The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 337, October 25, 1828

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

ENGLISH COUNTRY LIFE

The country seats of England form, indeed, one of the most remarkable features, not only in English landscape, but yet more in what may be termed the genius and economy of English manners. Their great number throughout the country, the varied grandeur and beauty of their parks and gardens, the extent, magnificence, and various architecture of the houses, the luxurious comfort and completeness of their internal arrangements, and their relation generally to the character of the peasantry surrounding them, justify fully the expression we have used. No where has this mode of life attained so high a degree of perfection and refinement. We will allude to two circumstances, amongst many others, in illustration. The first of these is, the very great number of valuable libraries belonging to our family seats. It has been sometimes remarked as singular, that England should possess so few great public libraries, while a poorer country, like Germany, can boast of its numerous and vast collections at Vienna, Prague, Munich, Stutgard, Goettingen, Wolfenbuttel, &c. The fact is partly explained by the many political divisions and capitals, and by the number of universities in Germany. But a further explanation may be found in the innumerable private libraries dispersed throughout England—many of them equal to public ones in extent and value, and most of them well furnished in classics, and in English and French literature.

The other peculiarity we would name about our English country-houses is, that they do not insulate their residents from the society and business of active life; which insulation is probably a cause, why so many proprietors in other countries pass their whole time in the metropolis or larger towns. The facility and speed of communication in England link together all places, however remote, and all interests, political and social, of the community. The country gentleman, sitting at his breakfast table a hundred miles from London, receives the newspapers printed there the night before; his books come to him still damp from the press; and the debates in parliament travel to every country-house in England within fifty or sixty hours of the time when they have taken place. The like facility exists as to provincial interests of every kind. The nobleman or country gentleman is a public functionary within his district, and no man residing on his estates is, or need feel himself, unimportant to the community. Quarterly Rev.

FLOWERS

When summer's delightful season arrives, rarely in this country too warm to be enjoyed throughout the day in the open air, there is nothing more grateful than a profusion of choice flowers around and within our dwellings. The humblest apartments ornamented with these beautiful productions of nature have, in my view, a more delightful effect than the proudest saloons with gilded ceilings and hangings of Genoa velvet. The richness of the latter, indeed, would be heightened, and their elegance increased, by the judicious introduction of flowers and foliage into them. The odour of flowers, the cool appearance of the dark green leaves of some species, and the beautiful tints and varied forms of others, are singularly grateful to the sight, and refreshing at the same time. Vases of Etruscan mould, containing plants of the commonest kind, offer those lines of beauty which the eye delights in following; and variform leaves hanging festooned over them, and shading them if they be of a light colour, with a soft grateful hue, add much to their pleasing effect. These decorations are simple and cheap.

Lord Bacon, whose magnificence of mind exempts him from every objection as a model for the rest of mankind, (in all but the unfortunate error to which, perhaps, his sordid pursuit in life led him, to the degradation of his nobler intellect), was enthusiastically attached to flowers, and kept a succession of them about him in his study and at his table. Now the union of books and flowers is more particularly agreeable. Nothing, in my view, is half so delightful as a library set off with these beautiful productions of the earth during summer, or indeed, any other season of the year. A library or study, opening on green turf, and having the view of a distant rugged country, with a peep at the ocean between hills, a small fertile space forming the nearest ground, and an easy chair and books, is just as much of local enjoyment as a thinking man can desire—I reck not if under a thatched or slated roof, to me it is the same thing. A favourite author on my table, in the midst of my bouquets, and I speedily forget how the rest of the world wags. I fancy I am enjoying nature and art together, a consummation of luxury that never palls upon the appetite—a dessert of uncloying sweets.

Madame Roland seems to have felt very strongly the union of mental pleasure with that afforded to the senses by flowers. She somewhere says, "La vûe d'une fleur carresse mon imagination et flatte mes sens à un point inexprimable; elle réveille avec volupté le sentiment de mon existence. Sous le tranquil abri du toit paternel, j'étois heureuse des enfance avec des fleurs et des livres; dans l'étroite enciente d'une prison, au milieu des fers imposés par la tyrannie la plus revoltante, j'oublie l'injustice des hommes, leurs sottises, et mes maux, avec des livres et des fleurs." These pleasures, however, are too simple to be universally felt.

There is something delightful in the use which the eastern poets, particularly the Persian, make of flowers in their poetry. Their allusions are not casual, and in the way of metaphor and simile only; they seem really to hold them in high admiration. I am not aware that the flowers of Persia, except the rose, are more beautiful or more various than those of other countries. Perhaps England, including her gardens, green-houses, and fields, having introduced a vast variety from every climate, may exhibit a list unrivalled, as a whole, in odour and beauty. Yet flowers are not with us held in such high estimation as among the Orientals, if we are to judge from their poets.

Bowers of roses and flowers are perpetually alluded to in the writings of eastern poets. The Turks, and indeed the Orientals in general, have few images of voluptuousness without the richest flowers contributing towards them. The noblest palaces, where gilding, damask, and fine carpeting abound, would be essentially wanting in luxury without flowers. It cannot be from their odour alone that they are thus identified with pleasure; it is from their union of exquisite hues, fragrance, and beautiful forms, that they raise a sentiment of voluptuousness, in the mind; for whatever unites these qualities can scarcely do otherwise.

Whoever virtuously despises the opinion that simple and cheap pleasures, not only good, but in the very best taste, are of no value because they want a meretricious rarity, will fill their apartments with a succession of our better garden flowers. It has been said that flowers placed in bedrooms are not wholesome. This cannot be meant of such as are in a state of vegetation. Plucked and put into water, they quickly decay, and doubtless, give out a putrescent air; when alive and growing, there need not be any danger apprehended from them, provided fresh air is frequently introduced. For spacious rooms, the better kinds, during warm weather, are those which have a large leaf and bossy flower. Large leaves have a very agreeable effect on the senses; their rich green is grateful to the sight; of this kind, the Hydrangaea is remarkably well adapted for apartments, but it requires plenty of water. Those who have a greenhouse connected with their dwellings, have the convenience, by management, of changing their plants as the flowers decay; those who have not, and yet have space to afford them light and occasionally air, may rear most of those kinds under their own roof, which may be applied for ornament in summer. Vases of plaster, modelled from the antique, may be stained any colour most agreeable to the fancy, and fitted with tin cases to contain the earthen pots of flowers, to prevent the damp from acting on them, will look exceedingly well.

The infinite variety of roses, including the Guelder Rose; the Rhododendron, and other plants of similar growth, are fitted for the saloon, but they please best in the library. They should be intermingled with the bookcases, and stands filled with them should be placed wherever practicable. They are a wonderful relief to the student. There is always about them a something that infuses a sensation of placid joy, cheering and refreshing. Perhaps they were first introduced at festivals, in consequence of their possessing this quality. A flower garden is the scene of pleasurable feelings of innocence and elegance. The introduction of flowers into our rooms infuses the same sensations, but intermingles them more with our domestic comforts; so that we feel, as it were, in closer contact with them. The succession might be kept up for the greater part of the year; and even in winter, evergreens will supply their places, and, in some respects, contrast well with the season. Many fail in preserving the beauty of plants in their apartments, because they do not give them sufficient light. Some species do well with much less light than others. Light is as necessary to them as air. They should not be too often shifted from one place to another. Those who will take the trouble, may quicken the growth of some plants, so as to have spring flowers in winter. Thus Autumn and Spring might be connected; and flowers blooming in the Winter of our gloomy climate possess double attraction.

In the flower garden alcove, books are doubly grateful. As in the library ornamented with flowers they seem to be more enjoyed, so their union there is irresistibly attracting. To enjoy reading under such circumstances most, works of imagination are preferable to abstract subjects. Poetry and romance—"De Vere" and "Pelham"—lighter history—the lively letters of the French school, like those of Sevigné and others—or natural history—these are best adapted to peruse amidst sweets and flowers: in short, any species of writing that does not keep the mind too intently fixed to allow the senses to wander occasionally over the scene around, and catch the beauty of the rich vegetation. To me the enjoyment derived from the union of books and flowers is of the very highest value among pleasurable sensations.

For my own part, I manage very well without the advantage of a greenhouse. The evergreens serve me in winter. Then the Lilacs come in, followed by the Guelder Rose and Woodbine, the latter trained in a pot upon circular trellis-work. After this there can be no difficulty in choosing, as the open air offers every variety. I arrange all my library and parlour-plants in a room in my dwelling-house facing the south, having a full portion of light, and a fireplace. I promote the growth of my flowers for the early part of the year by steam-warmth, and having large tubs and boxes of earth, I am at no loss, in my humble conservatory, for flowers of many kinds when our climate offers none. The trouble attending them is all my own, and is one of those employments which never appear laborious. Those who have better conveniences may proceed on a larger scale; but I contrive to keep up a due succession, which to a floral epicure is every thing. To be a day in the year without seeing a flower is a novelty to me, and I am persuaded much more might be done with my humble means than I have effected, had I sufficient leisure to attend to the retarding or forcing them. I cover every space in my sitting-room with these beautiful fairy things of creation, and take so much delight in the sight of them, that I cannot help recommending those of limited incomes, like myself, to follow my example and be their own nurserymen. The rich might easily obtain them without; but what they procure by gold, the individual of small means must obtain by industry. I know there are persons to whom the flowers of Paradise would be objects of indifference; but who can imitate, or envy such? They are grovellers, whose coarseness of taste is only fitted for the grossest food of life. The pleasures "des Fleurs et des Livres" are, as Henry IV. observed of his child, "the property of all the world."

New Monthly MagazinePRINCIPLES OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE

Shepherd. (Standing up.) It's on principles like these—boldly and unblushingly avoo'd here—in Mr. Awmrose's paper-parlour, at the conclusion o' the sixth brodd, on the evening o' Monday the 22nd o' September, Anno Domini aughteen hunder and twunty-aught, within twa hours o' midnicht—that you, sir, have been yeditin' a Maggasin that has gone out to the uttermost corners o' the yerth, wherever civilization or uncivilization is known, deludin' and distracktin' men and women folk, till it's impossible for them to ken their right hand frae their left—or whether they're standin' on their heels or their heads—or what byeuk ought to be perused, and what byeuk puttin intil the bottom o' pye-dishes, and trunks—or what awthor hissed, or what awthor hurraa'd—or what's flummery and what's philosophy—or what's rant and what's religion—or what's monopoly and what's free tredd—or wha's poets or wha's but Pats—or whether it's best to be drunk, or whether it's best to be sober a' hours o' the day and nicht—or if there should be rich church establishments as in England, or poor kirk ones as in Scotland—or whether the Bishop o' Canterbury, wi' twenty thousan' a-year, is mair like a primitive Christian than the Minister o' Kirkintulloch wi' twa hunder and fifty—or if folk should aye be readin' sermons or fishin' for sawmon—or if it's best to marry or best to burn—or if the national debt hangs like a millstone round the neck o' the kintra or like a chain o' blae-berries—or if the Millennium be really close at haun'—or the present Solar System be calculated to last to a' eternity—or whether the people should be edicated up to the highest pitch o' perfection, or preferably to be all like trotters through the Bog o' Allen—or whether the government should subsedeeze foreign powers, or spend a' its sillar on oursells—or whether the Blacks and the Catholics should be emancipawted or no afore the demolition o' Priests and Obis—or whether (God forgie us baith for the hypothesis) man has a mortal or an immortal sowl—be a Phoenix—or an Eister!—From the Noctes.

CURSES OF ABSENTEEISM

What is the condition of the country-seat of the absentee proprietor? The mansion-house deserted and closed; the approaches to it ragged and grass grown; the chimneys, "those windpipes of good hospitality," as an old English poet calls them, giving no token of the cheerful fire within; the gardens running to waste, or, perchance, made a source of menial profit; the old family servants dismissed, and some rude bailiff, or country attorney, ruling paramount in the place. The surrounding cottagers, who have derived their support from the vicinage, deprived of this, pass into destitution and wretchedness; either abandoning their homes, throwing themselves upon parish relief, or seeking provision by means yet more desperate. The farming tenantry, though less immediately dependent, yet all partake, more or less, in the evil. The charities and hospitalities which belong to such a mansion lie dormant; the clergyman is no longer supported and aided in his important duties; the family pew in the church is closed; and the village churchyard ceases to be a place of pleasant meeting, where the peasant's heart is gladdened by the kindly notice of his landlord.

It is the struggle against retrenchment, the "paupertatis pudor et fuga," which has caused hundreds of English families, of property and consideration, to desert their family places, and to pass year after year in residence abroad. At the close of each London season, the question too often occurs as to the best mode of evading return to the country; and the sun of summer, instead of calling back the landlord to his tenants, and to the harvests of his own lands, sends him forth to the meagre adventures of continental roads and inns.—Quarterly Rev.

SOLILOQUYTHE KING OF DARKNESSOn the Fallen AngelsThey're gone to ply their ineffectual labour,—To sow in guilt what they must reap in woe,—Heaping upon themselves more deep damnation.Thus would I have it.—Little once I thought,When leagued with me in crime and punishmentThey fell,—condemned to an eternityOf exile from all joy and holiness—And the first stains of sinfulness and sorrowFell blight-like o'er their cherub lineaments—Myself the cause—Albeit too proud for tears,Yet touch'd with their sad doom, I little thoughtI e'er should hate them thus.—Yet thus I hate them,With all that bitter agony of soulWhich is the punishment of fiends. Alas!It was my high ambition, to hold sway,Sole, paramount, unquestion'd, o'er a thirdOf Heaven's resplendent legions:—Power and gloryDwelt on them, like an elemental essenceThat could not be destroyed.—I could not deemThat aught could so extinguish the pure fireOf their sun-like beauty—yet 'tis changed!—I gain'd them to my wish, and they are grownToo hateful to be look'd on.—Thus I've seenThe frail fair dupe of amorous perfidy,The victim of a smile,—by man beguiled—Won to debasement, and then left in loathing:—Alas! I cannot leave my fatal conquest!—Man! would I were the humblest mortal wretch,That crawls beneath yon shadowing temple's tower,Under the sky of Canaan; so I mightLay down this weight of sceptred misery,And fly for ever from myself and these!But Pride reproves the wish; and—it is useless;The unatonable deeds of ages riseLike clouds between me and the throne of Grace.I may not hope,—or fear,—still unsubdued,As when I ruled the anarchy of Heaven,I stand in Fate's despite,—firm and impassiveTo all that Chance, and Time, and Ruin bring.—In that disastrous day, when this vast worldShall, like a tempest-shaken edifice,Rock into giant fractures—as the soundOf the Archangel's trump, upon the deep,Bids fall the bonds of nature, to let forthDestruction's formless fiend from world to world,Trampling the stars to darkness,—Even then,Like that proud Roman exile, musing o'erThe dust of fallen Carthage, I shall stand,Myself a solemn wreck, calm and unmovedAmong the ruins of the works of God.And my last look shall be a look of triumphO'er the fallen pillars of the deep and sky;The wreck of nature by my deeds prepared—Deeds—which o'erpay the power of Destiny.Blackwood's Magazine

THE GATHERER

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."SHAKSPEARE.ON A PICTURE OF HERO AND LEANDERBy T. HoodWhy, Lover, whySuch a water-rover?Would she love thee moreFor coming half seas over?Why, Lady, whySo in love with dipping?Must a lad of GreeceCome all over dripping?Why, Cupid, whyMake the passage brighter?Were not any boatBetter than a lighter?Why, Maiden, whySo intrusive standing?Must thou be on the stair,When he's on the landing?The Gem

On a tombstone in the churchyard of Christchurch, Hants, is the following curious inscription, which I copied on the spot. Perhaps some of your numerous readers can explain the same:—

WE WERE NOT SLAYNE BVT RAYSDRAYSD NOT TO LIFEBVT TO BE BVRIED TWICEBY MEN OF STRIFEWHAT REST COVLD'TH LIVING HAVEWHEN DEAD HAD NONEAGREE AMONGST YOVHERE WE TEN ARE ONEHEN: ROGERS DIED APRILL 17, 1641.I R.EPICURISM

Thomas a Becket gave five pounds, equivalent to seventy-five pounds of the present money, for a dish of eels.

HALBERT H

A famous scholar of the last century, when a boy, was exceedingly fond of the Greek language, and after he had been a short time at school, had acquired so much of the sound of the language, that when at home at dinner one day his father said, "Shall you not be glad, Harry, when you can tell me the names of every dish on the table in Greek?" "Yes," said he; "but I think I know what it must be." "Do you?" said the father; "what do you know about Greek?"—"Nothing," said the boy; "but I think I can guess from the sound of it what it would be." "Well, say then," said the father. He quickly replied, "Shouldromoton, alphagous, pasti-venizon." It appears the dinner consisted of a shoulder of mutton, half a goose, and venison pasty.

SNUFF AND TOBACCO

In the year 1797, was circulated the following proposals for publishing by subscription, a History of Snuff and Tobacco, in Two Volumes:—

Vol. 1.—To contain a description of the nose—size of noses—a digression on Roman noses—whether long noses are symptomatic—origin of tobacco—tobacco first manufactured into snuff—inquiry who took the first pinch—essay on sneezing—whether the ancients sneezed, and at what—origin of pocket handkerchiefs—discrimination between snuffing and taking snuff; the former only applied to candles—parliamentary snuff-takers—troubles in the time of Charles I. as connected with smoking.

Vol. 2.—Snuff-takers in the parliamentary army—wit at a pinch—oval snuff-boxes first used by the roundheads—manufacture of tobacco pipes—dissertation on pipe-clay—state of snuff during the commonwealth—the union—Scotch snuff first introduced—found very pungent and penetrating—accession of George II.—snuff-boxes then made of gold and silver—George III.—Scotch snuff first introduced at court—the queen, German snuffs in fashion—female snuff-takers—clean tuckers, & c. &c—Index and List of Subscribers.

C.F.ETHE "ILL WIND," &cIn debt, deserted, and forlorn,A melancholy elfResolved, upon a Monday morn,To go and hang himself.He reach'd the tree, when lo! he viewsA pot of gold conceal'd;He snatch'd it up, threw down the noose,And scamper'd from the field.The owner came—found out the theft,And, having scratch'd his head,Took up the rope the other left,And hung himself, instead.OLD COOKERY

Gastronomers will feel a natural desire to know what was considered the "best universal sauce in the world," in the boon days of Charles II., at least what was accounted such, by the Duke of York, who was instructed to prepare it by the Spanish ambassador. It consisted of parsley, and a dry toast pounded in a mortar, with vinegar, salt, and pepper. The modern English would no more relish his royal highness's taste in condiments than in religion. A fashionable or cabinet dinner of the same period consisted of "a dish of marrow-bones, a leg of mutton, a dish of fowl, three pullets, and a dozen larks, all in a dish; a great tart, a neat's tongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of prawns, and cheese." At the same period, a supper-dish, when the king supped with his mistress, Lady Castlemaine, was "a chine of beef roasted."

OLD EPITAPHAs I was, so are ye,As I am, you shall be.That I had, that I gave,That I gave, that I have.Thus I end all my cost,That I left, that I lost.IMPROMPTU TO –, ON HER MARRIAGE WITH MR. WILLIAM P–When ladies they wed,It ever is saidThat their freedom away they have thrown;But you've not done so,For we very well knowYou will have a Will of your own.C.K.WPAINTERS

Lavater affirms, that no one whose person is not well formed can become a good physiognomist. Those painters were the best whose persons were the handsomest. Reubens, Vandyke, and Raphael possessed three gradations of beauty, and possessed three gradations of painting.

ELYSIAN SOUP

The French have a soup which they call "Potage a la Camerani" of which it is said "a single spoonful will lap the palate in Elysium; and while one drop remains on the tongue, each other sense is eclipsed by the voluptuous thrilling of the lingual nerves!"

A JAPANESE BEAUTY

Her face was oval, her features regular, and her little mouth, when open, disclosed a set of shining, black lacquered teeth; her hair was black, and rolled up in the form of a turban, without any ornament, except a few tortoiseshell combs; she had sparkling, dark eyes, was about the middle size, and elegantly formed; her dress consisted of six wadded silk garments, similar to our night-gowns, each fastened round the lower part of the waist by a separate band, and drawn close together from the girdle downwards; they were all of different colours, and the uppermost was black.

UGOOD LIVING

I hate a fellow who was never young; he is like a dull Italian year, where the trees are always in leaf, and when the only way of knowing the difference of the seasons is by referring to an almanack. The inconstancy of the spring may surely be excused for the steady warmth of summer and the rich plenty of autumn; then comes the hoar of winter old gentleman, and closes the scene not ungracefully.—Old Play.

Purchasers of the MIRROR, who may wish to complete their sets are informed, that every volume is complete in itself, and may be purchased separately. The whole of the numbers are now in print, and can be procured by giving an order to any Bookseller or Newsvender.