Part 2

If we observe the waves continually approaching the shore, we must be convinced that this apparent motion is not one in which the water has any share: for were it so, the waters of the sea would soon be heaped upon the shores, and would inundate the adjacent country; but so far from the waters partaking of the apparent motion of the waves in approaching the shore, this motion of the waves continues, even when the waters are retiring. If we observe a flat strand when the tide is ebbing, we shall still find the waves moving towards the shore.

_Ornamental Fountain Clocks._

It is the same cause (that which produces the deceptive appearance of a progressive motion in the waves of the sea) which makes a revolving cork-screw, held in a fixed position, seem to be advancing in that direction in which it would actually advance if the worm were passing through a cork. That point which is nearest to the eye, and which corresponds to the crest of the wave in the former example, continually occupies a different point of the worm, and continually advances towards its extremity.--This property has lately been prettily applied in ornamental clocks. A piece of glass, twisted so that its surface acquires a ridge in the form of a screw, is inserted in the mouth of some figure designed to represent a fountain. One end of the glass is attached to the axle of a wheel, which the clock-work keeps in a state of constant rotation, and the other end is concealed in a vessel, designed to represent a reservoir or basin. The continual rotation of the twisted glass produces the appearance of a progressive motion, as already explained, and a stream of water continually appears to flow from the fountain into the basin.

_Facility of Swimming._

The lighter the body is in relation to its magnitude, the more easily will it float, and a greater proportion of the head will remain above the surface. As the weight of the human body does not always bear the same proportion to its bulk, the skill of the swimmer is not always to be estimated by his success; some of the constituent parts of the human body are heavier, while others are lighter, bulk for bulk, than water. Those persons in whom the quantity of the latter bear a greater proportion to the former, will swim with a proportionate facility.

_Common Mistake in Cooling Wine._

When ice is used to cool wine, it will be ineffectual if it be applied, as is frequently the case, only to the bottom of the bottle; in that case, the only part of the wine which will be cooled is that part nearest the bottom. As the application of ice to the top of the bottle establishes two currents, upwards and downwards, the liquid will undergo an effect in some degree similar to that which would be produced by shaking the bottle. If there be any deposit in the bottom whose weight, bulk for bulk, nearly equals that of the wine, such deposit will be mixed through the liquid as effectually as if it had been shaken. In such cases, therefore, the wine should be transferred into a clean bottle before it is cooled.

_Why Cream collects on the surface of Milk._

There are numerous familiar effects which are manifestations of the principle now explained. When a vessel of milk is allowed to remain a certain time at rest, it is observed that a stratum of fluid will collect at the surface, differing in many qualities from that upon which it rests. This is called _cream_; and the property by which it ascends to the surface is its relative levity; it is composed of the lightest particles of the milk, which are in the first instance mixed generally in the fluid; but which, when the liquid is allowed to rest, gradually arise through it, and settle at the surface.

_Directions engraved upon the Common Weather Glasses absurd._

The barometer has been called a _weather glass_. Rules are attempted to be established, by which, from the height of the mercury, the coming state of the weather may be predicted, and we accordingly find the words "Rain," "Fair," "Changeable," "Frost," &c., engraved on the scale attached to common domestic barometers, as if, when the mercury stands at the height marked by these words, the weather is always subject to the vicissitudes expressed by them. These marks are, however, entitled to no attention; and it is only surprising to find their use continued in the present times, when knowledge is so widely diffused. They are, in fact, to be ranked scarcely above the _vox stellarum_, or astrological almanac.

Two barometers, one near the level of the River Thames, and the other on the heights of Hampstead, will differ by half an inch; the latter being always half an inch lower than the former. If the words, therefore, engraved upon the plates are to be relied on, similar changes of weather could never happen at these two situations. But what is even more absurd, such a scale would inform us that the weather at the foot of a high building, such as St. Paul's, must always be different from the weather at the top of it.

It is observed that the changes of weather are indicated, not by the actual height of the mercury, but by its _change_ of height. One of the most general, though not absolutely invariable, rules is, that when the mercury is very low, and therefore the atmosphere very light, high winds and storms may be expected.

The following rules may generally be relied upon, at least to a certain extent:

1. _Generally_ the rising of the mercury indicates the approach of fair weather; the falling of it shows the approach of foul weather.

2. In sultry weather the fall of the mercury indicates coming thunder. In winter, the rise of the mercury indicates frost. In frost, its fall indicates thaw; and its rise indicates snow.

3. Whatever change of weather suddenly follows a change in the barometer, may be expected to last but a short time. Thus, if fair weather follow immediately the rise of the mercury, there will be very little of it; and, in the same way if foul weather follow the fall of the mercury, it will last but a short time.

4. If fair weather continue for several days, during which the mercury continually falls, a long continuance of foul weather will probably ensue; and again, if foul weather continue for several days, while the mercury continually rises, it long succession of fair weather will probably succeed.

5. A fluctuating and unsettled state in the mercurial column indicates changeable weather.

The domestic barometer would become a much more useful instrument, if, instead of the words usually engraved on the plate, a short list of the best established rules, such as the above, accompanied it, which might be either engraved on the plate, or printed on a card. It would be right, however, to express the rules only with that degree of probability which observation of past phenomena has justified. There is no rule respecting these effects which will hold good with perfect certainty in every case.

This volume, we should add, is by Dr. Lardner, the editor of the _Cyclopædia_, and is a good model for his collaborateurs.

* * * * *

REFLECTION.

It is better to reflect ourselves, than to suffer others to reflect for us. A philosopher has a system; he views things according to his theory; he is unavoidably partial; and, like Lucian's painter, he paints his one-eyed princes in profile.

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This superb work of modern art stands in one of the finest squares of St. Petersburgh, and of Europe, according to Sir Robert Ker Porter. It was erected by command of the Empress Catherine, and, like all her projects, bears the stamp of greatness. The name of the artist is Falconet: "he was a Frenchman; but," adds Sir R.K.P. "this statue, for genius and exquisite execution, would have done honour to the best sculptors of any nation. A most sublime conception is displayed in the design. The allegory is finely imagined; and had he not sacrificed the result of the whole to the prominence of his group, the grand and united effect of the statue and its pedestal striking at once upon the eye, would have been unequalled in the works of man. A mass of granite, of a size at present most immense, but formerly most astonishing, is the pedestal. A steep acclivity, like that of a rugged mountain, carries the eye to its summit, which looks down on the opposite side to a descent nearly perpendicular. The figure of the hero is on horseback, supposed to have attained the object of his ambition, by surmounting all the apparent impossibilities which so arduous an enterprise presented. The victorious animal is proudly rearing on the highest point of the rock, whilst his imperial master stretches forth his mighty arm, as the father and protector of his country. A serpent, in attempting to impede his course, is trampled on by the feet of the horse, and writhing in all the agonies of expiring nature. The Emperor is seated on the skin of a bear; and habited in a tunic, or sort of toga which forms the drapery behind. His left hand guides the reins; his right is advanced straight forward on the same side of the horse's neck. The head of the statue is crowned with a laurel wreath." It was formed from a bust of Peter, modelled by a young French damsel. The contour of the face expresses the most powerful command, and exalted, boundless, expansion of thought. "The horse, says Sir Robert, is not to be surpassed. To all the beauties of the ancient form, it unites the easy grace of nature with a fire which pervades every line; and gives such a life to the statue, that as you gaze you expect to see it leap from the pinnacle into the air. The difficulty of keeping so great a mass of weighty metal in so volant an attitude, has been admirably overcome by the artist. The sweep of the tail, with the hinder parts of the horse, are interwoven with the curvatures of the expiring snake; and together compose a sufficient counterpoise to the figure and forepart of the animal."[6]

[6] Travelling Sketches in Russia and Sweden. By Sir Robert Ker Porter, 4to.

Our representation of this masterpiece of art is copied from a Russian medallion presented to our ingenious artist, Mr. W.H. Brooke, by M. Francia.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

FAMILY POETRY.

--Modo sumptâ veste virili!--HOR.

Zooks! I must woo the Muse to-day, Though line before I'd never wrote! "On what occasion?" do you say? OUR DICK HAS GOT A LONG-TAIL'D COAT!

Not a coatee, which soldiers wear Button'd up high about the throat, But easy, flowing, debonair-- In short a _civil_ long-tail'd Coat.

A smarter you'll not find in town Cut by Nugee, that Snip of note; A very quiet olive-brown 's the colour of Dick's long-tail'd Coat.

Gay jackets clothe the stately Pole, The proud Hungarian, and the Croat, Yet Esterhazy, on the whole, Looks best when in a long-tail'd Coat.

Lord Byron most admired, we know, The Albanian dress, or Suliote; But then he died some years ago, And never saw Dick's long-tail'd Coat.

Or, past all doubt, the Poet's theme Had never been the "White Capote," Had he once view'd, in Fancy's dream, The glories of Dick's long-tail'd Coat.

We also know on Highland kilt Poor dear Glengary used to dote, And had esteem'd it actual guilt I' "the Gael" to wear a long-tail'd Coat,

No wonder 'twould his eyes annoy, Monkbarns himself would never quote "Sir Robert Sibbald," "Gordon," "Roy," Or "Stukely" for a long-tail'd Coat.

Jackets may do to ride a race, Or row in, when one's in a boat; But, in the Boudoir, sure, for grace There's nothing like Dick's long-tail'd Coat.

Of course, in climbing up a tree, On terra firma, or afloat. To mount the giddy top-mast, he Would doff awhile his long-tail'd Coat.

What makes you simper, then, and sneer? From out your own eye pull the mote; A pretty thing for you to jeer! Haven't _you_, too, got a long-tail'd Coat?

Oh! "Dick's scarce old enough," you mean? Why, though too young to give a vote, Or make a will, yet, sure, Fifteen 's a ripe age for a long-tail'd Coat.

What! would you have him sport a chin Like Colonel Stanhope, or that goat O'Gorman Mahon, ere begin To figure in a long-tail'd Coat?

Suppose he goes to France--can he Sit down at any _table d'hôte_, With any sort of decency, Unless he's got a long-tail'd Coat?

Why Louis Philippe, Royal Cit, There soon may be a _sans culotte_; And Nugents self must then admit The advantage of a long-tail'd Coat.

Things are not now as when, of yore, In Tower encircled by a moat, The lion-hearted chieftain wore A corselet for a long-tail'd Coat.

Then ample mail his form embraced, Not, like a weazel, or a stoat, "Cribb'd and confined" about the waist, And pinch'd in, like Dick's long-tail'd Coat;--

With beamy spear, orbiting axe, To right and left he thrust and smote-- Ah! what a change! no sinewy thwacks Fall from a modern long tail'd Coat.

For stalwart knights, a puny race In stays, with locks _en papillote_, While cuirass, cuisses, greaves give place To silk-net _Tights_, and long-tail'd Coat.

Worse changes still! now, well-a-day! A few cant phrases learnt by rote Each beardless booby spouts away, A Solon, in a long-tail'd Coat.

Prates of "The march of intellect"-- --"The schoolmaster" _a Patriote_ So noble, who could ere suspect Had just put on a long-tail'd Coat?

Alack! Alack! that every thick- skull'd lad must find an antidote For England's woes, because, like Dick. He has put on a long-tail'd Coat.

But lo! my rhymes begin to fail, Nor can I longer time devote; Thus rhyme and time cut short the _tale_, The _long tale_ of Dick's long-tail'd Coat.

_Blackwood's Magazine_.

* * * * *

SIR JOHN HAWKINS'S HISTORY OF MUSIC.

The fate of this work was decided like that of many more important things, by a trifle, a word, a pun. A ballad, chanted by a fille-de-chambre, undermined the colossal power of Alberoni; a single line of Frederic the Second, reflecting not on the politics but the poetry of a French minister, plunged France into the seven years' war; and a pun condemned Sir John Hawkins's sixteen years' labour to long obscurity and oblivion. Some wag wrote the following catch, which Dr. Callcott set to music:--

"Have you read Sir John Hawkins's History? Some folks think it quite a mystery; Both I have, and I aver That Burney's History I prefer."

_Burn his History_ was straightway in every one's mouth; and the bookseller, if he did not follow the advice _à pied de la lettre_, actually wasted, as the term is, or sold for waste paper, some hundred copies, and buried the rest of the impression in the profoundest depth of a damp cellar, as an article never likely to be called for, so that now hardly a copy can be procured undamaged by damp and mildew. It has been for some time, however, rising,--is rising,--and the more it is read and known, the more it ought to rise in public estimation and demand.--_Harmonicon_.

* * * * *

ITALIAN, AT THE KING'S THEATRE.

A Liberal and sensible correspondent of the _Harmonicon_ writes thus:

Mrs. Wood is not the first of our countrywomen who has attained the same rank; the names of Billington, Cecilia Davies (called _Inglesina_,) and in remoter times, that of Anastasia Robinson, (afterwards Countess of Peterborough,) will immediately occur to the musical reader; but, with the exception of the latter, who lived at a time when the Italian opera in England was in its infancy, Mrs. Wood is, if I mistake not, the first Englishwoman who has achieved that distinction without a certificate of character from Italy. Even Billington was not thought worthy of our opera stage until she had delighted the audiences of San Carlo, the Scala, and the Fenice. Mrs. Wood, on the other hand, is our own, and wholly our own; she has not basked in the suns of Naples, nor breathed the musical atmosphere of Venice or Milan; yet I, who am an old stager, like Iago, "nothing if not critical," and have heard every _prima donna_ from Billington down to this present writing, have seldom uttered any _brava_ with more unction than when listening to Mrs. Wood's _Angelina_ and _Ottavia_.

My intent is to hail Mrs. Wood's appearance and success at the opera as an _auspicium melioris ævi_, as the dawn of a coming day, when the staple commodity of our Italian opera shall be furnished by our own island, instead of being imported from a country which, I boldly assert, does not produce either superior voices, or better educated musicians than our own--nay, so well educated. Has Italy ever furnished us with such a tenor singer as Braham; the Braham that I am, _per mia disgrazia_, qualified, by age, to remember; the Braham of 1801? Has Italy ever sent us a _prima donna_, considered as a singer only, like Billington? On the contrary, do we not, in gauging our progressive musical importations, subject them to immediate comparison with Billington and Braham? And who, except Catalani and Fodor, Siboni and Donzelli, would bear that comparison? The French, the Germans, cultivate assiduously native talent, and we import, now a Fodor, and now a Sontag; we English alone persist in the sapient policy of making the exclusion of the native artist from the highest point to which his ambition could be directed, the rule; and his admission, the exception which the grammarians say (though my grammar-master never could drive it into my head why) proves the rule.

But I shall be told that few of our native artists can speak the Italian language, or sing Italian music, and more especially recitative. My answer is, let them once know that the mere circumstance of their being English born does not shut the stage-door of the King's Theatre against them, all will look up to its boards as the goal of their ambition, and the study of Italian and recitative will form an important part of every singer's education. Another common objection is, that we cannot acquire the purity of pronunciation required by the refined audience of the King's Theatre. I trust it is no heresy to say that I am somewhat sceptical as to the powers of euphoniacal criticism which that audience possesses. If one in ten, even of the box company, can really distinguish the true _bocca romana_ from the patois of the Venetian gondolieri or the Neapolitan lazzaroni, it is, I am persuaded, as much as the truth will justify. In fact it is not the audience that is so critical: it is the associated band of foreign parasites who attach themselves to our aristocracy with the tenacity of leeches, as purveyors _des menus plaisirs_, and whose interests are vitally concerned in excluding English talent, and negotiating the concerns of foreign artists, that raise the cry of "pronunciation." It is these gentry who, in phrase that a Tuscan would spurn at, and in a brogue from which a Roman, ear would be averted with disgust, assure our fashionable opera goers that we poor Englishers cannot learn to pronounce Italian.

But, after all, do we, by employing only _foreigners_--for we are not particular, so they be foreigners, as to whether they were born and bred beyond, or on this side the Alps,--do we, by employing only foreigners, secure this essential purity of Italian pronunciation? Will these super-delicate critics favour a plain man, by informing me which of the great singers I have heard for the last thirty years I should select as my canon of true Italian pronunciation--Catalani and Camporese, or Garcia the Spaniard and Begrez the Fleming? There is not more difference between the English, whether we look to phraseology or pronunciation, of a Londoner, a Gloucestershire man, or a Northumbrian, than there is between the Italian of a Tuscan, a Venetian and a Neapolitan. Have the stage lamps of Drury Lane or Covent Garden the virtue of curing the Northumbrian's burr, or correcting the Gloucestershireman's invincible abhorrence of _h_'s and _w_'s? If not, can we expect that even the theatres of Rome and Florence will neutralize at once the provincial accent of a Neapolitan or Venetian? Was it in Morelli, the stable-boy, or Banti, the street ballad-singer, that the beau ideal of pure Italian pronunciation was to be recognised?

But, to be serious. I will venture to affirm that, on this side the Alps, there is no country in Europe whose natives have so little to learn, or to unlearn, in acquiring a good Italian pronunciation, as the English. We have neither the gutturals of the German and the Spaniard, nor the mute vowels and nasal _n_'s of the French to get rid of; there is scarcely a sound in the Italian language which we are not in the daily habit of uttering, and nearly our whole task would be confined to the learning that certain conventional alphabetical symbols, which represent one sound in English, represent another in Italian. Away, then, with the jargonal pretence that English singers cannot acquire a good and pure Italian pronunciation; make it worth their while, open the stage-doors of the King's Theatre to the native artist, and you will soon find talent more than enough.

* * * * *

THE COSMOPOLITE.

* * * * *

COINCIDENT POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.

(_Continued from page 284._)

[Transcriber's note: see Mirror 486]

Such is the tale, which is either of itself the fragment of some popular superstition, or has given rise to many coincident legends. "I am sure," says the kind friend who furnished us with the narrative, speaking of the Beresford from whom she received it, "that neither he, nor any of his relations, disbelieves the statements recorded." Possibly not; nor dare we profess to be utterly sceptical--simply as Christians--to all narratives of this description; but, allowing the possibility, nay, the necessity in some cases, of supernatural agency, still, a spirit should have some just and striking reason for its permitted appearance; and we cannot exactly discover the object of Sir Tristram's mission. Would it be unfair to hazard a conjecture that the lady, being a Catholic, married in Captain Georges a Protestant (a supposition which the double performance of the marriage ceremony with him seems to favour), whom, being anxious to convert to her own faith, she thought to deceive, by the "cunningly devised fable" of a spirit with a burning hand, into the Papistical tenet of purgatory? and, that by a confusion of real circumstances with her original fiction, is derived the remarkable family tradition recorded? Leaving this speculation for the private rumination of our readers, we proceed:

The stories of the young lady suffocated by accidentally enclosing herself in a chest with a spring lock[7]--of the girl frightened into complete idiotcy by those who placed a skeleton, or, as some say, a skull only, in her bed[8]--and of ladies, bishops, &c. obtaining their livelihoods privately by highway robbery[9], with similar narratives, rather romantic than superstitious, are general property, and to be met with under various modifications throughout England. The tale of the King of the Cats[10], a German tradition, has its exact counterpart in an Irish one, related to us as an original Hibernian legend, and published some time since in an excellent work, which having now disappeared, we may perhaps venture to give, as a novelty, the little tradition in these pages: