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LIBRARY
OF THE
PHILADELPHIA
MUSEUM
OF ART
m L'Ji JJ, «■ J^ -JlJIIMJll.MiMlljlAJUi.ji
TIIC
3S.epo2^itorp
OF
ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,
Manufacluras^ ^'C.
THE SECOiND SERIES.
Vol. II.
July 1, 1810.
N^ VII.
ExMliELLLSIIMENTS.
1. A Gothic Conserv\toky . . . . .
2. The New Custom-House, London
3. Ladies' Opeka Dkess . . . . .
4. MoKMNG Dkess . . . . .
5. Saloon Duapirie^ ......
(i. Pattern fori Needle-Wouk.
COyiTKK TS.
PAGE 1
29 52
lb.
58
FINE ARTS.
Architerfnral Hints — iiesi'i'iptioi) of a (jolliic ('oiis-f. valoi y
Arcliiti ctiniil Kevuv. — Tlie Nc« Billi lein Hospital
Exliib.tiuii uf !M(>iiiiiiiciitul Modei.i at ibc British Institution
Clirouo'o.; leal Survey of the most en>in('iit All, sis lo ihc* Co i.iiioiK-cnietil oi (he .*«ixtei-iii}i ( (.-iitury
'i\V\L IJOMLSTIC COMMON- PLACi>liOOK.
Domestic I'locesses tor djiinir V, ooll« n, Silk, Cotl.in, am! otlur StufT-, ;i per- manent Vi-llow, Rid, Criiiisim, Blue, Blown, I}i:H, N;iiiki.eii, untl Fh\ui Co- lour
Easy iMelliod of cxainininy the Niituie of .Marls, So as to a^<eit;iiii theil agi.cnl- tiirai VaiiH.'
Pieservation of Water
Method of as( erlamiii", hy Chemical IMeans, wlif-ther a I. line or Limestone be fit or unfit for tlie Hnrjioses of Agri- culture
New Method of "itaining Wood a perinri- nent Black Colour
BIOURAIMIICAL SK ITCHES AM) ANECDirn-S
Anecdotes of the Ahbt de lialiviere . . Anecdotes of the Marquis Carraccioii
MISCLLLAMES.
Extr;iordin:iry Petition of Viscount D'En- trecasteaux
Familiarity of the SwalluM'
Historv of Susan Strive well
The Unknown Benefactor
Utsniptioii of the New Custom- House
The Fern lie Tattler —No VII . . .
Some Pai licnlais illustrative of the Cha- r^ictir of Prince Leojiold of Saxe-Co-
MUSICAL REVIEW. Cramer's celebrated Air "Love has Eyes"
»9
i20
22 I ib I 27
31
Mazzivghis Istrian Air
'i he Harmonic .M iscellany
Kl. sl s Com iship Daiit'cof the Russian
FeasRiiis
.'^ir.loHN SrEVEN>o\*s Vuli-ntiucS Day L.>Ii)l \'s " Ah I «hy did 1 gallic r tins de-
licaie Flower" .... . . .
Kl A M.MARK'S " Fare thee well" . . . \ViiiTAKi:i:'s " Fare iliee well" . . .
.^^ola's '* Fare thee well"
CIjMViIns' " In talr.i, in soolhio;^ Plea-
suie"
Addisox's" Deare<;t Rllen" . . . . KlAinALi LT's Voluiitiuy lor the Oiif III . Bf.ai.i's What l.o' What ho 1 . ." . . Kli'i^f.'s The Lay of the \\aiiderer . Ho>» ell's Practical Inslruclions (or the
P. alio- Forte
.Auxiliary Lessons ....
l5uTT(>>l Li v"s Diciioiiaiv of Vlu'^ic . . Villi. 1 's The Tank, or Uubsiaii D;i..ce .\lii!>ical intelligence
AGE
.38 ib.
ib. lb.
39 lb. iU. ib.
40
ib. lb. ib. 4t
ib. 43
it>. ib.
46
50
Exhibition of the Britisli Institution
THE SELECTOR.
Manners of the Modern Greeks Hunting the GiruH'e
FASHIONS.
Ladies' Opera Dress jj
— — Mornins Dr; ss ib.
General Observatious on Fashions and
Lress r,3
Frenih Female Fashioiss 5-,
F&shionable Furniture. --Saloon Draperies 5s
INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY
AND SCIENTIFIC .... ib.
POETRY.
Love, translated from the Sjianish . . 60
Hymn to \'euus 6I
Love ib.
Lines inscribed to Mot her ^Lary Helen npon
her Half Jubilee 6^
Apostrophe to tbe Primrose .... 16.
L Harrison, Printer, 3/3, Strand.
^-- TO OUll READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. --
Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, are leqvested to transmit announceinenls of ivorks which tiiey may have in hand, and we shall cheerjuilj/ tnscit them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense, iSeiv musical pnblicutiorts also, if a copy be addressed to the publisher, shall be duly noticed in our Heview; and extracts front, new books, of a vioderate length and of an interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, will be acceptable. 1 lo vt/.'.-;?. dh.Y
Stella will perceive, thai we have attended to her wishes, -ry 3(ji oi babba risaf*^ We beg leave to refer X. Y. Z. to an article under the head 'of Literary Intelll' gence. In a77swer to his question respecting Moris. Le Thiere, wc have to stute^ ihat this artist is President of the French xVcademy at Rome. ,
The Extracts /ront The Rival Roses and, The A^naJ ls]e&^§hiiil,be ^^iven iftou^: Solomon Sapient's letter and Humaniiy RewarcTeJ sndll have an^eariy pthce.
Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Montli as published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to JNew York, Halifax, Quebec, apd to any part of the West Indies, at i.4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Thornhill, or the ^iencrai Post-Otiice, at 1^0. '21, Sherborne. Lane ; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, ISlalta, or any Part of the Mediterranean, at £4 iJs. j)er Annum, by Mr. Seuje.'VNT, ot the (jeneral Post-Office, at No. 2'i, Sherborne- lane ; and to the Cape of Good Ho|ie, or ai.y part of the i:ast Indies, by Mr. Guy, at tlie East-India House. The money to be paid at iitv tin»e «f subscribing, for either 3, 6, Q, or 1 2 months.
) si i'l ^ngiaab ail: oijibbs sotbI b •^mu:
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THE
B^epogitotj)
OF
ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,
Manufactures^ S^c.
THE SECOND SERIES.
Vol. 11,
July 1, 181(i
^^ VII.
FINE ARTS.
ARCHITECTURAL HINTS.
PLATE \. — A GOTHIC CONSERVATOR Y.
The study of botany lias long been atUled to tlie catalogue of rural amusements, and it has jirovided an embellishment of the most agree- able kind to the garden and also to the mansion ; for instead of being, as originally, in a removed situ- ation, the conservatory is now placed in connection with the house itself, with which it elegantly com- bines, and gives an apartment high- Jy valuable from its beauty and cheerfulness. When the conser- vatory is included in the arrange- ment of the house on the first for- mation of the design, it is capable of afl'ording a large addition to its architectural beauty; and when it is joined to it as an apjiendage, it frequently becomes so, though in a less degree perhaps, unless cir- cumstances are very favourable, as great judgment is required to con- nect it with the building so as to display its proposed lorms without injury to those ol the mansion itself ; from which, indeed, it ought to receive its character, and of which jt should assume to be a part; for, Pol. 11. No. f II.
however agreeable variety may be, incongruity is always fatal to its charms with every well cultivated and tasteful mind. Habit perhaps has lessened the impression wJiich a conservatory makes upon us vvlien formed without reference to the , edilice to which it is attached; for j at first being merely a green-bouse placed against the building, which became gradually increased to architectural pretension in form, the violence that has since been done to fitness by strange mixtures of style, has been too much disre- garded.
The conservatory is distinouish- ed from the green-house by the circumstance of its affording pro- tection only to the plants; whereas the latter is used for rearing them, and it has become an apartment iti which they are arranged for dis- play, merely allowing space for walks or a promenade, and is fre- quently used as a breakfast or morn- ing room. ^V'hen separated from the house, it forms a rural temple, or elegant central building; when B
•2
A GOTHIC CbNSERVATORY.
joined to it, it should combine with the breakfast or mornine^ sitting:- room, to which it is properly ap- pHcable, botli as it rehites to the time of clay in which these vooins are in coiinnon use, and to the cheer- fulness and health which plants afford at those times. It is attached occasionally, but iuiproperly, to tlie dining and drawing-roonis ; he- cause, as is well known, plants ab- sorb in the evening a lar^je portion of that quality of vital air that is essential to human existence, which in the day-time, and particularly in the morning, it assists to supply. Plants, like animals, consume a large portion of oxygen, and if this be denied to them, they wither and die. Preparator}- to some al- terations of a conservatory a short time since, the plants were remov- ed into other apartujents, and it being winter and the weather se- vere, fires of charcoal were made at night, and placed amongst them in braziers. As the proprietor was not aware of the effects of charcoal on atmospheric air, he or- dered the doors to be closed, in- tending that the plants should be- nefit the more by these fires : but as a due proportion of fresh air was not supplied, in the morning they were found to have suffered, as it is possible animals so circumstanced would also have suffered. The most tender were quite dead, some lin- gered a short time and died, and only a few of the strongest survived ; but they have not yet recovered their iormer vigour, alth.ough this is the second spring since the circum- stance took place.
The conservator}- rej)resented in the annexed plate is designed agreeably to the Gothic style, and
is suited therefore to buildings of the same or of a castle character. The ground-plan is divided into three compartments : that attached to the house forms the entrance. l'he,centre would receive the high- est stages for the plants, and it would be covered with a roof of glass. Small aviaries might bemade on each side of the third space, which would complete the avenue formed from the entrance of the apartments of the house. The in- terior framing of the centre pan might be constructed upon the same principle with the open timber roofs of some of our ancient ba- ronial halls and churches, which, springing from slender pillars, would ramify with great elegance, combine with the grouping of the plants, and very properly har- monize with them ; for their forms are so like those of rows of trees uniting their branches, that it has not been unaptly imagined, that avenues of trees gave the first idea not only of the pointed arch, but of the groins and vaultings that since decorated our beautiful Go- thic cathedrals. The close-grain- ed ceilings of the extreme conri- partments would give force and variety to this arrangement, which would have a very novel and orna- mental effect.
The glass of the centre part to the south is intended to be removed at certain seasons of the year, and the whole is surrounded by a low stone terrace, approached by two steps, and terminated by smaW jets (l\ait. This platform would be an agreeable promenade, particularly if plants and flowers were taste- fully arranged in groups, forming its surface into a diversified parterre.
THF, NF.W BKTllLl-M HOSl'ITAL.
Tills building may he executed in stone, brick covered with stucc o, or wood-framing and brick-work mixed, the iVuniiiig being first lath- ed, or the panels being filled up M-iilibrick-uogging, and thesnrf^ce of the timbers covered bv tiles, which, if the brick-work is allowed to project an inch before the lim- ber:3, makes a good foundation for istucco. This composition wny be made of Roman cement, unless where lathing is used, and then it may be covered by any of those stuccoes that arc cliirfly composed of lime and sand, provided the tops of the walls are well protected from wet. In this case the Iloman ce- jTjcnbis not applicable; it needs a fjr,nH?r."' ffround-work than lathinir aflurds to it, and it very soon cracks and l)ecomes disengaged from the tie it at first received by means of the interstices hetu'een the latlis. The Roman cement, when used upon brick-work, forms a durable composition: it is prepared from u stone not uncommon in several parts of the kingdom, but not usu- ally found in quantities sufficient for the consumption of a building. This is calcined and reduced to a fine powder; it is then mixed, in small quantities at a time, with clean sharp sand and water; and it requires some dexterity to work, as it sets, as itis technically termed,
I in a way similar to plaster of Paris. A noti(jn has obtained very gene- ■ rally amongst country working 1 people, whether masons, bricklay- ] ers, or jilasterers, that the Roman i| cemetit may be very properly and jl usefully mixed with liine for stucco, or with mortar for common pur- poses; and lime is frequently add- ed by them to the cement, to make it "go farther;" that is, to make a certain quantity at a less expense than if cement and sand only were used. These practices are fatal to the intention; the cement is de- stroyed by any mixture of lime, and when used with it for a stucco, it will remain on the walls but a very short time.
If compositions or stuccoes arc formed with good stone iime and clean sharp sand in several degrees of granulation, mixed with a small quantity of water, and well beaten together, instead of using a large quantity of water to save this la- bour, a very excellent stucco is produced, of a near resemblance to Portland stone, which is a com- pound of a due proportion of car- bonateof lime, silex, and akin^ine. The stucco should be made as long as convenient before it is nsed, and time will give it considerable hard- ness, provided it is well covered on the top of the walls.
ARCHITECTURAL REVIEW. No. VI.
THE KEW BETin.EM HOSPITAL.
Eovv subjects liave lately arisen ]i those charitable purposes for which so interesting to humanity as that i this hospital was instituted. The now before parliament and the pub- ; same spirit of benevolence that lie, relating to thie execution of |; formed this noble establishment, is
B 2
4
THE NEW UtTIlLEM IIOSriTAL.
now aniiiiatinpj the bosoms of thou- i sands, who, touched with the mi- | sery of so large a portion of their fellow-creatures, wait anxiously to see a well controuled performance of those duties winch are essential to the comfort and recovery of the patient, and so correspondent with the British characitr. This insti- tution commenced in the year 1-247, as a religious order who received and attended to the care and cure of lunatics. In 1545 Henry VIII. be- stowed it on the city of Loudon; and in 1675 the lord mayor and aldermen began the building in Moorfields that has lately been tak- en dovvn. It was said to have been designed after the Tuilleries at Paris, and that Louis XIV. was so incensed that his palace should be- come a model for a lunatic hospital, that he retaliated the supposed dis- grace by an unworthy appropria- tion of the form of our palace of St. James's. The hospital was erected, with a zeal truly adinira- ble, in the sho_rt space of fifteen months, at the expense of seven- teen thousand pounds, at that time a verv large sum ; and in 1734 two wings were added, for the reception of incurables. The centre of the building and the original wings were terminated by turrets or small spires, and, with others, weredoubt- lessly in the recollection of our great orator when he uttered the well known defence of the morals of this metropolis, urging that, however much the foibles and frail- ties of human nature must subject it to the awful justice of an Al- mighty Power, yet the charitable establishments abounding in every quarter of the town, raised their spires to heaven in successful sup-
plication, that the}' might be re- ceived in extenuation for many «*ins, and that they had eventually brought down upon the country at large peculiar blessings of its bounty. '-
At the erection of tliis building the property without the city walls was open and in fields, since which time the increase of London and a spirit for improvement have forrned several considerable streets about it, and also Finsbury-square : the ground therefore becoming of i>rt^at value, the building not aHTording the accommodation required, and needing vast repairs, it was judged expedient to obtain other ground, and to erect a hospital more suited to th.e objects of tiie institution. The present structure is an im- mense pile of building, capalile of affordinij every accommodation for the patients and officers of the es- tablishment, with the advantage of healthful air, and space for exer- cise and recreation, which undoubt- edly the former should be allowed to receive at proper seasons. i3rTn>
The new Bethleni is situated riilar Durham Place, in St. George's Fields, and occupies the site that a feAV years ago was (celebrated as a house of public amusement, hut of profligate reputation, called (he Dog and Duck: and it might be a lesson to the dissolute, were they to reflect in liow short a space of time this spot has changed its character, and from the resort of the thought"- less, appropriated to riot and dis- sipation, it has become the refuge of objects claiming our deepest com- miseration, awfully afflicted witii the most dreadful calamity incident to human nature! This edifice consists of a centre embellished
TFIK N(:\V BKTllLF.M HOSPITAL.
by a portico of the Grecian Ionic order, surmounted by an attic and dome, from wliich the l)nil(liniij ex- tends on each side; and its front elevation is com[)leted by wings, which have corrcspondin<; buihi- ings behind them, and whicli form the sides of the hospital : these in- sulated huildings may l)e repeated to any extent that future occasion may demand. A front court- yard or garden separates the building from the road; this is inclosed by nhaiidsome wall, and, immediately before the l)uiUling, by a lofty iron railing and g:ites, to whicii there are small lodges. The approach is bv a spacious gravel road, and the portico is ascended b}^ steps.
The plan and arrangement of the building reflect great credit on the architect, who is certnitdy well ac- quainted with all the requisites of an institution of this nature. The separation of the sexes and of alt the classes is well provided lor. The building is judiciouslv dispos- ed for ventilation, and the mode of construction is well a(,laptcd to du- rability, and to prevent extensive injury in case of accidents bv fire. A priiicipleforvvarii)ing the apart- ments by steam is applied, but is yet perhaps in its infancy, and ad- mits much improvement, as well as a more extensive application in this building than it has obtained at present. Free and rapid venti- lation, and a generallv diffused warnjth, are so essential to every building where great numbers of persons are accommodated, that too much pains cannot be bestowed upon the means which so well pro- mise to eHect them : but it is to be regretted, that there are not averv considerable number of flttes, in
substitution of chimnev flues, for ventilation, connected with the pa- tients' rooms, as it is well known that no superior means have yet been devised than they afford, if properly disposed, either at the top or bottom of the apartments. On the exterior great care has b(»^{i taken to conceal the shafts of the chimnies, and in general with suc- cess,- but these flues might have existed without injury to the tit^ chitectural de^itrn.
Although this building, hy its magnitude and symmetrv, presents a noble appearance, yet there is evidently a total want of ]-)ropor- tion in the parts, occasioned, it should seem, in a great degi'ee bv a deficiency of material to forni them, that marks a ri^id e>-onotnv in regard to its architectural detail. The entablature of the portico is small, and the cornices of the re- mainder of the building scarcely deserve that itanie, beiiVg of vef^ abridged projections, and in nearlv equal portions of brick and stone; and the string courses and window dressings are too narrow and poor to assimilate with a portico of such magnitude and so great pretci>sion to architectural respectability. To a great sacrifice of architectural embellishment for the better ob- jects of the institution all would readily submit, if there existed a necessity for such a curtailment^ arising from too liinited mcari<-; but as this is not expressed, the dcficiencv is mnrfi to be ri>gretted^ particularly as an cxct llent oppor- tunity has been lost of making this otherwise noble building a fineeX'* ample of British architecture. ^ ^
Amongst the features of nfebi- tecturc perhaps there are none Sd
6
EXHIBITION OF MONUMENTAL MODELS.
expressl}' beautiful and simple, af- fording at the same time so great a variety of incident, as tlie por- tico; but a great portion of its charm is lost whenever it is placed on the north front of a building, as in this case it is, and also at the India House, the Surgeons' Hall, and several other of our public build- ings: in this situation it gives a ymfii
weight and gloom to the effect, ra- ther than that brilliant and cheer- ful character uiiicb it inspire;s whenever placed at a southern, an eastern, or western aspect. The iron railing in thefrontis handsome, but the gates are injured by the sort of Catherine-wheel device with which the chief panels are orna- mented.
EXHIBITION OF MONUMENTAL MODELS AT Tfl^,,., BRITISH INSTITUTION. . „',^',„^
that spirit and heroism whieh anii- mated the breasts of our soldier* ; some g-enius that could strike, off at
For the purpose of carrying into effect the several votes of parlia- ment, directing the erection of
public monuments to commemo- li one heat in the forge of fancy a rate the services of those illustrious heroes who fell in battle during the late war, an order w-as lately issued by government, in obedience of which one hundred and four sketches were transmitted to the British Institution last month, for the consideration of the coauiiittee ap- pointed to make a selection.
The principal works were for Generals PicTON, PoNSONBY, Hay, Gillespie, Skerritt, Goue, PACKENHAMjandGiBBS; and among the contributors were several of our mosteminent sculp tors, viz. Messrs. Chantrey, Westmacott, Bacon, Bossi, Bailey, &c. &c. Some of those artists furnished sketches for all the monuments, others only produced three or ibur, but none limited their contributions to a smaller number than two.
The splendour of the achieve- ments of those renowned warriors had excited a strong expectation throughout the country, that some bold and original minds would start forth among our sculptors, capable of infusins: into the marble some of
glowing portraiture of great j)er»- sonal exploit, or of general vic- tory. High hopes are, however, commonly succeeded l)y the an- guish of bitter disappointment. Of tile numerous designs exhibited, there are few calculated to excite admiration. Fame, as usual, writlies her shape, with her wreath and trumpet, through more than fifty designs; Hercules brandishes his club in vain through fifty more; Britannia sat the miildle occupant of a pedestal through a score or two ; there were also naked gene- rals and armed cuirassiers without number, and allegories of doubtful meaning. Amid this general va- riety, it was pleasing to dwell upon some designs that were eminently beautiful. The Design for General P/'<:lafj''s
Monument , hy Mr. Chantrey, would have been a glorious record of tliat hero, had it so pleased the committee. The gallant and la- mented general w;s represented falling victorious ami<^ a carnatjeof guards and cuirassiers ; lie had
EXHIBITION OF MONUMENTAL MODELS.
niade his last desperate and suc- cessful effort, and was sinking with a glowing consciousness of victory that informed his whole frame. His personification reminded us of the death of the poet's hero :
" With dying liaiul above his hca<l, He waved the fruijnK'iit of his blade, Aud shoulid — victory."
Thesaine artist hail other designs of equal hcautv. The statue for General Ilav, with its representa- tion in has-rclief of the battle of Bayonne, where the general closed his career, was conceived in a mas- terly manner. The monument lor the gallant Ponsonhy was of no ordinar}- beauty. Victory was re- presented elevating a troi)hy to the admiration of mankind, torn from the hrow of Fame, who lay pros- trate beneath her feet by the va- lour of Ponsonhy.
His sketch for the monument of General Gillespie was a figure of the general, with a bas-relief of the battle at Kalunga (in India), wiiere he fell. This was a good compo- sition.
.Sketch of a Monutucd for Goteral f'jj'i Fictoii,hy Mr. Gahagan.
This was a spirited production. Genius and Valour were represent- ed rewarded by Victory. Genius and Valour were companions in arms, and Victory appeared pre- senting them with a wreath. We imagine that this is, in some de- gree, mistaken allegory ; for the owly rfewtinl which Victory could allcgorioally bestow was herself, But her wreath.
Skehk J<fr the Mo:>h-ntcnt of General "t ' Pon.sPfthf, by j\]r. Thced. ''I'oThis sketcifi is thus described by fche artisf.i— '^This distinguished feifieer'is Baid to liave owed his
death partly to the weakness of his horse, which fell in battle while he was checking the too great ardour of his men. The con)position re- presents him receiving a wreath from the hand of Victory in the moment of death : he was fouad on the field stripped." ^iuoW
Mr. Tl.eed, in aiming to give his monument historical [)recision, should liave taken care not to hav*e trail sposetl events, by giving his hero the laurel of Victory after the eniiny had stripped and insulted his body. This is like the mad author, who, in his arrnngement for a history of the world, placed the deluge before the creation. The figures are, liowever, so well composed, that we shall not quarrel with the artist ibr his transposition. Sketch of' II MuiKiiiu'iit for Generals
Packenham and Gibb-^, by the
same artist.
This sketch was finclv imagined. Gibbs had already fallen; and bis brother general, in the act of seiz- ing the British colours, was rushing over his body, leading his men on- wards to the attack, and inspiriting them bv h.is heroic example.
Among- the other desigtis was one for Generals Packenham and Gibbs by Mr. W'estmacott, representing two generals placed on a pedestal, one of them in a cuirass : and an- other by Mr. Hopper for General Hay's monument; it was a statue, will) a few allegorical accompani- ments.
The committee, at first sight, ex- cluded nearly half of ilie sketches sent to the Institution. 'I hey made this exclusion in so unceremonious a manner, that many, who did not doubt their taste, inveighed against their precipitation ; and others,
8
CHRONOLOGICAL SURVEY Oh THE MOST I.MINLNT ARCHITECTS.
wlio thought their judgment ques- tionable, pretended to find abun- dant justification for this opinion, Theed's sketch ibr Ponsonby's mo- nument was in the first exclusion, and his other for Packenham re- tained; but, in the instability of human taste, the former was order- t?d back to receive the honour of being selected for the future mo- nument, and the latter was, in the end, overlooked. The selections made by the committee were high- ly flattering to the rising sculptural talent of the country. Mr. Gaha- gan received the order for the mo- nument of Picton, price three t/iou- sand (jruitiens ; Mr. Theed for that of Ponsonby at the same price; Mr. Westmacoit for that of Packenliam and Gil)bs, price tico thousand gui- neas; Mr. ToUemache for Skerritt and Gore's, price tzco thousand gui- neas; Mr. Chantrey for General Gillespie's, price fifteen hundred guineas; and Mr. Hopper for Ge- neral Hay's at the same price.
Besides these monuments, Mr. Matthew Wyatt has executed a splendid model for the grand naval and military monument, which parliament has voted to both ser-
vices generally for their splendid achievements. We are afraid the expense of the work, according to Mr. VV yatt's plan, will bean effec- tual bar to its execution. It would cost considerably more tlian a mil- lion of money, and is intended to form the centre of a square, to be built for thepurjiose, at, of course, an enormous additional expense. The shape is that of a stupettdous pyramid, nearly four hundred feet in height, and of breadth, &c. in proportion. It will present exter- nally twenty-two galleries, which are to be adorned with bas-reliefs, statues, &c. of the most celebrated naval and military events, and most distinguished ofiicers, during the war: the reliefs will be in bronze. 7 lie interif)r will be in the shape of a cone, and calculated for great apartments, suited to the business of the state, for the reception of works of art, &c. &.c. Not the least interesting part of this magnificent undertaking is, we understand, a proposal to government, on the part of the artist, that he will em- ploy 15,000 of the discharged sol- diers and seamen in the erection of the work.
CHRONOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THE MOST EMINENT ARTISTS TO THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
(Continued fro7n vol. I. p. 237.J
The preceding portions of this survey have given the names, na- tive country, epochs, works, and
merits of the principal persons who distinguished themselves in the various departments of the fine arts, who, by their genius, as well as by their works, contributed to polish their rude contemporaries, aijd ennobled their sentiments by
operating upon their religious and moral feelings. We have there reviewed the ancient world of art, and a new one now opens upon us. The magnificent friezes of the tem- ples of Diana of Ephesus, Apollo at Delphi, Pallas Athene, and Jupi- ter Olympius, strewed the floors of those ruined edifices. The storms of time overthrew the Poric co-.-
CHRONOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THR MOST EMINENT ARCHITECTS.
9
Itimns on wliicli they seemed to rest ; and around them lay, in wild confusion, the proud capitals that had witnessed the sacrificial pro- Cessions of antiquity. On their site^ ranges ofdouble columns, sup- ported upon innumerable arches, now rose to a much greater height. In the cathedrals of St. Denis, Rheims, Strasburg, and Vienna, from the altars of St. Sophia at Constantinople, Pavia, Milan, Flo- rence, Orvieto, and St. Peter's at Kome, ascended prayer and praise, which seek to approach nearer to tjife gods than the smoke of sacrifice, as they are designed not mere- ly to propitiate, but also to move them. The temples of the ancient world, 'in which the gods were but symbolically seen and worshipped, are transformed in the modern into actual habitations of the Most High, where he is hin)self person- ally present at the sacrament of the host; and the habitation of the Almighty includes also all the saints of heaven without excep- tion, as prayer may here be offered to them all. These are the main ideas which have governed the style of modern ecclesiastical ar- chitecture.
The gods were buried, together With their statues, among the ruins of the altars and temples of the an- cient world. Sprung from chaos, before the formation of things, ac- cording^ to the cosmogonies of the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, they were finally swallowed up in the eVcrlasting night of Erebus. With the fall of the statue of Ju- piter Olynipius the belief in him V^as for ever annihilated ; for the ^Velit God of Christendom is the Uncreated, eternal, omnipresent f'ol. II. No. VII.
being, whom fate or chance can- not artect. Thus, as our churches retained nothing of the temple architecture of antiquity but the column alone, so the delineations of the Supreme Being by Christian art, borrowed notiiing but the ex- pression of sublime moral energy from the Jupiter of whom Phidias had given to the Greeks so admi- rable a representation. The youth- ful sculpture of Christianity, guid- ed by this main idea, was, there- fore, more studious to exhibit mo- ral than merely sensual miracles, as may be seen in its earliest pe- riod by the works uiion the sarco- phagi of the martyrs. The su- preme God is here metamorphosed into a moral teacher, and displays in his miracles not a corporeal, but a moral power.
With the destruction of the works of Polygnotns, Zeuxis, af)d Apelles, the art of painting, in w^hrch the Gf^^eks sci prfefeminently excelled, was, in like manner, to- tally lost. If gravity and dignity be the chief characteristics of the style of all sculpture, grace, ele- gance, and loveliness are the prin- cipal qualities of painting, which it is capable of expressing, as well as gravity and dignity. But that Grecian charis, that rare and ten- der flower of the youthful imagi- nation, in the period of its highest perfection, appeared in the paint- ings of the Greeks, not merely in the Ceramici, the Poecilia, the Leschi, and in palaces, but also more particularly in their temples and sacelli: hence it was enabled I to adorn the temples with repre- \ sentations of the kindly deities of pleasure, an Eros, a Venus, and a Bacchus, which must be for ever C
10
CHRONOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THE MOST EMINENT ARCHITECTS.
banished from the temple of the Christian aDra. The dances, the groups of Graces, Cupids, Satyrs, Fauns, were here in their right place; and thus the very religion of the ancients afforded the essen- tial motive for the more pleasing productions of the plastic art, which the religion of the Christian a^ra uiust decidedly condemn. For this reason, nothing but the cor- rectness of forms, together with their beauty and the external charm of colours, could be trans- ferred to the painting of Christian art, which sought to express more profound feelings; and, by the manner in which it represented these feelings, it has exhibited a view of the inward man, which most strongly distinguishes the Christian £era from the periods that preceded it in the great history of mankind and of nations.
ARCHITECTS ; PERIODS IN WHICH THEY FLOURISHED; PRINCIPAL WORKS AND MERITS. Metuodorus, of Persia, A. D. 320 Many buildings ia India, whilher he travelled : some at Constantinople. He is the first known Christian archi- tect.. Ai.iPius, of Antioch, 350. By command- of Julian the Apostate, he laid the foundation of a new temple at Jeru- salem, but the work was interrupted by flames of fire which issued from the earth. CiRiADEs, of Rome, 400. A church
and a bridge. Sennamar, of Arabia, 450. Sedir and Khaovainack, two celebrated palaces in Arabia. Aloisius, of Padua, 490. He assisted in the erection of the celebrated ro- tunda at Ravenna, the cupola of which is said to have been of one stone, 38 feel in diameter and 15 feet thick.
He also displayed his talents in the reparation of many ancient edifices under the direction of Cassiodorus.
St. Germain, of Paris, 500. The plan of the church of St. Germain, previ- ously dedicated to St. Vincent, at Paris. A convent at Mans. He was bishop of Paris.
St. Avitus, of Clermont, 500. The church of Madonne da Port. He was bishop of Clermont.
St. Agricola, of Chalons, 500. Ca- thedral of Chalons, with many other churches in that diocese, of which he was bishop. '■■'-'■ ''lf^<'>-^
Eterius, of Constantinople, 550. Part of the imperial palace at Constantino- ple, called Chalci. ^
Anthemius, ofTralles, in Lydia, 550. The celebrated church of St. Sophia, at Constantinople, now the principal mosque of that city, and several other buildings there. His style was re- markable for grandeur and dignity.
IsiooRus, of Miletu?, 550. He assisted in the erection of the church of St. Sophia, at Constantinople.
Chryses, of Dara, in Persia, 550. He constructed the celebrated dykes along the Euripus near Dara, to keep the river in its channel, and to prevent the water of the sea from entering the ri- ver. He excelled in hydraulic archi- tecture.
IsiDORus, of Byzantium, 600. The city of Zenobia, in Syria, was built by him and Johannes. His taste was not pure, and too aftecled.
Johannes, of Miletus, 600. — Spe Isi-
DORUS,
Rumualdus, of France, 840. The ca- thedral of Rheims; the earliest exam- ple of what is termed Gothic archi- tecture.
TiETLAND, of Switzerland, 900. The ce- lebrated convent of Einsiedein, in Switzerland.
TioDA, of Spain, 900. The palace of King Alphonso the Chaste, at Ovie- do, now tlie episcopal palace. Th^
CHRONOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THE MOST EMINENT ARCHITECTS.
11
churches of St. Salvator, St. Michael, and St. Mary.
BuscHETTo, ofDulichium, 1016. The celebrated cathedral of Pisa; the ear- liest example otvvliat is termtd Lom- bard ecclesiastical architecture.
PiETRO Di UsT AMBER, of Spain, 1020. The cathedral ofCharlres.
Alvaro Garri.\, ofEstella, in Navarre, 1070.
Raimond, of Montfort, in France, 1 1 39. The cathedral of Lugo.
DiOTiSALVi, of Italy, 1150. The cele- brated Battisterio of Pi.sa, near the Campo Santo. His works were in the Lombard style, overloaded with mi- nute ornaments.
BuoNO, of Venice, 1 130. The celebra- ted tQWer of St. Mark, at Venice. The <:Vi^;S«i9>(iW,ith the Castello del 'Uovo, at Naples. The church of St. An- drew, at Pisloia.
SuGGEK, of Si. Denis, lljO. lie re- built the church and abbey of St. Denis, near Paris. He was distin- guished by perfection of what is called the Gothic style.
PiETHO DI Cozzo, of Italy, 1170. The celebrated great hall at Padua.
WiLHELM, of Germany, 1170. The hanging tower uf marl)!e at Pisa, upon which Bonnano and Thomaso, sculp- tors of Pisa, were also engaged. This tower was originally built perpendi- cular; but the ground consisting ot sea-sand, sunk during the progress of the work in such a manner, that its centre difters with its periphery about 1 5 feet,
Robert, of Lusarche, in France, 1220. The cathedral of Amiens, continued by,Tbcnias de Cormont, and finished t)y his son Renauld.
Et lENNE D E Bonn EVE iT„ of France, 1220. The church of the Trinity, at L'psal, in Sweden, after the model of Notre Dame, at Paris.
Jea!)1 d'Echelles, of France, 12o0, The portico of Notre Dame, at Paris.
PitRP.E D£ MoNTEKEAi, of France,
1250. The Holy Chapel at Vin- cennes. The refectory, dormitory, chapter- house, and chapel of Notre Dame, in the convent of Si. Germain des Prez, near Paris.
EuDE DE MoNTREuiL, of France, 1250. Church of the Hotel Dieu, at Paris. The churches of St. Catherine du Val des Ecoliers, uf St. Croix de la Bre- tonnerie, of Blancs Manteaux, of the Mathurins, of the Cordeliers, and of the Carthusians, at Paris. His style was gloomy Gothic.
SanGonsalvo, of Portugal, 1250. Stone bridge at Amaranto.
San Lorenzo, of Portugal, 1250. Stone bridge at Tui.
San Pietro, of Portugal, 1250. Stone bridge, called II I'onte di Cavez.
Lapo, or Jacobus, of Germany, 1250. Convent and church of St. Francis, at Assisi. Palazzo del Bargello, at Flo- rence.
Nicola da Pisa, of Pisa, 1250. Con- vent and church of the Dominicans at Bologna. Church of St. Michele and tower of the Augustins, at Pisa, Great church del Santo, at Padua. Church of the Frati Minori, at Venice. Ab- bey and church of Tagliacozzo, in the kingdom of Naples. Plans of the church of St. Giovaimi, at Siena, of the church and convent di S. Trinita, at Florence, and also for those of the Dominicans at Arezzo. He inter- mixed the Gothic with the Lombard style. About twenty-eight years la- ter commenced the building of the cathedra! of Florence by two monks, Fra Giovanni and Fra Risioro.
Fuccio, of Italy, 1270. Church of St. Mary su TArno, at Florence. He fi- nished the Vicaria and Castello dell' Uovo, at Naples; and was distinguish- ed for his skill in fiMiihcation.
Maglione, of Pisa, 1270. The cathe- dral and the church of S. Lorenzo, at Naples.
Masuccio, of Naples, 1270. Maria della Nuova, at Naples. Churches of C 2
12 CHRONOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THE MOST EMINENT ARCHITECTS.
S. Dominico Magg. and S. Giovanni Magg. ; the archiepiscopal palace and the Palazzo Colombrano, in the same city.
Maiuno Boccanera, of Genoa, 1280. The mole of Genoa- vvas begun by him.
Arnolfo, of Florence, 1230. The church offS. Croce, the walls of the city, to- gether with the towers; the model and plan of the cathedral S. Maria del Fiore, to which Bruneleschi added the cupola, at Florence.
PfETRO Perez, of Spain, 1280. The cathedral of Toledo.
Robert be Covey, of France, 12S0. He rebuilt the cathedral at Rheims.
Erwin von Steinbach, of German}', ] 280. The celebrated minster of Strasbnrg w^as superintended by him for twenty-eight years. His style was the purest Gothic.
Giovanni DA Pisa, of Pisa, 1280. The celebrated Campo Santo, at Pisa. Cas- tel Nuovo, at Naples. The facade of the cathedral of Siena. Many other churches and palaces at Arezzo, and in other towns of Italy. He is re- markable as the first architect in the modern style of fortification. His churches and other buildings are grand and cheerful.
Andrea da Pisa, of Pisa, 1300. Plan of the fortress delia Scarperia, at Mu- gello, at the foot of the Appennines. Plan and model of the church of S. Giovanni, at Pistoia. The ductil Pa- lazzo Gualtieri, at Florence. He was . distinguished in fortification.
AuGusTiN, brother of Angelo, of Pisa, . 1300, The north f.i9ade of the ca- ihedral of Siena, as also the church and convent of St, Francis in the same . city. The church di S. Maria, like- wise at Siena, was built by him and Angelo jointly.
Angelo, brother of Augustin, of Pisa,
1300. — See Augl'siin. GiAcoMO Laniham, of Italv, 1330.
Church of St, Francis, at Imola. Church of St. Anthony, at Venice. Jean Rauy, of France, 134'0. He fi- ni hed the building of the church of Notre Dame, at Paris. William Rede, of Chichester, England, 1350. The castle of Amberley, Sus- sex.
William Wykeham, of Wykeham, in Engltuid, 1350. Plan of Windsor Castle. Cathedral of Winchester.
Philii' Brlneleschi, of Florence, 1390, Cupola of the cathedral of Florence. Palazzo Pitti at the same place, begun, and about half finished, by him. He set the first example of the purer .style in the architecture of Italian palaces.
MiCHELozzo MiCHELOzzi, of Florencc, 1 400. The Palazzo de Medicis, now Riccardi, the plan of which was de- signed by Bruneleschi, the Palazzo Catlagiulo, the Palazzo della Villa Careggi, and the Palazzo Tornabuoni, at Florence: several other palaces, churches, and convents. His style was distinguished for its purity,
Gicliano, of Majano, near Florence, 1400. The Palazzo del Poggio Reale, at Naples. The palace and church of St, Marco, at Rome, in which he employed many of the stones from the Colosseum. He was an artist of dis- tinguished merit,
Andrea Ciccione, of Naples, 1430. The convent and church of Monte Oliveto, at Naples, Several other convents and palaces.
Leon Battista Alberti, of Florence, 1450. Church of St. Francis, at Ri- mini ; church of St. Andrew, at Man- tua. A great number of other build- ings in Italy,
Christobolo, of Italy, 1450. A mosque at Constantinople, with eight schof)ls and eight hospitals on the site of the church of the Apostles, by command of Mahomet II.
(To be continued.)
13
DOMESTIC PROCESSES FOK DYING WOOLLEN, SILK, COTTON, AND OTHER STUFFS, A PERMANENT YELLOW, RED, CRIMSON, BLUE, BROWN, BUFF, NANKEEN, FAWN COLOUR, &C. &C.
The art of dying consists in ex- tracting the colouring matters from dilfcrent substances, making them pass into the fibres of woollen, cotton, flax, silk, or other bodies, and fixing them there as perma- nently as possible, so as to resist the action of the liquids to which the article will probably be ex- posed in the ordinary affairs of life. — Thus, for instance, dyed linen and cotton goods must resist the effects of soap and water, to which they are necessarily subjected in washing, and woollen and silk goods must bear being scoured, which, in fact, is a more careful process of applying detergent ar- ticles in a particular manner, simi- lar to the operation of soaj) and
THE DOMESTIC COMMONPLACE-BOOK;
Containing aulhcntic Receipts mid iniscclldncuus Infonnalion in every Branch of Donicatic Econoinj/, and of general Utility.
of alum, in a sufficient quantity of water, for half an hour; and then, without rinsing, plunge it into a copper, containing a decoction of twice as much quercitron bark as. equals the weight of the ahnn em- ployed, and agitate it in the dye liquor till it has acquired the in- tensity of colour wished for. This being accomplished, a quantity of powdered whiting or chalk, equal in weight to ^-^^ part of the wool, must be thrown into the copper, and the mixture suffered to boil very gently for about a. quarter of an hour longer. By this method a.- bright lively yt,llow is produced. To (h/e Silk a bright clear YelloTv. Silk may be dyed a fine clears yellow in the following manner: — First impregnate tlie silk by soak- ing it for a few minutes in soap and water; then rinsing it, and im- mersing it in a solution of alum and water, and then passinoj it throufrh a decoction of weld till the desired
water. And although the processes shade of colour is produced. The
of dying comprehend a series of complicated operations, which are strictly founded on chemical prin- ciples, and which require much skill, we shall, on this occasion, exhibit some simple processes of this beautiful art, that may be suc- cessfully practised in an easy and economical manner by those who are unacquainted with the dyer's art. To dye Wool a permanent Yellow. Woollen yarn, or cloth, may be dyed of a permanent yellow in the following manner: — Boil the yarn or cloth with one-sixth of its weight
weld is to be tied up in a coarse bag, and put into the copper, with a sufficient quantity of water; and after having boiled for about half an hour, and the fire slackened, the silk, previously impregnated with alum, is passed through this bath. Gold or deep I cllozc. Add a small quantity of pearl ash towards the end of the process ; or still better, add the pearl ash ta a second decoction of weld, and pass the silk through it, after hav- ing been first dyed a bright clear yellow, in the manner before stated.
14
PROCESSES FOR DYING SILK, &C. VARIOUS COLOURS.
Oranse Yel/otc may be dyed, by adding to tlie decoction of weld a small quantity of aniiotto. The silk, being first dyed a clear yellow in the manner before stated, acquires a rich gold- en hue when passed through a bath
and afterwards dilute the solution with one-fourth part of its weight of soft water. Then put eight ounces of this solution into an earthenware pan, with a sufficient quantity of water, and add also ten ounces of cream of tartar, and six
of weld, to which a small portion of j of finely powdered cochineal, and annotto has been previously added. Jonquil Yellorc.
This colour is given to silk by adding to the decoction of weld a small quantity of crystallized ace- tate of copper (crystallized verdi- gris).
To dye Cotton Yellow.
Let the article be first well cleansed by boiling it for about a quarter of an hour with a small quantity of pearl-ash ; then im- pregnate it with alum, and dye it in a bath of weld, in which the
boil this mixture. In this bath the article to be dyed must be im- mersed till it has received a fine bright colour. By adding a little turmeric root in powder, the red colour is rendered more brilliant/ u^ The colours known by tlie nan)e«' of poppy, cherry, rose, and flesh colour, are given to silk by dying them with carthamus; that is to say, by keeping the silk immersed in an alcaline solution of the co- louring matter of carthamus flower, into which as much lemoii-juice,
quantity of weld is at least equal to ! or instead of it a solution of the quantity of cotton to be dyed, crystallized citric acid, has been
When this is done, soak it in a bath of sulphate of copper and water for twenty-four hours; and, lastly, rinse it in water, and suffer it to dry. Instead of weld, quercitron bark may be used; but the yellow d\^e which this bark gives, is not so bright and lively as the yellow ob- tained from weld. To dye Silk Crimson, Poppy Red,
Clieny Red, Rose Red, and Flesh
Red.
Silk may be dyed red, of various shades, by means of cochineal or carthamus. It ma}- be dyed crim- son by first steeping it in a solu- tion of alum, and then dying it in a cochineal bath, prepared in the following manner: — In the first place, dissolve one part of sal am- moniac in eight parts of nitric acid ; and add, by very small portions at a time, one part of granulated tin,
poured as produces the desired shade of colour. The solution ot carthamus is prepared in the fol- lowing manner: — Take any quan- tity of carthamus flower, put it into a bag, and squeeze it in water, to deprive it of all the extractive co- louring matter which can thus be separated by the action of water j and repeat this process till the wa- ter, thus employed for extracting the colouring matter, ceases to be tinged. This being done, infuse the carthanms, thus deprived of its yellow colouring matter, in a weak solution of carbonate of soda in water, which will extract the red colouring matter that it contains, and which is soluble in the alcaii ; and if to the solution lemon-juice be added, th,e red colouring matter again becomes pretipitaied, and affixes itself to the fibres of the
TROCESSKS rOR DYING SILK, &.C. VARIOUS COLOURS.
15
silk, whilst the acid of the lemon- juice coml)ines with the alcali of the carbonate of potash. To dye U ool Brown, Fazc/if and Nankeen Colour. Wool may he clyed a brown or
ture nine parts of indigo, ground up with a little water, and keep the mixture boiling for about half an hour. Or a still richer blue dye will beobtained thus : — Mix up to- gether one partof indigo, two ])arts
fawn colour by making a decoction j of green vitriol, and twoof quick- of the green covering of the wal- i lime, with a sufficient quantity of
nut. It is well known that walnut-
water; stir the mixture together,
peels strongly dye the skin, 'i'o li and suffer it to remain in a closed dye brown with tlieu), nothing else I vessel for four or five days. With the is required than to immerse the j clear liquor thus obtained, wool, article in a warm decoction of them, I silk, cotton, oranyotherarticle, may till it has acquired the wished- for ' be dyed a permanent l)lue. The colour. The intensity of the co- : article comes out of the dye of a lour is proportioned to the strength j green colour, and turns blue 1)V of the decoction. The walnut- j exposure to the air. When the husks may be kept for a longtime, I article is thus dyed blue, it is ne- indeed for many years, in vessels ' cessary to rinse it in water very filled with water. The root and l slightly acidulated with sulphuric bark of the walnut-tree give a de- : acid. This heightens the colour,
coction much resembling the fruit- husk : it may be employed to pro- duce a very fast buff or fawn co- lour; if alum be added, the dye be- comes somewhat lighter.
A good bright and permanent nankeen colour may be given to cotton by iron liquor (acetate of iron). It is only necessary to soak the cotton previously in a weak solution of sub-carbonate of soda or of potash, and then immerse it into the iron liquor: or the article to
and extracts any earthy matter, which would give a harsh feel to the stuff, and imjxur the lustre. Every kind of stuff' may be dyed blue with this dye.
EASY MKTHOD OF EXAMINING THE NATURE OF MARLS, SO AS TO ASCERTAIN THEIR AGRICULTU- RAL VALUE,
Although the examination of marls and limestones, with a view
to ascertain their fitness for the be dyed may be soaked first in the purposes of agriculture, is a sub-
iron liquor, and the fluid may then be super-saturated with a solution of a sub-carbonated alcali. It must afterwards be rinsed in a very weak solution of sulphuric acid. To dye Jt'ou/, Si/k, Cotton, and
other ShiJ^'s, a permanent Blue.
Boil in a pi|)kin, or saucepan, nine parts, by weight, of pearl-ash, with as much bran, and one part of madder root, in a sufficient quan- tity of water, and add to this tnix-
jcct lamiliar to those who are con- versant with analytical chemistry, it will, nevertheless, we hope, not be deemed superfluous to lay be- fore tlie readers of the Repository the process best suited for the un- learned farmer, to ascertain the na- ture of marls and limestones, so as to determine their relative agri- cultural value.
The name of marl is given to a mixture chiefly composed of calca-
w
METHOD OF ASCERTAINING THE VALUE OF MARLS.
reous earth and clay, in which the I calcareous earth considerably ex- i ceeds the other ingredients. In agriculture, a variety of these com- \ binationsare distinguished by par- ticular names, such as common marl, shell marl, stone marl, &c. ; but by whatever name this sub- stance may go, it may be asserted, that all n)arls are useful in agricul- ture onl}- in proportion to the quantity of calcareous earth which they contain ; and with respect to its utility in manuring land, a marl is not reckoned of any value unless it contains thirty-five or forty per cent, of lime or calcareous earth. The easiest mode of ascertaining this, is to immerse one hundred partsof the marl, thevalue of which you wish to ascertain, in a sulhci- ent quantity of dilute muriatic acid (spirit of salt). All that is dis- solved by tiiis means is lime, and tio more of it ; by weighing the re- mainder, therefore, and subtract- ing it from the \vhole, you learn the exact proportion which one hundred parts of the marl contain, because the carbonic acid, which was combined with the calcareous earth, is expelled by the muriatic acid. The loss of weight of the carbonic acid, therefore, fixes the value of the marl. Thus, for ex- ample, if an ounce of marl loses forty grains, we conclude that the ounce of marl contained only one hundred grains of calcareous earth ; and that it would be the interest of thefarmer to pay five times as much for a load of lime as he must pay for a load of marl, provided he should be obliged to fetch it from the same distance. This being premised, the following method
will enable any person to perform investigations of this kind : —
1. Put a few ounces of common muriatic acid, previously mixed with not less than an equal quantity of water, into a tea-cup, or other vessel ; place it in a scale, and let it be balanced.
2. Reduce a few ounces of dry marl to powder, and let small por- tions of it at a time be added to the acid, till no farther efferves- cence or frothing up takes place.
3. Let the remainder of the marl be then weighed, by which means the quantity dissolved by the acid will be learned.
4. Let the scale be next restor- ed. The difference of weight be- tween the quantity added to the acid, and that requisite to restore the equilibrium, will shew the weight of carbonic acid lost during the effervescence.
If the loss amounts to thirteen per cent, of the quantity of marl projected, or from thirteen to thir- ty-three grains per cent, the marl analyzed is calcareous marl, that is to say, marl rich in calcareous earth.
Marls in which clay abounds (clayey marls), seldom lose more than eight or ten per cent, of their weight by this treatment. The presence of argillaceous earth in marl may likewise be ascertained by drying it, after being washed well : when kneaded together, dried and burnt, the marl will harden and form a brick. Sandy, marls gene- rally lose a still less quantity o.f carbonic acid.
PRESERVATION OF WATEU- Sir, — It having fallen to my lot to be one of those who are charged
METHOD OF KKKPJKG WATER SWEET — TO ANALYZE LIMESTONE.
17
to make trials and observatiuiis on tlie best metliods of preserving water sweet or fresh during long sea voyages, 1 take tins nietliod of stating, that of all the remedies tried during a course of three years' experience, none has answered better to preserve water sweet dur- ing long sea voyages than the practice of charring the water- casks on their inside. There are now in one of his Majesty's dock- yards three casks of water, which water is three years old, and per- fectly sweet. There is, therefore, little doubt, that water may be pre- served fresh or fit for drink any length of time in charred barrels. It has been generally supposed, that the putrefaction to which wa- ter is liable, arises from its contain- ing chiefly organic matter : but this is not so much the case as a real decomposition of the water being effected by the chemical action of the wood, to which it is continually exposed. That tainted water may be rendered sweet by filtering it through fresh burnt and coarsely pulverized chaircoal, is sjifficiently known. I am, with respect, sir, vours, F. Williams.
Puitsioouth, May 28, Idl6.
METHOD OF ASCERTAINING, BY CHEMICAL MEANS, WHETHER A LIME OR LIMESTONE HE FIT OR UNFIT FOR THE PURPOSES OF AGRICULTURE.
Every farmer knows, that there is a vast difference in the fertiliz- ing power of diR'erent kinds of lime when employed as a manure; for there are many extensive dis- stricts in this country which fur- nish lime far inferior to the lime
To/. //. No. rij.
obtained from other places. The presence of magnesia in limestone, it is now well known, proves ex- tremely injurious to vegetation when employed as a manure. The magnesian limestone may readily be distinguished from limestone which affords quicklime fit for agriculture, by the extreme slow- ness of its solution in acids, which is so considerable that even the softest kind of the former is much longer dissolving than marble.
The following is the easiest pro- cess for ascertaining whether a limestone is fit for agriculture or not: —
Put into a tea-cup one hun- dred grains of the limestone to be. examined, |)reviously reduced to powder, and pour over it, by de- grees, half an ounce of sulphuric acid. On each effusion of the acid, a violent efliervescence will ensue; when this ceases, stir the acid and limestone together witlt the stem of a tobacco-pipe, and heat the mixture on the hob of a common fire-place : or, what is still better, put the tea-cup on sand placed in a common fire-shovel, and heat it 1 in that manner over a clear coal fire till its contents are dry. This I being done, reduce the mixture to powder, and pour over it two or threeounces of water; heat themix- ture again for a quarter of an hour, and then throw the whole upon a filter, and wash the insoluble part on the filter, by pouring over it, repeatedly, small quantities of wa- ter. To the fluid which has passed through the filter, add gradually half an ounce of common pearl-ash, or sub-carbonate of soda, dissolved in three or four ounces of water, D
18
THR ABBE DE BALIVIEEE.
which will produce a copious pre- cipitate, if the limestone contained any notable quantitj' of magnesia ; if not, the fluid will only become slightly milky. Heat the fluid (if ruagnesia be present) iiy setting it in a tea-cup near the fire; let the precipitate subside; pour off the clear fluid, which may be thrown awaj', and wash the white precipi- tate with warm water; then pour it on a fiJter, the weight of which is known, dry and weigh the whole. The result shews how much car- bonate of magnesia was contained in the original stone; or deducting sixty per cent, how much pure magnesia one hundred parts of the lime contain.
If burned lime has been used, deduct from the weight of the pre- cipitate sixty per cent, and the lemaiader gives the weight of mag-
nesia in each one hundred grains of burned lime. •« srIJ
NEW METHOD OF STAINING WOOI> A PERMANENT BLACK COLOlill. i Take one part of crystallized triple prussiate of potash, dis- solve it in eight ounces of water, make the solution hot, and Ijrush the wood over with it twice or three times. This being done, make a decoction of logwood, of one part, by weight, of logwood, and four.of water, and brush the wood over with it also ; and, lastly, appl}- a decoc- tion of gall-nuts, mingled with a concentrated solution of red oxide of iron : brusli the wood over with it three or four times, and iit will now be of a beautiful blue-black colour, which is permanent. The wood may be polished with at hard brusla and black shoemaker's waxvi^> ii- -
■i u>~) f>fh lot
vBrOGRAPHipAL SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES..
— >♦< - THE ABBE DE BALIVIERE.
This gentleman was one of the almoners of Louis XVI, and per- haps it would be difficult to find a more singular character ; he was, in fact, an odd compound of the devotee and the man of the world : fond to excess of hunting and play, he contrived, nevertheless, to perform his clerical duties with strict regularity. Simple, bene- volent, and well intentioned, his eccentricities were at times very amusing. He was very fond of politics, and the blunders he made in conversation on that subject of- £en created mirtli at court. Talk- ing one day with Madame de Po- lignac about the war between Eng- land and America, he said, very
seriously, " I have several times seen the o/;^^// of Chesapeak men- tioned in the papers; it must bean excellent benefice, and should M. de Rochambeau prove victorious, I shall, whenever it becomes va- cant, request the queen to ask for it for me from the Congress." Though the al>b6 was very bene- volent, his odd manner made even liis charities sometimes appear ri- diculflw^. One day, at a hunting party, being left heliind by hrs companions, he overtook one of the huntsmen just at the moment when he had fallen from his horse, and broken his leg. The abbt-, striiek with' consternation, dis- mounted iti great haste to assist
THE MARQUIS CARACCIOLI.
19
THE MARQUIS CARACCIOLI.
inm : being in the midst of a forest, the abbe looked about in vain for help. The huntsman, in tlie mean time, bein{T in great pain, groaned most terribly; and M. de Baliviere, not knowing how to go about as- sisting him, began very gravtly to condole with him on his misfor- tune, and taking his snuft'-box from his pocket, pressed him to take a pinch. Our readers will scarcely give M. de Baliviere credit for much understanding : yet he play-
lljiv
-OO'.-
n Htrv/ f:
This nobleman, who was much liked in Paris when he resided there in quality of ambassador, was possessed of considerable wit and vivacity. The French are indebted to him for the introduction of Ita- iian music into France, He sent for the celebrated Piccini, whom he encouraged and supported against z powerful party, at the head of which was Gluck, who was then protected by the queen, Marie An- toinette.
The marquis had been ambassa- dor in London before he went to Paris, and some of his sallies are
ed with great skill at the most dif- ficult games ; conducted the tem- poral as well as spiritual affairs of his living with great judgment; and shewed good sense, as well as benevolence, in administering to the v/ants of the poor. In short, we might sum up his character by reversing the two last lines of Ro- chester's epitaph on Charles II.
" He never did a foolisli thing,
Nor tv«:i biiid a wise one." if
peculiarities of every nation he had visited. Speaking one day of the passion of the English for betting, he said very gravely, that he had been near falling a victim to ii. " 1 was riding," continued he, *' on the high road, and my horse being startled at something, ran away with me. Two Englishmen, who were galloping behind me, directly betted a couple of guineas, one that I should be throtvn, the other that I should keep my seat: both were totally regardless of my cries for help, and the horse galloped on till we came near a turnpike, still remembered in both coun- | The toll-keeper immediately shut tries. His present Majesty, with : the gates, and I thought myself whom the marquis whs rather a fa- [just out of danger: no such thing, vourite, knowing that he frequently one of t\\c two who laid the wager, abused the English climate, asked ;| called out, ' No, no, don't shut him one line summer's diiy whether I them ! don't shut them! there's a he did not fancy himself at Naples, wager !' The man immediately " Ah, sire !" replied lie, with much ;j opened the gates, and my horse quickness, '* the moon of the king did not stop till he had got a mile my master is preferable to your beyond the turnpike." It is un- majesty's sun." We make no com- (I necessary to add, that there was not mentson the po/i7f//ei.s of this reply. ;| a word of truth in this story, which He was of a very observing turn, jj the marquis, however, related in a and exposed with much drollery |! manner that would have imposed the various, and sometimes absurd, W upon anv body.
D -i
20 EXTRAORDINARY PETITION OF VISCOUNT D'ENTRECASTEAUX.
The marquis, when appointed to the vice-royalty of Sicily, was far from being pleased at an appoint- ment, however honourable, that obliged him to quit France, a coun- try to which he was much attached. When he went to take leave of Louis XVI. that monarch said to him, " I congratulate you, M. I'Am-
bassador, on your appointment ; you are about to occupy one of the finest places in Europe." — *' Ah, sire!" replied he, in a melancholy tone, " the finest place in Europe is the place I quit." The point of this reply was his allusion to the Place Vendome.
MISCELLANIES.
EXTRAORDINARY PETITION OF VISCOUNT D'ENTRE-
CASTEAUX.
The following singular petition was presented to the Queen of Por- tugal from the Viscount d'Entre- casteaux, formerly one of the judges of the parliament of Aix in Provence, in France, who having fled his country, after having mur- dered his wife, escaped by sea to Portugal, where he was discovered and apprehended. The French ambassador formally demanded that the criminal should be given up, in order that he might be sent back to France, to suffer there the punishment due to his crime. Be- fore any answer was given to the ambassador, the following petition was put into the queen's hands : —
" I had not a soul formed for the commission of crimes; a moment of delirium and madness alone plunged me into the abyss into which I have fallen. I pretend not, however, to be the less criminal, or the less deserving of punish- ment ; but if my crime is too great for mercy, at least may 1 hope to excite some pity in your majesty's breast? Deign then,Ogreatqueen ! to listen to the voice of that pity, and save me from that shame of
nao2 ni
suffering death in my own c6un- try, by inflicting it on me here. I am too well acquainted with the prejudices that exist in France, to hope that even after I should have paid to justice the forfeit of my life, my memory should escape the infamy that attends those who fall by the hands of the public execu- tioner. Justice having once re- ceived her due, no trace of the crime ought to remain, and preju- dice should rest satisfied. May I then hope, great princess, that as I call myself for the punishment I deserve, and become even a peti- tioner to obtain it, my soul may be freed from ignominy, for which nature never formed it, but which it has, nevertheless, too richly de- served ? Were this my prayer granted, I should have the conso- lation, in my last moments, to think that my name would not hereafter be remembered with horror; and in taking the last farewell of the authors of my days, I might say to them, ' Your son is still worthy of you : he has done away the disho- nour he has brought upon you ; he has made atonement for bis
EXTRAORDINARY PETITION OF VISCOUNT D'ENTRECASTEAUX. 21
crime, and is thus become worthy of your compassion !' If I should have the great happiness to excite your majesty's pity, and in your mercy you sliould be incUned to <;rant my petition, you need not be afraid that your justice should, in the least degree, infringe the laws of nations, by dooming to die in your dominions the subject of another crown, for a crime com- mitted in his own country; on the contrary, I Hatter njyself that I shall be able to demonstrate to your majesty, that your justice is, in some measure, bound to put me to death. Tliough I am by birth a Frenchman, yet it is not as a i Frenchman that I am guilty; it is !J not the French nation alone that I | have olFended ; it is as a man that I am a criminal, and all mankind have a right to inHict upon me the [ punishment of death. V\ herever there are nfc;n, and laws by which they are governed, I an) amenable to punishment for a crime levelled against luinuui nature: I carry I about me a mark that must point \ me out as unworthy of protection, ! and wherever I am found, there may | my blood be spilt with justice.
" In this country I have publicly confessed my crime; I have made known the culprit to your majesty ; ' 1 am at once the accuser, the wit- ness, and the criminal. What more is wanting but judgment? | which I beseech your majesty to ' pass upon me. i
" 1 entertain the greatest hope | of obtaining a request that will | (enable your majesty to unite jus- I tice and clemency. If the com- punction of a soul, filled with hor- ror at its crime, can excite pity, you will extend it towards me by
granting the request I take the li- berty to make; that by dooming me to death in your own domi- nions, you may put an end to n)y remorse, and, at the same time, en- able me to expiate a crime at which humanity shudders. If I am so unhappy, so criminal, as not to deserve any compassion, 1 will ap- peal to your justice: I bring be- fore you a man guilty of the most enorujous crime, and call for his death,
" If your majesty was engaged in a war, I might perhaps have be- sought you to aftord me an oppor- tunity to spill some of my blood in your service, before I should ex- piate by a public punishment the offence of which I have been guil- ty, to the end tliat my death, at least, might not be entirely useless. But as your majesty has the hap- piness to make your subjects enjoy the blessings of profound peace, your justice calls for my life as its due; to that justice I hope I shall be indebted for the recovery of my lost virtue, the security of my ho- nour, and a deliverance from all my pains. If, on the other hand, your majesty, considering the enormity of my crime, should think that my blood would pollute your domi- nions, despair alone will then be my portio!!. However, in eitlier i case, even in the agonies of deatii, I shall not cease to otfer up my most fervent prayers for the pro- sperity of your nuijesty's reign. While suspended between hope and fear, 1 vv;iit a decision that will fix ' my doom, I am, with the most pro- found rtspect, your majesty's most humble and most obedient servant, " Brcnzi d'Entrecasteaux." I Somcnct.
-2i;
FAMILIARITY OF THE SWALLOW.
Dr. Clarke, in his Travels, re- lates a very curious circumstance in the natural history of the swal- low, wiili wliich he accidentally became acquainted at a village in Greece. " In the course of our search for antiquities," says he, *' happening to visit the shop of a poor harber, we observed, as we were speaking to the owner, in a room with a ceiling so low pitched that our heads almost touched it, a swallow enter two or three times through a hole purposely left for its admission over the door. With- out regarding either the number or the noise and motion of so many persons in this small room, it con- tinued its operation of building a nest, although within our reach, against one of the joists. It was impossible not to admire the acti- vity of this little animal ; tlie velo-
• ilWOij Of
city with which it went and re- turned; but, ahove all, the happy confidence which it seemed to en^^ joy in its security from molestation or injury. The owner of the shop entertained the superstition, which is common to all nations that are visited by this bird, and which is alluded to by Sophocles, concern-? ing the sanctity of his little guest, deeminor himself fortunate in beinij: thus honoured by one of yjpolld's messengers. He told us that the same swallow had annually visited him for many years, but that this year it came earlier than usual ; that it paid him handsomely for its lodging, its presence being cohsi- dered as a most fortunate omen, whereby customers were attracted to his shop vvheneVef the swallow arrived."
:J 79lJ3d bi:<} UOY .oO
,at«9d- HISTORY OF SUSAN STRIVEWELL.
TO THE EDITOR
Sir,
As my lady is a subscriber to your Repository, I have an op- portunity of seeing it; and observ- ing sometime ago a reflection made by one of your correspondents — • *' that if servants were to he heard in their turn, they might also be found to have some cause of com- plaint;" I thought that my history would prove the truth of this re- flection, and I have taken the liber- ty to send you some account of it. My parents were very poor peo- ple, who had some difficulty to spare the money necessary to send nie to a day school; reading and
• inih 'io writing were consequently the sum of my acquirements. My mother, who was very notable and indus- trious, took care to qualify me for service, l)ut I had the misfortune to lose her before I attained my sixteenth year; and my father sur- vived her only a few months. This severe loss rendered me for some weeksincapableof doing any thing; but an aunt to whose house I went on the death of my parents, soon reminded me of the necessity there was for my getting my bread, and as she had a cousin settled in Lon- don, she gave me a letter to her ; paid the expense of my journey
HISTORY OF SU.SAN STRIVFWELL.
23
to town out of the money prod need by the sale of my parents' few ef- fects, and I set out from home, with many charges to be a good girl, and many wishes for my suc- cess in gcttinj^ a situation.
I wislied if 1 could to get a place as lady's maid, but my cousin told me, she feared my being a country girl might be an obstacle, and ad- vised me to go after a situation as housemaid ; and finding there was bneWanted at Mrs. Rigid's, I went fp offer myself. Mrs. Iligid, who was an old lady, put on her spec- (aqles and surveyed me for some time vvithuut speaking; at last siie asked me if I was not ashamed of myself to come after a housemaid's place dressed in such a ridiculous manner (my dress I should tell you, sir, wa§ a black stuff gown, a black silk handkerchief on my neck, and a straw bonnet with black ril)bons). " When I heard you was a country girl," juirsued Mrs. Iligid, "I was in hopes of seeing a decent com- fortable person, dressed as servants were in my young days, but instead of that you are as fine as any London madam of them all. " — "] will dress in whatever manner you please, ma'am," replied I, "if you will have the goodness to take me into your service." — " Not I, in- deed !" cried she; "there are places that may suit you, but I am sure mine is not one of them." I at- tempted to reply, but she angrily ordered me to get about mv busi- ness, and I returned to my cousin very much dejected. She desired me not to make myself uneasy, for she was pretty sure I should not meet with another lady who would find fault with my dress ; and as there was a children's maid wanted
at Doctor Doublefee's, I went after the situation immediately.
I was shewn into an elegant apartment, where Mrs. Doublefee sat reading; she turned round on my entrance, and surveying me with a look of contempt, "Pray, young woman," cried she, " what do you want.?" I stammered out, that I came to offer myself as chil- dren's maid. "Then you have ;i great deal of assurance," said she ; "do you suppose I should suffer m^' children to be waited ujion by such a vuliiar-lookinji, ill-dressed creature as you } Why I should be ashamed to see my scullion in such clothes; a rusty old siuil" gown, and a nasty coarse straw bonnet!" — "They are my best at present, ujadam," replied I, " but I will l)uy others, if you wish it." — "What, I suppose you think then, that if you had one decent suit of clothes, that would be sufficient for a place like mine! I never saw so ujuch brass in niy life. Go, you had better of- fer your services at a public-house; 'lis the only place you are fit for." I was too much dismayed to attempt any further excuse, and I returned almost in despair.
One would suppose I had been asking charity instead of a service, from the difficulty I had in getting a place. Some ladies thouglit me tooyoung; others were afraid 1 was not smart enough; some told me they were determined never to take country girls, because they had had several, who all turned out ve- ry bad : others preferred country girls, but then they must have liveil two or three years in service in the country. At last, when I was beginning to despair, I heard of a situation as attendant on two ) ounjj
24
mSTORY OF SUSAN STItlVEWELL.
ladies, sisters, and although the place was said to be a very hard one, I went after it directly. As soon as I entered the room where I they were sitting, the youngest said I to her sister, " Why, Lord ! Har- riet, this girl's a mere country dowdy, and I am certain she is good for nothing." — " How do you know | what she is good for r" replied Miss Harriet. : "Come here, child, and i let me speak to you." Siie then began to inquire what I could do; but I was so frightened at what her sister had said, that I gave a very poor account of myself: neverthe- less, she hired me, more I believe out of opposition to her sister, than from any other motive.
I went home the following day quite elated to think that I had got a place at last ; and as I knew that I really could do every thing that Miss Harriet required of n)e, 1 was resolved to convince her sister, that the country dowdy u as fit for some- thinsr. But before I had been a week in rny place, I saw, clearly that it would be impossible for me ever to give satisfaction to my two mistresses, for whenever the one gave me any thing to do, the other was sure to set me about something else. I had agreed to wait upon them both, to wash all their small linen, and do what needle^work I could at my leisure. Miss Sophia, the youngest, having taken a dis- like to me, complained continually that every thing I did for her was wrong: if I dressed her, she had not patience with my awkwardness ; whatever pains I took in getting up her muslins, she never found them fit to be worn, and she pro- tested I did not do one quarter of the needle-work she wanted. Miss
Harriet was displeased with me, be- cause she thought I paid more at- tention to her sister than to herself. "It was always tiie way," she said, "that she was imposed upon bv servants; these creatures knew the easiness of her temper, and they took advantao^e of if but she was determined to be no longer a cy- pher, but to have proper attention paid to her orders." It was in vain for me to say, that I wished to <lo every tlniig in my power to please her, she constantly declared I did not take the least pains to do it; and at the end of six months she discharged me, because, she said, I atided insolence to ingratitude, in declaring it was not my fault if I did not give satisfaction.
As my place had been truly un- comfortable, I was not very sorry to lose it; but I resolved, tl'.at, in taking another, I would be careful to have but one mistress. In a few days I was engaged as maid to Mrs. Tempest, who told me when she hired me, that 1 sliould find her a good mistress, if I deserved it, but I must not mind being scolded now and then, for sbe was rather pas- [ sionate. As I had been scolded I continually for six months before, I thought I should be very well off j in being scolded only now and then, and I went home in very good spi- rits. For a whole week my mis- tress behaved so kindly to me, that I thought myself the luckiest crea- ture in the world; but one day having the misfortune to break a smelling-bottle, it puther into such a passion, that she snatched up a heavy china water-jug, and threw it at me. Luckily it missed roe, but I was so terrified, that although she condescended to say she was
HISTOIIY OF SUSAN STRIVEWELL.
25
sorry for it, I quitted lier the next clay.
Mrs. Tlirifty, my next lady, made souic difllculty uf enj^iif^ing mo, bec-iuse i wished to siipulate for leave to go to church, and some- tiines to see my cousin : with re- spect to the first, however, she said she would spare me wlien it suited lier convenience (which 1 must ob- serve was only once durin<j!; nine months that I lived with her) ; hut I as to the latter, she neither allowed her servants to go out, nor to have any followers. This lady, who was rather in years, and had no family, was very notable, and as she fre- quently said, that idleness was the mother of mischief, she took care to keep every body about her em- ployed. Finding that I was a good jieedle-woman, she gave nic jdenty of work, and from six in tlie morn- ing till eleven or sometimes twelve at nijiht, I laboured without inter- mission. However, aS my mistress was not ill tempered, and sometimes encouraged me by saying I did more needle-work than any other ser- vant she had had, I bore the hard- ships of my place very well. *' One day while I was sitting at 'work in my lady's dressing-room, mv master entered, and asked where she was. I told him, 1 believed in the drawing-room, and inquired whether I sliould lot her know that he wanted her. "No," cried he, "my business is with you: 'tis a shame that so fine a girl as you are, should be labouring in this manner ffom morning till night; '*rhtitea. plan in my head to render von more comlortahle." I replied, ■;that 1 was ns well off as I wished **tb be, and f turned directly to leave the room. He got between me
To/. //. No. Vll.
and the door, and attempted to catch me in hisarms. I repulsed him very angrily, and at this mooient u)y mistress came out of her bed- chamber, which communicated with the dressing-room. My master va- nished in a moment, and she began, with passion, to abuse me in ilie most violent terms : I was a vile dissembling hussy, an artful hypo- crite ; this was my sanctity, forsooth, to inveigle a marrifd man I but she never knew any pretenders to re- ligion but what were wicked in their hearts. However, she had heard all that passed, and she would take care that 1 should not gain admission into another family, to disturb the peace of it, as I h.ad done her's. "If you heard what passed, madam," cried I, "you must know that I am not in fault, and that the blame is entirely my master's." At these words her passion rose beyond all bounds. "Was there ever such insolence!" cried she, "to dure to blame your master! as if all men will not take liberties with such forward, vile creatures as you are." She ran on in this manner till she was out of bfeath, and then throwing me my wages, she desired I would take my rags, and get out of her house directly.
I went immediately to IMrs. Tem- pest, who had the goodness, on hearing my story, to say she would get me a situation ; which she very soon did, with a widow lady, who told me when she engaged me, that she wanted little personal attend- ance, and did not require needle- work ; but she wished to have a trusty ])erson who would act as I housekeeper, and on whom she ' could depend to let nothing be \vast-» E
26
HISTORY OF SUSAN STRIVEWELL.
ed in the family. This last part of my office, however, was a sinecure, for she took care to keep her house in such a manner that we should have nothing to waste. She made it her business to know the very lowest prices of all sorts of provi- sions, and as she bought every thiii.^ for ready money, she always took care before I went to market, to tell me what each article was to cost; and as I did not dare to ex- ceed the price she mentioned, I was in general obliged to buy the worst of every thing, and my mis- tress was in consequence always dissatisfied with me. She never saw such bad provisions, she said, in her life; it was impossible for her to eat such trash, it wns only lit for dojjs. If I told her it was because I was fixed to a price, she insisted upon it, that I might have purchased the best meat, &,c. for the same money : but she supposed I was too fine a lady to try to get bargains; I did not care hov^r dear I bought every thing, because they cost me nothing; and sometimes .^he has asked me, whether I was quite sure that I really gave that price for the article. As I had been brought up in the strictest princi- ples of honesty, I was much mor- tified at these speeches, and one day I could not help saying, that if she suspected me, she did wrong to suffer me to lay out her money. This speech produced such tart re- proaches for my pertness, that I burst out a-crying. My mistress ordered me to quit the room, and not make myself so ridiculous ; she had said nothing that ought to hurt piy feelings, if 1 was innocent, and she had no notion of servants af- fecting sensibility.
Thoroughly dissatisfied with my situation, I now began to inquire_ for another. " Miss MeanvvcU.v^auts. a servant," said one of o^fifAiles-^ people to me, "but 1 don't think you would like the place; sheis,aiv old maid, keeps very little eomp^^-r_. ny, and I fancy is either poor or. stingy." Notwithstanding this un-^ promising account, I waited., 9A_ Miss Meanwell, who engaged me, directly. It is now more than ten, years, sir, and I have^ lived wijtb; her ever since, and shall, I hope>- continue to do so till my deatlv or. hers. I have not what most ser- vants would call a good place, for my wages are small, and as my mistress dresses in the plainest man- ner, I have few perquisites ; but she always treats me kindly: if through mistake or inattention, her orders are not properly executed, she reproves me, but without seve- rity. She told me when she en- gaged me, that as she kept only two servants, I should have some things to do which perhaps I had not been accustomed to, and she never suffered her servants to say, "It is not my place," or, " I was not hired to do that :" but as she is very regular and methodical, I soon learned the duties of my sta- tion, and it happened sometimes that I did more than was expected froni me; whenever that was the case, I was sure to be commended,- and to receive some little reward, not money, but some trifle that would be useful to me, or perhaps a book calculated for servants. My , mistress allows me to go regularly to church, and now and then I have leave given me, to ask my cousin . to come and see me, or else I go to see ber- Soon after I went to
THE I'iNKNOWX BFNF.FACTOn.
27
live with Miss Meanwell, I was ( who, if they were treated as I am, taken dangerously ill, and slie had i could be wholly insensible of the herself the goodness not only to kinthicss shewn to them: but I can- see that there was proper cure taken not help thinking that we are like of me, but even to pass an hour or children — excessive indulgence, or two at a time in my room. She ' too great severity, is equally pre- thinks I have shewn my gratitude judicial to us; and there are few by refusing to leave lier to live with mistresses who, like Miss Mean- Mrs. Flareit, whose woman has the I well, take care to avoid the one and most easy and lucrative place in J the other.
town; but I would not change to serve a princess ; and 1 believe, sir,
In the hope that you will pardon my boldness in troubling you with
that, discontented and fond of | this long letter, I remain, sir, your
changing as servants in general I very humble servant,
are acetised of being, tliere arefew 1 Susan Strivewcll.
THE UNKNOWN BENEFACTOR.
S^v^^fr^-ears since a benevolent j' who am I ?" — " I don't know.'* — old 'nniiV ViSJwaiking out toward^ i " Then you should l;avc asked." — the Spf^\<^el1)erg, nenr llalbcvstadt. ij " In that case 1 should not have UC" niet by tlie way a girl about jj been ol)edient. My father pu- sevet> years of age. "Father,"! nishes disobedience with the tb.ird said the child, " be pleased to give rod." — "The third! how many me a halfpenny !" — " A halfpenny ! I, rods has he then .?" — " He has one
what would you do with a halfpen- ny ?" — " Buy a bit of bread with it."—*' A bit of bread ! what, are you so very hungry r" — " 1 have had nothing to eat since the day before yesterday." — " Surely that must be a fib; your red chubby cheeks tell a different story." — " Indeed it is no fib; my father once beat me till 1 was half dead on account of one."—" What is your father r" — "A button-maker." I — " His name?"—" Lindner."—! " W^hefe does he live ?"— " In the High-street." — " Go and tell Iiim I
for every class of faults."—" Go and fetch your father, and I," seating himself upon a piece of timber near the pepper-mill, " will wait here till he comes."
The girl ran, and soon returned with her father, a handsome man in the prime of life. " Is that your child r" — " What is your motive for inquiring?" — " She asked mg to ffive her somethinfTi and becTGino- is prohibited." — " I have seven children, and have not sufficient to maintain one." — "No! are you not a button-maker?" — " Yes, and for
to have the goodness to come to! that very reason because I am a n>e." j button -maker I have nothing to
The girl set ofV; but the old man do. People have, unfortunately called lifer back. " You little I for us, given up wearing such but- goosecap," said he, " to whom | tons as we make. We have no^ would" yau' tell yoilr father to other resource. All the button- - come ■^"—" To vou, sir." — " And 'i makers must be reduced to beg-
E 2
28
TllH UNKNOWN BENEFACTOR.
gavy." — *' It is a pily : as you seem to understand so well liow to bring up chiUlren, suppose you were to turn schoolmaster?" — " School- master ! why, I cannot read ; I was kept from wy youlii to work, and never learned any thing but button - making. God have mercy upon me, with a dear wife and seven chil- dren!"— " Have you not repre- sejUed your case to the assessor, and applied to him for relief?" — *' I cannot creep and cringe. We have already parted with all we had; my wife has stripped herself of every thing, from her jewels to her shift. It is a fortnight since we parted with our last farthing, and are now living upon bread and ^vater."— " Is all this true?"— "You may believe me; it is but too true." — " Father," cried the child, " it is not true; w^e have not a morsel of bread."
The old man hastily rose. " Come !" said he, and went with them to the town. He saw the pa- rents shed tears over their seven starving children ; he found all that had been told him literally true, and fell for the situation of the poor man who could neither read nor write. He entered into con- versation with him on his mode of bringing up his children, and was delighted with the soundness of his notions. '' 1 have thought it useful," said he, " to keep a parti- cular rod for every kind of fault, that the cliildrcn might learn to dis- tinguish between them, and guard . against each individuallj". They will not tell lies, for with the rod ap- propriated to lying, I have accus- tomed them to spi ak the trutli."
" There, child, go and buy bread," said the stranger, putting
some money into the hand of the girl who had occasioned this visit ; " but make haste back, and be sure not to tell any body, that an old man is at your father's." The girl ran as fast as she could ; and the father was overjoyed that, for one day at least, he had wherewitii to satisfy his famishing wife and cliii- dren. " Oh, sir," said he to the stranger, " you are ati angel of God 1" The child returned with the bread, of wliich the hungry fa- mily partook. The old man en- tered into conversation with the mother and children. He took a particular fancy to one of the boys named Charles. " Come with me," said he to the boy; " your father will give you leave." The stranger walked away; the boy followed; and father, mother, brothers, and sisters, looked after them till they were out of sight. The old man returned to the pepper-mill, with- out speaking to the boy by the way, and seating himself again upon t!)e timber, wrote with his pencil upon a piece of paper, which he gave to his young com- panion, spying. " Carry it to your I father." 'The boy ran with all possil.ile speed, and obeyed his di- rection. The father, ashamed that he could not read what was written upon the paper, carried it to a neighbour, a baker, to learn the purport of it. The words were these: — " Until such buttons as are nuxde by the button-makers come into fashion again, Lindner, the button-maker, shall receive- four groschen (sixpence) per day." Lindner lost no time to run after tl>e stranger, for the purpose of expressing his gratitude; but he could neither see nor hear any
THL; NliW CUSTC).\J-UOU.?E.
29
thing of his henefactor. Pour tUi)f> aftcruarils lie received, hy coach, 305 Ibur-groschen pieces, and the I'oHou'ing year, on the same day, the like sum. It has now been re- gularly transmitted tor seven suc- cessive years. I\Ietal buttons are still in fashion ; the old juan is not discovered; and as he has so well contrived to remain concealed, and consequently wishes to be so, I would earnestly entreat our collec- tors of anecdotes, who take such
|;ains tospy out and trumpet abroad every good action, to give them- selves no concern about this old nian. They would doubtless only spoil his pleasure, for they have already seen that he has no wish to be called an angel of God.
This story is related by the Ger- man poet Gleim, and, to his ho- nour, we are enabled to add, that he was himself the old man who fic-ures in it — a fact that was not known till after his death.
Plate 3.— THE NEW CUSTOM-HOUSE.
So early as the year 970 the king's customs were principally collected at Billingsgate, and then to no considerable amount ; as even in 1268, the half-year's customs for foreign merchantlize in tlie city of London came only to 75/. Gs. lOd. In the year 1383 a custom-house was built by John Churchman on the site of tlie late edifice, thougJ! at that time, and long after, the customs were collected in different parts of the city. About 1559, the loss to the revenue being discover- ed, an act was passed to compel persons to land their goods in such places as were appointed by the commissioners of revenue; and a new Custom- House was erected. In 1590, towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth, the customs amounted to 50,000/. : at first they had been farmed to Sir Thomas Smith at 14,000/. a year; after- v.ards at 42,000/.; and finally at 50,000/.
In lb41, just before the begin- ning of the civil troubles of the country, the customs brought in 500,000/. a year ; but the broils in ] which it was involved, had reduced
them, at the period of the Restora- tion, about 110,000/. yearly. The average nett customs paid into the Exchequer in the last years of William III. was 417,186/.; during the wars of Anne 1,257,332/.; the first of George I. 1,588,162/.; of George II. 1,621,731/.; the first '[ year of George III. 1,969,934/. ; in 1781, 2,745,2u0/. ; an.i in four years, from 1802 to 1805, botli inclusive, the real annual average value of imports was 53,240,000/. The real annual average of foreign goods and British manufactures exported in four years, from 1802 to 1805, was 56,611,000/. In the year 1784, the shipping in the merchants' ser- vice belonging to Great Britain and her colonies, not including Ireland, was 1,301,000 tons, navi- gated by 101,870 seamen. In 1805 it had increased to 2,226,000 tons; navigated by 152,642 seamen ; and the real value of the exports of British manufactures, wliich were in 1784 18,603,000/. had in 1805 increased to 41,068,000/. The pro- duce of our fisheries, whicli in 1784 was of the value of 129,000/. had in 1805 increased to 484,000/.
30
THE NEW CUSTOM-HOUSE.
The Custora-House erected at the commencement of Queen Eli- zabeth's reign having been de- stroyed by the great contiagrution in 1666, another fabric rose in its place, at an expense of 10,000/. This structure was also burned down on the 13th January, 1715, togetherwith 120 houses inThanies- street ; on which occasion fifty per- sons perished in the flames. It was again rebuilt in a substantial man- ner of brick and stone, and upon a noble scale, the whole edifice being 189 feet in length ; but this, like its predecessors, was destined to be- come a prey to the flames, by which it was totally consumed on the 12th of February, J 814.
Prior to this event, the Custom- House was found to be inadequate to the vast increase of commercial business ; and as the term of its in- vestment in trustees for the crown, at a rent of 1960/. per annum, was about to expire, the government, at the suggestion of the Board of Customs, abandoned the idea of making additions to the old budd- ing, and directed a new Custom- House to be erected on a piece of ground adjoining to the former, between it and Billingsgate. This ground had become, in great part, vacant by a fire in May, 1808, and for this purpose an act of parlia- ment was passed in 1812 : accord- ingly plans were prepared for a building on a magnificent scale, and of a very classic design, the first stone of which was laid, with the usual ceremonies, at the south- east corner of the proposed build- ing, on the 25th of October, 1813. This building is great in its fea- tures of design, and substantial in the dimensions of its parts, and the
genuine taste with which the south front in particular is designed, is highly honourable to the abilities of Mr. Laing, the architect: but, unfortunately, the situation is not favourable to a display or to an in- spection of its merits ; for the gran- deur of the outline cannot be suffi- ciently seen, owing to the compa- ratively confined terrace or quay in front of it, to the crowd of ship- ping that of necessity intervenes between this and the opposite sliore, from which it could best be view- ed ; while this shore affords no fur- ther temptation, were it otherwise, to induce the visit of tlie architec- tural amateur. The front is of Portland stone, and consists of an Ionic superstructure, sui)ported by a basement, and finished by an at- tic. The centre of the building contains the great room, wliich is lighted by nine large arched win- dows; the central entrance beneat't is by flights of steps on each side ; and a projecting portion of the basement sustains recumbent fi- gures of Ocean and Commerce. The attic of the centre is decorat- ed by a fine bas-relief 200 feet lon-j;, with fissures 5 feet 6 inches high, representing our commercial alliances, and executed by Mr. Bubb. Above this is a group of figures representing Industry and Ingenuity, supporting a dial.
The wings, if they may so be called, being symmetrical com- partments of the front, to wliich all the above forms a centre, contains each a centre of insulated columns of the Ionic order ; and in its height an additional story is introduced, without injury to the continuity of the lines of the cornices and irh-' posts, vrhich are here essential fed-
THE FEMALE TaTTI.KR.
31
tures of the composition : and great care has been taken to guard against a recurrence of those tle- structive accidents, which liave gi- ven so many awful warnings to the commissioners.
Though ail the desired results of so fine a, building towards esta- blishing the architectural reputa- tion of the country, cannot be ex-
pected, from its crowded situation^ yet its eH'ect from the entrance of the metropolis over London bridge is very striking; and foreigners, who visit the port of London, on viewing it, must speak with respect of our architectural talent, and of the magnificence of this national edifice.
)^irrbit
Having received Cornelia's per- mission to make such use of the communications I mentioned in my
THE FEMALE TATTLER.
No. VII.
Fi'lices ter, et ainpl:u^,
Quos iri'upta tenet cojuilu; nee mnlis Divulsus querimoniis,
Siipi emu citiiis solvet amor die.— —HoR. lib. i. nd. 13.
Tims loppy tliey in pure deliglits >\ linn) love with equal boiitJs unites^ Unbroken by complaints or strife, E'tn to the latest hours of life.
porting any notion that may have a tendency to diminish the influence of th-e iirst of duties, that which
last paper, as may suit my purpose, |l we owe to our parents, I am con- I proceed to give an extract, which I vinccd, the tnore the mind is cul-
will, I flatter myself, be considered as containing very useful instruc- tions to such of my female readers as may be in the situation to which they appear very forcibly to apply. TO THE FEMALE TATTLER. M ado in,
Innumerable arc the evils which result from that want of for- titude and strength of mind, which the generality of the female sex appear more disposed to enervate and destroy, than to cherish and
tivated and improved, the more susceptible it will become of all its obligations, and especially of this most sacred of thein. A child is certainly most undutiful, when she rashlv and precipitately forms a connection with any one of the other sex which has not received the sanction of parental approba- tion ; and it may be suspected, without any prejudging severity, that she w ho has failed in her duty as a daughter, may not prove al-
cultivate. A rational being ought to2;cther amiable in the discharge
surely to be capable of thinking, judging, and acting for herself: she ought to understand the full force and circuoiference of her du- ties; and knowing them, to prefer
of her duties as a wife. Romantic ideas, and the al)sence of due re- flection which they generally pro- duce, are as^ apt to mislead the young, as too great an attention to
to every other consideration, the' interest is to govern the old. dictates, of reasoi> and the sugges- I After representing the misery lioni pf cousjqeuGe* Ear from sup- and, it may surely be added, the
52
THE FEMALE T:ATTLF.R.
wickedness ot a young woman ac- companying a man to tbe altar who does not possess her affections, that I may not add to the illusions of sentiment, it becomes me to ob- serve the folly of a romantic at- tachment which too many misses profess to feel for their future hus- bands. Esteem, founded on the knowledge of a man's character and qualifications, and gratitude for his decided preference, will be sufficient to ensure happiness, as ;jsuch principles will promote the performance of every requisite du- ty uith alacrit)' and pleasure. Such a rational affection must ever be n)ore consistent, because it will be more permanent, than a violent passion, which, while it promises so much delight, affords so little, x)r, at most, so short a continuance of it. At the same time, to suffer pecuniary advantages to dazzle Tvith their failacious glare, is to vio-^ laie every generous feeling of the heart: for what motive can; be so base and so abject, as to sacrifice the purest of our affections, and to yield up the n^ost delicious pro- spect of life and happiness, to the demon of wealth ^
External circumstances also have their allurements; the charms of wit and the fascination of manners, will sometimes turn the attention from more solid qualities: this de- ception is a t;ame which is every day playing in the world, and too often succeeds; but they who trust totheir imagination, instead of their reason, will never fail to be losers in it. Good sense and right prin- ciples in a husband will form the best security of the real happiness of matrimonial life. Virtue, piety, and benevolence, are the firmest
: bonds for lasliiig attachment. VVkh I these, though the charms of ilie person may fade, though sickness and age may diminish and in time destroy the exteriors of loveliness and grace, affection will continue warm and faithful, till the heart that feels it beats no more. Romantic, novel-reading j'onng women may, unfortunately for themselves, think otherwise ; but the truth is, and a woful experience may bring it home to their conviction when it is too late, that the man who makes a sacrifice of duty and prudence, and consequently reason, to what he terms a violent and irresistible attachment, gives but a transient promise of that solid and perma- nent regard, without which 'Hy- men's torch emits but a glaring light to decorate a ceremony, and then is extinguished. ; i,^l;i>iit>f^<j:
But to come to the iB^ire 'parti- cular object pf this paper, and which the narrative that follows is intended to illustrate. It is among the nearest and dearest interests of female life, to cultivate right notions as to the proportionate si- tuations qf those who accompany each other to the altar. Unequal ma^ch'Cs seldom are found to an- §\yeri» ifl t^ojnt of happiness, to the expectations which a soi'did inter- est holds forth as the probable re- sult of them ; for it is too often found, in examining the result of marriages where beauty, personal accomplishments, and the extrava- gant passion of the lover, have produced such an union as is here understood, that the want of do- mestic union is not compensated by the luxuries of fortune and the splendour of station. The follow- ing story, that is unhappily foond-
THE FEMALE TATTLER.
33
ed ii) fact, luo Uuly tNemplifiPs the vvretcliedness which often re- snhsfrom matrinionial connections, foruietl without a due degree of preconsiderate attcniion to pro- })ortioiuitc situation or fortune, anil without well weighing the possibi- liiy, or rather the probid)ility, of hen)g elevated to the coronet of a liushai^-d, and at the same time feeling that these unexpected ho- nours add nothing to th.e solid hap- piness of life — that, in the language of our great poet, " she may be no countess in her heart."
Caroline possessed the
advaiuages that are derived from great beauty and solid understand- ing. Her parents, though in a si- tuation of life that tlid not arise nuicli above mediocrity, were vir- tuous and noble-minded; and, persuaded thataccomplisments and a cultivated mind were preferal)le to whatever mere fortune can ofl'er, they made the utmost sacrifices their property would allow lor their daughter's education. They, how- ever, were amply answered by her acquirements, which decorating as they did the charms of her person, she attracted general admiration; while the superior sweetness of her character, ajid the predominating
iroodness of her heart, secured to
-I her the warmest re<iard of all who
• '\
had the opportunity ol becoming
acquainted with them. ||
Kdwaru (for l)y that name I must
be contented to distinguish him)
was the only son of a rich and noble
family, ami liaving by cliance seen
the young ladv alreadv described,
was so much struck by the charms
of her ])ers()n, as to make those
inquiries concerning her, which
induced him to forin an acquaint- '
I'ol. IL Ao. f II.
ance with her father. This brought on tliose frieiullv communications, which induced so warm an attach- ment on his rart, that he made the lather of the amiable Caroline the most honourable proposals for his daughter ; but thatdisinterested and respectable gentleman, who dis- dained to take advantage of what he conceived to be the mere infa- tuation of an unreflecting passion, replied in terms which left Edward without the most distant hope of obtaining his consent. " If you were at liberty to dispose of your- self," he said, " I might accede to your wishes ; hut you have a father, whose consent is as necessary to such an union as mine; and you must be sensible that he will never be brought to consent to such an unequal alliance, and so opposite to all the plans he has formed for your future establishment." This refusal overwhelmed the young nobleman with grief and disap- pointment. It happened, howevejr, that the death of his father, very shortly iifter, allowed him the li- berty of openly avowing his choice, and revived all his former hopes. He accordingly renewed his appli- cation, am! the lather referred the proposal to tlie will of his ilaugh- tcr; and when it was made to her, she repiieil to the following effect : -^'* Your high r.ink, mv lord, your great tiossessions aiul acknowlcired merit, give you a claim to the most brilliant alliance; and, as I under- stand your family has qever been sullied by what your friends, and most probably the world at large, would thinlv a degrading connec- tion, would not a marriage with me be considered as a derogation of your name' If, uidoed, the virtue:* F
34
T. THE FEMALE TATTLER.
of my parents could compensate for rank and riches, you would not have to blush for my birth. I could contrive, indeed, to make out something of a remote genealogy, but I scorn to employ the shadow of misrepresentation ; and I see but one way of proving myself sensible of the honour you do me, and the regard which you have condescended to manifest towards uie, which is by refusing your haiid, and thereby preventing you from doing an act, which, in the eye of the world, to which you owe much, and the opinion of your famil}- and proud connections, to which you owe more, must produce that dis- approbation, and perhaps discord, whose eft'ects I cannot but foresee, and must create severe mortifica- tion to you, and consequent misery to us both. At the same time I do not hesitate to acknowledge, that I am so sensible of your virtues, as j to lament that inequality of condi- tion that separates us ; but so it is, and generous as your proposals are, my determination is to refuse them. Thus I prove, at least, that my generosity is equal to your own."
These sentiments, instead of checking the noble lover's pur- suit, gave it additional ardour ; he persevered, and she at length re- lented. " But," said she, " the day may come, perhaps, when you will reproach my too ready com- pliance: weigh well, therefore, the nature of an engagement, that in a few days may be rendered indisso- luble, and which may be succeeded by years of unavailing repentance; but if you are resolved to iionour pie with your name, remember, at ]east— yes, I charge von to re-
member, that my consent was wrung from me by your irresistible- eff-'' treaties." - --'s"-"' '^'-
They were married : \\\s ia^tt'vAf deeply resented the connec3ti(in, ' and ambition succeeded to love in'' the breast of Edward ; so that, '18 gratify his subsequent emotions, to sooth the irritation of his friends,^ and to make amends for what lie" now considered as the effect of early folly and an inconsiderate passion, he determined on a sep'd*-^ ration. She had already borne much with superior patience, but this affliction she could not sup- port: her fortitude entirely forsook her ; her health was Undermined by grief, and at length the physi- cian thought it his duty to te'll her, that her time in this world w6uld be of short duration. This intelli- gence rather consoled than alarm- ed her. She desired, however, to see her lord, and, on his seating himself by the side of her bed, she thus addressed him : —
" I have but a few words to ut- ter, and they will be my last. Your happiness has ever been my first object, since, by your fond 'tHA most earnest entreaties, I wasunit- ed to 30U. This you well know; but, notwithstanding the ardour and purity of my attachment to you, a determination has arisen in your mind to break the solemn engagement you made with me at the altar, and from which death will soon release you. Life was only valuable to me, becausie 1 thought it essential to your Irappi- ness; but as it has for sortie tittie appeared to be considered by you as a source of misery, I bless Hea- ven that it is about to deprive irie of it. As it is no longer dea^ to
A//'"£ r//f//^-// /,'j /'///. t'
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.V
jd fke of saxokx
) -v/'////'r/7' ^ y/z./r (,>,^:yv//y/- ////////•/^/
/<'//// -y , /:>/// '^ri'iurj '/r^/O, ^//A' ^^rA-erM,/////.v /Vf/wx/A'/r /■/ ; //•/.,-, //'/, . *;'/ v//,/
CHARACTLR OF PRINCE LEOPOLD.
35
)'i>u, iC is become iasupportable to me; and that your happiness ma)' be restored when I am in my grave, is tlie last wish of a broken heart." This was a scene which seemed at once to renew all his former af- fection; but his promises of future
amendment and compensating ten- derness were made in vain, his contrition came too late, and she died a fatal example of the misery which may arise from a union which reason disapproves.
COIINELIA.
SOiME PARTICULARS ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE CHARAC-
- TER OF PRINCE LEOPOLD OF SAXE-COBURG.
io JC'Oti'^^
:,JVt0ST of our readers, we pre- sivtiiCj. are acquainted with the principal events of the life of the ilJtistrjous subject of this article, and with the chief traits in the cha- racter of his highness, IVom the ample memoir given in Shoberl's deservedly popular Historical Ac- count of the. IJouiie of Saxoni/, just published by Mr. Ackeumann. In the following pages we shall, there- fore, a bstium from such points as have been treated of in ihut work, and confine ourselves to a few in- teresting particulars relative to his education and early habits, ex- tracted from the manuscript com- munication of an inielliffent cor- respondent at Dresden, who has been at considerable pains to col- lect authentic particulars concern- ing Prince Leopold. -, The chief merit of the educa- tion of this prince belongs to the privy-cuunsellor Hohnhaum. Tbis gentleman was in 1799 appointed teacher to Leopold and his two brothers, and consequently had the ^Cm^i^yho was then between eight
the means of strengthen ing- his constitution: he accustomed him to gymnastic exercises, proceed- ing from the easiest to the most se- vere ; not a moment was Iclt un- employed; and this system proveil so successful, that the prime was enabled, at a suljsequent period, to support, without difficulty, all the hardships and dangers of war.
During his childhood the prince had no play-fellows; his two bro- thers were both too much older than iiimself, the one being his senior by seven, and the other by upwards of five years. It was, therefore, impossible to prevent them from sometimes exercisini^ the right of the stronger upon their younger brother, when he mixed in their youthful sports ; and this treatment was so far from accord- ing with Leopold's notions of riglit and justice, that he chose rather to seek diversion by himself. Till he was turned of nine years t»vo squir- rels were his chief anuisement : lie not only regularly fed and attend- ed to them, but had the curiosity to
and.^.nine years old, constantly see what natural history had to say abcu^^ l)Lin. Me soon discovered i concerning his little favourites. jt|)^qjca{i(»5iity and good qualities of i| The accidental present of a pair of hi&papvl; attliesame tinie he could ',' pigeons next led him to makehiu)- .ijftlj^ibiiL perceive, that the prince \\ self acquainted with ihe peculiari- ^/vj^Sry^pfh^if fclelicat.e. The tutor I ties of the different varieties of t\ie.if^i)rej<|i reeled his firs<. cares to '! birds of that family. These inno-
F -2
m
CHARACTER OF PRINCC LIZOI'OI.O.
cent attachments were supplanted by a fondness for flowers, which he indulged in a garden that he rent- ed, and whicli led him into the ex- tensive field of botany. His pas- sion for tlvis science was, however, fer St excited so early as in his fifth year, by the contemplation of the prints in the natural history for children, published by the Indus- trie Comptoir at Weimar, which has produced so niany other useful works for the instruction of the 'youthful mind. By his intimate acquaintance with botany, com- bined with his noble character and pleasing manners, he very strongl}' recommended himself to the Em- press Josephine during his first vi- sit to Paris. A connoisseur her- self, and possessing a collection of pUmts unrivalled upon the Conti- nent, she particularly distinguished Prince Leopold, and presented him \»'ith various rare articles out of her garden. The love of what is grand and beautiful in nature next led him to landscape-painting, in which he is a very great proficient, and for his skill in this art he is indebt- ed to himself alone ; for though his master, Rauschert, was celebrated in Germany, and England also, as a practical artist, yet he was defi- ^i^enfc in theoretical knowled<^e, ami died before the prince had luade any great progress. \Vith these pleasing pursuits he com- bined the study of music, which lie learned with the same ease and celerity as every thing else to wliich lie addicted himself.
The history of Saxony inspired Prince Leopold with a love of his- tory in general : from the history of his ancestors, which made a deep iOjpr;t:ssioi> ypon his mind, he pro-
ceeded to that of th.c states con- nected with the history of ihe Sax- ons; and therefore studied at an early period of life the history af England, and conceived a decided predilection for the constitution, manners, and literature of tliiscoan- try. In the historyof Germany he was particularly struck uiih Schiller's History of tlie Thirty Years War. The noble and chivalrous spirit of the heroes described in that woxk animated his bosom; but the deeds of that champion of religious and political independence, Gustavus Adolphus, excited his highest en- thusiasm. In tlie contemplation of the life of this prince his lieart and imagination found a rich treat, and he often wished to be in the place of Gustavus Adolphus, that hfe might protect the rest of the Con- tinent from the despotisoi of Na- poleon. The young prince was often quite absorbed in these spe- culations, and when he fancied himself contending as Gustavus Adolphus for the liberties of Ger- many, he would sometimes affec- tionately call his faithful tutor Hohnbaum, his good Oxenstierna. From this time the prince began to read military works and to study ntatliematics, as necessary for his future destination. : Tiiough he at first found some difficulty in this science, yd he soon overcame anil made himself complete master of it. The languages he learned as he had occasion for them : here again he was infinitely less indebt- ed to formal instruction than to his own assiduity. He learned Latin at an early age; in his native lan- guage and Erench he has acquired extraordinary perfection ; of Rus- sian he made himself master so far
wi;i>ic.\L It r. VIEW.
37
as was necessary for liiiu as a Rus- , sjau general ; Englisli he learned I later, hut studied it with a diligence || and perseverance that soon over- jl icahie all the difficulties of that Ian- | guage. As the prince learned from early youth to l)e economiial ot his j ttnie, he was also hahituated to he frugal of his money : his tutor en- j couraged him to keep an account -I of his receipts and expences; he!! soon took upon himself the ma- || nagement of his money, and kepi t his accounts in the most regular i manner. 'J'hc poor never failed to share his bounty, and though he never c(Mitracted debts, he was far from penuri(;us. !
' A letter from the Rev. Mr. Hof- ! lenderji xiated 'Coburg, May 13, 1816, says:— ."From 1797 to 1811 ; I was one of his tutors, ami for near foitrtecn years 1 gave him instruc- ; tion on every subject. In ttie iirst year 1 taught him biblical history, \ Christian niorality, religion, and tl.e history of Christianity. On the i l-2thof St-{>:eniber, 1805, tr.e prince
was confirmed according to the cus- tom of the Lutheran church, and partook for the first time of the Holy Communion. What I said on this occasion before a numeroas assen)bl}', in my discourse previoirs to the confirmation, on the moral and religious character of i\\e prince, could not but tend to his conunendation, as he always ma- nifested the most serious attention to my instructions, and was not only ihorougliiy acquainted with the truths of our holy religion, but his heart was deeply penetrated by them."
We could add the testinionies of other instructors of this amiable prince, if we were not convinced, that the preceding cliaractcr of him is more than sutlicient to authorize us to a!uici{)ate from his union with the heiress to the Fintisli throne, results equally concUicive to the welfare of the nation at large, and to the happiness of thytdistinguish- ed family of which he is become a member.
MUSICAL
The veleffratcd Air^ " Love has Ei/es,''^ ' arniii'^ed us a Ro/ido far the Pia- no-Forte, and dedicated to Mrs. , Biilinglo/t, by J. B. Cramer. Pr. 3s. i
In a preceding nuud>er we no- i ticed a work of Mr. Ries's on a ! thenie of Mr. Bishop's, and now we have to submit another air of the latter author as the foundation of a composition by Mr. Cramer. This adoption on the part of such distinguished masters cannot but prove highly flattering to the ori- ginal autlior of the th*;mes, espe-
IIEVIEW.
cially when he beholds his oft^pring" treated in a manner calculated to elicit new beauties and enhance still more its estimation. This is lully the case with the present ron- do. Mr. C. does not usher in his friend's child abruptly; a proper and indeed elegant introduction precedes its appearance, and the debut itself i> maile in holiday suit of the first cut and fashion, with tasteful trimmings of the most fan- ciful variety. To speak plaiidy, the rondo before us is in every re- spect worthy of the fame of its
3^
MUSICAL KEVlfiW
author; it exhibits, in an eminent degree, that infinite diversity of classic ideas, and that consummate chasteness of harmonic treatment, wjb^h vyill render Mr. C.'s name dear to future musical generations. No. 20. Istriau Jir, for the Pia/to- Forte, Harp, Flute, and Violon- cello, composed, and hiscrihed to the Hon. Miss Frances Jddington, by J. Mazzinghi. Pr. os. In the series of national airs composed and varied by Mr. M. for the four instruments above- nien- tioned, there is such a similarity in point of merit, and indeed of oe- iieral treatment, that much of what we have had occasion to notice in our account of preceding numbers, applies to the Istrian air before us. Its theme is gentle and chaste, and the variations display that unla- boured ease, which is the result of the matured talent and experience of the author. Among them we wer^, preferably pleased with var. 2. /?. 2; the elegant variation for the harp, p. i; the mellowed flow of the demi-semiquavered passages, />. 0; the able bass evolutions, p. 8; and the bustling and rich prepara- tions of the conclusion, p. 9. :^ 'r The Harmonic Miscellany, a Selec- ': Hon of popular Rondos, Airs, S)-c. with f aviations for the Piaiio- Forte, composed hy the most fa- vourite Authors. No. II. Pr. 2s. This number of the Harmonic Miscellany contains the rondo be- longing to a sonata of Mr. Kalk- brenner's composition. It is, like many of that author's works, ani- mated and florid; and although mainly devised in a light style, yet some clever modulations and strik- iug e{fects infuse constant interest ifllo the wkole. Its signature is C
major, hut that key, we must own, is not often visible; the second part of the subject setting out at once with three flats, and accidental sharps and flats in abundance be-,. ing introduced in the sequel; as* much as five at a time. The nu^- merous quick passages are highly, spirited and fanciful, so as to af- iord excellent practice foj;..iitl»&> n^ngers. .iciiosjRfioijr
The popular original Courtship Dam^t
of. the Russian Feasants, ^rrxing-ts .etifor the Piano- Forte, zeiUi^^u/i^
Introduction and Flute yJccompa-.
niment, ad lib. composed hy F^,-^j-'
Klose. Pr. 2s. 6d.
'<.y«oVi
An andante in B minor, and some- what in the ancient French .style, forms the introductiojK /yijej^^jp- gro which follows, bears the staiwp of national authentirity, and its motivo carries witli it a. ce-rtain? (J plonih, well calculated for the ex-- hibiiion of die talents of Madauje Mangin and Mons. Baptiste, who executed it at the Kin-i's Tlieatre. Bars 7 to 10 we should object to, did we not suppose them to be iji,-^; tegral parts of the national theme, which Mr. K. had to give for better fc»r worse. In p. 5, /. 3, however, where the}' are employed to travel successively through D major, D minor, and F major, they Imve led the author into some uncouth har- monies. In other respects we ob- serve in this allegro much diversity of interesting ideas and consider-, able neatness of arrangement: tb^ flute is introduced with effect, and where it seizes the melody, th^ piano-forte acts in proper support. The whole is lightsome and agree- able. ,,j
Falentine's Day, or Henry gtyi jE^
TWflTy a favourite Duety -witi^jffjf
MUSICAL IIFVIEW.
39
'Jlccd'mpanimcnt for the Piano- ■ Forte, composed by Sir John A. 'J'Stievenson, Mus. Doc. Pr. 2s. *'This (liiet consists of two move- ments: an aiidantino, |, in which
which equally meets the peculiar turn of the text. In the introduc- tory symphony {b. 5), and in one or two corresponding places, the bass and lower notes of the treble
the two voices act alternately; and | move objectionably in two succtt'-!' an allegro, ^, for simultaneous ex- | sive fifths.
eciition. Both are conceived \n\TUe celebrated Poem, ''Fare tliee the^tasteful style which distinguish- jj ue/l," zcritten by Loid Ih/ron, com- es most of Sir John's vocal produc- j' posec/ by J. Whitaker. Pr.ls. Od.
tions; sprightly, melodious, and per- fectly easy, notwithstanding the lit-
This composition does not ap- pear to us to be sufficiently serious
tie decorative passage-work which ! and [)athetic for the poem ; and the serves to lead to a showy conclu- voice, chiefly proceeding through
ston.
" yj/i! ubif did 1 gather this delicate Floicer,'" n favourite Ballad, com- posed by r. Kmdin, Esq. as sung by Mrs. Salmon and Miss Unrt-
dotted crotchets, is, in our o])inion, too plain and uniform in its pro- gress. This aside, there is luuch pleasing melody in the several strains ; the ideas are select, and
Itttt, iiith the greatest applause, oi' } the accompaniment, evidently dei-'
the London and Bath Concerts.
Pr. Is. 6d.
We consider this a promising specimen of amateur-composition. The harmony, in some instances, might have admitted of iniprove- metit, and in the bass in general a less plain treatment would huve been desirable; but the melody is pleasing, and one or two passages particularly distinguish themselves by'tasteful and appropriate musical expression. ' "' ^ ^
'''Fare thee Zicll,'" zcrittmhflmtl
'Byfon, composed with an Ji*e6m'-
panim&nt for the Piano Porte, by G. KiaHmark. Pr. "2s. ■ Ih the melody of this composition
vised with a view to executive facility, is satisfactory. In this, as well as some other musical spec?-' mens of "Fare thee well," we ob;-- serve what appears to us a too close adherence to rhyitie in the liue^,'^'"
" EVii thoii^b Mnford;ivinj, 77efe^r , i^ " 'Gainst thee sliall my lieart rebel."
• to As the composer has so many means' of extending or narrowing the me- tre of his poetry, it would not have been difficult to allot the word "never" to the strain appropriated
; t<j the remainder of the sentence, in- stead of closing the first period with
I that word, and thereby creating a close where the sense of the text
of " Fai-e thee well" (in B b), the !i has none. Molody, in ouropinmn, several ideas are less distinguished ' ougiit, as much as possible, to be by noveltfybf conception, than they ! musical declamation.
will be tound' attractive by their unaffected expression, and the na- tural connection with which they succeed each other. A few minor bars are aptly introduced in the tBrd Verse, ahd a part in F follows,
" Fare thee zcell," Tcritten by the Risht Hon. Lord Byron, and de- dicated by permission to the Coun- tess La Ferte, composed, uith an accompaniment for the Piano- Forte or Harp, by C. M. Sola. Pr. 2s.
40
MUSICAL RF.VIEAV.
Tlic plaintive style of this melo- tlv corie>poiicls well with the im- port of the words, and the voice is strongly supported by the instru- mental accompaniment ; but Mr. Sola in this instance appears to us to travel too freely and frequently from the key to its relative minor, and vice versa.
" J}i calm, in soothing Pleasure,^'' a favourite Song, as sung zcitli un- bounded applause by Miss Nash att/ie Tlieiure Ro>/al, Drwi/-Lane, in the Opera of the Maid of the Mill, coiupoaed. by Nasolini ; the fVords written and arranged to the Musichy Charles Cummins, Esq. Pr. 2s.
vMthongh we do not wish to en- couraj^e liie practice of writing- words to n)usi(;, we are bound to own, that, in this instance, it would be difficult to discover the appUca- lion of that ])ractice, so well do the words ajjply to the tune. The choice of the latter, too, appears to us to have been eminent I3' hap- py. It is a very fine and brilliant composition, v.iih good and chaste melody, and supported bj' various fanciful accompaniments ; all in the l)est style of the Italian school. In the second movement we are quite an fait of the versification; but we cannot butapplaud theman- ner in which the comjjoser of the poetry has expressed the beautiful idea, /. 3, ;;. 4. In the fifth page some bravura bars occur, vvliich, for the benefit of moderate vocal abilities, it would have been well to have given both in the ori";inal and in a more homely style, espe- cially as it must be more than a common voice to reach upper B and C sharp.
■" Dearest Ellen,'''' the favourite Not- turno, as sung at the fashionable
Parties, uritten hy W. G. T. Mon- crieff", Esq. and adapted to the Air of the Copenhagen IValtz, teithau Accompaniment for the Piano- Forte, by J. Addison. Pr. 2s. This is another specimen of words adapted to a favourite air, and the attempt has not been unsuccessful, although the peculiarity of the me- lody presented some difficuhies, which, if we recollect right, we adverted toon a previous occasion, when we had to notice the same tune with other words. Mr. A.'s ac- companiments are very elTective in point of harmony, and are render- ed highly interesting by the diver- sity of contrivance, as well as by the active passages which he has judiciously interwoven in their pro- per places.
A I olnntary for the Organ, in a familiar style, suited to Church Service, composed and selected, by S. F. llinibault. Organist of St. Giles in the Fields. Op. 5. No. IV. Pr. Is. 6d.
An adagio, and a movement in the style of a march, constitute this voluntary. Both are properly put together, and respecial>Ie. Of the sacred style in music they partake but in a slight degree; and, ex- cepting the directions for particu- lar stops and a few long notes, their character does not indicate an absolute necessity of the organ for their execution.
What ho! iVhat ho I a fourth Ma- drigal for four Voices, composed f and inscribed to James Visiter^ Esij. by \\ illiam Beale, Gent, of his Majesty's Chapels lio^'al. Op. 9. Pr. 8s.
The words to tiiis madrigal, in three sharps and ^ time, are stated to be by Mr. Henry Kobinson, and the four voices are a counter-te-
MUSICAL riLVIEW.
41
nor, firstand second tenor, and bass. Tliese parts are set with great at- tention to the text, and with much skill of harmonic contrivance. — Among several passages which we thoughtsingiiiurly striking and cle- ver, the part beginning with " Clo- ris loves not tears and sighs," de- serves distinct mention, on account of the able imitations successively allotted to the three lower voices. 'lite Laif of the II aiidcrer, rcritten hij the Right Honourable Lord By- ron, composed, and respectful 1 1/ in- scribed to Miss Sandys, by V . J. Klose. Pr. 2s.
As far as the four first lines of the text the song proceeds in a regular, tasteful, and well-connect- ed melody. At " It is not love" a new strain is introduced, the beginning of which is peculiarly well adapted to the words: but the deviation into the allied minor is in itself of a common and antiquated kind; the interval Fsh. D sh. at "nor low," somewhat difficult to seize in the situation in which it is employed ; and the lastsyllableof " ambition's" drags awkwardly. Two bars far- tlier on the melody arrives at a full close, whereas there the period of the text is quite incomplete. The last strain, *' And fly I'rom all," however interesting: bv reason of the accompaniment, is not well adapted to conduct to a proper termination of the song ; and in- deed the conclusion appears to us very abrupt and sudden. The more active acconipaniment of the se- cond verse has our entire approba- tion ; it creates variety and in- creased attraction. Practical Inst ructions for the Piano- Forte, dedicated to Miss yJnnn IIoxccll, far zchom they were origi- VoL II. No. III.
vally composed, by her Father, 1'. Howell. First part. Pr. lOs.Gd. I'he book before us forms tlie lirst part of a course of inst ructions ibr the piano-forte; the second part,consistingof a series of lessons in all the major and minor keys; and the third containing a set of preludes in the same keys. Amoncr the numerous elementary works vvhicii have come under our iiotice, this presents some features of dis- j tinction which appear to us of de- cisive merit. Besides the systema- 1 tic and perspicuous treatment of the first rudiments, we observe a ] fixed plan to pervade the whole of the author's labour. When he jrives a rule or definition, he also , gives an example to elucidate his text; and evpii the numerous les- sons which form a considerable portion of the work, are nothing but progressive examples purpose- ly devised to illustrate his system. We are fully sensible of the labour required in producing such a work, every bar of which is the author's own composition; and we as cor- dially agree with his opinion, that these lessons are infinitely more useful and proper than an olio of favourite tunes, frecjuentl)- strung- toiiether without sufficient atten- tion to their progressive difficul- ties. Here every lesson has its de- fined object, which ol>ject, more- over, is satisfactorily indicated and explained, and the learner is sys- tematically led from one peculiari- ty of executive practice to another of a higher degree in the scale of proficiency. Another conspicuous ' feature of these instructions is, the j uncommon pains which are taken j to impress the pupil with a proper i notion of maslcal time. This grand
^
vj'rit'TIT'
MUSICAL.- ItfiVlEW.
object is ever in tlie author's view; and the lessons tend to its attain- ment fully as mnch as to manual execution. Having said tims much in approbation of the author's per- formance, we shall state where it a.ppears to us still susceptible of improvement. To liave set a large ]jortion of the first lessons to one position of the hand, so as not to
j4 Dictionary of Micsici by J. : Bot- tomley. Pr. Is. -mjs
In tins neat and handy little vo- lume, Mr. B. has collected all that is most essential in musical ternai:? nology : some few omissions, bate occurred to us on perusal, but th<ty are of no great importance. His explication and orthography of the Italian terms are correct; and
require a shift or change of fingers, ;| where he has occasion to touch upr
is.liighly proper; but to persevere 1 ^n„ that position throughout this I book, and thereby to confine each ' hand to the range of five notes, [ appears objectionable. We sup- pose the second part supplies this desideratum, but are of opinion that the first ought to have includ- ed all that is essential in the im- portant chapter of fingering, and to have contained the most mate- rial general rules for the changes, shiftings, and substitutions of the fingers, and for the proper use of the thumb in particular. All this is more or less copiously treated in other elementary works of the same bulk and price.
uiuiiliary Lessons for the Piano- Forte, by T. Howell. Pr. 5s. "These lessons," to use the au- thor's own words, " are designed to facilitate the first efforts of chil- dren, commencing with enlarged notes, which are progressively re- duced to the usual size." The au- thor's idea of enlarging the size of the notes is novel, and likely to be attended with advantage to infant pupils. His giant crotchets, as large as swan-shot, form a sort of musical horn-book ; and their gra- dual diminution tends very pro- perly to accustom the child by degrees to the common size of {iiuiical types.
on elementary matter of ijistruc-, tion, his illustration is at ong^:f^nr.. cise and perspicuous. . . :^ gjij ar T/ie Tanky or Russian Dance, at" ranged as an Overture for the Pi- ano-Forte, by Augustus Voigt, Pr. 2s. ''^
It seems Mr. V. himself perceiv- ed that this dance is not best suited for an overture, for, after giving it at full length at the beginning, and repeating it by the de capo, we hear no more of it, directly or indirect- ly ; but, in its place, we have a va- riety of ideas which are much more in the character of an overture, an4 by no means uninteresting. Among those, thedolce part [p. 4, /. 1,) vyill be found particularly pretty.,.^, p. 3, /. 5, where the bass ascend* by fourths, a discord occurs in the third bar, to which we cannot re^- concile ourselves. The same pas- sage is much better treated in the fifth page. Upon the whole there is spirit and style in this composi- tion; and the facility with which it is set, renders it accessible to any but absolute beginner§^^; ggg,
MUSICAL INTELLIGENCE. An ingenious, and at the same time very simple, contrivance has recently been applied to the grand piano- forte, which appears to us a decided and e sential improve-.
tXIilBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.
43
ULt:vit. ' Instead of tuning in uni- son the three wires belonging to t^aelr'kif^y, two wires only iire so tuhed-f and the third (tlironghont the whole range, excepting a few oF'llie upper keys,) is tuned a>i oc- tave higher. Tlie elFert of this is, that the sound is rendered more powerful in general, its vibration and consequent length of duration are greatly increased, and the torie is thereby rendered more singing. At the same time, the lowest notes in the bass, wliich in general are
very indistinct, become by that means more defined and agreeable. What may to some appear singu- lar, this change in tiie mode of tuning is not to l)e discerned by the nicest ear, except by the pecu- liar general ertects above noticed. The inventor, Mr. Kirkman, has taken a patent for this description of grand piano-fortes, the price of which, as may be supposed from the simplicity of the contrivance, differs little from that of the grand piano-fortes hitherto made.
EXHIBITION OF THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.
" TftE- directors of this valuable n critic upon the Cartoons) has justly institution have, within the last j held them forth as great niodt'is of month, presented the public with : imitation, and as deservedly enti-
an E.XHiDrnoN of tjib Italian AND Spanish Schools of Paint- ing, an e.xhibition that cannot fail to improve the growing (and now general) taste of the public in the arts, and which nnist also open fresh
tied to the station to wliich the concurrence of past ages assigned them.
The other pictures in this col- lection consist of some of the best specimens of the Italian and Spa-
stores of information to the artist |; nish schools, and are of varied, but himself, and aid the cultivation and ], in developement of his powers. 1'his collection is graced by two of the Cartoons of Raphael from his Ma- jesty's gallery — The Miraculous Draught of Fishes, and Paul preach- ing at Athens. It would be a work not only of alFectation, but supere- rogation, to repeat the praises, or revive the critical disquisitions, which have been bestowed upon
some instances of superlative excellence.
The several manners of the Ita- lian schools may be said to coiiq)re- hend a union of the most compli- cated and studied design with the most refined simplicitv ; the most sterile with the richest and most gorgeous tints; every excellence in- deed that the arts demand in ex- pression, drawing, light, and sha-
these celebrated works. Tiiose who dow, and all that can rank art high have raised doubts on the propri- i in point of skill and intellect. In ety of some of their subortlinate them we can likewise perceive those parts, havenot withheld the tribute I seeds of corruption which after-
of thfelr admiration from the ma- jesty, the expression, ami simple ; grandeur of the pri^cipif orri^^; j and Mr. Fuseli (we belicVe tli'e lak '
wards degraded the art ; that eager and vulujjtuous desire for colour, which misled numbers in its pursuit, and gave to those who had less pow- G '2
44
EXHIBITION OF THE BUITISH INSTITUTION;
er than Rubens, a sort of clums}-, sliewy excellence, a glowing rich- ness, unpardonable wlien bestowed upon faults. And even Paul Ve- ronese, witii his lovely tone and brilliant et^'ect, exemplifies the in- feriority of tliis meretricious style, when compared with the produc- tions of a steadier and a more men- tal acquisition. To judge of the merit of mind over the striking, but transient gratification and plea- SHire we receive from colour alone, look, for example, at the contrast between the cartoon of Paul and the pictures of Paul Veronese in the same room. The latter are doubtless rich and luxuriant, but the mind is puzzled to comprehend the particular subjects they are meant to represent: yet, without any pretension to colour, though possessing it as far as the material will admit, the cartoon relates every circumstance and explains itself at the instant it meets the spectator's eye, improving in depth and gran- deur as he recedes in the distance. The works of Titian were the great models of his time. This art- ist combined more excellencies than any other painter of his age. The picture in this collection of Bacchus and Ariadne, from the Al- dobrandini Palace, is a school of art itself. Before we touch (and we can only slightly do so) on its merits, we are anxious to express our gratification at finding the finest works in the British Institution in the hands of families who rank high in our own commercial and tradiuii community. As the commerce of Venice and Italy revived the arts in Europe, so that of our own country seems calculated to che- rish and sustain, them. The Ba-
rings and Hopes are known alike in arts and commerce; and the pre- sent picture (the finest perhaps in the gallery) is the property of Mr.' Hamlet, a trader of higli re]i\j'tre* It bears the marks of having been much rubbed, injured, and repair- ed ; yet what a splendid union of expression and colour! The draw- ing is exquisite; a perfection that pervades the most subordinate parts,' even to the flowers strewed on the' fore-ground, and which are exqui- sitely finished, even when brought into contact with the best pictures of Claude. The face of Bacchus, defaced as it certainly is, hasendugh of soul left to shew what the artist executed. The young Satyr and calfs head are exquisite, and the drapery and figures in shadow'can never have been excelled.
Bacchanalian Dance, by N. Pous- sin, which is also the property of Mr. Hamlet, is remarkable for the correctness of its drawing and the purity of its execution.
Besides the former work of Ti- tian, there are several others enti- tled to notice, particularly Christ Tempted, from the Orleans Collec- tion. The female arm is exqui- sitely drawn and coloured, and the countenance of the Saviour has a truly divine expression. The Mar- riage of St. Catherine, Titian^s Daufihter with a Casket, and A Man drinking (the transparency of the glass in the last in particular), are productions that are of themselves calculated to sustain this artist's fame, even though opposed to his Tiuropa in this collection, which was evidently painted at the close of Titian's century.
The works of Raphael are nu- merous and splendid. The St. Ca-
EXHIBITION OF THE UIUTISH INSTITUTION.
45
therine, from tlie Aldobranclini l*a- i lace, T/ic l^irgin and Child, and .S7. Joint, from the Escurial, are the . finest examples of grace aiu! beauty that probably are extant. The grace and meekness of St. Cathtiino are wonderfully expressed.
Leonardo da Vinci's works are also numerous and valual)le. Tke JJctids of the jJpostles were merely intended as sketches for his larger 1 works ; they are therefore more re- markable for their strength and ex- ' pression of character, than for any ]>articular beauty of execution. His ; Christ dispuling uitk the Doctors is particularly line, for the beauty and interesting expression of the young Saviour's head, contrasted u ith the marked and varied charac- ter of his auditors.
This collection has also some fine specimens of the style of the Carracci, the founders of the eclec- tic school, who devoted themsidves to the unattainable union of An- gelo's design, Raphael's grace, Ti- tian's colouring, anil Corregio's ert'ect. It is netdltss to say, that they not only failed, but exposed men of equal talents with them- selves, such as Guitlo and Dome- nichino, who were their pupils, to the bitter reflection of having wast- ed the labour of years in the fruit- less pursuit, and, in the words of Sir Joshua Reynolds, " of having dissipated their natural faculties over the immense held of possible excellence."
The Triumph of Galatea, fn'<iO, by A. Carracci, is an admirable example of correct drawing.
The Natiiiti/, and Saint Francis, zcith the yJiigel, by L. Carracci, contain a greater union of powers
than the former, but are not per- haps so perfect in their drawing. Landscape, nilh a Prorcssion and I Sacrifice, from the Aliieri Palace, ] and Landscape, icith IJistorical ! Li'^ures, by Claude, are exquisite , paintings. The latter is now more j generally preferred, though the , former, we believe, has invariably j'i borne a higher price, and been I long considered the best landscape in the kingdom. The clear and ' finely subdued tints of the latter, . the immeasurable distance in the j perspective, and the pure and na- tural tone of colouring in all its j parts, appeared to us quite unique, i Many parts of the former appeared I heavy in the painting, perhaj)s from
some of the thinner i)arts beino-
1' . . ^
;, wiped off in the course of tin)e,
j and leaving a dark, heavy colour behind. The fore-ground, too, j, looks black: the tree is, however, '; very fine; and the farther temple, together with that part of the pic- I tnre which surrounds it, is lovelv, jj particidarly the tasteful termina- |i tion of the picture, and the light , tree near that spot. j The Shepherd^s Off'erin^, from the Crozat Collection, by P. Veronese, I is the best coloured and executed I picture by this anist in the Exhi- bition : it is a fine specimen of his silver tone. The treatment of the design does not correspond witii • the merit of the colouring. j Landscape, Storm, nilh Dido and j JEneaSy from the Falconieri Pa- I lace, by G. Pous>iii ; a very grand and poetical landscape, and supe- rior to the works of N. Poussin in this gallery; althoiigh The Land- scape ai.d Tignres (No. 88), by the latter, is finelv executed. His
46
MANNERS OF THE MODERN GRF.EKS.
Death of Tanned must likewise be admired, for the spirit of its corn- position and the correctness of its tirawinp^. T/ie Triumph of David is also a good exaiDple of graceful attitude.
'- Ecte Homo (No. 33), by Guido, is an exquisitely finished work, both it) expression, attitude, and colour: the folds of the drapery are soft and tasteful ; the pearly shade of the colouring is finely at- tractive. His St. John preaching in the fVilderness is also a good pic- ture, but it has not the soft and pathetic interest of the former. It wants dignity, and belongs more to what is called common nature.
The Ecce Homo (No. 55), is the picture of which a curious story is related, demonstrating rather the mechanical execution of Guido than his Christian virtues. It was finished in two hours, to shew a travelling cardinal the facility with which the artist worked. The pious traveller exclaimed, how thankful the painter ought to be to God for endowing him with such rapid powers ; to which the other replied, that he would have owed little to Providence on this head, had he not himself for years of early life worked sixteen hours a day. The cardinal hastened from the painter, and left him his picture.
Saivator Rosa's landscapes par- take of that wild and romantic
style, in which he delighted to re- present the works of Nature. There* is great grandeur in his mode of arranging the large masses of lighc and shade which his pictures cod^ tain. ' 1 >i2
A small laho/e-length Portrait *i Armour, by Giorgione, is a beauti- ful picture: the subdued tone of the face is finely calculated to giver effect to the brilliancy of the at^ mour. :s
Murillo's works are admirable',> from tlie soft and mellow tone ofi their colouring, and the playful autt interesting attitudes of his iiguresv^ His style of composition is equally' simple and agreeable: there is sucii an even distribution ^pftalewS iliroughout his works, that one can hardly make a particular selection to exemplify his merits. If dom- pelled, however, to this selection, we should say, that his Firkin and Child, tiith yJngcls, contained a complete specinien of his forcible, and peculiar talent — of that union of simple and tender expression, and harmonious and varied colour- ing, for which he was more distin- guished than any other Spanish artist.
The present Exhibition is de^l; cidedl}- the finest that has been wit- nessed in the metropolis since the separation of the Orleans Collec- tion, ^a
THE SELECTOR:
Consisting of interesting Extracts from new Popular
Publications.
MANNERS OF THE MODERN GREEKS.
■Si. From Dr. Clarke's Tiatels, part 11. section iii.
.£>..%
ll&
We were conducted to the house I of a rich Greek merchant, of the ,
name of Logotheti, the arcbon oi\ iChief of Lebadea j a subject of ^hel
MANNERS OF THE MODERN GREEKS.
47
Grand Signior, since well known to other iLiiglisli travellers for his lios[)it^a.iity and kind offices. His brotlier Imd been beheaded lor his w^i^ltlj two years before, at Con- stantinople. In the house of this gentleman ^ve had an opportunity of observing; the <;cnnM)e nian- ners of the higher cla.ss of n)odern Qrceks, unaltered by the introduc- tion of any foreign customs, or by an intercourse wiili the actions of 9ti)«R countries. They seemed to us tpbeas ancient as the time of Plato, gtndjinmany respectSjbarbarousand disgusting. The dinners, and in- deed all other meals, are wretched. Fowls boiled to raijs, but still tonsrh and stringy, and killed only an hour btifore they are dressed, con- stitute a -principal dish, all heaped together upon a large coj)per or pewter salver, placed upon a low stool, round whi^-h the guests sit upon cushions ; the place of ho- nour being on that side where the long couch of the dndn extends along the whitewashed wall. A long and coarse towel, very ill washed, about, twelve inches wide, is spread around the table, in one entire piece, over the knees of the party seated. . Wine is otdy placed before strangers; the rest of the qompany receive only a glass each of very bad wine with the dessej't. Brandy is handed about before sitting down to table. All persons who partake of the meal wash their hands in the room, both before and after eating. A girl, with naked and dirty feet, enters the apart- ment, throw ing to everv one a nap- kin: she is followed by a second damsel, who goes to ever-y guest, and kneeling before him on one knee, presents a pewter water- pot ^ud a pewter bason covered by a
grill, upon the top of which there is a piece of soap. An exhibition ra- ther of adisgusting nature, however cleanly, then takes place: for having made a lather with the soap, they fill their mouths with this, and squirt it, mixed with saliva, into the bason. The ladies of the family also do the same; latheringtheir lips and teeth, and displaying their arms, during the operation of the washing, wiih studied attitudes and a jjreat deal of affectation, as if taught to con- sider the moments of ablution as a lime when they may a[)j)ear to great advantage. Then tlie master of the house takes his seat, his wife sitting by his side, at a circular tray; and stripping his arin^; quite bare, by turning back the sleeves of his tunic towards b-is shoulders, he serves out the soup and the meat. Only one dit.h is placed on the ta- ble at the same time. \i it con- tains butc^ier's meat or poultry, he tears it into pieces with his fingers. During meals, the meat is always torn with the fingers. Knives and spoons are little useil, and they are never changed. When meat or fish is brougiit in, the host squeezes a lemon over the dish. The room all this while is filled with girls be- lon<rin<i to the house, and other irvenial attendants, all appearing with naked feet; also with a mixed coni[)Hny of priests, physicians, and strangers visiting the family. All these are admitted upon the raised part of tlie Hoor, or diia/i: below are collected meaner dependents, peasants, old women, and slaves, who are allowed to sit there upon the floor, and to converse together. A certain nameless article of house- hold furniture is also seen, making a conspicuous and revolting ap- pearance, in the room where the
48
MANNERS or THE MODERN GREEKS.
dinner is served ; but in the houses of rich Greeivs it is possible that such an exhibition may be owing to the vanity of possessing goods of foreign manufacture: the poor- er class, certainly whether from a regard to decorum, or wanting the means of thus violating it, are more cleanly. The dinner being over, presently enters the PavJ/wSor, or Ho- mer of his day, an itinerant song- ster, with his lyre, which he rests upon one knee, and plays like a fiddle. He does not ask to come 1 in,but boldly forces his way through j the crowd collected about the doors ; i andassuminganairof consequence, i steps upon the diian, taking a con- | spicnous seat among the higher I class of visitants : then striking | his instrument, and elevatin<r bis countenance towards the ceiling, | he begins a most dismal recitative, 1 accompanying his voice, which is only heard at intervals, with tones i not less dismal, produced by the ! scraping of his three-winged lyre. The recitative is sometimes extem- pore, and consists of sayings suited to the occasion ; but in general it is a doleful love-ditty, composed of a string of short sentences ex- pressing amorous lamentation, ris- ing to a sort of climax, and then beginningover again ; beingequal- ly destitute of melodious cadence, or of animated expression. The 'Poi^(.il(x that we heard, when lite- rally translated, consisted of the following verses, or sayings, thus tagged together: —
•* For black eyes I faint ! For light eyes 1 die I For blue eyes 1 go to my ^rave, and am buried V
But the tone of the vocal part re- sembled rather that of the howling of dogs in the night, than any sound which mitrht be called mu-
sical. And this was the impres- sion made upon us every where by the national nmbic of the modern Greeks; that if a scale were form- ed for comparing it with the scale 01 music in other European nations^: it would fall below every otlier, ©js.r:'^ cepting only that of the Lapland- ers, to wliich, nevertheless, it bears some resemblance. Tiie ballads of the Greeks appeared to us to be, generally, love-ditties ; and those of the Albanians to be war-songs, celebrating fierce and bloody en-' counters, deeds of plunder, and desperate achievements. But such general remarks are liable to ex- ception and to error : other trar vellers may collect exaiT)ples of the Romaic and Arnaout poetry, seem- ing rather to prove, that a martial spirit exists among the Greeks, and a disposition towards gallantry among the Albanians.
One of these 'Px^oj^ot entertain- ed us, during dinner, every day that we remained in Lebadea. When the meal is over, a girl sweeps the car- pet; and the guests are then mar- shalled, with the utmost attention to the laws of precedence, in re- gular order upon the divuH : the master and mistress. of the house being seated at the upper end of the couch, and the rest of the party forming two lines on each side; each person being stationed ac- cordino- to !us rank. The couches upon the divans of all apartments in the Levant, being universally placed in the form of a Greek n, the manner in which a company is seated is invariably the same in every house*. It does not vary, from the interior of the apartments in tlie Sultan's seraglio, to those
* Hence may be understood what is meant by "holding a divan/' as well
M.VNNF.riS OF THE MODKRN GREEKS.
49
ot the meatiest subjects in his do- , minions ; the difference consisting | only in the coveiinglortheconchcs, and the decorations of the iloor, walls, and windows. After tliis ar- rangement has taken place, and every one is seated cross -lej^jged, the pe'.vter basin anil ewer are brought in again, and again begins the same ceremony of ablution, with the sante lathering and squirt- ing from all tlic mouths that have been fedr. After this, tobacco-pipes are brought in : but even this part of- the ceremony is tiot without its etiquette; for having declined to use the pipes oft'ered to us, they were not handed to the persons who sat next to us in the order observed, although the tobacco in them was ready kindled, but taken out of the apartment, and others of an inferior qtiality substituted in their stead, to be presented to the per- sons seated below tis.
There are no people more in- flated with a contemptible and vul- gar pride than the Turks; and the Greeks, wlio are the most servile imitators of their superiors, have borrowed many of these customs from their lords. Costly furs are much esteemed by both, as orna- ments of male and female attire; that is to say, if they be literally co^tli/; as the finest fur that ever was seen would lose all its beauty in their eyes if it should ever be- come cheap. Their habits are only esteemed in proportion to the sum of fnoney they cost; changes de- pending upon what is cdWed fasfiion being unknown among them. The
as the orip;in of thnt expression; the members of a council, or of any state
.assembly,, being thus seated.
II Vol. 11, No. fJL
cap of tlie infant Logotheti con- sisted of a mass of pearls, so strung as to cover the head ; and it was fringed with sequins, and other gold coin, among which we noticed some of the latest Christian emperors, and of the church. Tlie dress worn by his wife was either of green velvet or of green satin, laden with a coarse and very heavy gold lace; the shoulders and back being fur- ther set off with grey squirrel's fur. There is yet another curious in- stance of their scruj)ulous atten- tion to every possible distinction of precedency. The slippers of tlie superior guests are placed upon the step of the divan: those of the lower rank, of the unfortunate, or dependant, are not allowed this honour; they are left below the divan, upon the lower part of the floor of the apartment, nearer to the door.
About the time that the pipes are brought in, female visitants ar- rive to pay their respects to the mistress of the house, who, upon their coming, rises, and retires with the women present, to receive her guests ill another apartment. On one of the days that we dined here, it being the day of a Greek festival, two Albanians, with their wives and children, came to visit the archon. These peasants, upon entering the room, placed each of them a sack of provisions in one corner of the apartment, and then came forward to salute their landlord. When the women advanced, they touched lii:> hand only, and then placed their own hands to their foreheads, tnuk- ingthesign of the cross, as in Rus- sia: but the children took, his hand and kissed it, applying afterwards the back partof it to their foreheads. H
if/
JkXlQ
3^9
OKITiKS'JK
.fn9^?»''».
HUNTING THE GIRAFFE.
Fjow LictiTENSTtis's Tiuvcls ill Soutliem Afiirn, vol. il.
Our hunters expected to find a great deal of the larger sorts of ganie in the country we were now to traverse, and therefore rode on before, since the noise of our whole convoy togetlier would probahly frighte-n them. We had scarcely travelled an hour, when the Hot- tentots called our attention to some ebjects on a hill not far off on the left hand, which seemed to move. 1 he head of sometliing appeared almost immediately after, feeding on the other side of the hill, and it was concluded it must be that of a very large animal : this was con- firmed, when, after going scarcely a hundred steps farther, two tall swan-necked giraffes stood almost directly before us. Our transports were indescribable, particularly as the creatures themselves did not perceive us, and th.erefore gave us full time to examine tliem, and to prepare for an earnest and serious chace. The one was smaller, and of a paler colour than the other, which Vischer immediately pro- j)ounced to be the young of the larger. Our horses were sad- dled, and our guns loaded in an in&tant, when the chace commen- ced. Since all the wild animals of Africa run against the wind, so that ue were pretty well assured which way the course of tliese objects of our ardent wishes would be direct- ed, Vischer, as the most experi- enced hunter, separated himself from us, and, by a circuit, took the animals in front, that he might stop their wa}', while I was to at- tack them in the rear. I had al- most got witliin shot of theui when
they perceived me, and began to dy in the direction \ye expected, hint tlieir flight was so beyond all idea extraordinary, that, between laughter, astonishment, and de- light, I almost forgot my designs upon the harmless creelures' lives. From the extrava.'unt dispropor- tion between the lieight of the fore to that of the hinder part;?:, and of the height to tlie length of the ani-, mal, great obstacles are prtsented to its moving with any degree of swiftness. When Le Vaillant as^ scrts that he has seen tlie giraffe trot, he spares me any farther trouble in proving that this ani- mal never presented itself alive be- fore him. How in the world idiottld an animal, so disproportioned in height, before and behind, trot '^ The giraffe can only gallop, as I can affirm from my own experi- ence, having seen between forty and fifty at different times, botlvin their slow and hasty movements, for they only step when they are feed- ing quietly. But this gallop is so heavy and unwieldy, and seems performed with so much labour, that in a distance of more than a hundred paces, comparing the ground cleared with the size of the animal and of the surrounding objects, it might almost be said that a man goes faster on foot. The heaviness of the movement is only compensated by the length of the steps, each one of which clears, on a moderate com[)utation, from twelve to sixteen feet. On account of the size and weight of the fore pans, the giratVe cannot move for- wards through the power of the
HUNTING THE GIRAFFE.
51
muscles alone; he must bend back liis long neck, by which the centre of gravity is thrown somewhat more behind, so as to assist his march : then alone it is possible for him to raise his fore legs from the ground. The neck is, how- ever, thrown back without being itself bent, it remains stiff and erect, and moves in this erect form slowly backwards and forwards with the motion of the legs, almost like the mast of a shi|) dancing upon the waves, or, according U) the phrase used by sailors, a reel- ing ship*. It is not difHcult to overtake the giraffe with a tolera- bly good horse, especially if the ground be advantiigeous and some- what ou the rise; for it will be easily comprehended, that it must be extremely difficult for a crea- ture of such a structure to move upon the ascent.
The extriionhnary motion of this animal, the i'atigue he seemed to experience in heaving up his fore legs, and the stiff manner in which they came to the ground, so rivet- ed my attention, that mv ardour in pursuit of him was, for a mo- ment, checked, and recollection was wholly lost in observation. 1 soon, however, set mv horse again into a gallop, anti sprang towards this wondtrful hgnrc; v/liile he, ])robably never before interrupted ; by a human being, and perfectly unsuspicious of our evil desi<>ns, stootl there, looking with an eye of ;
* It has been said, that the iiiovement I of the kin''lit a' chess was borrowed tVinn that of thegirafle. If there be any truth | in this notion, it can refer only to the ', sprniL^mg over every thing, not to its | obliijue motion, which is wholly foreign ] to that of tile Lriralle. '
curiosity towards me, without seem- ing t(j be aware of my con)panioii. That companion had already ap- proached the animal in front, but unluckily he had not patience to wait a few moments longer before he fired, and, taking his aim at too great a distance, his shot failed. Alarmed, the creatures now ran with redoubled swiftness; besides which, a ntiiiute was necessarily lost in rcloadinji and cockinj; the gun, in which they got the start of us very considerably. Our horses, though already out of breath, were again spurred on ; but we should never have come up with the gi- railes, if they had not suddenly turned round, having probably seen some of our companions who hail gone on before, or had the idea of some other danger, and come di- rectly towards us. By this means they were soon within our reach; when Vischer, hastily disniounting from his horse, tired, and ilie3'oung one fell. The old one iiumediatoly renewed her flight more eagerly than before, anil was hit by my tire, l)ut not in a mortal part. I follow- ed her still awhile by the track of the blood, but she quickly got the start of me very much, and my horse was so completely wearied that I was forced to give tlie thing up. I then returned to my com- panion, whom 1 found sitting upon the neck of our fallen ])rey. He called to me not to ap[)roach in- cautiousl^'jsincetlieaniujal, though wounded in the s|jine, had yet a great deal of strength reuiaining, and had made several efforts to spring up again, which he was seeking to prevent by keeping the neck down. As our companions soon after rejoined us, we released II 2
JS
LONDON FASHIONS.
the poor giraffe from his confine- ment: this was no sooner clone, tlian, though almost at the last gasp, it endeavoured, by a power- ful spring of its long neck, to raise itself up, and remained for some instants with its body half vaised from the ground. It then fell again from weakness, but in falling the left horn struck against a stone, which considerably injured the beauty of the skull.
As night was coming on, we all united with the utmost diligence in cutting up our prize, the skin of which, with the most important parts of the skeleton, and some pieces for the kitchen, were car- ried away. After the head was se- parated from the neck, and the whole fore part was laid open, we began four of us to strip the thighs, when a last convulsive pal-
pitation of the whole tendon mus- cles scattered us on all sides, not in a very gentle manner. Two Hottentots, who were at work on the hinder hoofs, were struck with such force as to be thrown to the distance of three or four paces; and I myself received a blow on the head from the front hoof, which I felt prietty severely for several day*. In all the larger quadrupeds, par^- ticularly the buffalo, I have ob- served an extraordinary irtitability in the muscular fibres, which pro- bahiv arises principally from the vital warmth remaining so much longer in so large a mass before it can be wholly expended. The muscles in the thighs, for exam*- ple, I have known not un frequent- ly tremble at being touched with tlie knife, even an hour after they are separated from the body.
FASHIONS.
LONDON FASHIONS.
PLATE 4. — OPERA DRESS.
This dress is composed of white lace, and is worn over a rich soft white satin slip. The skirt is trim- med, in a style of peculiar ele- gance, with lace festooned at re- gular distances ; the festoons are edged by a plain band of byas sa- tin, and finished by pearl orna- ments of a very novel and pretty shape. The body, composed also of lace, is cut byas, and is richly ornamented round the bosom with pointed lace. Plain long sleeve, very full, except towards the wrist, which is uearly tight to the arm, and elegantly finished with lace. The hair, which is ornamented only
with a wreath of French roses, is parted in front, and simply dressed in loose curls, which fall very low on each side. The hind hair forms a tuft at the back of the head. Necklace, ear-rings, and bracelets of pearl. White satin slippers, and white kid gloves. A blush-colour- ed French silk scarf is thrown carer lessly over the shoulders.
We are indebted for this very elegant and tasteful dress to a lady of rank, by whom it has been just introduced.
PLATE 5. — MORNING DRESS.
A round dress, composed of ja-: conot muslin, finished round the bottom of the skirt by a deep
JJPIEKA ]13>K.JE
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.
53
fiouncc of rich work scolloped at the edge, and a heading to corre- s|X)nd. The body has a slight ful- ness behind. The form of the front, as our readers will perceive by our print, is extremely novel and pretty. Plain long sleeve, fi- nished at the wrist by a pink band and bow. The cuniette worn with this dress is of the moi) kind, and by much the most becoming we have ever seen : it is composed of Avhite lace, and tastefully orna- mented with roses, l^ink kid slip- pers, and white kid gloves.
This dress is much approved by //e/les of taste for its elegant sim- ])licity: its form and materials are certainly strictly appropriate to morning costume. It was invent- ed by Mrs. Gill, of Cork-street, Burlington-Gardens, to whom we are indebted for it.
genf:ral observations on :- fashion and duess.
We have little alteration to no- tice in the promenade costume since our last nunjher. Pelisses are still worn, but they are most in fa- j vour with matrons ; spencers are |' the order of the day with youthful belles; and silk scarfs, over white - muslin dresses, are adopted by both. We see, with pleasure, ladies of distinction give liberal encou- ragement to Knglish manufactures; ' and it is but justice to own, that the ])roductions of our own looms may vie with those of anv other coun- try. Our imitations of China crape and French silk, both for dresses and scarfs, are now universally , adopted; the former in particular! are uncommonly good. We have j pp novelty to anuouiice either in
spencers or pelisses since our last number.
Straw and Leghorn hats and bonnets are still much in favour; they are trimmed with gauze to correspond, and are frequently worn without any other ornament than a large bow and a white lace veil thrown over them : low plumes of feaihtrs, either white or straw colour, are, however, adopted by- many elegantes; but Hovvers are not at all worn.
Tlie hat most in favour for the dress protnenade, is composed of white chip, lined and edged with white satin: it is a plain round shape, w ith a very small front, and a moderate sizt-d crown; and is or- namented in front by a beautiful low plume of white feathers, tipped with green, blue, or lilac. White satin hats are also made in this form, but cliip seems to be consi- dered most elegant.
China crape scarfs, richly em-
broidcrcil in colours at the ends,
are miicli worn in the carriajje cos- es
lume, as arc also those beautiful Freuch, or imitation of French, net scarfs, whii^-h are woven of hard silk, and are equally rcnmrkable for their lightness and the vivid beauty of their colours. The ends of these scarfs are usually of five colours, beautifully shaded; the middle, if not white, which is con- sidered as most fashionable, is al- ways of some light colour.
Muslin is the only thing now adopted by belles of taste in the morning costume. The dress that we have given in our print is the highest in estimation ; but we have seen a half high dress, composed of jaconot mu:?lin, made tight to the shape, and the whole of the
54
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.
body ornamented with very narrow tucks put close together, ^\l^ich
give it tlie appearance ot being small-plaited. The long sleeve was quite plain, but finished at the wrisi by a narrow triijle 6ounce; the trimming of the skirt corresponds with the wrist, and ihe Jic/iu with which it is worn, is trimnied in a similar manner. The only recom- irtendation of this dress, is its ex- treme plainntss and simplicity.
AV liite is also very much in fa- vour for dinner dress, as is spotted silk, and a very beautiful new silk, a myrtle leaf on a white ground, the leaf much raised. Coloured bodies are not much worn, but white saiin ones, very full trimmed with lace, are in great request. Blond for silk dresses, and French lace for muslin ones, are in general esti- matiot) : we observe, however, some f/Cga/ites whose dresses are trimmed with festoons of muslin edged with narrow lace, and ornamented with bows of ribbon on each festoon. Coloured sarsnet dresses are also trimmed in a similar manner with gauze to correspond ; the gauze is edged with a beautiful light silk trimming. No novelty has appear- ed in dinner dress since last month.
The corset des Graces mentioned in a former number, is likelv to continue a permanent favourite with ladies who consult health and the beauty of the shape; the width I which it gives to the cliest enhances I its estimation at present, because , dresses are now made so as to shew i the natural shape to the greatest advantage, and that must depend | in a great measure on the form of the corset.
The T/iuriuguen habit lately sub- mitted to our inspection, will, we
believe, be found to inerit the ap- probation of our fair readers: jwb understand it is honoured by the patronage of some fair equestrians, who are equally distinguished for rank and taste. There is consider- able novelty in the style of the braiding, wliich is disposed in front in a manner highly advantageous to the shape.
Crape and lace sprigged with silver and em!)roidered with lama, net enibroidered with white silk, and French gauze either white or coloured, trimmed with the same material intermixed with ribbon, are all in estimation for full dress. { The evening dress next in favour to ! the one given in our print, is com- I posed of white French gauze; the j skirt is trimmed very high with an intermixture of blond and wreaths I of rose-buds. Plain loose body, ! confined by the royal brace, com- posed of white or pink satin trim- med with blond, which is lightly edged with pink. Short full gauze sleeve, over which is a balf-sleeve formed by the trimming of the brace. The general effect of this dress is very tasteful, and it has more novelty ti»an any we have seen for some time.
In full dress the hair is worn much lighter on the forehead than last month, and not quite so low at the side, but still parted so as to display the forehead and eyebrows; the hind hair is brought up in a tuft. Turbans are very geiierally worn by matronly ladies ; and we have observed, both on youthful and middle-aged fashionables, a singularly pretty head-dress com- posed of a French net silk scarf: it entirely covers the head, and is so arranged as to have on one side
FKENCH I'i-.NJALL rAHUlOHS.
OJ
tlie appearance of a Ijuiich of beau- tiful riowers ; the ends are brought round to the left shoulder, and lail in the neck. Fearl ornaments are also much in favour; but for very young ladies, the most general or- nament is a chaplet composed of SIX rows of alternate white and red roses : this chaplet is placed at the back of the head, sd as to have the appearance of conlinin;; the tuft of hair, and the eHect is extremely pretty.
:.■ We have noticed in half dress a 3t neat simple caj) : it is a crown ol
an oval form ; one side composed of Ictiing-in lace, made light to the head; the other is a piece of plain net, gauged in three places, and each gauging ornamented with a row of lace : it lias a treble border of narrow lace put on full, and is ornamented with a half wreath of fancy flowers.
We have no alteration to notice in jewellerv since our last number.
Fashionable colours for the month coiuiiuie tiiesame as the last, with the exce[)tion of peach-blossotn, which is much in favour.
rj- FUrXCH FEMALE FASHIONS.
loj -I ^iniu] F.ARis.June 18. jj full coiton : the latter trimming is,
When I wrote to yon last, my j: I think, mo«,t ffishionable. If the dear Sophia, our fair fashionables Ij trimming is of lace, there are three had recently exchanged the heavy . falls of a moderate breadth, put babilimeuis of winter for the gay j: rather closely together; and if em- attire of spring, and that is now jl broidery, it is finished by one laid aside for the light drapery of ,i flouiuc of lace at the bottom. The summer. The chan-e from spring i skirt is rather full, and the fulncs* to summer costume is, however, is not thrown so much behind as it partial. The most fashionalile pro- p was last month. A hand of em- menade dresses are composed of j! broidery, or letting-in lace, of India muslin ; and they are ccr- [j about an inch in breadth, forms tuinly becomingly and simply I the waist, being sewed between the made. ^V^aists have been getting |j bodv and the skirt : tiie bodv is
progressively longer, and they have now attained a very becoming leniith: the backs of dresses are
made very low all round, and falls, as much as usual, ofi'the shoulders : there is a puffing of muslin or lace,
also a moderate breadth, and we which goes all round, and slopes to have lengthened our petticoats till ;! a point on the bosom, which is no- even prudery must acquit us of |; vel, but not, I think, advantageous indelicacy. So much for general i' to the shape. The sleeve is per- observation ; let me now proceed : fectly plain; it is long and very
to those minute particulars of which you are so fond.
The dress most in request for the j)romenade is, as I iiave said, composed of India muslin, and trimmed either with lace, or em-
wide, except at the wrist, which is gauged to the size of the arm in three places, each gauging being finished by a row of very narrow lace. The fichus worn with these dresses are, in general, of /w/Zc, and
broidered round the bottouj in : the rutVs, which are again reduced
m
FKENCH 1 EMALE FASHIONS.
in size, are of lace. I should ob- serve, that sprigged niuslins have no embroidery round the bottom, but are invariably trimmed with lace- Silk scarfs, which are now always worn with white dresses, are so ge- nerally adopted by people of rank in England, that I need not de- scribe them to you ; but I wish I I could give you a tolerably just idea 1 of the manner in whiclx belles of j taste here put them on : they are thrown over the left shoulder, and one end fastened at the left side, while the other is carelessly brought round the right arm. Nothing can be more simple than this, you will say : the effect, however, depends so entirely on the natural ease and grace of the wearer, that I would not advise any of your friends, who possess less of either than yourself, to adopt it.
Although scarfs are higher than any thing else in estimation for the promenade, yet pelisses are still considered elegant, if made in the fashionable colours of the month. The glaring contrasts which I mentioned in my last have disap- peared, and the favourite trimming- is white satin, which is disposed sometimes in light y)ufhngs, some- limes in pipes, and not unfrequent- ly so as to have, at some distance, the appearance of a wreath of leaves, but it is always of a very moderate breadth.
Hats and bonnets, of a moderate size and height, are still worn of straw and Leghorn ; they are orna- mented less profusely than usual with flowers and ribbons. But the most tonish chapeaux are now com- posed of tulle, or white satin and tulle intermixed: where these cna-
terials are botli used, the fW/e isset in very full, and the satin plain, l)ut cut byas. Tliere is nothing no- vel in tiie shape of these hats, but the lightness of the materials, and the tasteful style in which they are ornamented with a small bouquet of flowers of the season, render them really pretty, independent of the magic charm bestowed upon them by fashion.
The undress of a modish belle is now composed entirely of English; manufacture: plain jaconot, or ^ striped or corded muslin, has su- perseded, in a great measure, Scots or English cambric. The form of morning dress is exceeding!}' sim- plf, but far from becoming; the skirt is trimmed only with a single pointed flounce of a moderate breadth : the chemiset form is still adopted for the body, but the en- lire of the neck and throat is enve- loped in njichu composed of heavy rows of work, formed in the style of a tippet, and frightfully unbe- coming to the shape. The dress is confined to the waist by a coloured sash, tied in a bow, and short ends behiiul. The cornctle worn with it is usually composed of worked mus- lin : I cannot better describe it than by telling you, to fancy a mode- rate-sized oval crown placed upon a mob cap; the upper part of it is drawn round by four rows of rib- bon, and each drawing finished at the side by a bow ; a large cockade of ribbon and net mixed orna- ments it in front; a thick quilling of net goes round the face, and the ends are fastened under the chin by a large bow of ribbon. This cap can be becoming only to ladies who add softness of countenance to regularity of features: it is, how-
FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.
57
ever, generally adopted by the Pa- risian elegantes.
For dijiner dress, India muslin and white spotted silk are l)oth high in estimation, the former es- pecially : coloured sarsnets are not at all worn. Lace, or narrow hands of byas satin, are still the favourite trimmings ; three or four of the latter are placed at about two inch- es distance from each other, or if the dress is trimmed with lace, there are three falls put closely to- f^ether. The bodies of dinner dresses begin to be made very low; the fronts are mostly cut in the form of a corset. The bosom is
of ribbon, and a liitle to the side is placed a sprig of lilies, roses, or any of ihe other flowers of the sea- son, which is tied by a bow of rib- bon to correspond with that plaited round the l)osom. These corncttes arc not, however, always composed of gauze; some ladies wear them in lace, and some in muslin, but the latter material is not much in request.
I have little information to give you with respect to full dress: we still continue to wear white gauze or white lace over satin ; blond is the present favourite trimming for petticoats: the robes are always
trimmed with a quilling of lace or i made just short enough to display
tulle. The sleeve, if short, is ex- tremely full ; it is confined to the arm by a band of the same material as the dress: some few elegantes gather the fulness in different parts of the front of the arm, and orna- ment each with a small bow of ribbon. Long sleeves are, how- ever, still more general for dinner
the trimming of the petticoat. The favourite evening dress, at present, is trimmed up the middle of the front, round the bottom, bosom, and sleeves, with three rows of narrow white ribbon spotted with silver : the effect of this trimming is formal and tasteless; but we hope, by and by, to profit by the
dress than short ones, but they are elegant taste of the Duchess of
made invariably plain.
Berry, who is likely to be looked
Cornettes are much worn in din- || up to as the model of fashion by ner dress; and although I can jj this court, as the ladies hope to never be thoroughly reconciled to i] find in her that love of dress, gaie-
the superstructure of these gene- rally fantastic, and often unbecom- ing, head-dresses, yet I must own, that I consider the present fashion more simple, and more appropri- ate to the season, than any adopt- ed since I have resided in Paris. They are much worn in gauze, and, in general, the crown, which is oval, and not very high, is very full, but the fulness is confined to the size of the head by bands of byas satin ; to each banil is affixed a puffing of gauze: the front is generally trimmed with a plaitinc; F<jl. II. No. II I.
ty, and amusement, so congenial to the French character, and in which Madame is so entirely deficient.
Hats, composed of white soft
satin, with a bunch of flowers in
front, or a plume of feathers, are
very generally worn in lull dress,
Tocques are still much in favour;
and flowers, mingled with precious
i stones, are in very high estimation.
I The hind hair is brought round
I to the front, and forms three rows
j on the top of the head, each of
I which is fastened by a jewelled
I comb. The front hair falls over
I
5B
INTELLIGENCE, LITIiJlAUY, SCIENTIFIC, &C.
the forehead in soft loose cuils, through which is partially seen a wreath of roses ; white ones are considered most fa^iinonahle: the bows at the top ot the head are ra- ther formal, but the front hair is disposed m an elegant and becom- ing manner.
Full-dress slippers are of white spotted silk, and very often spotted and fringed with silver. For the promenade, they are usually of white leather, with a rosette or plaiting of ribbon; they are now cut lower than they used to be round the instep.
Peach-blossom, damask-rose, all
the light shades of green, and ce- lestial blue, are the prevalent co- lours at present. I say nothing to you of jewellery, because no alter- ation has taken place since 1 wrote last. And now, my dear Sophia, if you wish that 1 snoulci send you any more minute letters on the dear delightful subject of dress, you must let me know what you are all doinjj in Enq;land. Your letters are very short, and if you do not become a better correspondent, 3'ou may expect next time a sheet filled with reproaches instead of fasliions, from your aB'ectionate an,
EUDOCIA*W
FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.
PLATES. — A SALOON.
The designs of manv of ourvil- las, particularly those erected about forty or fifty years ago, contained circular-topped windows tothecen- tral, and in some cases to all the apartments of the ground floor; and although it has been usual in such cases to consider the windows as square-topped, concealing the spandrels by the upper draperies, yet the opportunity of producing a variety of form in the designs of furniture is very desirable. The annexed plate therefore represents draperies suited to such windows; the arrangement of which, from its architectural and simple elegance,
is suited to the saloon, and the ac' cessoirs are in corrtsj)ondence.
The saloon being an apartment of communication, and through which the principal rooms are approaclied, the prevailing colours should l)ar- monize with them, and yet be of such cool or subdued character as will produce in tlie others an eflfect of greater brilliancy. The cur- tains may, notwithstanding, have that character of richness that will give importance to the saloon, and allow it to join with the superior apartments in effecting a general richness and splendour.
INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, Sic.
The remark of our correspond- ent X. Y. Z. on the sul)stitution, in Nos. III. and V. of the words " Balbec and Palmyra," instead of
*' Dalmatia," is most coyect. The inaccuracy arose from quoting with- out an instant reference to those works, and the certainty of the
A- SAIjOOIT .
INTELLIGENCE, LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, &.C.
59
extent to which Adam approved and adopted the peculiar style of ornaments hotli of his own research and those which Wood had |)ub- lished in liis Remains of' Halbec and Paliin/ru. The new and ht'Uer style of architectural enrichment intro- duced by Adam recommended him to iL^cneral notice, and his invention of u stucco, for which lie obtained a patent, gave him a free use of ornament at a comparatively small expense. Tlie Adelphi is an ex- am])le of this, and many of his other works at)ound with ornaments which are the result of his study of Wood's Hemuiiis, Ike. : pariicular- ly at Keddleston, uear Derby, the seat of Lord Scarsdale, they are very prominent ; as they were also at Fisherwick, near Litchfield, which building is now taken down. The matter of the numbers refer- red to will in no way be alfected by the inaccuracy, if "Dalmatia" be substituted for " Palmyra and Bal- bec :" for Adam distinctly merits the approbation that is there be- stowed upon him, for that innova- tion which has led to the introduc- tion of the present chaste style of ornamental design. The error in the name of " Kevett" is of the press. — The interest X, Y. Z.'has taken in tins department of the arts is very flattering, as it is an assurance, that men of talent, taste, and research, have a relish for ar- chitecture, whose sublime beauties have been too much neglected, and too little understood.
In the course of this month will be published, by Mr. Ackermann of the Strand, in one volume im- perial octavo, Se/eci f'iacs of Lon- don; containing 70 coloured en-
gravings, with historical and de- scriptive sketches of themost inter- esting Public Buildings.
A new work i)v INliss Taylor, au- thor of Display, is in the press, and will appear in u few days.
A translation, from the original German, of professor Morgenstcrn's Tour, in 1809 and 1810, thruw^h Part of Switzerland, Italy, NapUs, &c. with additions, is in the press.
Shortly will be pul)lislied, a new and interesting novel, by Miss Parker, entitled Self- Deception.
A work on the Beauties and De- jects of the Horse, comparatively delineated in a series of coloured plates, from the pencil of Mr. 11. ; Aiken, with references and useful instruction to young purchasers, or to those who wish to pursue the study of that noble animal, is in the press, and will soon make its a[)- pearance.
A new work, entitled Albania, or tlie Separation, will appear very shortly. It is the performance of an author who has published be- fore; but the pieces of poetry scat- tered through the volume are, in general, entirely new, two only having met the public eye. An extract will appear in our next number.
Mr. Berry, late of the College of y\rms, and author of a History of Guernsey, has in the press a series of tables, entitled 7'/ic Genealo<^ical Mythology; intended as a book of reference for classical students. The work has received the sanc- tion of many of the most eminent scholars in the kingdom, to whom the MS. has been submitted.
Mr. Thomas Wilson will pub- lish, early in August, A complete I 2
60
POETRY.
Sijstem of English Country Dane- j ing; also a Technical Ball-Room j Dictionary, with the complete Eti- quette of the Ball-Room ; and a | Companion to the Ball-Room, con- I taining about 250 of the most cele- brated and popular Scotch, Eng- lish, and Irish country - dance tunes and waltzes.
Mr. William Phillips will pub- lish, early in July, a new edition of his Outlines of Mineralogy and Ge- ology, revised and improved. This elementary book is designed chiefly for the use of young persons. To this edition will be added, some ac- count of the Geology of England and Wales, together with a colour- ed map and section of the strata; which are intended also to be pub- lished separately for the purchasers of the first edition.
The third volume of The Trans- actions of the Geological Society, will be published about the middle of July. It will be illustrated by a large number of highly finished plates, chiefly coloured.
M. Jouy, whose lively work, VHermite de la Chaussce d'Jntin, is known to the English reader by
the title of The Paris Spectator, has published the first volume of a se- quel to it, which he styles The Hermit of Guiana, or observations on the manners and customs of the French at the beginning of the nineteenth centur}-.
The Paris papers state, that M. de Pradt has received more than 120,000 francs (5000/.) for his three j works, on The Embassy to Warsaw^ The Congress of Vienna, and The ffar in Spain. They add, that Rousseau's Emile produced the author only 100 crowns.
Mr. J. B. Riddel, of Edinburgh, states, from experience, that the fatal accidents which sometimes occur from the fury of over-driven horned animals, might easily be prevented by tying a small rope round the neck, and fastening it immediately below the knee joint of one of the fore legs. The length of the rope must be sufficient to allow the animal to move his |iead gently up and down with the mo- tion of the leg, and at the same time so short as to prevent him from tossing it above the level of the shoulder. ' '' ;
^oetrj).
LOVE.
Translated from the Spanish.
Mother, with watchful eye you
My freedom to restrain. But know, unless I guard my-elf.
Your guard will be but vain. It has been saiil, and Keuson's voi
Confirms the ancient lay. Still will confinernenl'd rigid hand
Enflanie the wish to slrav.
strive
Love, once oppress'd, will soon increase.
And sirengili superior gain: 'Twere better far, believe my voice.
To give my will the rein: For if I do not guard myself.
Your guard will be but vain.
For lier v\ho will not guard herself.
No other guard you'll find ; Cunning and fear will weak be found.
To chain the active mind.
POETRY.
61
Tho' Death himself should bar my way,
His menace I'd ilisdain: Then leurii, thai till I guard myself,
Youryuard will still be vain.
The raptur'd heart, which once has felt
A sense of love's deliyht. Flies, like the moth's impetuous wing.
To find the taper's light: A thousand g'lards, a thousand cares.
Will ne'er the will restrain; For if 1 do not guard myself.
All other guards are vain.
Such is the all-contrniiling force
Of Love's resistless storm. It gives to beauty's fairest shape
The dire chimera's form : To wax the