speech of a minister.
The twelve years which have elapsed since the conclusion of the
war against France, have prepared a great change, or rather restora
tion of opinion in the country. Previously to the French Revolution,
the tendency of this country decidedly was towards political improve
ment. The minister, a declared friend to Parliamentary Reform,
practised severe economy in the expenditure, meditated an improve
ment in the church establishment, and a commutation of tithes, or
other extensive plans of amelioration. Some followed, others outran
him, but no very marked difference of opinion existed. A friendly
feeling also prevailed towards all improvements in the political condi
tion of other nations. The French Revolution entirely changed this
state of things. The minds of some men were exalted, but of more,
and those of the most influential, terrified. A* few men meditated
revolutions, but it became the fashion to hate changes, to stand still,
or if to move at all, to go back was the chief merit of a statesman ;
G 2 *-•
84 MAJOR MOODY ON NEGRO LABOUR, ^JVIay,
and any attempt at innovation in any part of the world, no matter how
provoked or justified, was viewed with undisguised horror. But this
condition of the mind of a large portion of the public in a country
where discussion was free, could not long outlive the terror which gave
rise to it. Since the peace, the nation has gradually reverted to
the same position in which it stood previously to the war ; the
objects to which its attention are turned are different, but the tem
per is similar. Many of the remaining members of the Pitt party
have not accommodated themselves to this change of circumstances.
The cant, the catch words of the time of the revolutionary war have
stuck by them ; they talk of Pitt's principles, meaning thereby the
expedients he adopted against dangers, the very imagination of which
has passed away. They praise Pitt's actions, without reference to
the circumstances in which he was placed, and, like Panurge's sheep,
would follow the precedent of the bell-wether in jumping into the sea,
not recollecting that their great leader did not go in, but was thrust
in. Mr. Canning has had the sense to see that the time for this folly
is going by ; that nothing is so hopeless as the attempt to keep up
the humbug alarm at the danger of innovation, which never perhaps
bad any foundation in fact, but which has now lost all its foundation
in imagination ; that the dangers to be avoided in the time of
Robespierre were different from those to be avoided in the time of
Ferdinand of Spain. As Mr. Canning has gained immense credit by
recognizing the new states, that is, by proclaiming a fact which it
was impossible rationally to deny, so he has completed his fame by
adverting to a change in England which none but the purblind can
mistake.
Mr. Canning is accused ,by the high Tories of consummate talents
for intrigue as well for popularity as for power. His great intrigue
seems to have been opening his eyes, a process which mole-like oppo
nents cannot easily conceive. He has done less than Mr. Peel—he
has probably not wished to do more ; but he has looked to the state
of the country, he has spoken of it ; and by a few words of good
sense and frankness, he has conciliated a great body of people who
had been alienated from the government, and who had hated him.
It will remain to be seen whether he will justify this popularity.

MAJOR MOODY ON NEGRO LABOUR, AND THE EDINBURGH

REVIEW.
We fear calm and reasonable discussion (in which we excell) is at
a considerable discount in the discussions on negro slavery. The
West Indians are furious against the saints, to whom they attribute
the wish to destroy their property; and the saints, in the way of
humanity, are just as savage against any who doubt not merely the
propriety of their object, but the expediency of any of their means.
The rest of the world, we fear, do not care a straw about the matter,
and leave a clear field for the contending parties. We shall, how
ever, in the character of Wisdom, cry aloud in the streets ; if no one
regard us, that is not our concern.
1827.] AND THE EDINBURGH REVIEW. 85
In resolving all questions as to the mode in which slavery is to he
put an end to in the West Indies, and even the question, (if any one
entertains it,) whether it be desirable to put an end to slavery at all,
it is necessary previously to ascertain what is the real amount of the
benefit of slavery to the parties for whose supposed advantage it is
maintained—that is, to the proprietors of slaves. The relation of
master and slave in the West Indies implies certain rights and obli
gations, but mainly, the right, on the part of the master, of compelling
the slave to work by physical coercion, and the obligation, on the
part of the same master, to provide for his sustenance.
If it were proved that the negro would afford to an employer the
same, or nearly the same labour, in return for his sustenance, in a
state of freedom, as he now does in a state of slavery, the coercion
which is at present employed would be proved to be unnecessary, the
slavery to be a pure evil. It does not indeed follow, on the other
hand, that even if free negroes will not afford labour so cheaply, sla
very is desirable or justifiable ; but it is important to ascertain the fact,
in order that we may know whether any or what compensation is due
to the slave holder ; and generally, that we may not be in ignorance of
all the consequences of the steps we may take to put an end to an
existing system.
The last number of the Edinburgh Review (No. XC.) contains an
article on this subject, which exhibits proofs of the disinclination, on
the part of the abolitionists, as well as the slave holders, to reason
calmly on this subject. The article in question is a review of Major
Moody's Report to the Secretary of State for the Colonies, on the
captured negroes in Tortola.
The major, who seems to have been a very observant and acute
man, has certainly laboured occasionally under an excess of theory,
and a defect of grammar, both of them diseases very common to men
unpractised in authorship, and one of them at least very excusable in
a production not published by him, or intended for publication. It
is amusing to see, under such circumstances, so much eloquence thrown
away by the reviewer, to prove that a man uses a superfluity of that's.
tt is not our wish, however, to defend the major's style ; and we
have as little concern about bis theories. He has generalized in some
respects rashly. He is not the first who has done so ; but the
reviewer, in giving what he conceives to be a refutation of the major's
theories, gives us to suppose that he settles some practical part of the
question of West India slavery. He gives judgment as on demurrer,
and because the objections which the major makes to the supposition
that labour can be cheaply obtained from free negroes in the West
Indies, are encumbered with doubtful propositions, he would evidently
lead us to infer that there would be no difference between the labourer
in the West Indies, and the labourer in England, if the slaves were
made free.
The main question of any interest, therefore, connected with
the Major's Report, the reviewer altogether shirks, viz., " Will
the negroes, after they are made free, work as they now work, for
such wages as the planters are able to give them ? " This question,
in the absence of any satisfaction from the Review, we shall attempt
to argue for ourselves.
86 MAJOR MOODY ON NEGRO LABOUR, [May,
If we look at the circumstances of our principal West India colo
nies, Jamaica, Demerara, and Trinidad, we find countries, very small
parts of the best lands of which are cultivated, and of such fertility,
that a very small portion of the labour of a man is sufficient to pro
vide him with subsistence. In such countries the land itself is worth
nothing; it does not yield any rent (taking rent in the sense in which
it is used by the economists) ; the whole value of an estate consists
in the improvements which have taken place, and in the buildings
which have been erected on it. According to the slave law of
Jamaica, it should seem, that the only provision which it is compulsory
on a master to make for a slave, is to supply him with a provision
ground (which, under such circumstances, is of no value), which the
slave is to till in his leisure time, that is to say, on Sundays, and
twenty-six days in the year, which are allowed them for that purpose.
(Consolidated Slave Law of Jamaica, 57 Geo. 3, c. 25.) The slave
owner, therefore, gets eleven-twelfths of the labour of the slave, and
pays him with the other twelfth ; and this is the whole of the pay
ment,* unless he add a rag to cover the nakedness of the animal. At
any rate it is a main part of it.
Now it is impossible to conceive that if these men were free, their
labour could be obtained on such terms. The negro might indeed be
willing to work the twenty-six days in the year, to provide himself
with yams or plantains ; but that he should work during the 286 days
in the year, exclusive of Sundays, for the plantation, without some
payment other than the privilege of working twenty-six days more
for himself, we do not believe. The saints may, for faith will remove
mountains.
Major Moody considers it a part of the philosophy of labour, that
man will not work without a motive, in the lowlands of the torrid
zone. The reviewer objects that the same principle applies to all
parts of the world ; and we so far agree with the objection, that we
would not work upon the terms on which it is expected that a
negro is to work if we were on the highlands of Iceland. But, be
cause the reviewer proves the Major's proposition to he less extensive
than it might have been, he does not prove it to be untrue within the
limits to which the Major restricts it. Under certain circumstances,
says the Major, the Blacks will not work under the torrid zone. This
is not answered by saying, under the same circumstances Whites
would not work under the temperate zone.
The climate does make a difference in this respect—that, whe
ther the pleasures of idleness under a burning sun he or be not greater—
the wants of a negro, beyond food, are certainly less in Jamaica than
in England. If the negroes are at all like whites, (the object of the
reviewer seems to be to prove that they are, and for this purpose they
may be safely taken to be so,) the pain of labour, and the pleasure
of rest, must be greater under a burning sun than in a temperate cli
mate ; and the Major certainly gives us great matter for doubting
whether a free labourer under such circumstances would give his
labour steadily for any reward which could possibly be offered to him.
* This is evident, from another part of the same law, where it is provided, that if
no provision ground is given, the slaves shall have money wages, 3s. 4d. per week each,
" in order that they may be properly supported and maintained."—Stiet. 6.
1827-] AND T1IE EDINBURGH REVIli\V. 87

But the question is needlessly complicated as far as the planter is

concerned, hy taking into account the known difference of climate,
or the disputed difference hetween hlack and white.
" We will grant," says the reviewer, " that the free blacks do not
work so steadily as the slaves, or as the labourers in many other
countries. But how does Major Moody connect this unsteadiness
with the climate ? To us it appears to be the universal effect of an
advance in wages, an effect not confined to tropical countries, but
daily and hourly witnessed in England by every man who attends to
the habits of the lower orders. Let us suppose, that an English
manufacturer can provide himself with those indulgences which use
has rendered necessary to his comfort for ten shillings a week, and
that he can earn ten shillings a week by working steadily twelve hours
a day. In that case, he probably will work twelve hours a day. But
let us suppose that the wages of his labour rise to thirty shillings-
Will he still continue to work twelve hours a day, for the purpose of
trebling his present enjoyments, or of laying up a hoard against bad
times ? Notoriously not. He will perhaps work four days in the week,
and thus earn twenty shillings, a sum larger than that which he for
merly obtained, but less than that which he might obtain if he chose
to labour as he formerly laboured. When the wages of the workman
rise, he every where takes out, if we may so express ourselves, some
portion of the rise in the form of repose. This is the real explana
tion of that unsteadiness on which Major Moody dwells so much—an
unsteadiness which cannot surprise any person who has ever talked
with an English manufacturer, or ever heard of the name Saint
Monday. It appears by his own Report, that a negro slave works
from Monday morning to Saturday night on the sugar grounds of
Tortola, and receives what is equivalent to something less than half-
a-crown in return. But he ceases to be a slave, and becomes his own
master ; and then he finds that by cutting firewood, an employment
which requires no great skill, he can earn eight shillings and four-
pence a week. By working every other day he can procure better
food and better clothes than ever he had before. In no country from
the Pole to the Equator, would a labourer under such circumstances
work steadily. The major considers it as a strange phenomenon,
peculiar to the torrid zone, that these people lay up little against
seasons of sickness and distress—as if this were not almost univer
sally the case among the far more intelligent population of England
—as if we did not regularly see our artisans thronging to the ale
house when wages are high, and to the pawnbroker's shop when they
are low—as if we were not annually raising millions, in order to save
the working classes from the misery which otherwise would be the
consequence of their own improvidence.
" We are not the advocates of idleness and imprudence. The
question before us is, not whether it be desirable that men all over
the world should labour more steadily than they now do ; but whe
ther the laws which regulate labour within the tropics, differ from
those which are in operation elsewhere. This is a question which
never can be settled, merely by comparing the quantity of work done
in different places. By pursuing such a course, we should establish a
separate law of labour for every country, and for every trade in every
 88 MAJOR MOODY ON NEGRO LABOUR, [MaV,
country. The free African docs not work so steadily as the English
man. But the wild Indian, by the ranjor's own account, works still
less steadily than the African. The Chinese labourer, on the othet
hand, works more steadily than the Englishman. In this island,
the industry of the porter or the waterman, is less steady than the
industry of the ploughman. But the great general principle is the
same in all. All will work extremely hard rather than miss the com
forts to which they have been habituated ; and all, when they find it
possible to obtain their accustomed comforts with less than their
accustomed labour, will uot work so hard as they formerly worked,
merely to increase them. The real point to be ascertained, there
fore, is, whether the free African is content to miss his usual enjoy
ments, not whether he works steadily or not ; for the Chinese pea
sant would work as irregularly as the Englishman, and the English
man as irregularly as the negro, if this could be done without any
diminution of comforts. Now, it does not appear from any passage
in the whole Report, that the free blacks are retrograding in their
mode of living. It appears, on the contrary, that their work, however
irregular, does in fact enable them to live more comfortably than
they ever did as slaves. The unsteadiness, therefore, of which they
are accused, if it be an argument for coercing them, is equally an
argument for coercing the spinners of Manchester and the grinders of
Sheffield."
It follows from this (we will not call it admission, for we do not
wish to consider the question as advocates of any particular solution
of it, but from this) statement of the true facts of the case, that if
the negroes of our colonies were free, much less work must be done,
and that the payment by the planter for this work must be much
greater than at present. It follows further, from such a state of things,
in the first place, that a great part of the fixed capital in the West
Indies, which the labourers are not now too numerous to keep in ac
tivity, must remain unemployed, and be in effect lost ; that the proprie
tors of the rest would be unable to bear competition with those who
raised tropical produce with slave labour (or with free labour, in
a country where labour is cheaper ) ; that therefore the whole value
of West Indian estates would be as nearly as possible annihilated.
The notion of the superior cheapness of free as compared with
slave labour, applied, as it indiscriminately is, to countries under all
sorts of different circumstances, is one of the errors which have
arisen from too hasty a generalization. In countries like England,
where the population exceeded the ready means of subsisting them,
the business of slave-holding would probably be the most unprofitable
of all occupations. The labour of a man is obtained without slavery
for his mere subsistence. If he were a slave he would still he fed,
Lis industry would be much less to be relied upon, and the master
would be burthened with the expense—which he now throws, or hopes
to throw, on his neighbours,—of his maintenance in sickness and age.
Some of the agricultural parishes compel the wealthy inhabitants to
find a certain number of labouring men with employment, with no
other obligation as to payment of wages than that of keeping them from
starving. Some people have compared this condition of the labourer,
toslaveiy;—but it is directly the opposite, to slavery. It is at any
1827-] AND THE EDINBURGH REVIEW. 89
rate the slavery of the capitalist, not of the labourer. The West
Indian farmer forces the slave to give his labour in return for food ;
the English farmer is forced to give his food in return for labour.
But a state of things the opposite to that of England prevails in
every country which abounds in rich and unappropriated land. There,
instead of being a burthen to maintain a strong man, getting his
whole labour in return, there can be no doubt that it is a great
advantage to get the services of a labourer on that condition. In
North America there are numerous instances in which the services of
the emigrants from Europe are purchased for terms of years for a
considerable sum, the temporary slaves, or bondmen, being well fed,
well clothed, and even furnished with money at the expiration of their
term
cult than
of service.
to obtainNothing
agricultural
in America,
labourers
it is
forwell
hire,
known,
(though
is more
in no dim-
part

of the world are the people more active, if not more steadily indus
trious.) It is, or was, equally difficult to get rent for land, except in
the immediate neighbourhood of towns. A farmer will take a lease
in a labourer, who will not take a lease in a farm. In such a coun
try, if it were possible to obtain property in labour, it would be
similar in value to the property of land in England.
In the work of Adam Smith, in consequence of the want of dis
tinction between countries in different conditions, as regards the de
mand for labour, a strange confusion of ideas on the subject of slave
labour prevails ; the more singular in the man who explained so
clearly the doctrine of competition. He actually conceives (for the
candour of his mind precludes us from supposing that he intended to
mislead his readers, even for the sake of discountenancing a barbarous
system,) that slave labour was chosen in the sugar colonies, though
dearer than free labour, only because the sugar cultivation would
" afford it." After observing (book iii. chap. 2), " The experience
of all ages, I believe, demonstrates, that the work done by slaves,
though it appears to cost only his maintenance, is, in the end, the
dearest of any ; " he says, " the pride of man makes him love to
domineer, and nothing mortifies him so much as to be obliged to con
descend to persuade his inferiors. Wherever the law allows it, and
the nature of the work can afford it, therefore, he will generally
prefer the service of slaves to that of freemen. The planting of
sugar and tobacco can afford the expense of slave cultivation.
The raising of corn, it seems, in the present times cannot. In the
English colonies, of which the principal produce is corn, the far
greater part of the work is done by freemen. — ... - In our
sugar colonies, on the contrary, the whole work is done by slaves ;
and in our tobacco colonies, a very great part of it. The profits of
a sugar plantation in any of our West India colonies are generally
much greater than those of any other cultivation that is known,
either in Europe or America ; and the profits of a tobacco planta
tion, though inferior to those of sugar, are superior to those of
corn, as has already been observed. Both can afford the expense of
slave cultivation, but sugar can afford it still better than tobacco.
The number of negroes is accordingly much greater, in proportion to
the whites, iii our sugar than in our tobacco colonies."
This is one of the choicest specinjens we know of the mistakes an
90 MAJOR MOODY ON NEGRO LABOUR, [May,
able man is liable to fall into when he begins by taking for granted a
proposition which it is his business to investigate.* Having pre-esta
blished that slave labour is always dearer than that of free men, yet
finding in practice that those plantations cultivated wholly by slave
labour are the most profitable, those partially by slave labour the
next, and those wholly cultivated by free labour the last iu profit, he
proceeds to make the degree of profit the cause, not the effect of the
employment of slaves, as if all sugar growers could be so overbur-
thened with wealth, as to waste their money voluntarily in the most
expensive species of labour they could find, with the great additional
advantage of thereby living in constant danger of insurrection or
murder. The true state of the case, evidently was, that slave labour
was applied to sugar plantations, because it was cheapest—because
from the nature of the sugar cultivation the superintendence of the
slaves was easiest, and because on account of the growing demand for
the produce in Europe a better opportunity was offered than in-
other plantations for the investment of capital in large masses. So
long as the growing demand for sugar continued with the advantage
of this cheap labour, (cheap to the planter, for the same reason,
that stolen goods are cheap to the thief, applied to a fertile soil,)
the profits must have beeu large. Whatever they are now, we have
no doubt the emancipation of the negroes would make them disappear
altogether.
The saints and the West Indians keep up a cross fire of falsehoods
on one another ; each party, by their extravagance, actually making out
a case for their opponents. The saints tell us it would be better for the
planters if the slaves were free ; the planters tell us the slaves are
actually better off than if they were manumitted. Good saints, if
what you say be true, you may safely let the planters alone ; good
planters, if what you say be true, it is no hardship to make you manu
mit your slaves. But you are both wrong. Slavery is a good thing
for the planters, and a bad thing for the slave. It is good for the
master to get eleven-twelfths of a slave's labour for nothing ; it is bad
for the slave to be cart-whipped into working on such terms.
It may be nevertheless true, that though the slaves are not so well
off as they might be, they are, for the most part, not in a very pitiable
condition, as compared with many other beings in the world. Such
is the fertility of the soil they cultivate, that their provision grounds
afford them, we believe, an ample supply of food ; it is not the inte
rest of their masters to work them so severely as to endanger life, or
to treat them with unnecessary severity. It is possible and probable,
that as far as physical enjoyment is concerned, they may be on a level
with the free labourers of Europe. Nothing would induce us to doubt

* It is observed, if we remember rightly, in some Life of Adam Smith, (Stuart's ?)

that his conversation on subjects which he had not thoroughly investigated, was far
from being remarkable for its acuteness ; and that the opinions which he hazarded
would have impressed a person unaware of his real powers, with a most unfavourable
idea of his mind. The same observation must not be applied to all the incidental
remarks in his great works, but there are some of them which often remind us of it.
He had great powers of investigation, but little of quick or ready judgment. When he
pronounces hastily, he often blunders. Mr. M'Culloch is about, we understand, to
publish an edition of The Wealth of Nations, with Notes. No work needs them more,
and no man is belter fitted to supply them.
1827] AND THE EDINBURGH REVIEW. 91
this but the decrease of their numbers (though now not a rapid de
crease) in most of the colonies.*
We do not give into the cant of those who blame the saints for
giving their attention to the condition of the negroes while there are
other objects of philanthropy nearer home ; but we cannot help think
ing that the importance of the discussions, as far as the happiness of
the negroes is concerned, has been much exaggerated. There are 6
or 700,000 slaves in the West Indies, in the condition we have just
described : but this number includes all ages, so that, according to
the ordinary calculation, there are not above 200,000 or 250,000 of
efficient working negroes. They alone are subject to the caprice and
the cart-whip of masters and overseers ; the old and the young must
be practically exempt from it. Of these, unless the West Indies
entirely change the nature of a civilized man, the great, the very
great majority must be well treated. A few are in the condition of
the crew of a ship under a brutal and capricious commander. Here
and there cases of cruelty and oppression probably occur, which, if
known, would wring the soul ; and they occur perhaps more frequently
than in other forms of society, though no form of society will be
entirely exempt from them. But this state of things will mend of
itself; it is difficult to hasten its improvement, and the number of the
people affected by its evils is small.
It will mend of itself, because the importation of slaves having long
ceased, the coercion which was necessary to be applied to the imported
savages will gradually disappear. The slave population will soon be
entirely composed of persons born in the colonies, habituated to
labour, acquainted with the power of their masters, and accustomed
from their infancy to dread it. Obedience will follow fear, and mild
ness obedience. Brutal punishments will be discountenanced by
public opinion. Manumission by testament will become frequent.
The slaves being instructed, will be enabled to avail themselves of the
protection of the law.
With your utmost efforts, can this improvement be much hastened ?
The power, so long as the colonies exist on their present footing, must
be left in the hands of white men, who, to a certain extent, would
always abuse it. How many cases of cruelty occur now, and how
many less would occur under any plan you can devise ? The good
you do will be on a small per centage of a small number.
The 200,000 hard-working, but well-fed personages, of whom per
haps 200 are yearly flogged when they do not deserve it, occupy more
of the attention of Parliament, give rise to ten times more pamphlets,
more schemes and discussions, than the hundred millions of natives
of Hindostan, among whom, for aught the people of England know, a
hundred times as many enormities are perpetrated. It is creditable
to the nation perhaps that the name of slavery catches the attention,

* There was, we believe, a great inequality in the numbers of males and females
imported while the slave trade continued, the former being greatly superior to the
latter. If we could judge from the vessels containing the captured Africans who were
the objects of Major Moody's inquiries, the males would exceed the females in the
proportion of fifteen to six. This would account for a considerable difference between
the rate of increase of the population of the West Indies and that of other places. But
the lying and exaggeration on both sides makes it difficult to ascertain the truth on
any point.
92 •* WINTER IN LArLAND. [May,
and shocks the mind. The cracking of a cart-whip at a female, the
marking of human beings like cattle, are offensive to the imagination ;
but still not more so than the burning alive of women on funeral piles, or
the massacre of hundreds of men by grape shot. Yet while Parliament
caused to be printed voluminous schedules concerning the condition
of the Tortola apprentices, with protocols of the dispute about Kate
Hodge'a hog, and Venus Acomki's goat, they refused even to look at
the papers concerning the mutiny of Barrackpore. The zeal and
industry of the saints are fine qualities ; they make the most of their
subjects, and if human attention, human time, and human benevolence
were unlimited, they would be worthy of all praise ; but as the world
goes, there are few great subjects on which the same good qualities
might not be much more usefully employed.

A WINTER IN LAPLAND.*
The northernmost parts of Europe are so inaccurately known, and
so seldom visited by intelligent travellers, that we should have felt
grateful to Captain Brooke for his publications respecting them, were
their contents less interesting and intrinsically valuable than they
really are. As it is, the pleasure arising from novelty is superadded
to the wholesome enjoyment experienced by the person who perceives
that he has added to his stock of useful knowledge. The Winter in
Lapland is in reality the second volume of Captain Brooke's former
travels, and relates to a corner of the globe much less justly ap
preciated than the principal part of his earlier route. Finmark is the
most northern extremity both of Norway and Sweden, which run up
to the Polar ocean in a parallel direction, and are terminated in the
snowy mountains, the clustering islands, and numerous iulets and fiords
of the country, respecting which we propose, by the aid of Captain
Brooke's work, to communicate some intelligence.
Captain Brooke established his head-quarters inQualoen, or Whale
Island, (70° 38' lat.) which is less than a degree from the North
Cape. This island, about sixty miles in circumference, is formed by a
lofty mountain, rising out of the sea, and the inhabitants are confined, by
the nature of the country, to the coast, on which is the town of Ham-
merfest. The bay of Hammerfest is a very fine port, and the harbour
wholly protected from every source of danger or annoyance to shipping.
If one point only of likeness may authorize a comparison, Hammerfest
is a sort of northern Venice ; for there is no moving about without
a boat. After the purchase of this necessary vehicle, Captain Brooke
considered himself perfectly independent ; for he could either fish,
shoot, or pay visits, as he pleased, in the boat that was moored under
his window and always ready at his command. At first Captain Brooke
was lodged at Fuglenaes, a point on the opposite side of the bay to
Hammerfest. This water he frequently crossed, and mentions a
peculiarity of the northern seas which must render them a fruitful
source of amusement. Fish and fishing are the staple of the Arctic
regions ; and the transparency of the water is such, that the fishermen
* A Winter in Lapland and Sweden, with various Observations relating to Finmark
and its Inhabitants, made during a Residence at Hummerfest, near the North Cape, by
Arthur de Capell Brooke, M.A., F.R.S., &c.
1827-] A WINTER IN LAPLAND. 93
are enabled to ply their trade at an extraordinary advantage. In the
following extract, Captain Brooke enumerates the fish usually seen in
the water; and describes the manner in which, availing themselves of
this circumstance, the fishermen catch the plaice.
The waters of the bay, which deepen gradually to about twenty fathoms, possess all
the transparency for which the Northern Ocean is so remarkable, as has been already
noticed. The passage from Fuglenaes to Hammerfest was, on this account, exceedingly
interesting, when the weather was calm, the watery regions presenting a scene of as
much life and animation as those above. A few feet below the boat, shoals of smaii
torsk ("young cod) eagerly snapped at the dangling hook ; the middle depth was
generally occupied by the larger sey, or coal-fish, (gadus carbonarius ;) while at the
bottom, huge plaice, (pleuronectes platesa, Linn.) or the enormous queite or halibut (p.
hippoglossus,) was frequently seen stretched on the white sand. In some parts, the
bottom was thickly studded with echini of all hues and sizes, some being of a delicate
pea-green, others of a reddish colour, and many of a deep purple. In other parts,
where the bottom was composed of a fine white sand, innumerable star-fish (asteria)
might be seen, extending their rays. Some of these that I succeeded in drawing up,
were very large, exceeding in circumference a full-sized plaice. Very few shells indeed
were to be observed, the northern shores, from their nature, being particularly barren
of testacca.
ta. The manner in which the large plaice are taken here, renders this kind of fishing
more entertaining than any other. When the weather is calm, and the surface of the
water unruffled, the fisherman provides himself with a strong fine cord, a few fathoms
in length, to which is attached a small sharp-pointed spear-head, with double-barbs,
similar to a whale harpoon, and heavily loaded, to carry it with the greater force and
velocity to the bottom. This is held by the harpooner, ready over the bow of the boat,
whilst a second person paddles it forward as slowly as possible, in order that the
former may be enabled to discover the fish at the bottom, which, as they are found
generally on the clear white sand, are thus more easily discovered. As soon as a fish
is seen, the boat is stopped, and the harpooner suspending the line, drops the harpoon
close to the stem of the boat, which is brought exactly over the fish. This, being
firmly transfixed by the force the harpoon acquires in its descent,* is then drawn up to
the surface. By these means I have known a boat loaded in the short space of a
couple of hours. Halibut are but seldom taken in this way, being found at depths too
great to admit of the effectual descent of the harpoon, which is used with the greatest
advantage in two or three fathoms water. These, which are caught by means of hooks,
sometimes attain the enormous size of 500 lbs. weight, or even more, and instances
have been known of their upsetting the boat, when they have been incautiously drawn
up, without being dispatched.
At the time our traveller was at Qualoeii island, the bay and port
of Hammerfest were by no means unfrequented by merchant vessels.
Besides four from Bremen and Flensberg, three from Drontheim and
Nordland, and one hundred and fifty Russians from the White Sea,
Captain Brooke found two fine English brigs, taking in cargoes of stock
fish for Holland and the Mediterranean. These vessels were chartered
by a Mr. Crowe, who is the grand means of communication between
the inhabitants of this remote district and the civilized world, and
seems to have discovered an exceedingly snug and profitable trade.
The inhabitants depend upon him for all manufactured goods, and
the ladies are especially indebted to him for every article of exterior
dress and ornament. The fair sex of Hammerfest are peculiarly gay
in their attire ; and Captain Brooke observes, that no one would imagine
from their appearance, ease of manner, and dress, that they inhabited
an obscure part of the world several degrees beyond the Polar circle.
It may easily be supposed, that at Hammerfest there is not a more
* This is an odd blunder for an F.R.S. The resistance of the water partly destroys
the force communicated by the hand, and diminishes the influence of gravity. No
force is acquired in the descent ; and Captain Brooke might have learned this from the
fact he afterwards states, that the halebut lies too deep for this kind of fishing. The
resistance of the water then destroys the communicated force.— Ed.
94 A WINTER IN LAPLAND. [May,
popular character than the English merchant. His annual departure,
at the close of the year, is accompanied with tears ; and his return,
in the succeeding summer, looked forward to with the most lively
anxiety by the females of Hammerfest.
The Laps of Finmark may be divided into two classes—the
fishing or shore Laplanders, and the rein-deer or mountain Lap
landers. The latter live during the winter in the mountains, and in
the summer they invariably seek the coast. The interior part of
Lapland, especially its boundless forests, abounds with insects, so that
it is not possible for any animal to remain there in summer The Laps
are moreover led to the shore under the idea that a draught of salt water
is necessary for the welfare of their deer. When the deer descend
from the mountains and come within sight of the sea, they hasten
forward with one accord, and drink eagerly of the salt water, though
they are never observed to apply to it afterwards.
In a country where nature has so few charms, or rather where her
features are so rugged, and all her ways so stern, it is to be supposed
that the resources of the inhabitants are of a social kind. If jovial
drinking and good-natured chat may be called social, the natives of
Qualoen may challenge the world for this virtue. Captain Brooke's
chamber, at Fuglenaes, every night resounded with the notes of mirth
and merriment. The many little articles of British manufacture
which are always turned out of the baggage of an English traveller,
and which usually lie about his room, with his sketches and his books,
were objects of general admiration. Notwithstanding the interruption
which this caused to his pursuits, Captain Brooke states, that the good-
humour and honest frankness of these people, made him willingly
submit to the inconvenience. The following is a lively picture of a
jolly evening, and proves pretty clearly that " Old Norway " under
stands even better than " Merry England," did in her old days, how
to push about the bowl, which, by an excusable blunder, is in songs
usually called " soul inspiring."
One evening the whole small society of Hammerfest would come intheir boats to
drink punch, and smoke their pipes at the Red House ; and this number being swelled
by the captains of the different vessels, the party was consequently pretty numerous.
My little room then resounded with loud effusions of hearts unacquainted with care,
and little anxious about what the morrow would produce. These drinking bouts were
conducted with such spirit, that it reminded me of the good old days, when our
ancestors were in like manner worthy disciples of Anacreon, and would have caused a
blush in the cheeks of the degenerate water-drinkers of the present age. They were
in fact so determined, that many a head far stronger than my own would have sunk
in the conflict ; and I really despaired, that any exertions, however great on my part,
during my short residence, could render me a worthy companion to such men as Foged,
Meyer, Aasgaard, or Jentof. The first of these was a giant, with powers unrivalled
in Finmark. Enveloped in smoke, and swallowing streams of liquid fire, the sheriff
was in fact the soul of every party; and his arrival at Hammerfest from Alten, where
his presence was frequently required from his high office, was the speedy forerunner
of a succession of jovial parties. At these, the only liquor drunk is punch, wine being
almost unknown in Finmark ; except that occasionally a few bottles of a villainous
black compound find their way from Bremen or Flensburg, and enabling those who
can afford to drink it to form no other idea of that wine, the name of which it bears,
than what its colour may suggest. This, however, is rarely the case, as the merchants
wisely prefer their own native liquor ; and in the making of this the ladies of every
family are so skilful, that having once tasted the nectar which flows from their hands,
it is scarcely possible to resist temptation. They neverthless do not participate
farther in these ceremonies, than entering occasionally to replenish the bowls. These
bouts in summer-time commence generally about six o'clock, and in winter about four,
1827.] A WINTER IN LAPLAND. 95
and are carried on without intermission till after midnight. Every one brings his pipe ;
without this he would be miserable, and not even the punch could make him feel com
fortable. The room is presently filled with smoke so dense, that it is difficult to dis
tinguish persons.
Most of the company during this time are deeply engaged, each with his pipe in his
mouth, at their favourite game of whist; while the remainder pace the room with
slow and measured steps. Now the first toast is announced by the master of the house,
which is Gammet Norge, " Old Norway !" The effect produced is electrical; the
whole party instantaneously rise, the capacious glasses are filled to the brim ; every
one then touches with his own glass the top of each in the room, which is called klinking,
and is similar to our old-fashioned custom of hob-nobbing : and the contents are drank
off, and smoking resumed, till the national song of Norway is commenced, and sung in
loud chorus by all with the greatest enthusiasm.
The national song is highly characteristic of the manners of the
country. It describes the three modes of life which a settler in
Finmark may follow, and the blessings which may attend each.
Should I, says the song, dwell on the lofty mountains, where the
Laplander, in his snow skates, shoots the rein-deer, and the ptarmigan
flutters on the heath, these would be sufficient for my wants—with
them would I " buy wine, and pay my expenses."
The summit of the rock which bears the pine
Is the free town of jovial souls.
In the green valley, where there are rivers and sheep and lambs,
" that play, and nibble leaves," and oxen—and where wealth increases
fast, there would he laugh at the " boastings of fashion," (meaning,
we presume, the boasting of merchants, sailors, and fishermen, who
talk of the large towns they have seen, and the big churches,) and
sitting safely on his grassy sod, empty his goblet to friendship.
If, again, he should live on the naked beach, on a rocky islet
abounding with eggs, in the midst of the rolling sea, where flocks of
birds pursue the herring, sprat, and morten, then he says, if he gets
such a draught of fish that his boat is so full of roe, that it is in a fair
way of sinking, that then he is happy, rich, and satisfied. At the
mention of fish, all the hearers shout, for upon it the welfare of
Finmark depends. " Long may fish swim ! " is the cry of the song,
and the " fishery " are drunk with loud acclamation. " Long may fish
swim ! " sounds in their ears like " Britons never Khali be slaves " in
ours. The cry of fish speaks to them of enjoyments as sincere, and
perhaps of the very same kind as the cry of liberty with us. It all
ends in a good dinner, and a pleasant evening by the fire-side. That
which is the most essential, is the most classical ; and though the idea
of blubber is by no means among our most refined reflections, yet it
carries emotions of the most tender kind to the heart of the Laplander.
When the Briton indignantly repels the notion of slavery, and glories
in ruling the waves, he, were his meaning closely analyzed, would be
found to intend nothing more than that he hoped he should not be
disturbed in the possession of such comforts as have fallen to his share.
Slavery carries with it hard work and hard fare ; and ruling the waves
implies, keeping off intruders, and bringing home pleasant mer
chandize. As the jovial Lap roars out over a particularly strong bowl,
of punch, and with a countenance shining like the best whale oil,
Long may fish swim ! that was the toast
•' On which I took my glass,
Sang and drank, Long may the fisheries flourish !
we presume he means much the same thing.
90 A WINTER IN LAPLAND. l_Mav»
Tea is generally taken at the commencement of these entertainments,
says Captain Brooke, and about three hours afterwards the mellem
mad is served. This, which means the middle meal, and is merely
a kind of interlude, is brought in on a tray, and handed round to all,
consisting of brandy, smoked salmon or halibut, with sandwiches
made of thin slices of German sausages. It proves not the least
interruption to what is going forward ; and about ten o'clock the
aftens mad, ox supper, is announced, upon which the party retire to
an adjoining room, to partake of it. The aftens mad consists
almost invariably of a large dish of boiled fish, accompanied in
summer by a reen stek, or piece of rein-deer venison, roasted, and
eaten with the jam of the preserved moltaebar, ok cloud-berry, (rubus
ehamaemorus,) and different pickles. Nothing but punch is drunk
during this time, and the cloth being removed, the bowls are re
plenished, and the carousal seldom ends before midnight. These
evenings are diversified by balls, when the only difference is, that
females and a violin are introduced. The violin is a great favourite ;
some member of every family plays upon it, and thus the darling
amusement of dancing is always to be had with ease. The usual
dances are the waltz, the polsk, the national dance, and the
hopska, which resembles our country dance, except that it possesses a
greater variety of figures. In this way were Captain Brooke's apart
ments occupied nearly every night during the time he remained at
Fuglenaes.
The mountain Laplander, who is a very different person from the
Norwegian settlers, among whom Captain Brooke lived, generally
commences his migration from the interior to the coast in June. The
snow is by that time off the ground, he consequently no longer travels
in sledges, but deposits them and all his winter necessaries in the
storehouse near his church, in the neighbourhood he occupies during
the winter. The coast of Norway is preferred for summer residence
to that of the Gulf of Bothnia, though that may in some instances
be more distant from the freshness of the breezes and its freedom
from insects. The principal object is the health of the deer—on his
flock of rein-deer the existence of the mountain Lap depend^—it is
his fortune. Where they are likely to do well, and where he stands
a chance of catching fish for his summer support, there the Field'
finner, as he is called, pitches his rude tent.
The mountain Lap is, for the most part, wild and savage, both in
appearance and habit. There is a ruggedness about him, which, if not
properly softened by a glass of brandy, or a present of tobacco, is re
pulsive. He takes, however, the gift as a token of good intentions, and
is then ready and willing to perform any service within his power. His
costume is sufficiently like his neighbour, the bear—what nature does
for one a very rude kind of art does for the other. The husk is con
siderably thicker than the kernel. The Lap is principally clothed in
rein-deer fur; leather and woollen are resorted to, to supply the inter
stices. With linen, Laplanders are totally unacquainted. Stockings
they have none: the women thrust soft dried grass into their shoes,
and for the more effectual exclusion of the cold, wear breeches.
The Laplanders generally are of a diminutive race, though it is re
markable that the more northern tribes exceed in stature those of the
1827-] A WINTER IN [Link]. 97

south. The average height of the mountain Laps may be considered

from five feet, to five feet two inches. They are meagre and bony.
Their mode of life makes them hardy and active. They are constantly
subject to every species of deprivation, and in seasons of plenty make
up for former deficiencies by excessive indulgence. A Lap, who has
been without food some time, can devour the most stupendous piles of
food, which will last him, as it ought, for several days, if he should
be exposed to any sudden extremity. The number of deer belonging
to a herd is from three hundred to five hundred. With them a. Lap
lander can do well, and live in tolerable comfort. In summer they
supply him with a stock of cheese for the winter, and he can also
afford to kill deer enough to supply his family constantly with venison.
Should he possess but one hundred deer, his subsistence is very pre
carious, and with fifty only he generally joins some other herd.
Should any calamity deprive him of his deer altogether, he descends
in life—joins the inhabitant of the coast, the shore Laplander, whom
he considers an inferior being, and lives by fishing, until he can recover
his deer. The following passage speaks of a most important article
among the Laplander's sources of subsistence.
The household economy of the Laplander, it may be readily imagined, is extremely
simple. His food, during the period of his summer wanderings, is spare and frugal ; he
no longer indulges himself in his favourite food, rein-deer venison, which forms the
luxury of the winter season. In summer he is intent only upon increasing his herd,
and providing against his future wants. He contents himself then generally with milk,
and the remains of the curd and whey after making his cheese.
In the first he indulges himself sparingly, on account of the very small quantity each
deer affords, as well as of the great importance it is to him to secure a good quantity of
cheese for his winter stock, and to guard against any disaster that might suddenly
befal his herd, and reduce him to want. As his herd is milked during the summer
season only, when this is drawing to a close, he generally sets by some milk, for the
purpose of being frozen. This serves not only for his individual use during the winter,
but is prized so much for its exquisite delicacy in this state, that it forms an article of
trade ; and the merchants with whom he deals, and who repair then to the interior,
gladly purchase it at any price.
From the naturally churlish temper of the mountain Laplander, and the value he
justly sets upon his milk, it is extremely difficult during the summer to prevail upon
him to part with even a very small quantity ; and whenever I visited the tent, I saw
with what reluctance these people offered it. By degrees, however, I ingratiated myself
so much into their favour, partly from the circumstance of my being an Knglishman, and
partly by a few well-timed presents, that for some time during their stay near Fugle-
nses, I had the luxury of drinking it in a morning for my breakfast ; and I must
confess I found it so delicious, that I think the time of any idle epicure would not be
ill bestowed in making a trip to Finmark, were it solely for the pleasure of tasting this
exquisite beverage. The flavour of the milk is highly aromatic, which it is probable
is chiefly owing to the kind of herbage the animal browzes upon in summer. In colour
and consistency it resembles very much cream : and its nature is such, that however
gratifying to the taste, it is difficult and even unwholesome to driuk more than a small
quantity of it.
It is singular, that rich as is the rein-deer milk, the cheese made
from it is extremely hard and disagreeable. Bread is a thing
totally unknown. They set much value on *he blood of the rein-deer,
from which they procure a variety of dishes, taking care always to
preserve it when the animal is killing. In this country, and we believe
generally elsewhere, a strong prejudice exists against consuming blood
as an article of food. It is however done in two instances—the blood of
the pig is dressed in the shape of black-puddings, and the blood of
geese in the north of England is baked in pies formed from the giblets
May, 1827- H
98 A WINTER IN LAPLAND. [May,

of the bird. The Laps hold the blood of the rein-deer a peculiarly
wholesome anti-scorbutic. Wore the blood of the ox proposed as an
article of subsistence here, though the saving might be great, the pro
position would doubtless be thought very shocking.
The rein-deer is so important an animal to the Laplander, and
possessed of such remarkable properties, that he deserves a more
particular mention.
A mere glance at the rein-deer will convince us, how admirably Providence has
qualified this animal for the Polar regions ; and how indispensably necessary it is to the
very existence of the inhabitants of these countries. It is by no means so graceful
and elegant in its appearance as others of the deer genus, owing in a great measure to
the shortness and thickness of the neck; which occasions the animal, instead of holding
the head erect, to carry it in a stooping posture, forming near a straight line with its
back. The peculiar make and strength observable in the neck, shoulders and fore-
quarters, would alone mark it as peculiarly adapted by nature for the purposes of
draught; while its loins, the extraordinary degree of muscular power developed in the
general formation, the thickness and bone of the legs, confirm it in as great a degree.
The hoofs of the animal are wonderfully adapted to the country it inhabits ; instead of
being narrow and pointed, like those of the roebuck, or the fallow-deer, they are re
markably broad, flat, and spreading ; and when it sets down its foot it has the power
of contracting or spreading its hoofs in a greater or less degree, according to the nature
of the surface on which it moves. When the snow is on the ground, and ia a soft
state, the broadness of the hoofs which it then spreads out, so as almost to equal in
size those of a horse, gives it a firmer support on the snow, and hinders it from sinking
so deep in it as it would otherwise do ; though it does not prevent it at times from
plunging even to a great depth, particularly after a recent fall of snow, before the sur
face has acquired firmness sufficient to bear the weight of the animal.
The antlers of the rein-deer are large, and highly ornamental, being entirely covered
during the principal part of the year with a soft, dark, velvety down, which remain
till winter.
The horns begin to shoot in May, and in the space of seven or eight
weeks arrive at their full size and growth. It is said to be peculiar to
this species of deer that the female has horns. The snapping or clicking
noise made by the animal in walking, is occasioned by the striking of the
inner parts of the semi-hoofs against each other. It is of considerable
use in enabling the herd, when scattered, to rejoin one another. The
rein-deer's coat is uncommonly thick and close ; the hairs arc indeed
so thick, that it is hardly possible, by separating them in any way, to
discern the least portion of the naked hide. In summer it is of a
darker colour than winter; it is then thin, but on the approach
of the cold season thickens in an extraordinary manner, and is then of
a greyish brown. The speed of the rein-deer is very considerable, and
his power in supporting the fatigue of a long journey very great.
His pace, ascertained by an experiment over a short distance, is about
nineteen miles an hour. Remarkable anecdotes arc told of the
swiftness with which rein-deer journics have been performed. In one
instance, an officer, in 1699, carried the news of an invasion, from
the frontiers of Norway to Stockholm, went, with a single rein-deer
and sledge, a distance of eight hundred miles in forty-eight hours.
The faithful animal dropped down dead at the conclusion of the journey.
The mode of travelling in pulks, is described in a very picturesque
manner by Captain Brooke. It was by means of this conveyance
•that he passed through the interior.
The morning was cold and stormy : I was jaded; miserably tired from want of rest,
and just on the point of being tied to a wild deer, and dragged at random in the dark,
in a kind of ock-boat, some hundred miles across the trackless snows of Lapland. In
 1S27>] A WINTER IN LAPLAND. 99

truth, I was never less inclined for such an expedition, and had something like the
sensations which an inexperienced horseman feels, when mounted upon a spirited steed,
and about to take the first high fence at the commencement of a fox-chase. Our puiks
were ranged together in close order, and the wappus having performed the last office
for us, by tying each of us in as fast as possible, and giving us the rein, jumped into his
own, and then slightly touching his deer with the thong, the whole of them started off
like lightning. 1 had not time to reply to Mr. Aasberg's parting exclamation of " Luk
paa reise," (good luck to your journey,) as we flew past him ; but I devoutly wished
within myself it might be realized.
The want of light rendered it difficult to distinguish the direction we were going in,
and I therefore left it entirely to my deer to follow the rest of the herd, which he did
with the greatest rapidity, whirling the pulk behind him. I soon found how totally
impossible it was to preserve the balance necessary to prevent its overturning, owing to
the rate we were going at, and the roughness of the surface in parts where the snow
had drifted away, the pulk frequently making a sudden bound of some yards, when the
deer was moving down a smooth, slippery declivity. In the space of the first two
hundred yards, 1 was prostrate in the snow several times, the pulk righting again by
my suddenly throwing my weight on the opposite side. My attention was too deeply
engrossed by my own situation, to observe particularly that of my fellow travellers, or
to be able to assist them. The deer appeared at first setting off to be running away in
all directions, and with their drivers alternately sprawling in the snow. As I passed
Mr. Heinekin's deer at full speed, I observed, to my great wonder, the former turn
completely over in his pulk, without appearing to sustain any damage, or his deer at
all to relax its pace. My turn was now arrived ; and as we were descending a trifling
declivity, and about to enter the fir forest, a sudden jerk threw the pulk so completely
upon its broadside, that I was unable to recover it, and I was dragged in this manner
for a considerable distance, reclining upon my right side, and ploughiug up the snow,
which formed a cloud around me, from the quick motion of the vehicle. My deer,
before this happened, had been nearly the foremost in the race : this unfortunate
accident, however, enabled the rest to come up, and I had the mortification of seeing
the whole pass me, without their being able to stop their deer to render me any
assistance, the wappus being already far a-head. Among this number was Inndsted,
the Swede, who appeared, from the experience of the day before, to be going along in
excellent style, and I could not help thinking how completely <he laugh was now against
me. To render my situation more helpless, on losing my balance 1 had lost also the
rein ; and though 1 saw it dancing in the snow, within an inch of my hands, I was
unable, from the position I lay in, to recover it. Notwithstanding the great increase
of weight, the deer relaxed but little of his speed, making greater exertions the more
he felt the impediment. The depth of snow, however, in parts, exhausted the animal,
and he at length stopped for an instant breathless, and turned round to gaze upon his
unfortunate master. I began to fear I also was now going to receive some punishment
for my awkwardness ; but, after resting a moment, he again proceeded. In the mean
time I had been enabled to recover the rein, as well as to place myself once more in an
upright posture, and we continued our way at increased speed.
This accident had thrown me back so greatly, that no traces of the rest of the party
were to be seen, nor could I hear the sound of the bells fastened round the necks of
the deer. - The fear of being entirely left behind, and the situation I should then be in,
made me regardless of every thing, and I urged on the deer to the utmost. 1 was
now crossing a thick wood of firs, which proved a constant impediment to my progress.
Getting entangled among the trees, and being obliged, beside attending to the balanc
ing of the pulk, to steer clear of these, the task was still more difficult for one so
inexperienced ; and in the course of a mile I had so many overturns, that at last I cared
very little about them. Presently I heard the distant tinkling of a bell ; and was
rejoiced to find I was gaining upon the rest. It was not long before I overtook one of
the hindermost, who had experienced some accident similar to my own : and on coming
up with the main body, the wappus made a halt, to give the deer a little breathing, and
to collect the scattered party. In a few minutes we were all assembled ; no injury had
been sustained by any one, a few rolls in the snow having been the only consequences ;
and we started again. We were still on the right bank of the Alten, and at no incon
siderable distance from it ; but in consequence of having found it unfrozen the preced
ing night, we had in some measure altered our course, which prevented the necessity of
crossing it.
At mid-day we reached the banks of the Aiby Elo, a stream that rises in the
mountains, and runs into the Alten. Here the whole party made an unexpected stop ;
H2
100 A WINTER IN LAPLAND. [May,
the cause of which, on coming np, I found was, that the middle of the stream was
unfrozen and flowing, so that, according to appearance, we should be compelled to
retrace our steps back to Mickel Busk ; since it was impossible for us to proceed upou
ourjourney without first crossing this stream, as it ran directly athwart our way.
The Laplanders, to whom these obstacles are trifles, prepared, without hesitation,
to leap each deer with its driver and sledge over together. This seemed no less
difficult than hazardous ; indeed it appeared quite impracticable, from the width of the
unfrozen part, which was about seven feet, and in the centre of the stream. The whole
breadth of the Aiby Elo here, might, perhaps, be twenty feet : and on each side there
was a short precipitous bank, the space between that on which we were, and the
open part, being about six or seven feet, and the ice of which appeared firm
and thick.
The wappus now getting out of his pulk, stationed himself near the open part ; and
the sledges then advancing, each deer was urged forward by his driver to the utmost
of his speed, descending the declivity at full gallop. Nothing less than such an
impetus could have carried us across, from the heavy load of the sledge and driver.
The natural force which its own weight gave it, being thus so greatly increased by the
speed of the deer, and the icy smoothness of the bank, it made of itself so great a
bound on coming to the open space, as in most instances to gain the firm part of the
opposite ice, and by the strength of the deer was dragged up the other side. In order
to increase as much as possible the speed of the animals, on first starting they were
urged on by the Laplanders with loud shouts, and the wappus himself, on their reaching
the unfrozen part where he was placed, did the same by means of his voice as well as
his action. The first three or four took their leaps in fine style, carrying their drivers
completely and safely over. The one immediately before me failed in the latter
respect, for, though it cleared the open part, yet the sledge, from its weight, or some
other cause, not making a sufficient bound, the fore part of it alone reached the firm
ice, and the hinder, with its driver, was consequently immersed in the water, till the
deer, by main strength, extricated it from its awkward situation. I relied greatly on
mine, from its size, and fortunately was not disappointed, as it conveyed me safely
across, both deer and sledge clearing the entire space. On reaching the other side, I
halted for a few minutes, to observe how the rest of the party escaped. It was a
curious sight to see the manner in which they came across, and the ludicrous appearance
some made, who were unfortunate. Madame Lenning being extremely light, her deer
carried her across with ease. Many, however, who were heavy, did not fare so well ;
and the open part being now widened by the breaking of the ice at the edge, several
were so completely immersed, that I began to be alarmed. They were, notwithstanding,
soon extricated by their deer: and in this manner the whole of the cavalcade got over,
with no other injury than a ducking. This, however, was of little consequence, the
thickness of the fur of the poesk well resisting the water, which could not, at the same
time, easily find its way into the pulk, from the manner in which the driver was
covered over.
We now continued our way, directing our course toward the Alten river, along
which our guides intended proceeding, should we find the ice sufficiently strong to bear
us. By this time I was considerably improved in the management of my pulk, the
practice of a few miles having made such an alteration, that I was able to keep its
balance tolerably well, in those parts where the inequality of the surface did not
render it very difficult. Madame Lenning appeared also to be somewhat expert, and
her deer being tied behind her husband's sledge, she could not be in better hands, as
he was an experienced traveller, being in the constant habit, every winter, of making
a journey of this description into the interior of Lapland. The degree of cold marked
by the thermometer was nearly the same as on the preceding day. The manner,
however, in which I was equipped, made me quite disregard it ; and, in fact, I was as
warm and as comfortable as I could desire.
The natives use a kind of skate, which they call a skie. We find
a curious account of the manner in which it is employed.
The fall of the snow enabled me to witness now, what I had so long desired to see,
the Laplanders making use of the skie. This kind of snow skate is peculiar to Lapland
and Noiway ; as those that are made use of by the native tribes of the northern part
of the American continent, differ both in form and size, being only about four feet in
length, nearly two in breadth in the central part, and composed of thongs. The Lap
land skie, or skate, is, on the contrary, exceedingly narrow, and often more than seven
1827.] A WINTER IN LAPLAND. 101

feet in length, varying in nothing from the one used by the Norwegian skie troops, hut
in the circumstance of both skaits being of unequal, length.
The skie is more in use in Finmark than in any other part of the north, from the
mountainous nature of the country ; and in very early ages the natives were considered
so expert in the use of it, that the inhabitants obtained the name of skidfinni or skrid-
fhmi, and the country itself, according to some authors, of Skedjinni, Scircfinnia, or
Skirdjinnia, which appellation may still be seen in maps, Borne of them of no very o'd
date. Ignorance and superstition, in the early ages, entirely swayed the inhabitants of
the north ; and Finmark was then known to Sweden only by the extraordinary tales
related concerning the country and its natives ; and it is easy to suppose, that a people
like the Laplanders, whose appearance is at all times so singular and uncouth, would
have the most marvellous stories told concerning them, if seen in the winter season on
their snow skates, gliding along the frozen lakes, or darting down the precipitous
mountains of Fiumark, in the singular manner which habit enables them to practise
with such facility.
As soon as the snow falls, the Laplander puts on his snow skates, though it is not
till the surface of the snow has acquired a certain degree of hardness, that he can
proceed with any speed. In northern countries, after the snow has fallen a few days,
the frost gives it such a consistence, that it is firm enough to support the weight of a
man ; the surface becomes hard and glazed ; and the Laplander can then make his way
in any direction he pleases across the country, which before was impassable. Nothing
is capable of stopping him, and he skims, with equal ease and rapidity, the white
expanse of land, lake, and river. His address, however, is most remarkable in the
descent of the mountains and precipices of Finmark; which, to any eye but his own,
would appear impassable. From the length of the skie, it might be thought extremely
cumbersome ; its weight, however, from the lightness of its materials, and its narrow
ness, is not great; and the skater moves forward with facility, merely gliding on, without
raising it from the ground. In many parts of Lapland, the greatest use of them is in
the pursuit of wild rein-deer, and the other animals with which the country abounds.
When the Laplander sets out in the pursuit, and comes to a mountain, the summit of
which he wishes to gain, however steep the ascent may be, practice enables him to
surmount it with comparative ease, though the operation is necessarily the slowest,
requiring considerable address to prevent the smooth surface of the skate from slip
ping, aud precipitating the wearer backwards. To obviate this, the Laplander some
times covers the skie with rein-deer or seal-skins ; the hair of which being turned
backward, hinders it from a retrograde direction.
This covering of skin, however great may be its use in ascents, in other circum
stances prevents the skie from gliding so rapidly as when the lower surface is only the
smooth hard wood. On this account it is not in such general use ; and, in Finmark, I
do not recollect ever seeing a Laplander with a pair of this description.* In ascending
the sides of the mountains, he is, of course, obliged to proceed in a zigzag direction ;
and although the ascent should be long and steep, he accomplishes it in a surprisingly
short time, considering its difficulty. When, however, he arrives at a point he intends
to descend, it is very different ; sometimes the lofty ranges are many miles from the
summit to the base, consisting of long precipitous declivities, frequently obstructed by
large masses of detached rock, and in others presenting a smooth and steeply inclined
surface, with many windings. When the Laplander begins the descent, he places
himself in a crouching posture, his knees bent, and his body inclined backwards, to
assist him in keeping his position ; he holds in one hand a staff, which he presses on
the snow, and which serves also to moderate his speed when too great. In this
manner he will shoot down the greatest declivities. So great is his dexterity, that if
he should meet suddenly with a fragment of rock, or other impediment, he takes a
bound of some yards to avoid it ; and such is his velocity, when the part is very steep,
that it may be compared almost to that of an arrow, a cloud of snow being formed by
the impetus of his descent.
It ha3 often been asserted, that the speed of the Laplander is such, that he is enabled
to overtake the wild animals he is in pursuit of. This, however, is not generally true ;
for, if the srrface he level, and sufficiently hard and firm to bear the animal he is in
chase of, he would have little • chance of overtaking it. He is only able to do this
after a deep and recent fall of snow, or after a thaw, when the surface of the snow is
again become hard enough to bear his weight, but not that of an animal like the wild
rein-deer ; which, m consequence, sinking at every step through the half-frozen crust
into the deep snow, is easily overtaken, and falls a prey to the Laplander.
* This kind of [Link] is more in use in Nordland, and other parts of Norway.
 102 A WINTER IN LATLAND. [M&V,

In addition to the charge of niggardliness and inhospitality, which

has been urged against the Lap, that of avarice has also been alleged.
But for this tolerably good reason may be found. He is a perfect
Cobbett in his enmity to paper; and if he buries his silver, he con
siders it better to have ail his money in a hole, than to run the risk
of finding his wealth every now and then taking wings, and flying out
of his pocket on wings of rags.
The Laplander Las generally been accused of aTarice, and a miser-like disposition,
in hoarding up liis riches, and even burying them. The reasons I am about to assi-n
may probably, however, induce an opinion, that in so doing he is actuated by other
motives than that of avarice. It is very certain, that he at all times shows the
greatest eagerness for attaining silver money, and nothing is so effectual as the sight of
a dollar for obtaining any favour from him. Upon Norwegian copper money he sets
little value, or upon the small skilling pieces, which are made of base metal, and
plated over. The paper currency, which in Finmark consists chiefly in notes of one
dollar each, the mountain Laplander esteems so little, that it is very seldom any
persuasion will induce him to take it. For this the following circumstances would
sufficiently account, independently of any other motive. During the war in 1812, there
was a very considerable reduction in the value of the paper currency ; the dollar, of
ninety-six skillings—by which it may readily be imagined, the holders of them suffered
no inconsiderable loss. The Laplanders, who previously to this readily took the paper
money, and possessed, very many of them, large portions of it, were in this manner
at once deprived of the greater part of what they had saved up. It is not to be
supposed, that so simple a race of men would be able to comprehend the causes of the
fluctuation or reduction of the paper. They merely knew, that for what they had
given the value of ninety-six skillings, they only received twelve ; this, naturally
enough, made them suspicious, that what had once happened might at some future
occasion oc; ur again : and they have from this period been very cautious against
taking paper notes.
The mountain Laplander, in all his dealings with the merchants, makes it a point
to be paid in silver, either in rix-dollars or orts, both of which are extremely scarce in
Finmark, and hardly to be obtained. This creates a considerable impediment in the
way of business ; nevertheless, as the former is in possession of some thin.s which are
indispensably necessary to the latter, particularly a supply of fresh venison, which is
extremely desirable to the settler, after living constantly upon fish, he is glad to
procure it upon any terms. The Laplander, in this manner, gradually amasses a large
quantity of dollars, which he regards with the more pleasure from their solidity, and
being fully sensible of the sterling worth of the metal. He is, at the same time, a more
frugal anil provident being than the coast Laplander, his more precarious mode of
subsistence naturally rendering him so. From having likewise less frequent inter
course with the settlers on the coast, his wants have not been artificially increased to
the degree which the intimate connexion of the latter with them has produced. His
wants indeed are, in reality, but few ; and from thus constantly putting by the silver
money he acquires, he frequently becomes, in time, possessed of a very considerable
sum. This he looks on with the delight of a child, and hardly any thing will induce
him to change it. He usually buries it in the ground, in some spot near his tent. In
doing this, the only motive which seems to actuate him is that of its preservation.
The moving and unsettled life he leads, remaining but a few days in a place, would
render it both inconvenient and unsafe, to carry always with him a large quantity of
dollars ; and even when he is stationary, his tent offers no secure place in which to
deposit them. Nothing appears to him so safe as the ground, and he accordingly
conceals them there, keeping the secret entirely to himself, and without even making
his wife acquainted with the spot where the treasure lies. The consequence frequently
is, that he forgets himself where he has hidden it ; and his hoard of silver remains so
effectually concealed, after he has been absent some time, that he is unable to discover
the place, and it is consequently lost to him for ever. In this manner Sura, the Lap
lander, who was near Fuglenses, was said to have lost a very large sum, which he had
concealed in some spot on the mountains, so securely, that notwithstanding the regular
researches he had made for it, when he paid his summer visit to Qualoen, he had not
been able to regain it.
It is probable, that the extreme scarcity of silver currency in the north, is in a
great measure occasioned by the custom these people have of hoarding it up ; and I
 1827;] A WINTER IN LAPLAND. 103
have been assured; that very large suras are at. this day buried in different parts of
Finmark, which in all probability will remain so secure in the earth, that centuries may
elapse before they again see the light.
After the rein-deer, the most useful productions of the animal world
in Finmark, and those which most differ from our experience, are some
of the kinds of fish, which are sometimes remarkable for their size,
and sometimes for their abundance. In the latter quality, the coal or
sey-fish excel, of which an account is found iu the following extract.
Immense shoals of the set/, or coal-fish, having been seen in different parts of the straits
chiefly about the island of Slojiien, I accompanied Mr. Ackermand and his boats for
the purpose of fishing. The sey-fishery is one of the most lucrative branches of the
Finmark trade, and is thus followed. A shoal having been found, to which the fisher
men are easily directed by the cries of the sea-fowl hovering round, which may be heard
at the distance of some miles, four boats with three men in each, follow it, provided
with a large square net. On approaching it, the direction in which it is moving is
noticed ; and rowing quickly a-head of it, the net is extended on the surface, and then
let down to a certain depth, to enable the leaders of the shoal to pass with ease, and
prevent their being alarmed, in which event the whole turn aside. When the nets,
thus sunk, the boats row to a certain d! tance and lie to, as waiting the approach of the
fish, they forming a complete square, each holding a long rope attached to the net.
The approach of the shoal is a curious spectacle, as it extends itself frequently foi a
quarter of a mile, blackening the surface, and followed bv the gull tribe in numbers
almost equalling their prey below. The loud deep notes of the larger fowl, joined with
the shrill screams of the others, produce a very extraordinary and deafening concert .
Part of these swim boldly among the fish, pecking at them : and when a small one
shows itself, they strike upon it, and bear it aloft. Sometimes when on the wing they
pounce suddenly upon a fish, the unexpected size of which so greatly exceeds their
strength, that they are quickly compelled to let go their hold. When the shoal enters
the square formed by the boats, nothing is to be seen but the heads and tails of the
fish, which are forced out of the water by the great pressure of the shoal below. The
capture is then pretty certain ; and when the boatmen judge they are over the centre,
the corner lines are quickly pulled in, and the net is drawn up. The quantity of fish
sometimes taken in one haul is so great, that the whole of the boats are completely
loaded, and 200 vogs (8,000 lbs.) weight are taken at one fishing. The weather
should be perfectly calm and still ; as, when there is any wind, the fishermen are pre
vented from ascertaining the direction of the sey : but when the surface is smooth, if
the shoal should be suddenly alarmed, the direction it takes is readily discoverable
from the transparency of the water.
The quantity of fish is indeed almost incredible, five or six large shoals being often
seen within a short distance. The time they remain at the surface is not long, suddenly
descending, and reappearing in a few minutes in another direction, in pursuit of their
food. In this manner they are brought continually to the surface, and enable the
fishermen to avail themselves so favourably of it. The advantage of the sey-fishery
may be conceived, when the Russians eagerly give in exchange a vog (40 lbs.) of flour
for five vogs of sey, in the state in which they are caught. They salt the fish them
selves, and take them to the White Sea, and the adjoining coasts.
The Finmarker, on the contrary, sets no value upon the sey-fish as an article of food,
and never touches it except when no otherfresh fish is to be had. The only part of the
sey valuable to him is the liver, which is extremely rich in oil, and supplies him with
a great part of what is annually exported from Finmark.
The walrus is a mis-shapen monster of the deep, characteristic of
the north. The relation between cold and clumsiness is striking—on
the arid deserts of Africa, the sleek and elastic tiger bounds along the
sands—in the north, the blubbery whale, and the portentous walrus,
swell and wallow and splash, in the frigid seas of the arctic region.
It is the same on approaching the cold latitudes of the south. Elegant
proportions, and nice organization, abhor the Poles. It is similar
with colour. As the traveller approaches the arctic circle, colours
become limited to dreary white, or drearier grey or brown: whereas
in the equatorial regions, more warmly embraced by the sun—
104 A WINTER IN LAPLAND. [May,

all is glare and dazzle—red and yellow and purple, blush and glow,
iu all their pomp and splendour. Of the habits of the mighty walrus
amusing anecdotes are given by Captaiu Brooke.
When I was at Fuglena-s I had an opportunity of seeing the remains of a walrus,
which was lying upon the shore not far from the Red House. This had been brought
from Cherie Island; I could not help remarking the extraordinary thickness of the
hide, which at present is applied, I believe, to no other use, than occasionally as mat
ting to protect the masts of vessels. I brought with me to England a long strip of it,
which, after undergoing the usual process, would seem to be well adapted for carriage
traces and braces, from its superior strength to other leather now used for this pur
pose. T have lately learnt, that it is likely to prove also extremely serviceable for
the purpose of making fire buckets.
Mr. Colquhoun, who lately returned from an expedition to Spit/bergen and the
Finmark coasts, to try the power of the Congreve rocket against the species of whale
known by the name of the finner, informs me they found the walrus lyra8 in herds of
many hundreds each, on the shores of Hope and Cherie Islands, and took a great
quantity of them. The most favourable time for attacking them is when the tide is
out, and they are reposing on the rocks. In this case, if the javrlors be very alert,
and fortunate enough to kill the lower ranks of them, which lies nearest the shore,
before the hindmost fan pass, they are able to secure the whole ; as the wairus when
on shore is so unweildy a creature that it cannot get over the obstacles thrown in its
way by the dead bodies of its companions, and falls in this manner a prey to the
lance of the seaman. It does not, however, die tamely; and perhaps no animal
offers a more determined resistance, when attacked on tin element where they are
incapable of exerting their prodigious strength, striking furiously at their enemy, and
continually turning round to assist their companions in distress. When an alarm of
the approach of an enemy is given, the whole herd makes for the sea.
When they reach the water, they tumble in as expeditiously as possible ; but the
numbers are often so immense, and the size of the animal is so great, that a short
time elapses before they can escape, from want of space. In this case, those who
happen to be in the rear, being pressed by the danger behind them, and finding their
way blocked up by their companions in front, attempt, by means of their tusks, to
force their way through the crowd ; and several that have been taken at the time by
means of the boats, have some visible proofs of the hurry of their comrades, in the
numerous wounds inflicted on their hind-quarters.
The walrus, however, when attacked in the water, is by no means an easy animal to
kill, offering sometimes a successful resistance. Instances have even been known of
their staving and sinking a boat with their tusks.
The food of the walrus consists of molluaca and crustneecr. Fish probably does not
form any part of it, and it is not likely, as has been said, that they prey upon seals,
from the structure of their mouth. The principal use of their tusks is probably to
enable them to detach their food from the grouud or rocks. They also employ them
for the purpose of securing themselves to the rocks while they sleep ; and it not
unfrequently happens, that during their sleep the tide falls, and leaves them suspended
by their tusks, so that they are unable to extricate themselves.
More than one instance of this, I was informed, had occurred in the Magerebsund.
Though the value of the ivory and oil obtained from the walrus has latterly suffered
a considerable depreciation, the fishery is still a very lucrative one ; and the distance
from Finmark to the seat of it not being great, two voyages may be made sometimes
in the course of the season. The oil derived from the fat of the animal, as well as
the ivory from the tusks, are of a very fine quality.
The Laplander has an extraordinary idea of the intelligence of the
bear: the following interview between brother Bruin and brother Lap
is amusing.
In attacking the larger animals, such as bears, the Laplander experiences consi
derable difficulty and risk to himself; as it is necessary to make a very near approach to
the animal, which, if not wounded in a mortal part, and at once disabled, turns im
mediately upon its antagonist. This, it may be conjectured, must frequently happen,
the dependence being on a single ball, not much exceediuga good sized shot.
When this is the case, the animal turns to the place whence the smoke proceeds ;
and if the ground be favourable to his pursuit, easily overtakes his adversary, who
has then little chance of escape, except there should be a tree near, under which he
 I827-] A WINTER IN LAPLAND. 105

can take refuge, and puzzle the bear by dodging behind it. The skill and address
necessary in the pursuit of the bear, and its comparative scarcity in Finmark, render
the killing one of these animals the most honourable exploit a Laplander can perform ;
and it is a constant source of triumph to the successful advetiturer. The Laplanders
have besides exalted ideas of the sagacity and talents of the bear, and treat him in
consequence with a kind respect and deference, which they do not pay to any other
animal. It is a common saying among them, that the bear has twelve men's strength,
and ten men's understanding ; and their superstitious ideas lead them to suppose, that
it perfectly comprehends their discourse. It is a frequent custom with them to speak
to the beast, when about to attack it ; and one instance of this occurred during the
time I was at Alten, on the mountains above Knafional. A Laplander being in
pursuit of wild rein-deer with his rifle, suddenly encountered a bear j and his piece
missing fire, he addressed it, as Mr. Klerck related, in these words •, " You rascal,
you ought to be ashamed of attacking a single man; stop an instant till I have re
loaded my rifle, and 1 shall be again ready to meet you." The bear, however, which
was a female, thought it prudent not to wait, and made an immediate retreat with two
cubs which she had with her.
The beauty of an Arctic winter has been frequently described.
Captain Brooke is rather happy in his sketches of external nature,
and this is a favourite subject with him.
It was now the middle of November ; the weather was delightful, and had assumed
that calm and settled appearance, which it generally maintains throughout the winter.
It is true the snow had deserted us, but how could I regret its loss, when I consi
dered the singular beauty of the scene its disappearance had produced ? The mer
chants, having little to do in the winter season, are not early risers ; and at ten
o'clock not a soul is visible, unless by chance some solitary individual, with his hands
in his deep pockets, rubbing his eyes, and shrugging up his shoulders at being obliged
to quit his warm feather-bed, begins his daily task of visiting his shop and the dif
ferent warehouses. The view from the small battery at Hammerfest, whither I
usually directed my steps before breakfast, was singularly interesting at that hour,
from the extraordinary variety of the tints on the horizon, caused by the progress of
the sun just beneath it, and the clear light of the moon in another quarter of the
firmament. There are few who can withstand the exhilirating effects of a fine frosty
morning ; but how greatly is the beauty of winter heightened in high northern lati
tudes, when the sun creeps below the horizon only to impart an air of calmness and
solemnity to every thing, from the luxuriant richness of glow which overspreads the
face of the heavens !
The smallest sounds are then audible at a considerable distance ; and I used to hear
distinctly all that was going forward on the opposite shore at Fuglenajs, which, during
summer, made no impression on the ear. As winter advanced, all appearances of
the former life and bustle of the little settlement was lost. Even the Laplanders
were less frequent in their visits ; and every thing seemed lying torpid, to await the
return of the sun. The turf on the battery, being the only level spot free from
rocks, was generally much resorted to during summer ; and the view it commanded
enabled the merchants to look out for vessels, and discern the state of the weather.
I now had [it almost entirely to myself throughout the day. Sometimes I amused
myself with my rifle, in firing at the large flocks of eider ducks, which became every
day more fearless. Now and then, though very rarely, a solitary seal made its appear
ance in the bay ; and I sometimes saw a single guillemot, or awk.
The cold during the remainder of my stay at Hammerfest was never great upon any
occasion, and the thermometer seldom many degrees below the freezing point.
As soon as evening set in, a thousand dancing lights would now play mysteriously
through the sky, as if intended by Providence to cheer the hours of darkness by their
mild) aud beautiful coruscations. Sometimes the aurora would form a splendid arch
across the heavens of pale lambent flame, running with inconceivable velocity, and
resembling the spiral motions of a serpent, which the eye could clearly distinguish.
Then it would suddenly disappear, and the veil of night be once more diffused around ;
when, as quick as the flash of a star, the immense etherial space would be overspread
with fire, assuming quite a different form, and covering the heavens with sheets of thin
silvery light, wafted quickly along, like thin strata of cloud before the wind. Some
times narrow streaks of flame would shoot with inconceivable velocity, traversing in a
few seconds the immense concave of the heavens, and disappearing beneath the south
eastern horizon. Occasionally a broad mass of light would suddenly be seen in the
100 A WIKTKR IN LAPLAND. [May,

zenitli, which would descend towards the earth in the form of a beautiful comiuuous
radiated circle, and in an instant vanish.
The northern lights are most frequent when the weather is calm ; yet I never saw
them more vivid than on one occasion, when there was a biisk wind from the south
east, which, though it directly met the aurora, that was running with great swifinesa
from the opposite quarter, did not appear in any way to affect its motions, these con
tinuing in a narrow steady stream of light. The altitude of the aurora on this particular
occasion seemed trifling, in appearance certainly not exceeding a quarter of a mile ; the
light it afforded, at the same time, being very considerable, and clearly illumining sur
rounding objects. I invariably observed that the aurora proceeded ill the first instance
from the north-west, and it generally disappeared in the south-east. During the
opportunities I had of observing it while at Hammerfest, it constantly rose from the
northern extremity of the island of Sdroe, to which part of the horizon I was accus
tomed to direct my attention when I watched its appearance. 1 his was generally that of
faint irregular gleams of light, rising aloft behind the mountains, and at first frequently
exhibiting an exact resemblance of the reflection of a distant fire. They generally
mounted up toward the zenith, rarely keeping low in the horizon, and afterwards
assuming an inconceivable variety of form and diversity of motion, of which it is too
difficult for an inanimate description to convey an idea.
Half a year of darkness and snow, as we have seen, disposes the
settlers in these districts to the enjoyments of artificial luxuries ; and
really, considering the few advantages which the inhabitants have had
of improving their condition, they appear to have made the most of
them. There are many country gentlemen, of milder climates than
Finmark, who will envy the home-made enjoyments described in the
following extract. Captain Brooke himself appears somewhat enrap
tured with the attention, if not with the charms, of these " neat-
handed Phillises."
The young women of each family have thus the whole of the household manage
ment consigned to them. They rise at an early hour of the morning, to prepare the
coffee for the family, which is taken by every one in bed. This appears at first to a
stranger a very singular custom, and he is little prepared to expect so luxurious and
idle a habit at the North Cape of Europe. It is common, however, in other parts of
Norway, and is extremely well suited in particular to the kiud of life the Hammer
fest merchant leads. He is never remarkable for early rising ; and having little or
nothing to do when the winter sets in, his bed occupies no small portion of the long
night. It is composed of two soft eider-down feather-beds, between which he creeps,
and if he were transported even into the midst of the frozen ocean, he would suffer
little inconvenience with this protection. The heat these eider-down quilts give is
extraordinary ; and their lightness is such, from the materials with which they are
filled, that the whole weight of them does not exceed that of a common blanket.
They are on this account admirably adapted for the purposes of warmth ; and every
one sleeps in this soft manner, without any other bed-clothes. I confess, however, I
never could endure these arctic luxuries; and always had recourse to sheets and
English blankets, with the latter of which I had fortunately provided myself. On
being covered up with one of these eider-down beds, it gave rise to a sensation of
being suffocated, or smothered with an immense feather-bed, far exceeding in bulk
our own, but at the same time literally as light as a feather. The heat produced,
however, was to me insupportable, and I was always glad to throw them away after a
few minutes. With their assistance, and the additional warmth of the stove, it may
be easily imagined, the Finmarker is in little danger of being frozen in bed.
To return, however, to his morning beverage ; the merchant is awakened at an early
hour, generally about seven o'clock, and, on opening his eyes, he sees the hnnsjomfrue,
or young lady of the house, standing by his bed-side, with a cup of very strong and
hot coffee, which she presents to him. This being received with a look of compla
cency, and quickly swallowed, he again sinks into his nest of down. During the short
operation of sweetening the reviving draught, he asks his fair companion concerning the
stale of the weather or the wind ; after which she lays down his pipe ready for him,
and disappears to perform the same friendly office for the rest of the family. Sit
ting, or half reclining in his bed, and well bolstered up with pillows, he smokes
ono pipe, then finding himself in fit order to recommence his slumbers, he
again, composes himself, and sleeps undisturbed for several hours. The custom
1S27-] A WINTKR IN LAPLAND. I07

which the Norwegians have of taking a cup of hot coffee at an early hour, is
by no means an unpleasant one, however laughable it may appear, and to a
stranger is very captivating. It is true you are awakened out of a sound sleep
some hours before the usual time of rising ; but in what manner 1 You raise
your half-opened eyes, and see close to you what appears a vision of the most
agreeable nature, in the form of a young beauty, with a lovely complexion, and light
flowing ringlets. Possibly your dreams may have been presenting such a one to your
imagination at the very moment, and you now deem it suddenly realized. You are,
however, soon convinced that it is an earthly substance, from her gently rousing you
by tl»e shoulder, on seeing that you are hardly in a state of sufficient animation to
attend to her summons. You then discover, that the pretty intruder is the daughter of
the mistress of the house, who, with the most captivating smile imaginable, invites
you to partake of the refreshing beverage she has brought ; and which being accepted
by you with the usual expression of gratitude common in Norway, tuimde tak, a thou
sand thanks, your fair attendant retreats, and leaves you to present a pleasant addition
in her own image, to the scenes of fancy you had perhaps been before indulging in.
All this is much more advanced in civilization, than might he con
cluded from the primitive mode which they have adopted of settling
their card dehts. Were a respectable dowager of Cavendish-square
informed that the whist-players of the north pay for their points in
barrels of oil, she would doubtless turn up her nose at the savages. It
is certainly amusing' to think of the odd trick transferring blubber,
and of grave merchants playing at double-barrelled points. A person
in those latitudes given to whist, instead of a card, is obliged to keep
an oil warehouse.
Cards, next to smoking, are the darling amusement of a Finmark merchant ; his
favourite games whist and boston. The former, as played in Finmark, differs little
from ours, except in the marking, and the additional honour which they count, making
the ten a fifth. Ten points are the game ; all that is won over that number is added
to the next game, and so on till the rubber is finished. The only singular feature is in
the marking and settling the accounts, which seldom takes place till the end of the
year, when it is charged generally in their books, either against fish or oil, at the
current price of tiie article at the time of settling. One of the party has to keep the
account, which is done nearly in the same manner as they mark while playing ;
thus, if
A has won five points, it is expressed A +5
B has lost five ditto thus B — 5
and so on, as many as play. The success of the respective parties is thus simply
denoted by the marks of plus or minus ; and two columns are kept in this manner,
which at the end of the year, or whenever the day of settlement may be, are made to
balance generally by means of barrels of oil. Boston does not vary, but is played in
the same way as on the rest of the continent.
These countries appear, as well as we can judge, worthy of the
attention of the English merchant. The port of Hammerfest is now
becoming better known, and the town, of the same name, is rising to
some consequence. We shall conclude this long article by giving
Mr. Crowe, who has been already mentioned, as an example to those
who may be disposed to extend their views in this quarter.
It was in 1819 that the first Englishman settled himself upon the Finmark shores.
This was Mr. John Crowe, who, having been some time in the naval service of Russia,
had quitted it with several other officers, on the breaking out of the war between
England and the former power. Accidental circumstances having thus thrown him
out of the line of his profession, he turned his attention to commerce, and being well
acquainted with the language, as well as the state and capabilities of the northern trade
of Russia, he, after having explored the coasts of the White Sea, established a factory
at Fuglinais, situate on the western coast of Finmark, and forming the arm of the bay
at Hammerfest.
Anterior to this period, at least in modern times, no British vessels had visited these
coasts for the purpose of commerce ; and although they afford safe and commodious
harbours, they are altogether so little known to our navigators, that our vessels in
108 THE MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK. [May,

their voyages to and from Archangel, Omga, and other parts of the White Sea, have
in the worst weather preferred keeping the sea, at any risk, rather than trust them
selves within reach of a coast, the very sight of which is, with reason, formidable
to those unacquainted with it. In this respect alone, the above establishment will be
of extreme advantage to our trade in general with the White Sea, both by rendering
these coasts more known, and removing the impressions of alarm and distrust : for
instance, how important it must be for a vessel to know, that in the vicinity of the
North Cape, on a coast considered hitherto as perfectly savage and uninhabit ed, a
secure and commodious harbour is open to her ; where not only good pilotage may be
afforded her, but she may supply herself with water, and iudeed almost every thing
she may stand in need of.
Captain Brooke's volume contains much instruction and entertaining
matter. He is a little prolix, and not very exact in his language.
The Winter in Lapland might, with advantage, be contracted into
half the space : half the expense of the work would thus be saved,
and double the number of copies sold—that is, twice the information
spread. It would ill become us, however, who have spent many
pleasant hours over the volume, to complain. We should observe,
that Captain Brooke is something of a naturalist, and something of an
artist ; by which accomplishments he is able to gratify both the man
of science and the man of mere curiosity, by his descriptions, written
and engraved, of natural objects and external impressions.

THE MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK."

We are extremely glad to see the Half-pay on active literary service.

Few people have more to tell than they who have seen seventeen years
of service abroad and at home : and few, that which is better worth
hearing. Military authors, we are glad to observe, are accumulating ;
the literary fever is even penetrating the Commissariat. It is only the
other day, that an officer on the quarter-master's staff gave us his
" Adventures in the Peninsula," in a very pleasant manner. As he
could not show his bravery, he hit upon the scheme of displaying his
learning. In spite of his Greek and bis classics, however, we were
glad that be had become an author. But we prefer the Recollec
tions of the Gentlemen of the Line. " The Military Sketch-Book,"
and " The Naval Sketch-Book," t may be clubbed together, and be
considered the sketch-book of the United Service. The " Officer of
the Line " is, however, more to our liking than the sailor, for he is
evidently a better-natured man. Generous, brave, and modest, he
possesses all the virtues of the soldier—light-hearted, jovial, and
spirited, he shows himself an Irishman—and the force and reality of
many of his sketches, prove him in possession of considerable literary
talents. His pathos, as well as his gaiety, is Irish—his romance is
also Milesian—in the one he is somewhat given to the mawkish ; and
in the other to the improbable. The Subaltern is more scholastic and
finished in his pictures—the author of the Eventful Life is more par
ticular and full in his descriptions, and more striking and copious in
his details, and more valuable from the rarer nature of his testimony ;
* The Military Sketch-Book. Reminiscences of Seventeen Years in the Service
Abroad and at Home. By an Officer of the Line London, Colburn, 1827. [Link].
t By an Officer of Kauk. Published last year.
I827-] THE MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK. 109

but then the officer of rank is a shrewder character than either ; knows
the world better, and is somewhat of a satirist. It is true, that he
frequently fails—that his humour is often broad and coarse, as well as
that his pathos is puling—but on the whole, the book is decidedly clever,
and exceedingly amusing. It may be made more than amusing—the
character of the British Officer, and of the British army, is illustrated
by many of the author's remarks and anecdotes; and the question of
corporal punishment is well exemplified. For the purposes of in
struction, and also for our own delight, we much prefer the graver
parts of the work—by which we mean, those sketehcs which are not
coloured by fiction, but pretend to be nothing more than what they
are—honest recollections. Of this kind is the account of the Wal-
cheren expedition, which is the best sketch of that ill-fated expedition.
The most amusing part of it relates to the operation of a brigade
of five hundred sailors, who served with the army as a kind of guerrlla
force. Their playing at soldiers is highly laughable and characteristic.
The annoyance from the enemy's rifles was a good deal lessened by the brigade of
sailors. These extraordinary fellows delighted in bunting the " Nuiiaeers," as they
termed the French ; and a more formidable pack never was unkennelled. Armed,
each with an immense long pole or pike, a cutlass, and a pistol, they appeared to be a
sort of force thatj in case of a sortie, or where execution was to be done in the way of
storming, would have been as destructive as a thousand hungry tigers : as it was, they
annoyed the French skirmishers in all directions, by their irregular and extraordinary
attacks. They usually went out in parties, as if they were going to hunt a wild beast,
and so huntsman ever followed the chase with more delight. The French might
fairly exclaim with the frogs in the fable-— " Ah ! Monsieur Bull, what is sport to you,
is death to us."
Regularly every day after their mess (for they messed generally on a green in the
village of East Zuburg) they would start off to their " hunt," as they called it, in
parties headed by a petty officer. Then they would leap the dykes, which their poles
enabled them to do, and clash through those which they could not otherwise cross ;
they were like a set of Newfoundland dogs in the marshes, and when they spied a few
riflemen of the French, they ran at them helter-skelter: then pistol, cutlass, and
pike, went to work in downright earnest. The French soldiers did not at all relish
the tars—and no wonder ; for the very appearance of them was terrific, and
quite out of the usual order of things. Each man seemed a sort of Paul Jones—
tarred, belted, and cutlassed as they were. Had we had occasion to storm Flushing, I
have no doubt that they would have carried the breach themselves. The scenes which
their eccentricities every hour presented, were worthy of the pencil of Hogarth.
Among the most humourous of these, were their drills, musters, and marchingB, or as
they generally called such proceedings, " playing at soldiers." All that their officers
did, had no effect in keeping either silence or regularity ; those officers, however,
were " part and parcel" of the same material as the Jacks themselves, and as able to
go through the pipe-clay regularity of rank and file, as to deliver a sermon on the
immortality of the soul. But the fact is, they were not either expected or intended to
be regular troops, and their drills were merely adopted to teach them to keep toge
ther in line when marching from one place to another; so that they might not go
about the country after the manner of a troop of donkeys. These marches and drills
afforded the highest degree of amusement, both to soldiers and officers ; the dispro
portion in the sizes of the men—the front rank man, perhaps, four feet one, while
the rear rank man was six feet two ; the giving of the word from the " middy,"
always accompanied by a " G — d—n ; " the gibes and jeers of the men themselves.
" Heads up, you beggar of Corpolar there," a little slang-going Jack would cry out
from the rear-rank, well knowing that his size secured him from the observation of
the officer. Then perhaps the man immediately before him, to show his sense of
decorum, would turn round and remark : *' I say, who made you a fugle man, mas
ter Billy'! can't ye behave like a sodger afore the commander, ehl " Then from
another part of the squad, a stentorian roar would arise, with " I'll not stand this,
Jr I do, bl—t me ; here's this here bl—y Murphy stickin' a sword into my starn."
Then perhaps the middy would give tlie word " right jwc," in order to prepare for
 1 10 THE MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK. [May,

marching ; but some turned right and some left, while others turned right round and
were faced by their opposite rank man. This confusion in a few minutes, however,
would be rectified, and the word " march " given : off they went, some whistling a
quick-step, and others imitating the sound of a dpim with his voice, and keeping
time with the whistler, " row dididow, dididow, row dow, dow "—every sort of antic
trick began immediately, particularly treading on each others' heels. I once saw a
fellow suddenly jump out of the line of march, crying out, " 1 be d—d if Riley
hasn't spikes in his toes, an' I won't march afore him any longer," and then coolly
fell in at the rear. " Keep the step," then was bandied about, with a thousand
similar expressions, slapping each other's hats down upon their eyes, elbowing, jost
ling, and joking— away they went to beat the bushes for Frenchmen ; and even
when under the fire of both the hidden riflemen and the rampart guns, their jollity
was unabated. One of these odd fellows was hit in the leg by a rifle ball which
broke the bones, and he fell : it was in a hot pursuit which he and a few others were
engaged in after a couple of the riflemen, who had ventured a little too far from their
position, when, seeing that he could follow no farther, he took off his tarry hat and
flung it with all bis might after them ; " there, you beggars, I wish it was a long
eighteen for your eakes." The poor fellow was carried off by bis comrades, and
taken to the hospital, where he died.
As John Bull carries all his peculiarities into foreign parts, so were
these sailors equally tenacious of their marine usages in military
service. In the cannonading of the town, they would only fire in
broadsides, and such was their zeal in firing, that they at length blew
up themselves.
The sailors' battery, containing six twenty-four pounders, almost split our ears.
These enthusiastic demi-devils fired not as the other batteries did, but like broadsides
from a ship—each discharge was eminently distinguished by its terrific noise, for the
guns were all fired at once, and absolutely shook the earth at every round. So vehe
ment were these seamen in their exertions, that they blew themselves up at last ! This
was done by a little squat fellow, who served the guns with ammunition : he placed a
cartridge against a lighted match in his hurry ; this exploding, communicated with a
large quantity of powder, and the natural catastrophe followed. About twenty of the
brave fellows, among whom was a young midshipman, were severely burnt and
bruised ; out of which number, were I to judge from their appearance as they were
carried past us, I should suppose not more than half a dozen recovered. They were
all jet black, their faces one shapeless mass, and their clothes and hair burnt to a
cinder. In the midst of their suffering the only thing that seemed to ease them, was
swearing at the little sailor, who was the author of their misfortune ; while he, poor
creature, in addition to his wounds and burns, patiently suffered the whole torrent of
his comrades' abuse.
" Geraghty's Kick " is a sketch of another kind, but equally charac
teristic. Geraghty was a powerful Irishman, who once kicked a
bursting shell out of the middle of his own regiment into another.
The bravery of the action led to encouragement, and encouragement
led to insolence, until Geraghty became a privileged drunkard, and'
was at length discharged by the Colonel, to secure his regiment
"from the further consequence of Geraghty's kick." This is the
account of the exploit, and some of its consequences.
At the battle of Talavera, when the hill on the left of the British line had been re
taken from the enemy, after the most obstinate and bloody fighting, the French
continued to throw shells upon it with most destructive precision. One of those
terrible instruments of death fell close to a party of grenadiers belonging to the forty-
fifth regiment, who were standing on the summit of the bill. The fusee was burning
rapidly, and a panic struck upon the minds of the soldiers, for they could not move
away from the shell on account of the compact manner in which the troops stood : it
was nearly consumed—every rapidly succeeding spark from it promised to be the last
—all expected instant death—when Tom Geraghty, a tall raw-boned Irishman, ran
towards the shell, crying out, "By J——, I'll have a kick for it, if it was to be my
last ;" and with a determined push from his foot, sent the load of death whirling off
the height. It fell amongst a close column of men below, while Geraghty, leaning

\t
1827 J THE MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK. 111

over the verge from whence it fell, with the most vehement and good-natured energy,
bawled out " Mind your heads, boys, mind your heads !" Horror! the shell burst—
it was over in a moment. At least twenty men were shattered to pieces by the
explosion !
Geraghty was wholly unconscious of having done any mischief. It was a courageous
impulse of the moment, which operated upon him in the first instance ; and the in
jury to the service was not worse than if the shell had remained where it first fell.
Self-preservation is positively in favour of the act, considering that there was no other
way of escaping from destruction.
Very serious consequences would have still attended the matter, had it not been for
the active exertions of the officers ; for the men of the regiment, among which the shell
was thrown, and who had escaped, were with difficulty prevented from mounting the
hill and executing summary punishment upon the grenadiers, from whom the unwel
come messenger had been so unceremoniously despatched. Thus they would have
increased in an alarming degree the evil consequences of Geraghty's kick.
An unexpected shower of admiration and flattery, like the sudden possession of great
and unexpected wealth, produces evil effects upon a weak head. The perilous kick,
instead of exalting Geraghty's fortunes, as it would have done had he been a prudent
man, produced the very opposite consequences. He was talked of throughout the regi
ment—nay, the whole division, for this intrepid act ; every body, officers and all, com
plimented him upon his coolness and courage ; and the general who commanded his
regiment (Sir John Doyle) gave him the most flattering encouragement. All this was
lost upon Geraghty ; he was one of those crazy fellows whom nothing but the weight
of adversity could bring to any tolerable degree of steadiness ; and instead of profiting
by his reputed bravery, he gave way to the greatest excesses, finding that he was
tolerated in one, he would indulge in another, until it became necessary to check the
exuberance of his folly. He gave way. completely to drunkenness: when under the
effects of liquor, although a most inoffensive being when sober, he would try to " carry
all before Mm," as the phrase goes ; and having succeeded in this so frequently,
amongst the privates and non-commissioned officers of his regiment, the excitement of
the excess began to lose its pungency in his imagination, and he determined to extend
his enjoyments amongst the officers : this very soon led him to most disagreeable
results. It had been ordered that the privates-should not walk upon a certain part of
the parade iu Colchester Barracks. Geraghty, however, thought proper to hick against
it as determinedly as he formerly did against the shell. Charged with strong rum, he
one day strutted across it in a manner becoming a hero of Talavera (as he thought),
and was seen by two of his officers, ensigns, who sent the orderly to desire him to
move off the forbidden ground ; but Geraghty declined obedience, and told the
orderly to " be off to the devil out o' that." The ensigns, on being informed of the
disobedience, proceeded lo the delinquent, and renewed their orders, which were not
only disregarded, but accompanied by a violent assault from Geraghty. The refrac
tory giant seized an ensign in each hand, and having lifted both off the ground, dashed
their heads together. This was seen by some other officers and soldiers of the regi
ment, who all ran instantly to rescue the sufferers from Geraghty's gripe. None
could, however, secure him ; he raged and threatened vengeance on all who came
within the length of his long arms ; nor would he have surrendered had it not been
for a captain in the regiment, under whose eye he pulled many a trigger against the
enemy. This officer approached with a stick, seized him by the collar, and began to
lay on in good style. " Leather away," cried Geraghty, " I'll submit to you, Cap
the
tain,
powdther."
enemy
and will
; but
suffer
byany
J thing
, I'll
; flog
notme,
be ifinsulted
you [Link] You
bratsare
o' aboys
goodwho
sodger,
neveran'smelt
saw

The consequences of this violence of course led to punishment : Geraghty was

flogged for the mutiny ; he received six hundred and fifty lashes, laid heavily on ; yet
he never uttered a groan during the whole of this suffering ; and when taken down,
although bleeding, bruised, and doubtless greatly exhausted, assumed an air of insolent
triumph ; put on bis shirt, and boldly walked off to the hospital. The body of the man
was overcome,—the pallid cheek, the bloodshot eye, the livid lip, the clammy mouth
—all declared it ; but the spirit was wholly untouched by the lash : nothing on earth
could touch it.
The sketch entitled " Punishment," is clever and affecting. The
actual infliction of the flogging is evidently drawn hy one who has
watched the reality with no trifling degree of feeling. This sketch is
worth many pamphlets on the subject.
112 TBS MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK. [May,

With
" Parade,
theseSir!—Parade,
words, grumbled
Sir ! —There's
out by theaunyielding
parade thisleathern
morning,
lungs
Sir !of
" my servant, I

was awakened from an agreeable dream in my barrack-room bed one morning about a
quarter before eight o'clock.
I" proceeded
Parade ! "—I
to dress
reflected
; anda as
moment
I looked
;—"yes,"
out of my
saidwindow
I, " a punishment
I saw that parade."
the morning

was as gloomy and disagreeable as the duty we were about to perform. " Curse the
punishment!—curse the crimes ! "—muttered I to myself.
I was soon shaved, booted, and belted. The parade-call was beaten, and in a
moment 1 was in the barrack-yard.
The non-commissioned officers were marching their squads to the ground : the>
officers, like myself, were turning out : the morning was cold as well as foggy : and
there was a sullen, melancholy expression upon every roan's countenance, indicative of
the relish tbey had for a punishment parade : the fates of the officers, as upon all such
occasions, were particularly serious : the women of the regiment were to he seen in
silent groups at the barrack-windows—in short, every thiog around appealed to the
heart, and made it sick. Two soldiers were to receive three hundred lashes each !■
One of them, a corporal, had till now preserved a good character for many years in
the regiment ; but he had been in the present instance seduced into the commission
of serious offences, by an associate of very bad character. Their crimes, arising
doubtless from habits of intoxication, were, disobedience of orders, insolence to the
sergeant on duty, and the making away with some of their necessaries.
The regiment- formed on the parade, and we marched off in a few minutes to the
riding-house, where the triangle was erected, about which the men formed a square,
with the colonel, the adjutant, the surgeon, and the drummers in the centre.
" Attention ! " roared out the colonel. The word, were it not that it was techni
cally necessary, need not have been used, for the attention of all was most intense ;
and scarcely could the footsteps of the last men, closing in, be fairly said to have broken,
the gloomy silence of the riding-house. The two prisoners were now marched into
the centre of the square, escorted by a corporal and four men.
" Attention ! " was again called, and the adjutant commanded to read the proceed
ings of the court-martial. When he had concluded, the colonel commanded the private
to " strip."
The drummers now approached the triangle, four in numher, and the senior took
up the " cat" in order to free the " tails" from entanglement with each other.
" Strip, sir! " repeated the colonel, having observed that the prisoner seemed
reluctant to obey the first order.
" Colonel," replied he, in a determined tone, " Til volunteer."*
" Yes
You'll
; sooner
volunteer,
than will
I'll you,
be flogged."
sir? "

" I am not sorry for that. Such fellows as you can he of no use to the service except
in Africa. Take him back to the guard-house, and let the necessary papers be mado
out for him immediately."
The latter sentence was addressed to the corporal of the guard who escorted the pri
soners, and accordingly the man who volunteered was marched off, a morose frown
andThe
contemptuous
colonel nowsneer
addressed
strongly
themarked
other prisoner.
on his countenance.

" You are the last man in the regiment I could have expected to find in this situa
tion. I made you a corporal, sir, from a belief that you were a deserving man ; and
you had before you every hope of farther promotion ; but you have committed such a
crime that I must, though unwillingly, permit the sentence of the court which tried
you to take its effect." Then turning to the sergeant-major, he ordered him to cut off
the corporal's stripes from his jacket: this was done, and the prisoner then stripped
without the slightest change in his stern but penitent countenance.
Every one of the regiment felt for the unfortunate corporal's situation? for it was
believed that nothing but intoxication, and the persuasion of the other prisoner whet
had volunteered, could have induced hira to subject himself to the punishment he
was about to receive, by committing such a breach of military law, as that of which
he was convicted. The colonel himself, although apparently rigorous and deter-:
ruined, could not, by all his efforts, hide his regret that a good man should he thus
punished: the affected frown, and the loud voice in command, but ill concealed his

* Men under sentence of court-martial were allowed the option of either suffering
the sentence, or volunteering to serve on the coast of Africa.
 1S27-J THE MILITARY SKKTCH-BOOK. 113

real feelings ;— the struggle between the head and the heart was plainly to be seen ;
and had the head had but the smallest loophole to have escaped, the heart would
have gained a victory. Kut no alternative was left ; the man had been a corporal,
and, therefore, was the holder of a certain degree of trust from his superiors : had
he been a private only, the crime might have been allowed to pass with impunity,
on account of bis former good character ; but, as the case stood, the Colonel could
not possibly pardon him, much as he wished to do so. No officer was more averse to
flogging in any instance, than he was ; and whenever he could avert that punishment,
consistent with his judgment, which at all times was regulated by humanity, he
would gladly do it. Flogging was in his eyes an odious punishment, but he found
that the total abolition of it was impossible ; he therefore held the power over the
men, but never used it when it could be avoided. His regiment was composed of
troublesome spirits ; and courts-martial were frequent : so were sentences to the
punishment of the lash ; but seldom, indeed, were those punishments carried into
execution ; for if the Colonel could find no fair pretext in the previous conduct of
the criminal, to remit his sentence, he would privately request the Captain of his
company to intercede for him when about to be tied up to the triangle : thus placing
the man under a strong moral obligation to the officer under whose more immediate
command he was : and in general, this proved far more salutary than the punish
ment ever could have done.
It is not flogging that should be abolished in the army, but the cruel and capri
cious opinions which move the lash. Humanity and sound judgment are the best
restrictions upon this species of punishment ; aud when they are more frequently
brought into action than they have formerly been, there will be but few dissentient
opinions upon military discipline.
The prisoner was now stripped and ready to be tied, when the Colonel asked him
why he did not volunteer fur Africa, with the other culprit.
" No, Sir," replied the man ; " I've been a long time in the regiment, and I'll
not give it up for three hundred lashes ; not that I care about going to Africa. I
deserve
This sentiment,
my punishment,
utterlyand
in aI'll
subdued
bear it ;but
butmanly
T'll not
manner,
quit the
was
regiment
applauded
yet, by
Colonel."
a smile

of satisfaction from both officers and men; but most of all by the old Colonel, who
took great pains to show the contrary. His eyes, although shaded by a frown,
beamed with pleasure. He bit his nether lip ; he shook his head— but all would not
do ; he could not look displeased, if he had pressed his brows down to the bridge of
his nose ; for he felt flattered that the prisoner thus openly preferred a flogging to
quitting him and his regiment.
The man now presented his hands to be tied up to the top of the triangle, and his
legs below : the cords were passed round them in silence, and all was ready. I saw
the Colonel at this moment beckon to the surgeon, who approached, and both whis
pered a moment.
Three drummers now stood beside the triangle, and the sergeant, who was to give
the word for each lash, at a little distance opposite.
The first drummer began, and taking three steps forward, applied the lash to the
soldier's
Again back—"
he struck—"
one." two."

Again, and again, until twenty-fine were called by the sergeant. Then came the
second drummer, and he performed his twenty-five. Then came the third, who was
a stronger and a more heavy striker than his coadjutors in office : this drumner
brought the blood out upon the right shoulder-blade, which perceiving, he struck
lower on the back; but the surgeon ordered him to strike again upon the bleeding
part : I thought this was cruel ; but I learnt after, from the surgeon himself, that it
gave much less pain to continue the blows as directed, than to strike upon the un
touched skin.
The poor fellow bore without a word his flagellation, holding his head down upon
his breast, both his arms being extended, and tied at the wrists above his head. At
the first ten or twelve blows, he never moved a muscle ; but about the twenty-fifth,
he clenched his teeth and cringed a little from the lash. During the second twenty-
five, the part upon which the cords fell became blue, and appeared thickened, for the
Whole space of the shoulder-blade and centre of the back ; and before the fiftieth
blow was struck, we could hear a smothered groan from the poor sufferer, evidently
caused by his efforts to stifle the natural exclamations of acute pain. The third
striker, as I said, brought the blood ; it oozed from the swollen skin, and moistened
the cords which opened its way from the veins. The Colonel directed a look at the
May, 1827- I
1 14 THE MILITARY SKETCH-BOOK. [May,

drummer, which augured nothing advantageous to his interest : and on the fifth of
his twenty-five, cried out to him, " Halt, Sir ! you know as much about using the cat
as you do of your sticks." Then addressing the Adjutant, he said, " Send that fel
low away to drill : tell the drum-major to give him two hours additional practice with
the sticks every day for a week, in order to bring his hand into—a—proper move
ment."
The drummer slunk away at the order of the Adjutant, and one of the others took
up the cat. The Colonel now looked at the surgeon, and I could perceive a slight
nod pass, in recognition of something previously arranged between them. This was
evidently the case ; for the latter instantly went over to the punished man, and hav
ing asked him a question or two, proceeded formally to the Colonel, and stated some
thing in a low voice : upon which the drummers were ordered to take the man down.
This was accordingly done ; and when about to be removed to the regimental hospital,
the Colonel addressed him thus : " Your punishment, sir, is at an end ; you may
thank the surgeon's opinion for being taken down so soon." (Every oue knew this
was only a pretext.) " I have only to observe to you, that as you have been always,
previous to this fault, a good man, I would recommend you to conduct yourself well
forThe
the poor
future,
fellow
and replied
I promise
thattohe
hold
would
yourdo
promotion
so, and burst
open to
into
youtears,
as before."
which he strove

in vain to hide. .
Wonder not that the hard cheek of a soldier was thus moistened by a tear ; the
heart was within his bosom, and these tears came from it. The lash could not force
one from his burning eyelid ; but the word of kindness—the breath of tender feeling
from his respected Colonel, dissolved the stern soldier to the grateful and contrite
penitent.
We shall close our notice with an extract from the Recollections in
the Peninsula.—Tt is a 'day after the battle,' and shows well the other
side of the tapestry. On the right side, glory, heroism, power, and
genius. On the reverse, wounds, lamentation, and distress ; the bril
liancy of £ie side is the darkness of the other ; power is reversed by
weakness, hope by despair, life by death.
The day after the battle, I, in company with another, rode out to view the ground
where the armies had so recently contended. It was strewed with dead and wounded,
accoutrements and arms ; a great part of the latter broken. At those points where
obstinate fighting took place, the ground was covered with bodies ; a great number of
wounded, both French, English, and Portuguese, lay along the road, groaning and
craving water. The village of Gamarra Mayor was shattered with heavy shot, and
the bridge covered with dead, as well as its arches choked up with bodies and accou
trements. We returned by the main road, to where the centre of the army was
engaged. Here were the French hots, and their broken provisions, half cooked,
lying about; this was a level interspersed with little hillocks and brushwood : we
were then surrounded with dead and wounded ; several cars were employed in col
lecting the latter. A few straggling peasants could be seen at a distance, watching an
opportunity for plunder—there was a dreadful silence over the scene. A poor Irish
woman ran up to one of the surgeons near us, and with tears in her eyes, asked where
was the hospital of the eighty-second regiment—I think it was the eighty-second—
she wrung her hands, and said that the men told her she would find her husband
wounded ; and she had travelled back for the purpose. The surgeon told her that the
only hospital on the field was in a cottage, to which he pointed ; but informed her
that all the wounded would be conveyed to Vittoria. The half-frantic woman
proceeded towards the cottage, over the bodies which lay in her way, and had not gone
more than about fifty yards, when she fell on her face, and uttered the most bitter
cries. We hastened to her—she was embracing the body of a serjeant, a fine tall
fellow who lay on his face. "Oh! it's my husband—it's my husband!" said she;
" and he is dead and cold." One of the men turned the body on his face ; the serjeant
had been shot in the neck, and his ankle was shattered. The lamentations of the
woman were of the most heart-rending kind, but not loud. She continued to sit by her
lifeless husband, gazing on his pale countenance, and moving her head and body to
and fro, iu the most bitter agony of woe :— she talked to the dead in the most affec
tionate language—of her orphans—of her home—and of their former happiness. After
a considerable time, by persuasion, we got her upon one of the cars with the wounded,
au J placed the. body of her husband beside her ; this we did because she expressed a
 182".] FtAGKLLUM PARLIAMENTARIIJM. 115

wish to have it buried by a clergyman. She thanked us more by looks than words,
and the melancholy load proceeded slowly to Yittoria.
In our way back to the town, my companion's attention was attracted by a dead
Portuguese ; lie raised up the body, and asked me to look through it—I did absolutely
look through it. A cannon-ball had passed into the breast and out at the back— and
so rapid must have been its transit, from its forming such a clear aperture—in cir
cumference about twelve inches—that the man must have been close t» the ca:ion's
mouth when he was shot—it spoke volumes for the courage of the troops.
The hospital at Vittoria that evening presented a sad spectacle : not only was part
of it filled with wounded, but the streets all round it—about two thousand men,
including those of the French with those of the Allies. Owing to the rapid, and
perhaps unexpected advance of the army, there were only three surgeons to attend this
vast number of wounded, for the first two days after the battle ; and, from the same
reason, no provisions were to be had for them for a week ! The commissariat had
not provided for the exigency, and the small portion of bread that could be purchased
was sold for three shillings per pound. From these casualties, I often thought since,
that in cases of expected general actions, if one half of both medical and commissariat
staff were under orders to remain on the field until relieved, instead of following their
respective divisions, it would obviate such privations. However, there is every excuse
in this case, considering the unexpected tapidity of the advance. No fault whatever
can be laid to either of the departments in this instance : it was wholly owing to
advancing to such distance beyond Vittoria, as required too long a time to retrace.
In going through the hospital, I saw in one room not less than thirty hussars—of the
10th and 15th, I think—all wounded by lances ; and one of them had nineteen wounds
in his body:—the surgeon had already amputated his left arm. One of the men
described the way in which so many of their brigade became wounded. He said, that
in charging the rear of the enemy as they were retreating, the horses had to leap up a
bank, nearly breast high, to make good the level above. At this moment a body of
Polish lancers, headed by a general, dashed in upon them, the general crying out, in
broken English, " Come on ! I care not for your fine hussar brigade,'* They fought for
a considerable time, and although ultimately the lancers retired and left the ground to
the hussars, yet the latter lost many killed and wounded. " That man," said the
hussar, " who lies there with the loss of his arm and so dreadfully wounded, fought a
dozen lancers, all at him at once, and settled some of them ; at last he fell, and the
lancers were about to kill him, when the general cried out to take him to the rear, for
he was a brave fellow. The skirmish continued, and the general cut that man there
across
I turned
the nose,
and saw
in fighting
a youngsingly
hussar,
withwith
him—but
a gash he
across
killedhis
the nose,
geueral
and
after
he all."
confirmed

what his comrade said. The man who had the nineteen wounds, I have since heard,
recovered : he seemed much to regret the fate of the general who saved his life.
I saw this brave officer's body buried the next day in the principal church of Vittoria.
In passing through another part of the hospital, I perceived a Portuguese female
lying on the ground upon straw, in the midst of numbers of wounded men. 1 inquired
of her, was she wounded. She pointed to her breast, and showed me where the bullet
had passed. I asked her how she received the shot, and was horror-struck when the
dying woman informed me that it was her marido,—her own husband,—who shot her
just as the action was commencing—she said he deliberately put the muzzle of his gun
to her breast and fired ! This may be false ; I hope it is, for the sake of humanity :—.
i{ might be that the woman was plundering the dead ; and perhaps killing the wounded,
when some of the latter shot her. However, be the fact as it may, it was thus she
told her story. She was in great pain, and I should think did not live much longer.

FLAGELLUM PARLIAMENTARIUM*

It is a dangerous thing to print MSS. under the idea that it is done

for the first time. vThe editor of this curious little pamphlet labours
under an approach to this blunder. He certainly was not bound to
know that there is in existence a printed pamphlet attributed to the
* Flagellum Parliamentaiium, being sarcastic Notices of nearly two hundred Mem
bers of the First Parliament after the Restoration A.D. 1661 to AS). 1678. From a
contemporary MS. in the British Museum. London, Nicholls, 1827, 12mo. .i
12
110 FLAGELLUM PARLIAJIENTAR1UM. [May,
celebrated Andrew Marvel, which is more than a counterpart of the Fla-
gellum ; but had he known it, he, in all probability, would have per
mitted his discovery to sleep on in the catacombs of the British
Museum.
The Parliament immediately succeeding the Restoration acquired,
very justly, the name of the Pensioner Parliament : its title to this
epithet is exceedingly well founded. The very journals of the House,
as entered in the subsequent Parliament, have established its claims
to it. Many of the particulars of bribery would naturally become
known, and the undisguised gifts of place and office were, of course,
matters of notoriety. One of the obvious means of opposition in
resisting measures which they disapproved, was to proclaim to the
world the motives under which the court party were probably acting.
With this object, a pamphlet, was printed under this title, " A sea
sonable Argument to persuade all the Grand Juries in England to
petition for a new Parliament; or, a List of the principal Labourers in
the great Design of Popery and Arbitrary Power, who have betrayed
their Country to the Conspirators, and bargained with them to main
tain a Standing Array in England, under the Command of the bigotted
Popish Duke, who, by the Assistance of Lord Lauderdale's Scotch
Army, the Forces in Ireland, and those in France, hopes to bring all
back to Rome," Amsterdam, 1677, 4to. This pamphlet we have not
at the present moment access to, but in Harris's Life of Charles II.
a sufficient number of particulars are given to show that the printed
work embraces the other. Harris speaks of the pamphlet being iu his
time very scarce and curious, and proceeds to make some copious
quotations from it, to which we shall allude, after having given an
account of the Flagellum. In it, as in the Seasonable Argument, the
members are classed in counties, their characters delineated, and their
gains specified. The language used is sufficiently plain, and, after
the manners of the times, somewhat coarse. The expressions " Cully "
for tool, and " Snip" for snack or bribe, are bandied about with much
freedom. The editor speaks of his publication in the following terms, and
ingeniously endeavours to determine the epoch at which it was written.
" In this tract, one hundred and seventy-eight Members of the
Parliament summoned immediately after the Restoration, and which
existed from 1661 to 1678, are named; accompanied by observa
tions, illustrative of their respective characters, or explanatory of
the motives which induced them to become the mere instruments of
the Crown in the exercise of their senatorial duties. These notices
bear undoubted evidence of the sagacity and extensive information
of their author, and are remarkable for their laconic, but cutting
severity. To what degree they may be deemed worthy of credit, it
is impossible to decide, for the imputed crimes are of that secret
and personal nature, as to render [which renders] it unlikely that
proof of their having occurred can now be adduced ; whilst many of
the parties, however mischievous in their day, were far too insignifi
cant to have received [to receive] the attention of historians. The,
manners of the period, however, afford strong grounds for believing
in the total absence of moral worth with which so many of these
individuals are charged ; and it must be confessed that the idea
generally entertained of the most eminent among them is strictly
1827-] FLAGELLUM PARLIAMENTARIUM. 117
consistent with what is said of them in these sheets. Another mate
rial circumstance in support of the veracity of the statements, is the
correctness of the account of the situations held by the different
persons mentioned, while it is certain that the whole of them sat in
Parliament between the years 1661 and 1672. Still, however, it is
not in the slightest degree contended that all which is slated, is to be
implicitly relied upon. Much must undoubtedly be allowed for the
animus with which the portraits were sketched ; but, though they
were probably caricatures, it is to be remembered that caricatures
are often faithful [striking] likenesses.
" It would be as difficult to discover by whom, as upon what occa
sion, this bitter article was drawn up ; but, from the remark respect
ing Sir Charles Sedley, that he had ' promised the King to be ab
sent,' it seems that it was the list of such members as would support
the Court against a motion about to be brought forward inimical to
its wishes. Instead of fatile speculations, these points are left to
the discernment of the reader, who will be much assisted in his in
quiry by the following evidence of the time when it was written.
" From the notice of the motion respecting hearth-money, the bill
for which passed in March, 1662 ; and of the grant of two millions
and a half, which evidently referred to the supplies voted towards the
prosecution of the Dutch war in November, 1664, it is certain that
it must have been composed after those years. Two other facts even
prove that it was compiled between the 23rd of May, 1671, and the
22nd of April, 1672: for on the former day Sir Edward Turner,
\vho4 is said to be ' now made Lord Chief Baron,' was appointed to
that situation ; and on the latter, Sir Thomas Clifford, who clearly
was not a Peer when this writer speaks of him, was created Baron
Clifford of Chudleigh."
In order to give an idea of this ancient " Black Book," we shall
select a considerable number of the more remarkable names, with the
specifications attached to them.
Sir Hum. Winch.—Of the Council of Trade of our Plantations, for
which 500/. per annum, with a promise of being Privy Coun
cillor.
Sir Thomas Higgons.—A poor man's son ; married the Earl of
Bath's sister. Sent to Saxony with the Garter.
Sir Thomas Dolman.—Flattered with belief of being made Secretary
of State.
Sir John Bennett.—Brother to the Lord Arlington ; Postmaster ;
cheated the poor indigent officers ; an Excise and Prize Officer ;
Lieutenant of the Gentlemen Pensioners' Band, for which he has
a fee of 160/. per annum.
Sir Richard Temple.—Under the lash for his State model of Govern
ment, which the King got from him.
Sir William Drake.—Son-in-law to Montague the Queen's Attorney.
Sir Charles Wheeler.—A foot Captain: once flattered with hopes
of being Master of the Bolls, now Governor of Nevis : Privy-
chamber man.
William Lord Arlington.—A Chatham Collector, and a Court cully ;
laughed at by them.
Thomas Cromley.—A Court cully.
113 KLAGELLUM PARLIAMENTARY*!. [May,'
Sir Jonathan Trelawny.—A private forsworne cheat in the Prize
Office, with the profit of which he bought the place of the Comp
troller to the Duke of York ; of the King's Privy-chamber.
Sir John Coryton.—Guilty with Trelawny. Hath a patent for
Lights.
Sir Richard Edgcomb.—Cullyed to marry the Halcyon bulk break
ing Sandwich's daughter.
Sir Charles Harbord.—First a poor Solicitor, now his Majesty's
Surveyor-general, and a Commissioner for the sale of the Fee-
farm Rents.
Bernard Grenville.—Eldest, query, brother to the Earl of Bath;
Silas
John
had Arundell.—Whose
Titus.—Once
3,0001. given him
a rebel,
tofather
fetch
now him
Groom
is the
outof
Excise
ofthe
prison.
Bedchamber.
farmer of Cornwall,

Sirand
William
hath received
Godolphin.—Farmer
very great [Link] the Tin Mines and Governor of

Scilly Island.
John Trelawny.—His
Sydney Godolphin.—AMajesty's
pimping Groom
Carrier;ofnow
the and
Bedchamber.
then has a snip

out of the Tax.

Henry Seymour.—A Groom of the Bedchamber, Comptroller of the
Customs of London, Master of the Hamper Office, besides has got
John
in Boones,
Birch.—An
3,000/.
old Rumper, who formerly bought nails at Bristol,

where they were cheap, and carried them into the West to sell at
Exeter and other places, but marrying a rich widow got into the
House, and is now Commissioner in all Excises, and is one of the
Lord
Council
Hawly.—A
of Trade.
Captain of a troop of Horse ; of the Bedchamber

to his Highness ; Serjeant Buffoon ; Commissioner for the sale

SirTreasurer
ofThomas
the Fee-farm
of
Clifford.—The
theRents.
Household
grandson
; one ofofthe
a poor
LordsDevonshire
Commissioners
Vicarof;

SirtheGilbert
Treasury.
Talbot.—The
Bribe-master-general.
King's Jeweller ; a great cheat at bowls

Sirand
John
cards,
Northcott.
not born toAna shilling.
old Roundhead, now the Lord of Bath's

cully.
Sir Courtney Poole. The first mover for Chimney Money, for which
Peter
he hadPrideaux.—A
the Court thanks,
secret,but
pensioner
no snip. of 200/. per annum, and his

daily food.
Sir John Maynard.—The King's Sergeant, for which and his par
don he paid 10,000/.
Henry Ford.—So much in debt he cannot help his taking his
Bribe, and promise of employment.
Sir John Shaw.—First a vintner's poor boy, afterwards a Cus
tomer that cheated the nation of 100,000/.
Sir Winston Churchill.—A pimp to his own daughter ; one of the
Green Cloth ; and Commissioner for Irish Claims.
Anthony Ashly.—Son to the Lord that looks on both sides and one
wry who is the great Bribe-taker, and has got and cheated
150,000/.
1827-] FLAGELLUM PARMAMENTARIUM. 119
Thomas King.—A poor beggarly fellow who sold his voice to the
Treasurer for 50/. Bribe.
Roger Vaughan.—A pitiful pimping Bed-chamber-man to his High
ness, and Captain of a foot Company.
Sir Edward Turner.—Who for a secret service had lately a Bribe
of 4000/. as in the Exchequer may be seen, and about 2000/. be
fore ; now made Lord Chief Baron.
Viscount Lord Mandeville.—A Bed-chamber pimp: has great
Boones that way.
Major Walden.—Indebted to the King.
Sir Francis Clerke.—A cheating- Commissioner of the Prize Office,
and gave 600/. to be made one.
Thomas Lord Gorge.—A secret Court pensioner for his vote.
Charles Earl of Ancram.—A poor Scot, therefore a K.
Sir William Bucknell.—Once a poor factor to buy malt for the
brewers, now a farmer of the Revenues of England and Ireland,
on the account of the Duchess of Cleveland, who goes snip with'
him, to whom he has given 20,000/.
Sir Robert Carr.—Married first his mother's maid, to whom he gave
1000/. that she should not claim him, because he was married to
Secretary Bennett's sister. He had a list of his debts given in to
the Bribe-master Clifford's hands, who has already paid off 7000/.
of them.
Sir Fretzvill Hollis.—A promise to be Rear Admiral the next fleet,
and 500/. per annum pension, from the Revenue farmers ; lately
3000/. in money.
Sir Philip Warwick.—A poor parson's son ; then a singing boy at
Westminster ; afterwards Secretary to the Treasury, where he got
5000/. ; now Clerk of the Signet.
Sir W. Doyley.—*[Link] cheated the Dutch prisoners in their allow
ance above 7000/. by which some thousands of them were starved ;
Commissioner of the Prizes ; now of foreign and Excise ; one of
the Tellers in the Exchequer.
Sir Allen Apsley.—Treasurer to his Highness ; Master Falconer to
the King ; and has had 40,000/. in other things ; not worth a penny
before.
Joseph Williamson.—Formerly a poor Servitor ; was Secretary to
the Lord Arlington ; Receiver and Writer of the King's private,
letters.
Sir John Marley.—Formerly Governor of Newcastle, which he be
trayed to Cromwell for 1000/. He is now Governor of it again,
and pardoned his former treachery, that his vote might follow the
SirBribe-master-general
George Downing.—Formerly
; and very poor.
Okey's little Chaplain ; a great

- promoter of the Dutch war ; a Teller in the Exchequer ; of the

Council of Trade, and Secretary to the Treasurers. He keeps six
Ed.
Somerset
whores
Warring.—An
in
Fox.—A
pay, andPrivy-chamber
Excise
has yet
Officer
got 40,000/.
and
man,
Collector
and a Court
of thecully.
Hearth-money,

Sir
worth
William
700/.Bassett.—Exceeding
per annum. much in debt, and has engaged to

vote as his father Sevmour would have him.

120, FLAGELLCM FARMAMENTARIUM. [May,
Sir Edmund Windham.—Knight Marshal. His wife nursed the
King ;' he has had some old Boones.
SirGovernor
Robert of
Holmes.—A
the Isle of Wight.
sea Admiral that got 40,000/. at Guinea :

SirIreland.
King
George
and He
Nation
Cartwright.—Has
is Vice-Chamberlain
300,000/. been Treasurer
to the King:
of the
hasNavy
cheated
and the
of

SirSurveyor
spent
Allen
most
Broderick.—Bribe-broker
ofagain.
Ireland. He got 30,000/.
for but
his master
in keeping
the Chancellor
whores has:

Sir
Ordnance,
John Duncombe.—A
now of the Treasury,
Privy-councillor;
and [Link]
May's
Commissioner
brother-in-law.
of the

Sir Ed. Pooley.—Has had 5,000/. given him. A Commissioner in se

veral things ; a pimp once to his own sister, who had a bastard.
Sir Adam Browne.—A Court cully.
Thomas
by the Demahoy.—A
Duke of York, who
poorwas
Scot
at who
his election.
married his Lady, was chosen

Thomas
in Ireland
Morrice.—A
; under pay
broken
of the
stocking-seller
Bribe-master; isClifford,
promisedwho
some
hasestate
ad

vanced him SO/.

Bapt. May.—Keeper of the Privy Purse, and Pimp-general.
Orlando
bribes, Bridgman.—Son
and has engaged her
to son
the shall
Lordvote
Keeper,
with the
whose
Court.
wife takes

Sirnot
Compt.
Thomas
worth
share,
one
Woodcock.
farthing.
has had 10,000/.
— Deputy
worth
Governor
of landofgiven
Windsor
him, formerly
: has a

Charles
play-wench,
the
times.
ground
Lordof
Buckhurst.—Who
and
theinWardrobe
gratitude given
is made
with
him,
one
a and
good
of 6,000/.
thewill
Bed-chamber
parted
at threewith
several
: has
his

Roger
massacre
a Regiment
Earlofofthere.
allOrrery.—Formerly
the Cavaliers
A Privy-councillor
; nowaGovernor
great
in both
rebel
of,kingdoms.
Munster,
that moved
andforhasa

Thomas Thynne.—Cullyed for leave to hunt in New Park.

Sirhe
sea,
then
Stephen
has
at
a cheated
serving
the Fox.—Once
Restoration
man
100,000/.
; and
was
a link
and
permitting
made
is
boyone
; Paymaster
then
ofhis
thewife
a Green
singing
to
of be
the
Cloth.
boy
common.
Guards,
at Salisbury
beyond
where;

SirFaculty
John Birkhenhead.—A
Office, and is one of
poor
theAlehouse
Masters of
keeper's
Request.
son ; now has the

Edward
for
1,500/.
her Seymour.—The
he
at should
cards to
hehim,
a rich
Duchess's
andman
promised
; has
convert,
had
if he
several
who
would
by
sums
vote
agreement
given
for him.
Taxes
lost

SirHas
got
John
by
been
rebellion
Trevor.—Once
Envoy in
1,500/.
France
the
per: great
isannum
nowinstrument
Secretary
out of theof
ofLord
State.
Cromwell,
Derby'sand
estate.
has

Henry Clerk.—Hath had a lick at the Bribe-pot.

Samuel
out
Devon.
ofSandys.—At
the Bribe-pot;
the has
beginning
15,000/.
of the
given
Sessions
in the
had
Excise
a 1,000/.
farmlick
of

Sirgiven
Johnhim
Hanmcr.—A,
to follow hisPrivy-chamber
election. [Link] in debt ; had 500/.
1827 •] [Link] PARLIAMENTARIUM. 121
Sir Thomas Osborne.—Treasurer of the Navy, worth 1,500/. per
annum.
Sir John Talbot.—Captain of the Guards ; an Excise farmer ; Com
missioner of Prizes, and a great cheater therein ; one of the Monitors*
in the Commons House ; and Commissioner of Fee-farm Rents.
Marmaduke Darcy.—Has the King's Chase in Yorkshire, and 1,000/.
per annum for twelve Colts every year ; and of Privy-chamher
besides.
Sir Robert Long.—Comptroller of the Exchequer ; got 50,000/. at
Sirleast
[Link].—High
Queen Mother's
Sheriff
business
of Yorkshire
he managed.
; preserved by the Court

for making two forged Wills. Sent his sous beyond the sea to be
Papists.
Sir Denny Ashburnham.—One of the Bed-chamber ; son-in-law to
Mr. Ashburnham that betrayed the old King, and was turned out of
the House for taking Bribes, and got by the King 80,000/.
Sir Charles Sidley.—Promised the King to be absent.
Sir Herbert Price.—Master of the King's Household ; pays no debts ;
his son in the Guards, his daughter with the Queen.
Roger Whitby.—Knight Harbinger ; means honestly, but dares not
show it.
Harris has not quoted many names, and as we have not the book,
we are unable to add more. Those that he has given will show the
same hand, but with a variety in the phrase, and generally with an
addition to, and sometimes with an omission of detail, which is inex
plicable except under the idea that the " flagellation" is the rough
draught of the list. For instance, he gives ;—
Sir William Drake, Bart.—Under the command of his father-in-law,
the Chief Baron Montague, who enjoys 1500/. during the king's
pleasure. [Here is not only additional detail, but a difference in.
the rank of Montague, which shows that the MS. had been written
some time before it passed through the press.]
William Lord Allington.—In debt very much : a court pensioner,
and in hopes of a white staff. A cully. [Here again is greater co
piousness of particulars, though the stroke " laughed at " by the
persons who make a tool of him is omitted.]
Sir Jonathan Trelawney, Bart.—One that is known to have sworn
himself into 4,000/. at least in his accounts of the Prize Office,
Comptroller to the Duke, and has got in gratuities to the value
of 10,000/., besides what he is promised for being informer.
[This is evidently an amended edition of the manuscript.]
Thomas King, Esq.—A pensioner for 50/. a session, &c, meat and
drink, and now and then a suit of clothes. [The character is
here nearly identical, and manifestly by the same pen^]
Charles, Earl of Ancram.—A poor Scot, 500/. per annum pension.
Sir Joseph Williamson.—Once a poor footboy, then a, servitor, now
principal Secretary of State, and pensioner to the French King.
Sir George Downing.—A poor child bred upon charity : like Judas,
betrayed his master. What then can his country expect.- He
drew and advised the oath of renouncing the King's family. For
his honesty, fidelity, &c, rewarded by His Majesty with 80,000/.
VIZ FLAGELLUM [Link]. [May,
at least, and is a Commissioner of the Customs ; the hand-bell
to call the courtiers to vote at six o'clock at night, an Exchequer
teller.
Sir Edmund Wyndham.—Knight Martial, in boons 5,000/. His
wife was the King's nurse.
Baptist May, Esq.—Privy purse 1,000/. per annum allowance: got
besides, in boons for secret service, 4,000/. This is he that said
500/. per annum to drink ale, eat beef, and to stink with, &c.
Sir Stephen Fox.—First a poor foot-boy, and then a singing-boy,
has got in places, by the court, 150,000/.: Clerk of the Peace.
[In this instance there is a retrenchment of a piquant circumstance
of scandal ; but in most of the prior instances the particulars are
increased, and given with greater minuteness ; in such a manner
as to confirm the idea that the MS. was an original draught, after
wards revised and enlarged.]
Some of the names given by Harris from the printed pamphlet are
characterized in an essentially different manner, which may be
accounted for by the author, in the interval between the date of
one and the other, having procured more authentic information. Such
are the following :—
Sir Robert Holmes.—First an Irish livery-boy, then a highwayman,
now bashaw of the Isle of Wight: got in boons, and by rapine,
100,000/. ; the cursed beginner of the Dutch war.
Edward Seymour.—Had, for four years, 2,000/. pension, to betray
the country party for which he then appeared. But since he hath
shown himself barefaced, and is Treasurer to the Navy, and
Speaker, one of the Commissioners of the Admiralty, and of the
Popish cabal.
In several instances names occur in Harris which are not in the
Flagellum . Our old friend Samuel Pepys, now so well known in all
the minutest details of his private life, is mentioned, and but roughly
handled in the 'List,' but not alluded to in the Flagellum.
Samuel Pepys, Esq.—Once a taylor, then serving-man to the old
Lord Sandwich, now Secretary to the Admiralty : got by passes,
and other illegal ways, 40,000/.
The following are not named in the Flagellum :—
Sir Robert Sawyer.—A lawyer of as ill reputation as his father ;
has had for his attendance this session, 1,000/., and is promised
(as he insinuates) to be Attorney-general and Speaker of the
House of Commons.
Leviston Gower, Esq.—Son-in-law to the Earl of Bath : had a
great estate fell to him by chance : but honesty and wit never came
by accident. [This last stroke is of that fine satirical vein in
which Marvel exulted.]
Sir Lionel Jenkins.—Son of a taylor, Judge of the Admiralty ; was
in hopes to be Archbishop of Canterbury : employed in four embas
sies; and whose indefatigable industry in procuring a peace for
France has been our . He affirmed in the House of Commons
that, upon necessity, |thc King might raise moneys without act of
Parliament, &c.
1827.J FLAGELLUM PARLIAll [Link] U M. 123
The author, in a preface to the pamphlet, " begs pardon," quite in
the style of Marvel, " of the gentlemen here named, if he has, for
want of better information, undervalued the price and merit of their
voices, which he shall be ready, upon their advertisement, to amend :
but more particularly he must beg the excuse of many more gentle
men, no less deserving, whom he hath omitted, not out of any malice,
or for want of good-will, but of timely notice : but in general the
House was, if they please to remember, this last session, by three of
their own members, told that there were several papists, fifty outlaws,
and pensioners without number; so that, upon examination, they may
arrive at a better knowledge amongst themselves, and do one another
more right than we (however well affected) can do without doors."
Many of the traits recorded in this tract were doubtless drawn with
a malicious pen, probably exaggerated, and in some measure distorted.
But there is every reason to believe them substantially true. In the
subsequent Parliament, several of the bribe-masters were had up
before the house, and being roughly handled, made disclosures, which
especially confirm many of the allegations of the Flagellum. Several
of the pensioners would have been punished, had not the king dis
solved the Parliament. Mr. Brook, afterwards Lord Delamere, said
in the next Parliament, " that there was never any pensioners in
Parliament till this pack of blades were got together." " What will
you do ? Shall these men escape—shall they go free with their booty ?
Shall not the nation have vengeance on them, who had almost given
up the government ? In the first place, I do propose that every man
of them shall, on their knees, confess their fault to all the Commons ;
and that to be done one by one. Next, that as far as they are able,
refund all the money they have received for secret service. Our law
will not allow a. thief to keen what he has got by stealth, but, of
course, orders restitution : ana shall these proud robbers of the nation
not restore their ill-gotten goods ? And, lastly, I do propose that
they be voted incapable of serving in Parliament for the future, or
of enjoying any office, civil or military : and order a bill to be brought
in for that purpose : for it is not fit that they who were so false 'and
unjust in that trust, should ever be trusted again. This, sir, is my
opinion : but if the house shall incline to any other way, I will readily
comply, provided a sufficient mark of infamy be set on them, that the
people may know who bought and sold them."*
Bolingbroke has defended this Parliament, with some appearance
of justice. He shows, that though a large part of it were corrupt
enough to be bribed, the remainder had virtue enough successfully to
resist the measures attempted to be put upon them. All that cor
ruption could do, he asserts, was to maintain a court party. This
Parliament voted down the standing army, a merit of a high order,
and projected the exclusion of the Duke of York : they contrived a test,
in 1675, to purge their members, on oath, from all suspicion of corrupt
influence—a measure, which, though perhaps foolish, looked honest—
and they moreover drove one of their paymasters out of the court,
and impeached the other in the fullness of his power. There is
undoubtedly truth in this ; and it is not right to confound the innocent

* Delameres Works, p. 119.

124 ROYAL INSTITUTION OF GREAT BRITAIN. [May,
with the guilty—the patriot and the pensioner. On the whole, however,
we believe there is more justice in Algernon Sidney's forcible de
scription of this set of men, with which we shall conclude this
notice :—
" We are beholden," says he, " to Hyde, Clifford, and Danby, for
all that has been done of that kind (corruption by bribery). They
found a Parliament full of lewd young men, chosen by a furious
people, in spite to the puritans, whose severity had disturbed them.
The weakest of all ministers had wit enough to understand, that such
as them might be easily deluded, corrupted, or bribed. Some were fond
of their seats, and delighted to domineer over their neighbours, by con
tinuing in them. Others preferred the cajoleries of the court, before-
the honour of performing their duty to the country that employed
these. Some thought to relieve their ruined fortunes, and were most
forward to give a vast revenue, that from them they might receive
pensions. Others were glad of a temporary protection against their
creditors. Many knew not what they did when they annulled the
triennial act : voted the militia to be in the king : gave him the excise,
customs, and chimney-money : made the act for corporations, by which
the greatest part of the nation was brought under the power of the
worst men in it: drunk or sober, passed the five-mile-act, and that for
the uniformity of the Church."*

PROCEEDINGS OF THE ROYAL INSTITUTION OF GREAT BRITAIN.

Feb. 2Zd. Dr. Harwood read a paper from the lecture table, on
the structure of seals, and its peculiar and beautiful adaptation to
their modes of life and general economy. This communication was
illustrated by many prepared specimens of these animals, from the
museum of the Royal Institution, and from the valuable collection
of Joseph Brooks, Esq.: there were also exhibited many curious
specimens of the skins of these animals, having undergone many
processes of art for their application to domestic purposes.
The contents of a Tumulus found near the falls of the Niagara,
Upper Canada, and of another on the back settlements of Ohio, with
several Egyptian antiquities, presented by General Tolly, and new
literature, were placed upon the library table.
March 2d. A paper written by a member of the Institution, on the
principles of the structure of language, was read from the lecture
table, by Mr. Singer, the librarian.
Several specimens of natural history, with presents of books, were
laid upon the library tables.
March 9th. Mr. Holdsworth made some introductory observations:
on the structure of shipping. In the library was exhibited a specimen
of gas made from resin, by Mr. Daniell's new process ; several new
works of art, presents, -and some ancient and scarce books.
* Discourses on Government, p. 456. Edit. 1763. 4to.—See Harriss's Laws, vol. v.
p. 294.
1827] MAGAZINIANA. 125

March XQth. A brief but general account of the principles con

cerned in the construction of suspension bridges, and their application,
was given by Mr. Ainger, and illustrated by models, apparatus, and
drawings.
Specimens of natural history, and of expensive and rare literary
works, were laid upon the library tables.
March 23rf. A discourse on the property of beauty contained in the
oval, was delivered by Mr. R. R. Reinagle, R.A., and illustrated by
numerous drawings and engravings. Specimens of porphyry quarried
and worked in Sweden ; of metallic plates pierced with small holes of
regular dimensions, and placed at accurately equal distances ; of a
peculiar deposit of crystals, found in oil of turpentine ; and of new.
books, were laid upon the library tables.
March SQth. This evening Professor Pattison gave a general view
of the circulation of the blood in the human being. A large meteoric
stone, which had fallen in the night of August 7th, near the village
of Kadonah, in the district of Agra, was laid upon the library table.
The stone weighed above 14 lbs. Avery simple and accurate balance,
and easy of construction, was also upon the table ; it was the con
trivance of Mr. Ritchie. Some specimens of the Pumniean prepared
by order of government, for Captain Parry's voyage, were also placed
for the inspection of the members.
April 6th. Mr. Webster gave some experimental observations on
the impulse of wind on sails. Several presents to the Museum of
Natural History were placed upon the table, with specimens of paper
made from various substances; books presented to the library, and
various new publications.
The meetings were then adjourned, over two Fridays, to April
the 27th.

MAGAZINIANA.

Idiot Bee-Eater.—The boy was a resident in Selborne, about the year 1750. He
took great notice of bees from his childhood, and at length used to eat them. In
summer his few faculties were devoted to the pursuit of them, through fields and
gardens. During winter, his father's chimney corner was his favourite hauut, where
he dozed away his time, in an almost torpid state. Practice made him so expert,
that he could seize honey-bees, humble-bees, or wasps, with his naked hands, disarm
them of their stings, and suck their honey bags, with perfect impunity. Sometimes
he would store the bees in bottles, and even in his shirt bosom. He was the terror
of the surrounding bee-keepers, whose gardens he would enter by stealth, and rapping
on the outsides of their hives, catch the bees as they came out to see what was the
matter. If in this way he could not obtain a sufficient number to supply his wants,
so passionately fond was he of honey, that he would sometimes overturn the hives to
get at it. He was accustomed to hover about the tubs of the mead makers, to beg a
cfraught of bee-wine, as he called it. As he ran about the fields he made a humming
npise with his lips, resembling that of bees. The lad was lean in his person, and of
a^ cadaverous unhealthy aspect : he died before he reached the age of maturity^—
White's Natural History of Selborne.
126 maoaziniana. [May,
African Bushman's Power of supporting Hunger.—Of their astonishing
powers of sustaining huuger, Captain Stockenstrom mentioned a remarkable instance
to me. He had once found a Bushman in the wilderness, who bad subsisted fourteen
days without any other sustenance than water and salt. The poor creature Beemed
almost exhausted, and wasted to skin and bone ; and it was feared, that if allowed to
eat freely, he might injure himself. However, it was at length agTeed to let him have
his own way, and before many hours had elapsed, he had nearly eat up half the carcase
of a sheep. Next day the fellow appeared in excellent plight, and as rotund as an
alderman. These people appear, indeed, to have acquired, from habit, powers of
stomach similar to the beasts of prey, both in voracity and in supporting hunger.—
Thompson's Travels and Adventures in Southern Africa.

[Link] Reasoning.—I shall adduce another instance in support of my position

that insects are endowed with reason, and that they mutually communicate and receive
information. " A German artist of strict veracity, states, that in his journey through
Italy, he was an eye witness to the following occurrence. He observed a species of
scarabaeus busily engaged, in making for the reception of its egg, a pellet of dung,
which when finished, the insect rolled to the summit of a hillock, and repeatedly
suffered it to tumble down the slope, apparently for the purpose of consolidating the
pellet by the adhesion of earth to it in its rotating motion. During this process, the pellet
unluckily fell into a hole, out of which the beetle was unable to extricate it. After
several ineffectual attempts, the insect went to an adjoining heap of dung, and soon
returned with three companions. All four applied their united strength to the pellet,
and at length succeeded in pushing it out, when the three assistant beetles left the
spot, and returned to their own quarters."—Bevan's Honey-bee.

Pilotage of Enthusiasm.— [There is some wisdom in the following paragraph,

which it would be well if those who are so fond of giving advice would attend to.]—
I listened to these schemes, and took care not to speak my ideas thereon, which would
have only lost me a friend, without going farther to cure his delirium, than a little
momentary mortification. When consulted in these points by enthusiastic and sanguine
youth, as a pilot taken on board by a ship in full sail, I never presume to call in
question the prudence of making for a single port, I merely confine my influence to
rendering the voyage as little hazardous as may be, to pointing out the rocks and
currents likely to beset the giddy navigator. To endeavour to turn the ship about in
such a case, merely incurs the risk of being sent over-board, and having a more
obsequious and interested pilot taken in one's place,— Historiettes, or Tales of Con
tinental Life.
Scenery in South Africa. —The whole country appeared so beautiful, as to
render it almost impossible to give an adequate idea of its varied charms ; the road
smoother than any gravelled walk, being of a strong sandy texture ; veins of stone are
occasionally found across the road. Clumps of shrubs, with various shades of green,
some blooming, others seeding, geraniums with various creepers ascending the stems,
then falling gracefully down the branches, the beautiful plumage of the birds dazzling
in the sun's rays, a bush buck darting now and then from one shrubbery to another,
altogether form the most enchanting scenery imagination can depict.
Our tents were pitched in a superb amphitheatre, encompassed with lofty hills,
covered with trees full of the most luxuriant foliage, spreading a gloom over surround
ing objects, and heightening the whole effect. The Hottentots had prepared our repast,
and when it was ended, all the party retired to rest, for the evening was far advanced
when we arrived.
The balmy fragrance of the air, the mild beams of the moon, and the romantic
solitude of the spot, induced me to wander for a time, and contemplate the wildness of
the scene. The stillness of the night was occasionally broken by the cries of wild
animals. The hyena and jackall were familiar sounds, but the hippopotamus and
bush buck strange and unusual. The noble teams of oxen were fastened to the
waggons ; the numerous Hottentots lay asleep around the blazing fires ; one stood
alternately on the watch, from time to time replenishing the flame : and as the moon
shone upon the tents, I could have pictured to myself such scenes as Homer drew, for
it was in such a state that Rhesus and his host were found and destroyed before the
gates of Troy. Absorbed in these reflections, I fell unconsciously asleep, and did not
awake till the sun had appeared in all his glory. — Scenes and Occurrences in
Caffer Land.
1827.] MAGAZINIANA. 127

Elephant Hunting.— All the party went into the bush, the Hottentots first with
their large guns, then their wives, and the gentlemen following. The first Hottentot
frequently spoke to his companions in a low voice, and was heard to say, " look,
look ;" on enquiring the cause, he pointed out to them the fresh track of an elephant.
The bush became thicker, and the sun had no power to shine through the thick foli
age ; they passed the spot which the Hottentot marked out as the place where he had
wounded the first elephant, and soon afterwards they saw the dead buffalo. The party
went on resolving to see the dead elephant, and winding along through the bush till
they came to a sand hill ; the Hottentots pointed out one of the carcases at some dis
tance, lying on another sand hill, but on looking at it for a second, it appeared to move,
and the Hottentot discovered, that it was a young calf by the side of the cow. The
whole party immediately went on, and when within musket shot, they found that they
were two calves lying by their dead mother ; a piteous and interesting sight . The
young ones rose, and some dogs that the Hottentots had incautiously taken into the
bush, barked violently. At this moment the bushes moved, and the stupendous
father stalked in ; he looked around him quietly, and even sorrowfully, and after view
ing the party for a second, he walked on, and was soon hid behind some trees. The
situation they had placed themselves in, had now become extremely critical ; the bush
was continuous for miles in extent, and where to fly in case of an attack was very diffi
cult to determine. They were all warned not to run against the wind ; and the direc
tion of the house was pointed out, as well as circumstances would allow ; but while
they were debating the matter, the dogs ran in among the young elephants ; they set
uj> a deafening yell