Part 64

In addition to the associations for the exhibition and sale of pictures by living artists, Mr. Hobday opened an establishment on the 21st of May for the same purpose, adjoining the British Institution, This gentleman is known to the public as a respectable portrait painter, with a taste for art entitled to consideration for his present spirited endeavour in its behalf.

In this exhibition there are performances of distinguished merit by several eminent artists. The Upas, or poison-tree of Java, by Mr. Danby, in illustration of the legend in Darwin’s Loves of the Plants, is a fine picture, already known. Another by Mr. Danby--is a wood on the sea-shore, with figures, Ulysses and Nausicaa, from Homer. A Fête Champêtre, by Mr. Stothard, is one of a class of subjects, which its venerable painter has distinguished by his magic pencil; Mr. Edwin Landseer’s Lion disturbed at his repast, a forcible and well-remembered effort of his genius, stands near it. Mr. Charles Landseer’s Merchant, with Slaves and Merchandise, reposing in a Brazilian Rancho; the Entombing of Christ, by Mr. Westall; landscapes, by Messrs. Daniel, Glover, Hoffland, Laporte, Linnell, W. Westall, &c.; pictures by sir W. Beechey, Messrs. Chalon, Kidd, Heaphy, Rigaud, Singleton, Stephanoff, J. Ward, &c., grace the walls of the establishment. Every picture in this gallery is for sale; and, under Mr. Hobday’s management, it promises to be a means of introducing the public to an acquaintance with distinguished works of art still remaining open to the selection of its patrons.

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~Topography.~

ORIGINAL NOTICE.

_For the Table Book._

Denton-castle, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and on the north-west side of Otley, was once the seat of the parliament’s general, Fairfax, and came to the present family of Ibbetson by relationship. Prince Rupert in passing by it on his march into Lancashire, in order to assist the king’s troops in that quarter, was about to raze it, but going into the house, he observed the pictures of the Manners and the Villiers, Fairfax’s ancestors, and out of good will towards them he desisted. It, however, was afterwards unfortunately destroyed by the carelessness of a maid servant, who dropping asleep at the time she was picking feathers, the candle fell into the feathers and burnt the house to the ground. In a few years afterwards, it was rebuilt by the father of sir Henry Ibbetson, bart. in the year 1721, and has this remarkable motto in the pediment:--

“Quod nec Jovis ira nec ignis nec poterit ferrum.”

VERSES

To the memory of Denzil Ibbetson, fourth son of sir Henry Ibbetson, bart., who unfortunately lost his life by an accidental discharge of his gun when shooting at Cocken, near Durham, the seat of his aunt, lady Mary Carr, sister of Henry earl of Darlington--1774.

1.

Thy fate, lamented Ibbetson, we were. With an unfeign’d and sympathetic tear; Thy virtues, on our mem’ries graven deep, Recall the painful thought of what was dear.

2.

Yet ’tis not for thy sufferings, but our own, That heaves the heartfelt melancholy sigh, That death, which haply cost thee not a groan, Leaves us to mourn with what we ne’er can vie.

3.

That life, good humour, and that manly sense, Those ever-pleasing ties, that friendly heart, Which but unwittingly could give offence, Disarm’d ev’n Death’s grim tyrant of his dart.

4.

Without one pang or agonizing groan, Thy soul reliev’d forsook its vile abode, For joys more worthy of the good alone-- “The bosom of thy Father and thy God.”

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PRONUNCIATION.

The difficulty of applying rules to the pronunciation of our language may be illustrated in two lines, where the combination of the letters _ough_, is pronounced in no less than seven different ways, viz. as _o_, _uf_, _of_, _up_, _ow_, _oo_, and _ock_.

Though the tough cough and hiccough plough me through; O’er life’s dark lough my course I still pursue.

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_For the Table Book._

EMIGRATION OF THE ROOKS

FROM

CARLTON GARDENS, 1827.

“I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau, If birds confabulate or no:-- ’Tis certain they were always able, To hold discourse, at least in fable.”

_Cowper._

The mandate pass’d, the axe applied, The woodman’s efforts echoed wide; The toppling elm trees fell around, And cumbrous ruin strew’d the ground. The tuneful thrush, whose vernal song Was earliest heard the boughs among, Exil’d from grounds, where he was bred, To some far habitation fled; Remote from court and courtly strife, To pass a sober, quiet life. O’er head the Rooks, in circles flew, And closer still, and closer drew; Then perch’d amid the desolation, In senatorial consultation: The chairman, far advanc’d in age, A sapient-looking personage, Who long the councils of the land Had sway’d with a tenacious hand; --For e’en among the feather’d race, There are, who cling to pow’r and place:-- There wanted not, among the throng, Those who averr’d, that much too long He had, within the sable state, Continued to adjudicate;-- So tardily his judgments came, They injur’d his judicial fame; What, though they were unting’d by bribe, Or fear;--the sad impatient tribe, Who fed on Hope’s expectancies, Were ruin’d--by his just decrees! But to our tale:--the speaker now, Perch’d on an elm tree’s topmost bough, Had hush’d the multitude in awe, You might not hear a single “caw;” He then in pride of conscious pow’r, Commenc’d the bus’ness of the hour. “Ye rooks and daws in senate met;” He said, and smooth’d his breast of jet: “What crimes, among our sable band, Have brought this ruin on our land? Has murder mark’d our noonday flight? Or depredation in the night? Has rook or daw, in thought or word, Rebell’d against our Sovereign Lord? No! rather say, our loyalty Has echo’d oft, from tree to tree! Have we not, when the cannon’s sound Gave joyous intimation round, Of triumph won by land or sea, Join’d in the general jubilee? Why, then, ye advocates of _taste_, Lay ye our habitations waste? Why level low our rookery, And blot it out from memory? Man lacketh not a host of pleas, To vindicate his cruelties. ‘Improvement’s come!’ ’tis thus they rhyme ‘Upon the rolling car of Time.’[200]-- Yes! come, if blessings they dispense, With due regard to feeling--sense; But when they emanate from pride, And scheme on scheme is multiplied, To beautify by acts like this, Their overgrown metropolis, To please the vitiate taste of men, They cease to be improvements then. ’Tis not enough, to please the eye, With terrace walks, and turrets high; With sloping lawns, and dark arcades; With cock-boat lakes, and forest glades, With schoolboy cataracts and jets; With Turkish mosques and minarets! Or Lilliputian arches, rich, Spanning a vegetating ditch! Improvement opes a nobler field, Than Grecian plinth and column yield! ’Tis when the streams of treasure flow, To lighten sorrow,--soften woe;-- Rebuild the structure, ruin raz’d, Relume the eye, that want hath glaz’d: And flowing far from revelry, They cheer the sons of penury, Who sicken in the breeze of health! And starve, amid a nation’s wealth! To chase despair--and bring relief, For human crime, and human grief! These are thy triumphs, Virtue! these Are sparks of heav’n-born sympathies, That through man’s denser nature shine, And prove his origin divine! Oh! may we hope, in Britain’s school, There are, who, free from sophist rule, Have learnt not, ’neath Italian skies, Their native genius to despise; In whom, amid the bosom’s throes, The innate love of country glows! Assembled birds! it is for you To point the course we must pursue: Our monarch ne’er could contemplate Amid the recent change in state, That we, like other rooks, should be Exil’d from seats of royalty! Then let us humbly seek the throne, And make our common grievance known His Majesty will ne’er consent, That this, our sable parliament, Should thus be driv’n abroad to roam, And banish’d from our native home.”

He ceas’d;--a shout of wild applause, Tumultuous burst, from rooks and daws! Ne’er yet, had yonder central sun, Since worlds had in their orbits run, Beheld upon a spot of earth So much of simultaneous mirth. Scarce had the turbulence subsided. When, as if Fate their joy derided, The hatchet reach’d with thund’ring stroke The tree from whence the Chairman spoke. Alas! the triumph was but brief; The sound struck awe--like midnight thief-- The senate fled from falling trees, And stretch’d their pinions to the breeze: The shrubs behind Spring Garden-place Receiv’d the emigrated race. Now far from woodman’s axe, with care They build, and breed, and nestle there.

T. T.

[200]

Come bright Improvement on the car of Time, And rule the spacious world from clime to clime.

_Pleasures of Hope_

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MUSIC AND ANIMALS.

Bonaventure d’Argonne says, “Doubting the truth of those who say it is natural for us to love music, especially the sounds of instruments, and that beasts are touched with it, I one day, being in the country, endeavoured to determine the point; and, while a man was playing on the trump marine, made my observations on a cat, a dog, a horse, an ass, a hind, cows, small birds, and a cock and hens, who were in a yard, under a window on which I was leaning. I did not perceive that the cat was the least affected; and I even judged, by her air, that she would have given all the instruments in the world for a mouse, sleeping in the sun all the time; the horse stopped short from time to time before the window, lifting his head up now and then, as he was feeding on the grass; the dog continued for above an hour seated on his hind legs, looking steadfastly at the player; the ass did not discover the least indication of his being touched, eating his thistles peaceably; the hind lifted up her large wide ears, and seemed very attentive; the cows slept a little, and after gazing as though they had been acquainted with us, went forward: some birds who were in an aviary, and others on the trees and bushes, almost tore their throats with singing; but the cock, who minded only his hens, and the hens, who were solely employed in scraping on a neighbouring dunghill, did not show in any manner that they took the least pleasure in hearing the trump marine.”

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IRISHMEN ON A HOLIDAY.

When they met at a “pattern,” (patron, perhaps,) or merry-making, the lively dance of the girls, and the galloping jig-note of the bagpipes, usually gave place to the clattering of alpeens, and the whoops of onslaught; when one of them sold his pig, or, under Providence, his cow, at the fair, the kicking up of a “scrimmage,” or at least the plunging head foremost into one, was as much matter of course as the long draughts of ale or whiskey that closed his mercantile transaction. At the village hurling-match, the “hurlet,” or crooked stick, with which they struck the ball, often changed its playful utility; nay, at a funeral, the body was scarce laid in the grave, when the voice of petty discord might be heard above the grave’s silence.

These contentions, like all great events, generally arose from very trivial causes. A drunken fellow, for instance, was in a strange public-house; he could not content himself with the new faces near him, so struck at some three, six, or ten, as it might be; and, in course, got soundly drubbed. On his return home he related his case of injury, exhibiting his closed eye, battered mouth, or remnant of nose; enlisting all his relatives, “kith-and-kin;” in fact, all his neighbours who liked “a bit of diversion,” and they generally included the whole male population able to bear arms. At the head of his faction he attended the next fair, or other place of popular resort, where he might expect to meet his foes; the noise of his muster went abroad, or he sent a previous challenge: the opposite party assembled in as much force as possible, never declining the encounter; one or other side was beaten, and tried to avenge its disgrace on the first opportunity; defeat again followed, and again produced like efforts and results; and thus the solemn feud ran through a number of years and several generations.

A wicked, “devil-may-care” fellow, feverish for sport, would, at fair, pattern, or funeral, sometimes smite another without any provocation, merely to create a riot; the standers-by would take different sides, as their taste or connections inclined them; and the fray, thus commencing between two individuals who owed each other no ill-will, embroiled half the assembled concourse. Nay, a youth, in despair that so fine a multitude was likely to separate peaceably, stripped off his heavy outside coat, and trailed it through the puddle, daring any of the lookers on to tread upon it; his defiance was rarely ineffectual; he knocked down, if possible, the invited offender; a general battle ensued, that soon spread like wild-fire, and every “alpeen” was at work in senseless clatter and unimaginable hostility.

The occurrence of the word “alpeen” seems to suggest a description of the weapon of which it is the name, and this can best be given in a piece of biographical anecdote.

Jack Mullally still lives in fame, though his valiant bones are dust. He was the landlord of a public-house in a mountain district; a chivalrous fellow, a righter of wrongs, the leader of a faction of desperate fighting men, and, like Arthur, with his doughty knights, a match for any four among them, though each a hero; and, above all, the armourer of his department. In Jack’s chimney-corner hung bundles of sticks, suspended there for the purpose of being dried and seasoned; and these were of two descriptions of warlike weapons; shortish oaken cudgels, to be used as quarter-staves, or, _par excellence_, genuine shillelaghs; and the alpeens themselves,--long wattles with heavy knobs at the ends, to be wielded with both hands, and competent, under good guidance, to the felling of a reasonable ox.

Jack and his subjects, Jack and his alpeens, were rarely absent from any fair within twenty miles, having always business on hands in the way of their association. When a skirmish took place, the side that could enlist in its interests Jack, his alpeens, and his merry men, was sure of victory. The patriarch was generally to be found seated by his kitchen fire; business was beneath him; he left all that to the “vanithee;” and his hours lapsed, when matters of moment did not warn him to the field, either in wetting his sticks with a damp cloth, and then heating them over the turf blaze, to give them the proper curve; or, in teaching a pet starling to speak Irish, and whistle “Shaun Buoy;” or, haply, in imbibing his own ale or whiskey, and smoking his short black pipe, or _doohdeen_, as himself termed it. And here he gave audience to the numerous suitors and ambassadors who, day by day, came to seek his aid, preparatory to a concerted engagement. His answer was never hastily rendered. He promised, at all events, to be with his corps at the appointed ground; and then and there he would proclaim of which side he was the ally. This precautionary course became the more advisable, as he was always sure of a request from both factions; and time, forethought, and inquiry, were necessary to ascertain which side might prove the weakest; for to the weakest (the most aggrieved formed no part of his calculations) Jack invariably extended his patronage.

The _vanithee_, good woman, when she heard of an approaching fair, or other popular meeting, immediately set about preparing plasters and ointments; and this resulted from a thrifty forecast; for were she to call in a doctor every time her husband’s head wanted piecing, it would run away with the profits of her business. Jack, indeed, never forgot his dignity so far as to inform his wife that he intended being engaged on such occasions; but she always took it for granted, and with the bustle of a good housewife, set about her preparations accordingly: till, at length, a breach happened in his skull which set her art at defiance; and ever since she lives the sole proprietor of the public-house where Jack once reigned in glory. The poor widow has thriven since her husband’s death; and is now rich, not having lately had Jack’s assistance in spending, (she never had it in earning.) She recounts his exploits with modest spirit; and one blessing at least has resulted from her former matronly care of the good man--she is the Lady Bountiful of her district; a quack it may be, yet sufficiently skilful for the uncomplicated ailments of her country customers.[201]

[201] Tales of the O’Hara Family. _First Series._

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LONDON HOLIDAYS.

Holidays, like all other natural and lively things, are good things; and the abuse does not argue against the use. They serve to keep people in mind that there is a green and glad world, as well as a world of brick and mortar and money-getting. They remind them disinterestedly of one another, or that they have other things to interchange besides bills and commodities. If it were not for holidays and poetry, and such like stumbling blocks to square-toes, there would be no getting out of the way of care and common-places.--They keep the world fresh for improvement. The great abuse of holidays is when they are too few. There are offices, we understand, in the city, in which, with the exception of Sundays, people have but one holiday or so throughout the year, which appears to us a very melancholy hilarity. It is like a single living thing in a solitude, which only adds to the solitariness. A clerk issuing forth on his exclusive Good Friday must in vain attempt to be merry, unless he is a very merry person at other times. He must be oppressed with a sense of all the rest of the year. He cannot have time to smile before he has to be grave again. It is a difference, a dream, a wrench, a lay-sabbath, any thing but a holiday. There was a Greek philosopher, who, when he was asked on his death-bed what return could be made him for the good he had done his country, requested that all the little boys might have a holiday on the anniversary of his birth-day. Doubtless they had many besides, and yet he would give them another. When we were at school, we had a holiday on every saint’s day, and this was pretty nearly all that we, or, indeed, any one else, knew of some of those blessed names in the calendar. When we came to know that they had earned this pleasure for us by martyrdom and torment, we congratulated ourselves that we had not known it sooner; and yet, upon the principle of the Greek philosopher, perhaps a true lover of mannikin-kind would hardly object to have his old age burnt out at the stake, if he could secure to thousands hereafter the beatitude of a summer’s holiday.[202]

[202] Literary Pocket Book.

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THE HUSBANDMEN OF HINDU.

They are generally termed Koonbees, and on the whole they are better informed than the lower classes of our own countrymen; they certainly far surpass them in propriety and orderliness of demeanour. They are mild and unobtrusive in their manners, and quickly shrink from any thing like an opposite behaviour in others. Litigation is not a marked part of their character. They are forgetful of injury; or if they harbour animosity, they are seldom hurried by it into acts of violence or cruelty. Custom has taught them not to have much respect for their women, or rather, indeed, to look on them with contempt; but they are always indulgent to them, and never put any restraint on their liberty. The great attachment they have to their children forms an amiable part of their character. They are usually frugal, inclining to parsimony, and not improvident; but at their marriage feasts they are lavish and profuse, and on these and other occasions often contract debts that are a burden to them for life. Their religion strongly enjoins charity, and they are disposed to be hospitable, but their extreme poverty is a bar to their being extensively so. No person, however, would ever be in want of a meal amongst them, and they are always kind and attentive to strangers when there is nothing offensive in their manners. They are just in their dealings amongst themselves, but would not be scrupulous in overreaching government or those without. Theft is scarcely known amongst them, and the voice of the community is loud against all breaches of decorum, and attaches weight and respectability to virtuous conduct in its members. The vices of this people, which they owe chiefly to their government, are dissimulation, cunning, and a disregard to truth. They are naturally timid, and will endeavour to redress their wrongs rather by stratagem than more generous means; when roused, however, they will be found not without courage, nor by any means contemptible enemies. Although not remarkable for sharpness, they are not wanting in intelligence. They are all minutely informed in every thing that relates to their own calling. They are fond of conversation, discuss the merits of different modes of agriculture, the characters of their neighbours, and every thing that relates to the concerns of the community, and many of them are not without a tolerable knowledge of the leading events of the history of their country.