Chapter 2

There is a class of travelling oddities--the dandy _voyageurs_ of Britain, who, teeming with the proud consciousness of their excellence in comparison with the rest of human kind, swoln with self-sufficiency, float like empty bubbles on the water's surface, and who seem as if they would break and be dissolved by contact with a vulgar touch. They contrive to swim by means of their air-blown vanity until they come into concussion with some material object, and are at once reduced to their proper level, and for ever annihilated. Their country is London; their domicile Regent-street; thence they would never travel, had they their wills,--not but they would like to see Paris, and move at Longschamps, or admire its beauties in an equipage _à D'Aumont_; but the horrors attendant upon such an enterprise are too formidable gratuitously to be encountered. It is only when a dip at the Fishmonger's has been rather too often tried, or Stultz's _billets-doux_ have been repeated with increasing ardour on the part of the Tailor-lover until he delegates the maintenance of his _baronial_ purse to some dandy-detesting attorney, that they feel it expedient to brave the dangers of sea and land, and, unscrewing their brass spurs, folding up their mustachios in a _port-feuille_, they hasten them from life and love, and London, and set them down at Meurice's, the creatures of another element; not less new to all things around them, than all things there are new to them. It was not long since I met one at the _table-d'hote_ of Mr. Money, the hospitable but expensive owner of Les Trois Couronnes, at Vevay, in Switzerland. A large party had assembled, composed of almost every European nation; and we had just commenced our dinner, when we were intruded upon by an Exquisite--a creature something between the human species and a man-milliner--a seven months' child of fashion--one who had been left an orphan by manliness and taste, and no longer remembered his lost parents. Never can I forget the stare of Baron Pougens, (a Swiss by birth, but a Russian noble) as this specimen of elegance, with mincing step and gait, moved onward, something like a new member tripping it to the table to take his oaths. How he had got so far from Grange's, I really cannot say; but he had the policy of assurance in his favour; and in his own idea, at the least, was what I heard a poor devil of a candle-snuffer once denominate George Frederic Cooke, the tragedian,--"a rare specimen of exalted humanity;" and the actor was certainly in a rare spirit of exaltation at the moment. His delicate frame was enveloped by a dandy harness, so admirably ordered and adjusted, that he moved in fear of involving his Stultz in the danger of a plait; his kid-clad fingers scarcely supported the weight of his yellow-lined Leghorn; all that was man about him, was in his spurs and mustachios; and, even with them, he seemed there a moth exposed to an Alpine blast,--some mamma's darling, injudiciously and cruelly abandoned to the risk of cold, in a land where Savory and Moore were yet unheard of, "Beppo in London" wholly unknown, Hoby unesteemed, Gunter misprized, and where George Brummell had never, never trod. After having bestowed a wild inexpressive stare at the cannibals assembled, male and female,--depositing his Vyse, running his digits through his perfumed hair, raising his shirt-collar so as to form an angle of forty-five with his purple _Gros de Naples_ cravat, and applying his gold-turned snuff-box to his nose, Money (who has lived long in England, and speaks its language well) ventured to address him, by demanding if he should place a cover for him. "Sar!--your--appellation--if--you please?" the drawling and affected response of the fop. "Money, Sir." "the sign of the place--the thing--the _auberge_?" "The Three Crowns, Sir." "Money of the country, I presume!--Good--stop--put that down--Mem:" and he took his tablets from his pocket. "Money--Three Crowns--Capital that--will do for Dibdin,--if not, give it Theodore Hook. And the name of your--your town, my man?" "Vevay, Sir!" "And that liquid concern I see from the wind_ar_?" "The Lake, Sir--the Lake of Geneva." "Good gracious! _all_ Geneva?" "Otherwise termed the Leman, Sir." "Lemon! ha! a sort of gin-punch, I presume--acidulated blue-ruin--Vastly vulgar, by Petersham--only fit for the Cider-cellar, Three Crowns--And that--that--white thing there on the other side of the punch-bowl, Money?" "That is Gin-goulph, Sir." "Gin-gulp! appropriate certainly, but de-ci-ded-ly--low." "Will you please, Sir, to dine? dinner is on the table." "Din_nar_! Crockford, be good to us!--Why--why--it is scarcely more than noon, Crowns.--What would Lady Diana say?--But true! I rose at eight--so, I think, I will patronize you, my good fell_ar_--Long journey that from _Low_san--queer name for a place so high;--Vastly bad country this of yours, Crowns.--What are all those stunted poles, like _cerceau_ sticks, placed in the ground? What do you cultivate, Crowns?" "The vine, Sir." "Wine! wine! dear me! never knew wine grew before. In England it is a manufactory. One moment--pardon--Mem:--Wine grows in--in--" "The Canton de Vaud, Sir." "In the Canton de Vo,--Tell that to Carbonel and Charles Wright when I go back. Is it Port, pray?" "No, Sir, a thin white wine." "Thin--white --wine--runs up sticks in said Vo." "Will you permit me to help you, Sir?" demanded Money, rather impatiently. "What have you, may I ask?" "_Bouilli_, Sir." "Bull, what? have you no other beef?--Mem: people living near punch-bowl eat bull beef," "There is a very nice _culotte_, Sir, if you prefer it." "_Cu_--what, Three Crowns? _Culotte_!--why, in France, that is--is--inexpressibles--Mem: eat inexpressibles roasted--Breaches of taste, by Reay--the savages!--that will do for the Bedford--mention it to Joy--the brutes!--Neither bull nor breeches, thank you inexpressibly, Money." "A _Blanquette de Veau_, then, if you like, Sir." "Blanket de Vo! a cover to lay, indeed, Crowns. Mem: inhabitants of Gin stew blankets of the country, and then eat them--the Alsatians!" "Poultry, Sir, if you desire it." "Ah! some hopes there, Money--What is that you hold?" "A _Poularde_, Sir." "Obliged, Crowns--no Pull-hard thank you, devilish tough I doubt--Mem: fowl called Pull-hard at Gin--Try again, my man." "A _Dindon_ and _dans son jus_, Sir." "Ding dong and a dancing Jew!--sort of stewed Rothschild, I suppose--Well! if I don't mean exactly to starve, I fear I must even venture on the Jew.--Not bad, by Long--Mem: Dancing Jews in sauce capital--mention that to young G----, of the Tenth." The business of mastication arrested for a moment the sapient remarks of the _Impayable_, until our notice was again attracted by his leaping from his chair, and cutting divers capers around the room, which, if they did honour to his agility, harmonized but ill with the precisian starchness of his habiliments, the order whereof was grievously _derangé_ by his antics.--"Water! water! Crowns.--I have emptied the vinegar cruet by mistake--Oh Lud! can scarcely breathe--Water! Crowns, water! in mercy." "It was the Vin du Pays, I assure you, Sir,--nothing else upon my word." "Water! water! oh--here--here I have it." "No, Sir; I beg--that is _Eau de Cerises--Kirschen-wasser_--Cherry water."--"Any--any water will do,"--and, ere Money could arrest his hand, the water-sembling but fiery fluid, the ardent spirit of the cherry, had been swallowed at a draught. He gaped and gasped for breath--he groaned and writhed in torment--and, borne out in the arms of Crowns and his men, the spirit-stirring Dandy was removed to bed, whence he arose to return, without delay, to London by the shortest possible road, even with the fear of another _fieri facias_ before his eyes, to descant on vinous acidities, Gin Lakes, and the liver-consuming Spa of Vo.--_New Monthly Mag._

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ENCOMIUM MORIÆ, OR THE PRAISE OF FOLLY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Ibid._

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

_Weekly Review_.

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VILLANOVA MILL.

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

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

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

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

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NOTES OF A READER.

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STORY OF RIENZI.

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

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

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

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

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ENGLISH WARS.

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

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

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

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

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CHAIN OF BEING.

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

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

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

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RABBIS

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

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BARBER-SURGEONS.

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

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

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

ANSWER.

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

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

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

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

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

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THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

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THE COFFEE-DRINKER'S MANUAL.

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

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

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