The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 281, November 3, 1827

Imagination

The measles (it is pretty well known to all voyagers) is at St. Helena a hideous and fatal disorder, although generally mild at the Cape, which is about a fortnight's sail from the former island: every ship, therefore, from the Cape, upon touching at St. Helena, undergoes examination, and, if the measles are known to be prevalent at the former place, is put into quarantine, and no officer, however urgent his business may be, allowed to land without making oath or affidavit that he has not been on shore at the Cape, or approached an infected person. Some years since, a naval officer, acquainted with the then governor of St. Helena, General P–n, was invited to dine with him, and met at dinner another officer from another vessel, who, it is to be presumed, had eluded undergoing the usual precautionary measures, and was perhaps ignorant of their existence, since he mentioned, during the repast, that the measles were prevailing at Cape Town, and admitted that he had entered it. Now, he had just arrived at St. Helena, and though he expressly stated that he had not gone near any infected person, poor Mrs. P–, uttering a shriek, fled from the table, exclaiming that she knew she should have the measles; in fact, she immediately fell sick of that disorder, (and died, I think I understood.) All her family took it, and it raged through the island, proving dreadfully destructive.

Mysterious Incident

It was the wedding day of Mr. and Mrs. Terry, (I mean the actual, not the anniversary wedding-day,) and the jocund bridegroom, bride, and their guests were assembled about noon in the drawing-room, when a servant entered, and said a gentleman had called, and wished to speak to Mr. T.; that he was waiting below stairs, and would not come up, because he came upon very particular business. Mr. Terry, desiring his company to excuse him for a few minutes, quitted the room. One hour elapsed—no bridegroom; two hours—he did not appear;—three—four—he was not returned: the bride's mind misgave her, and the hymeneal guests were quite alarmed: the servants declared that they had seen their master and the gentleman walk into the garden, from whence they were not returned. Now, a high brick wall, in which there was no outlet, and over which no person could climb except by a ladder, enclosed the garden, which, when searched, was empty, whilst, at the same time, Mr. Terry and his friend, "the gentleman," could not have walked out at the hall-door without being, from its situation, seen and heard by the servants in the kitchen. Time fled—and he did not return—no!—and although his lady lived to be nearly ninety years of age, she never gained tidings again of the spouse, thus so mysteriously spirited away!

Raising the Wind

The superstitions of sailors are not few, as those assert who are conversant in maritime affairs. Amongst others, is the custom, pretty well known, of whistling for a wind. A gentleman told me, that, on his first voyage, being then very young, and ignorant of sea usages, he was in the habit of walking the deck a great deal, "and whistling as he went," perhaps "for want of thought"—perhaps for lack of something better to do. Shortly, he fancied that the captain of the vessel seemed not a little annoyed whenever this took place, although he kept a respectful silence upon the subject. At length Mr. – resolved to speak to him himself: and, accordingly, one day, when it blew a pretty brisk gale, said, "I observe, captain, that you appear particularly uneasy whenever I whistle."—"To say the truth, sir, I am just now," replied he. "On a fair, still day, whistle as much as you please; but, when there is a wind like this, we don't like to have any more called."—New London Literary Gaz.

THE SELECTOR AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

A PHILOSOPHICAL KITCHEN

A romantic and ludicrous novel has just appeared, entitled "The Mummy, or Tale of the Twenty-second Century," exhibiting some of the probable results of "the march of intellect;" and of the pungency of its satire the following is a fair specimen, describing a kitchen in the twenty-second century:—

When Dr. Entwerfen left the breakfast-room of Lord Gustavus, which he did not do till a considerable time after the rest of the party had quitted it, he was so absorbed in meditation, that he did not know exactly which way he was going; and, happening unfortunately to turn to the right when he should have gone to the left, to his infinite surprise he found himself in the kitchen instead of his own study. Absent as the doctor was, however, his attention was soon roused by the scene before him. Being, like many of his learned brotherhood, somewhat of a gourmand, his indignation was violently excited by finding the cook comfortably asleep on a sofa on one side of the room, whilst the meat intended for dinner, a meal it was then the fashion to take about noon, was as comfortably resting itself from its toils on the other. The chemical substitute for fire, which ought to have cooked it, having gone out, and the cook's nap precluding all reasonable expectation of its re-illumination, the doctor's wrath was kindled, though the fire was not, and in a violent rage he seized the gentle Celestina's shoulder, and and shook her till she woke. "Where am I?" exclaimed she, opening her eyes. "Any where but where you ought to be," cried the doctor, in a fury. "Look, hussy! look at that fine joint of meat, lying quite cold and sodden in its own steam." "Dear me!" returned Celestina, yawning, "I am really quite unfortunate to-day! An unlucky accident has already occurred to a leg of mutton which was to have formed part of to-day's aliments, and now this piece of beef is also destroyed. I am afraid there will be nothing for dinner but some mucilaginous saccharine vegetables, and they, most probably, will be boiled to a viscous consistency." "And what excuse can you offer for all this?" exclaimed the doctor, his voice trembling with passion. "It was unavoidable;" replied Celestina, coolly; "whilst I was copying a cast from the Apollo Belvidere this morning, having unguardedly applied too much caloric to the vessel containing the leg of mutton, the aqueous fluid in which it was immersed evaporated, and the viand became completely calcinated. Whilst the other affair—" "Hush, hush!" interrupted the doctor; "I cannot bear to hear you mention it. Oh, surely Job himself never suffered such a trial of his patience! In fact, his troubles were scarcely worth mentioning, for he was never cursed with learned servants!" Saying this, the doctor retired, lamenting his hard fate in not having been born in those halcyon days when cooks drew nothing but their poultry; whilst the gentle Celestina's breast panted with indignation at his complaint. An opportunity soon offered for revenge; and seeing the doctor's steam valet ready to be carried to its master's chamber, she treacherously applied a double portion of caloric; in consequence of which, the machine burst whilst in the act of brushing the doctor's coat collar, and by discharging the whole of the scalding water contained in its cauldron upon him, reduced him to a melancholy state.

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND

Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee,Since God was thy refuge, thy ransom, thy guide;He gave thee, he took thee and he will restore thee,And death has no sting since the Saviour has died. The Amulet for 1828.

St. Martin's, near Canterbury

THE FIRST CHRISTIAN CHURCH ERECTED IN ENGLAND

(For the Mirror.)

The venerable and interesting church of St. Martin is situated on the side of a hill, (named from it,) at the distance of little more than a quarter of a mile from the dilapidated walls of Canterbury. It is generally believed to have been erected by the Christian soldiers in the Roman army, about the time of king Lucius, A.D. 182, and hence is justly esteemed as the first Christian church erected in Britain, and indeed nothing appears to contradict this assertion; for the Britons, before the arrival of the Romans, were, as is well known, in a state of barbarism and idolatry, and their habitations huts of clay and turf; and as to its being built after their departure, I do not think it at all likely, for England was then ravaged and overrun by the warlike clans of its mountain neighbours, and consequently its inhabitants had not time or inclination to erect buildings, when their lives and property were daily in danger. Their successors, the early Saxons, too, I think, cannot claim any pretensions to St. Martin, they being heathens, and unacquainted with the Christian religion. Nor could they, entirely ignorant of Roman materials, have built an edifice completely composed with them.

Here then was a Christian church and a Christian congregation established in Britain full 415 years before Augustin's arrival; but as St. Martin, bishop of Tours, died in the year 395, this church could not have been erected in his honour; but it might afterwards have been dedicated to him by Luidhard, chaplain to Bertha, wife of Ethelbert, the Kentish king; and this is the more likely, as Luidhard himself was a French bishop.

In conclusion, it may not be unnecessary to state, that though the papists consider Augustin as the apostle of the English, they do not acknowledge him as their first instructor in Christianity; for, as it appears in their service for May 26, Lucius, a British king, wrote to St. Eleutherius, (who was elected priest A.D. 177,) desiring that he might be numbered among the Christians. By whom or by what means this conversion was effected does not appear; but, however, in reply to it, Eleutherius sent the monks Damian and Fryatius into Britain, from whom the king and many of his subjects received the gospel.

SAGITTARIUS.

PICTURE OF LIBERTY

(For the Mirror.)O, Liberty! thou goddess, heav'nly bright!Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight,External pleasures in thy presence reign.ADDISON.

Aristo tells a pretty story of a fairy, who, by some mysterious law of her nature, was condemned to appear, at certain seasons, in the form of a foul and poisonous snake. Those who injured her during the period of her disguise were for ever excluded from participation in the blessings which she bestowed. But to those who, in spite of her loathsome aspect, pitied and protected her, she afterwards revealed herself in the beautiful and celestial form which was natural to her, accompanied their steps, granted all their wishes, filled their houses with wealth, made them happy in love and victorious in war. Such a spirit is Liberty. At times she takes the form of a hateful reptile; she grovels, she hisses, she stings; but woe to those who in disgust shall venture to crush her! And happy are those who, having dared to receive her in her degraded and frightful shape, shall at length be rewarded by her in the time of her beauty and glory!—See Edin. Rev. vol. xlii. p. 332.

P.T.W.

FIRST AND LAST

(From the Italian.)One single truth before he diedPoor Dick could only boast;"Alas, I die!" he faintly cried,And then—gave up the ghost!

FRENCH GAMING HOUSES

(For the Mirror.)

Dicing-houses, where cheaters meet, and cozen young men out of their money.

Lord Herbert.

Begin with a guinea, and end with a mortgage.

Cumberland.        What more than madness reigns,When one short sitting many hundreds drains,When not enough is left him to supplyBoard wages, or a footman's livery.Dryden's Juvenal.

Gaming finds a man a cully, and leaves him a knave.

Tom Brown.

The last "nine days' wonder" is the excess to which gaming is carried among the higher circles of this country; but I much doubt whether the present expositions of such enormity in a neighbouring nation will work the desired effect on Englishmen.

Popular prejudices are obstinate points to combat; but every one who has had opportunities for observation, must allow, that in their taste for gaming, the French and English character are widely different. In France, every one plays at cards, or dominoes, and at all hours in the day, in every cafè, wine-shop, and road-side inn throughout the country. I remember to have frequently seen, in the wine-shops at Paris, carters in blue smock-frocks playing at ecartè and dominoes over a bottle of vin ordinaire at eleven o'clock in the morning, particularly in the neighbourhood of the markets. In England such amusements would be illegal, and the victualler who allowed them in his house would probably be deprived of his license.

In France every man plays at billiards—nay, every village has its billiard tables, one of which is almost as frequent an article of furniture in private houses, as piano-fortes are in England; and the sign of two maces crossed, and the inscriptions "Cafè et Billards" are as common over the wine-houses in the provinces, as chequers formerly were in our own country towns. I remember meeting with a curious adventure during my last residence in Paris. One morning, while leisurely walking in Rue Montmartre, I was accosted in French, by a respectably dressed man, apparently about fifty, who inquired of me the situation of – street, (for at this moment I do not recollect the name). I replied that, being a foreigner, I could not afford him the required information, at the same time referring him to the next shop. He did not follow my suggestion, but almost at the very instant my eye caught the name of the street for which he had just inquired. The stranger then told me that being on a visit to the capital, he was anxious to see the interior of the palace of the Tuilleries, and was proceeding to a friend resident in the above street, who had promised to procure him admission to the royal residence, notwithstanding the king was then in Paris. I congratulated him on his success, having been, a few days previous, disappointed in the same object, when he offered also to procure admission for myself and one or two of my friends. We accordingly entered a second rate cafè, when, I made up to the garçon and demanded of him whether orders for viewing the Tuilleries were to be obtained there: he made no reply, but my friend of the street, who had by this time partly ascended a staircase at the extremity of the room, beckoned, and anxiously besought me to accompany him. I did so, notwithstanding I was aware that Paris, as well as London, had its "frauds." We entered a large room, the first impression of which, on some minds, would have been that of terror. In the centre stood a handsome billiard-table, over which were two dirty lamps with reflectors; the walls were papered in tawdry French taste, the ceiling black with smoke, and the whole room but indifferently lighted with a disproportionate and dusty window: the door, too, seemed planned for security, having a large lock and two bolts inside, but exhibited marks of recent repair from violent fracture. In short, there was a lurking suspicion about the place, which was not lessened by my companion meeting with a partner. From their conversation I learned they were both foreigners, and were waiting for a friend to bring the orders to view the palace, so that all the story was as yet in keeping, and I was introduced as a suitor for the same favour. My fellows "in waiting" showed much impatience, complained of cold, and politely asked me to take a glass of liqueur with them, at the same time taking up the mace and beginning to amuse themselves at the billiard-table. I looked on; they asked me to join them; I declined, and professed ignorance of the game; but their importunities became more pressing, and at last troublesome. Not a word further was said of the palace admission. I now judged it time to take my leave, and advancing towards the door for that purpose, I perceived my companions moved also: I profited by the hint, and seizing the handle of the door, thanked them for their civility, assured them I could wait no longer, but would call in half-an-hour—leaped down the stairs, and did not stop till I reached Rue Montmartre. I afterwards learned this was a common street trick in Paris to decoy strangers to the billiard-table, and had I taken the mace in hand, it would most probably have been at the expense of a good dinner for my companions, as a smart for my credulity.

A few evenings subsequent to this common-place incident, I strolled into a house of play in the palais royal, the situation having been previously pointed out to me by a friend.1 The entrance was through a narrow passage by a silversmith's shop, on the ground floor, at the end of which a strong light shone through the figures denoting the number of the house, largely cut in tin; alas! thought I, a fatal number to many thousands. On the principal landing, being that above the entre-sol story, I gently tapped at a handsome door, which was almost as gently opened. My friend (for I was not alone,) having deposited his hat and stick with the garçon, was allowed to pass, but I was stopped for want of—whiskers; till assuring him that I was older than he took me to be, and an Englishman—I was also permitted to pass. We first entered a small room, in which was a roulette-table surrounded by players, and well staked: this communicated by folding-doors with a spacious saloon with a double table for Trente-et-un, or Rouge et Noir, round which were seated the players, behind whom stood a few lookers-on, and still fewer young men, whose stakes were "few and far between,"—probably those of cautious adventurers, or novices pecking at the first-fruits of play. Nothing is better described in books than the folly of gaming, and the sufferings of its victims; but, like Virgil, in his picture of Heaven, they fall short in describing their extasies; a failing on the right side, or perhaps purposely made, for the happiness of mankind. The seated visitors here seemed to be quite at home, some picking up their Napoleons and five franc pieces, and others recording the issues of the game, and illustrating the doctrine of chances by pricking holes in cards. A death-like stillness prevailed, interrupted only by the monotonous result of the deal of the cards, and the bewitching, though not frequent chink of gold and silver. The success of the winners was as silent as the disappointment of the losers; neither joy nor grief displaying itself otherwise than in an almost unvaried tristesse on the countenances of the seated players—in some measure produced by ill health and intense anxiety so as to conceal better feelings. I took my station at one end of the table beside a middle-aged Frenchman, and by way of forfeit-money (for mere lookers on are not very acceptable company) threw a few five-franc pieces, one by one, on the same colour with his stakes, each of which varied from one to ten Napoleons. After twelve chances I had lost about thirty francs, but the Frenchman continued playing, and within twenty minutes rose a winner of three hundred Napoleons, which the banker changing for paper, he coolly put into his waistcoat pocket, and walked off. A slight emotion was visible around the table, but there was no other expression. I had now time to look around me, and enjoy a little reflection for my foolish risk. It would be difficult to say whether more anxiety was displayed among the sitters, or the company at their backs. The attractive foci of all eyes were the everlasting varieties of red and black, though not accompanied by the usual grotesque mob of kings, queens, and knaves, the latter being probably excluded by the jealousy of their living fraternity around the table. A strong and steady light spread over the faces of all present, and in some few showed the quiverings and workings of the most intense passion; but the same stare or tip-toe of hope and fear pervaded the whole assemblage. Some counted their money with apparent caution, and seemed to divide their winnings from their store with affected precision, probably with an idea of the winnings being unfit company for other coin; whilst others listlessly played with their cash, or in a vulgar phrase, handled it like dirt, the distinguishing feature of the cold and calculating gamester, to whom money is an object of secondary concern compared with that of play. In the standing groupe I remember to have noticed (from his personal resemblance to a friend) a young Englishman, whom I afterwards learned had been a constant visiter to that table during the previous three months, and had then won about two hundred Napoleons. He had just married an interesting woman, about his own age, twenty-two, and had professedly taken up his degree in the practice of play, as an elegant and honourable mode of subsistence. A few weeks after I met him and his wife, on the Italian Boulevards; in dress he was woefully changed, and in his countenance a ghastly stare, sunken eye, and emaciated cheeks, bespoke some strong reverse of fortune: his wife too seemed dimmed by sorrow, and suffering might be traced in every lineament of her features, notwithstanding the artifice of dress was tastefully displayed about her person. Alas! thought I, how often is the charm of wedded life snapped asunder by man—the proud lord of the creation, and how often by his strong hold on her affections, does he sink lovely woman still fondly clinging to his disgrace, in the abyss of crime and guilt.

But as such incidents must be common to many of your readers who have visited the French metropolis, I shall desist from further recital. The following outline of those receptacles of vice, French Gaming Houses, from facts which I collected on the spot, aided by authenticated resources, may not prove uninteresting.

Gaming-houses in Paris were first licensed in 1775, by the lieutenant of police, who, to diminish the odium of such establishments, decreed that the profit resulting from them should be applied to the foundation of hospitals. The gamesters might therefore be said to resemble watermen, looking one way and rowing another. Their number soon amounted to twelve, and women were permitted to resort to them two days in the week. Besides the licensed establishments, several illegal ones were tolerated. In 1778, gaming was prohibited in France; but not at the court or in the hotels of ambassadors, where police-officers could not enter. By degrees the public establishments resumed their wonted activity, and extended their pernicious effects. The numerous suicides and bankruptcies which they occasioned, attracted the attention of the Parlement, who drew up regulations for their observance; and threatened those who should violate them with the pillory and whipping. At length, the passion for gambling prevailing in the societies established in the Palais Royal, under the title of clubs or salons, a police ordinance was issued in 1785, prohibiting them from gaming, and in the following year, additional prohibitory measures were enforced. During the revolution the gaming-houses were frequently prevented and licenses withheld; but notwithstanding the rigour of the laws, and the vigilance of the police, they still contrived to exist; and they are now regularly licensed by the police, and are under its immediate inspection. The following items of twenty tables distributed about Paris (the established stake varying from a Napoleon to sous) are from the most authentic documents:—

or about £78,244 English! And yet, in spite of this unanswerable logic of figures and facts, there are every day fresh victims who are infatuated enough to believe that it is possible to counterbalance the advantages which the bank possesses, by a judicious management of the power the player has of altering his stake! The revenue formerly paid to the government for licenses, has recently been transferred to the city of Paris.

In England, the outcry against gaming is loud, and deservedly so; and the extent to which it is stated to be curried in the higher circles is rather underrated than exaggerated; but the severity of our laws on this crime, and recent visitations of its rigour, confine it to the saloons of wealthy vice. With us it is not a national vice, as in France, where every license, facility, and even encouragement presents itself. Lotteries, which have been abolished in England, as immoral nuisances, are tolerated in France, with more mischievous effect, since, the risk is considerably less than our least shares formerly were, the lotteries smaller, and those drawn three times every month. The relics of our gaming system are only to be found on race-courses; but in France, half the toys sold at a fair or fête, where mothers win rattles for their children, are by lottery, whilst our gaming at fairs is restricted to a few low adventurers for snuff-boxes, &c. Despair is the gloomiest feature of the French character, and of which gaming produces a frightful proportion, notwithstanding all that our neighbours say about our hanging and drowning in November: witness their suicides:—