The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 551, June 9, 1832

Turn over the pages of the Old Bailey session papers for years past, and you cannot but be struck with the anomalies which are there apparent, with respect to crimes and the sentences which have followed. The impression a perusal of these papers made on my mind, was as if all the business had been done by lottery; and my observation during twenty-two sessions on the occurring cases has tended to convince me, that a distribution of justice from that wheel of chance could not present a more incongruous and confused record of convictions and punishments. In no case (always excepting the capitals) can any person, however acute and experienced, form the slightest opinion of what the judgment of the court will be. Of this the London thieves are fully aware. I never could succeed in persuading one before his trial, that he was deprived of all chance of escape. They will answer, "Look what a court it is! how many worse than me do scramble through; and who knows but I may be lucky." What men know they must endure, they fear; what they think they can escape, they despise: their calculation of three-fourths escaping is very near the truth. Hope, the spring of action, induces each to say to himself, "Why may I not be the lucky one?" THE CHANCE THUS GIVEN OF ACQUITTAL IS THE MAIN CAUSE OF CRIME. I do not mean to say three-fourths come off free; they are subjected to some kind of punishment (excepting a few cases of judgment respited); the others feel, no doubt, what they undergo, but it is only as a soldier in the fight considers a scratch—otherwise coming off with a whole skin, being ready for action again. Another evil arises out of this irregularity of judgments. All punishments are rendered severe and useful in proportion as the offender feels he deserves it, and is conscious of having only his quantum meritus.. This the convict can now never feel, seeing his companion in crime let off for a few months' imprisonment, he (his companion) having been guilty of an offence equal to his own, and for which he (the convict) is transported for life. Those connected with the court, in the conversations I have had with them, say, "circumstances of character occasion the apparent anomalies;" being unable, or perhaps unwilling, to give a better. That a good character does not avail the prisoner, or direct the court in its judgments, may be seen by a mere inspection of the printed trials, and is better known to all who have watched the proceedings of this court for any time. Hundreds of cases might be cited to illustrate this fact. I remember the case of two butchers, whose briefs I wrote, which occurred last year. One was an old, the other a young man, both having been in the employ of the prosecutor. They were charged with stealing a breast of mutton from their master: both were found guilty. The old man had persons to speak as to his character for honesty for forty years last past (his former masters); the young one had not a solitary witness to say a word for him. The former was sentenced to fourteen years' transportation; the latter to six months in the house of correction. When the prosecutor heard of the circumstance, he got up a petition to the secretary of state for a remission of the sentence, in which he stated that on the trial he himself had given the old man a good character, and not the other. Instances of this kind occur out of number to confirm the rogues in their preconceived notions of the uncertainty of punishment, and that "the greatest crimes come off the best." This is an aphorism among the thieves. I have seen some of them, after being sentenced by the court, dance for hours, calling out continuously, "Did I not tell you all, the biggest rogues get off the best?" The scene in the several yards of Newgate on the sentence-days, after the judgments have been passed, defies any description on paper. Some will be seen jumping and skipping about for hours, frenzied with joy at the very unexpectedly mild sentence passed on them; others are cursing and swearing, calling down imprecations on the head of the recorder, for having, as they say, so unfairly measured out justice; all agreeing there is no proportion in the punishments to the crimes. It may be said, it is of little import what these men think, so they are punished. But is it of no importance under what impression the others are discharged? If the discharged feel (as assuredly they do) that punishment is a matter of chance, they return to their habits as the hazard-player goes again to the dice, in hopes of coming off a winner, and reimbursing himself for former losses. There is another evil comes out of these unequal sentences. The discontent it produces on the minds of those who fall under the more heavy judgments, which militates against their reformation: instead of reflecting on their situation as brought on by themselves, they take refuge in complaint and invective, declaring they are "sacrificed"—in their own language, "murdered men." I have often said, "Why complain? You knew the consequence of detection." "Yes," would be the reply; "but look at the case of Tom – and Bill –. Not that I am sorry they have got off; but is it not a shame to give me a lifer, and they only a month each?" Such answers are always given when any attempt is made to reconcile them to their fate. They carry this feeling with them to the hulks, where they amuse each other with all the tales of hardship within their knowledge; meditating revenge, by which they mean becoming more desperate in crime, and making reprisals on the public, when they shall be again at large. They become imbued with a notion the judge has more to answer for than themselves. Opinions of this nature are very common among them, and prevent the discipline to which they are submitted having its proper effect. Minds in the state of theirs seize on any supposed injury to brood over and stifle their own reproaches. Of this dernier ressort they would be deprived, if equal sentences were passed on all for like offences. They are now all ill-used men, by comparison with others who have been more fortunate. The present system holds out so many chances for the offender to escape, that it acts as an inducement to continue his practices, and to all loose characters, not yet accomplished in the art of plunder, to become so. Again, by the discharge of so many known thieves every sessions, so many masters are sent into the town to draw in and teach others, by which a regular supply is brought up to fill the ranks of those who fall in the conflict.

THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

SCRIPTURAL ANTIQUITIES

A little volume has just appeared, with the title of The Truth of Revelation demonstrated by an appeal to existing monuments, sculptures, gems, coins, and medals. The author is stated to be "a Fellow of several learned Societies," and has dedicated his work to Dr. Chalmers, who approved of its original plan. We confess this to be too extensive for us to explain in a few lines, although we do not hesitate to say, that a more amusing book upon abstruse subjects has scarcely ever met our attention. It is literally filled with facts and closely-packed inquiries, and these are so attractively arranged as to amuse a listless reader.

The Ark of Noah and Mount Ararat.

"It has been supposed that the ark rested on Mount Ararat in Armenia: Josephus countenances this view of it, and it is interesting to observe, that the name of the Armenian city where it has been supposed the ark at last grounded, signifies the Place of Descent, from the Greek [Greek: aporataeeion]:—others have, however, urged that it rested upon Mount Caucasus, near Apamea, in Phrygia, from the circumstance that in Genesis xi. 2, the sons of the patriarch are represented as journeying westward from the place of descent, and Mount Ararat in Armenia being west of this country. The language of the sacred writer does not particularly define the question. Mount Ararat, according to Morier, is at once awful in its elevation, and beautiful in its form. Sir Robert Ker Porter describes this celebrated mountain as divided, by a chasm of about seven miles wide, into two distinct peaks, called The Great and The Little Ararat, and is of opinion that the ark finally rested in this chasm. This pleasing and elegant writer gives a beautiful description of Ararat. 'I beheld Ararat in all its amplitude of grandeur. From the spot on which I stood, it appeared as if the hugest mountains of the world had been piled upon each other, to form this one sublime immensity of earth, and rock, and snow. The icy peaks of its double heads rose majestically into the clear and cloudless heavens; the sun blazed bright upon them, and the reflection sent forth a dazzling radiance equal to other suns. This point of the view united the utmost grandeur of plain and height, but the feelings I experienced while looking on the mountain are hardly to be described. My eye, not able to rest for any length of time on the blinding glory of its summits, wandered down the apparently interminable sides, till I could no longer trace their vast lines in the mists of the horizon; when an inexpressible impulse immediately carrying my eye upwards again, refixed my gaze on the awful glare of Ararat; and this bewildered sensibility of sight, being answered by a similar feeling in the mind, for some moments I was lost in a strange suspension of the powers of thought.'"

The Deluge.

"Nothing seems to be better substantiated and established than the circumfusion of the waters of the deluge. The language of the Sacred Volume is clear and decisive on this point. 'The waters prevailed exceedingly on the earth; and all the high hills that were under the whole heaven were covered. Fifteen cubits upwards did the waters prevail, and the mountains were covered.' The attestations to this fact, in organic remains, are universal, and completely conclusive. In Italy entire skeletons of whales have been found at an elevation of not less than one thousand two hundred feet above the level of the Mediterranean. In a letter of the 5th May, 1830, to the Asiatic Society of Calcutta, M. Gerard states, that he had collected shells among the snowy mountains of the frontiers of Thibet: some of them were obtained on the crest of a pass, seventeen thousand feet above the level of the sea. Here were also found fragments of rock, bearing impressions of shells, detached from the contiguous peak rising far above the elevated level: generally, however, it would appear, that the rocks from whence these shells were collected, rise to an altitude of about sixteen thousand feet; one cliff was no less than a mile in perpendicular height above the nearest level. M. Gerard continues, 'Just before crossing the boundary of Sudak into Bassalier, I was exceedingly gratified by the discovery of a bed of fossil oysters clinging to the rock as if they had been alive.' No doubt many of the rocks are in more sublime relief now, than they were in the antediluvian world. The subsidence of the land and lower levels, and the action of submarine currents would scoop out deep valleys; and no doubt, much that is now 'dry land,' once formed the bed of the ocean. Alpine structures have emerged from the deep, and volcanoes have heaped up elevations on mountains already lofty and sublime; as Cotopaxi, Antisana, and Tunguragua, amid the range of the Cordilleras of the Andes. The Geological Society has a series of ammonites from India. These fossils are objects of adoration to the Hindoos: they fall on the S.W. side of the Himala mountains from an altitude which exceeds that of perpetual congelation: they are picked up by the natives, and religiously preserved, being concealed as much as possible from the scrutiny of Europeans. Mont Perdu, among the Appennines, which rise to an altitude of eleven thousand feet above the sea's level, encloses an innumerable multitude of testacea: and Humboldt found sea-shells among the Andes, fourteen thousand feet above the level of the ocean. At Touraine, on the Continent, is a bed of shells which extends nearly twenty-seven miles, having a depth of twenty feet. Mount Bolca contains upwards of one hundred species of fish from the four quarters of the earth, and collected together in one immense assemblage."

(To be continued.)

THE NATURALIST

NOTES UPON NOTES

We abridge the following from a few Horticultural Notes on a Journey from Rome to Naples, in March last, contributed to that excellent work, the Gardeners' Magazine, by W. Spence, Esq. F.L.S.

Italian Inn.—Mr. Spence says, "Our rooms at the inn at Capua, where we slept, opened on a terraced garden, with orange trees, vines trained on arched trellises, marble fountains, &c., which, for ten shillings expense, might have been made very gay and attractive; but all was forlornness and disorder, the beds untrimmed, and the walks littered with dirt. Two magnificent plants of Opuntia vulgaris, which flanked one of the windows, the waiter said, were planted there 'per pompa' (for pomp's sake); a motive, unfortunately, so often the leading one in Italy, without any regard to the humbler ones of neatness and order."

Pontine Marshes.—Mr. Spence observes "the desolate aspect attributed to these twenty-four miles of the road between Rome and Naples is one of the many exaggerations which prevail with regard to Italy." He describes the surface as dead-flat, with occasional portions covered with reeds, or overflowed with water, giving the whole a fenny character, yet, as happily, there are no pollard willows, and the road runs the whole way between two rows of tall elm trees, the general effect to the eye is not offensive, and far less repulsive than some parts of Holland or Lincolnshire.

Italian Landscapes.—The absence of fine full-grown trees is the great defect of landscape scenes in Italy, where you sometimes travel a hundred miles (as in Lombardy) without setting eyes on a tree that has not been pollarded or lopped.

Palming.—In the north of Italy palm-trees are cultivated, to sell their leaves to the Romish churches for Palm-Sunday.

Italian Climate.—The true Italian climate is confined to a very small portion of Italy, namely, to some favoured spots on the western coast. Here the approximation of the Apennines to the sea, at once keeps off the north and east winds, and reflecting the sun's rays, affords the temperature which the orange, lemon, &c. require. The moment you recede from the coast, especially if a very trifling elevation of ground takes place, farewell to oranges and lemons at least in any perfection.

Sweet Lemon.—At Naples a curious variety of lemon is exposed in the streets for sale, having externally the exact colour and shape of an orange, except that at the stalk end is a depression, and on this a prominence, as in the lemon, but within having the pale pulp of the lemon, and sweet juice.

Economy.—In the square of the town of Caserta, Mr. Spence saw exposed for sale bundles of green lupine plants pulled up by the roots, and of the roots of couch grass, which we burn, but which the Italians more wisely give as a saccharine and grateful food to horses.

Campagna Felice is the title given to the extensive tract of land which lies between the mountains to the north-east of Caserta and Naples, and the Mediterranean. The whole is cultivated like a garden: rows of lopped elms or poplars intersect the fields, at the distance of 40 or 50 feet between each row, to which vines are trained: and the intermediate space is occupied by luxuriant wheat; lupines, pulled green for fodder; garden-beans; or ground prepared for ploughing by two oxen, without a driver, for Indian corn, &c. This is one of the grand advantages of the climate of Italy, that, while in northern Europe vast tracts of land are devoted to the exclusive growth of barley for beer, the Italians obtain a far better beverage from the very same land that supplies their bread corn, and without materially interfering with its produce: for both the vines and the trees that support them are planted so deep as to consume only the manure, which, in any case, would be washed away; and their slight shade is rather beneficial than injurious to the crops below.

Fruit at Naples.—Mr. Spence saw in March grapes of several varieties, kept through the winter, not much shrivelled, and quite free from mouldiness. Oranges in glorious profusion (chiefly from Sorrento, fifteen miles distant,) and so cheap as to allow the poorest of the poor to enjoy (what Dr. Johnson complained he had never had of peaches but once) their fill of them, and that daily. The middle-sized ones (which are the best) sell at four for a grano, which is at the rate of ten for a penny English; and the poor get twice as many of those beginning to decay.

THE GATHERER

Ancient Starvation.—Hume tells us "The Monks and Prior of St. Swithin threw themselves, one day, prostrate on the ground, and in the mire, before Henry II., complaining, with many tears and much doleful lamentation, that the Bishop of Winchester, who was also their Abbot, had cut off three dishes from their tables. 'How many has he left you?' said the king, 'Ten only' replied the disconsolate monks. 'I, myself,' exclaimed the king, 'never have more than three, and I enjoin your bishop to reduce you to the same number.'" P.T.W.

Ice Water.—The Chinese rise at day-break, after a hard frost to gather ice, which they melt, and carefully bottle up as a remedy for fever in the hot months.

A French marquess having received several blows over his shoulders with a stick, which he never thought of resenting, a friend asked him how he could reconcile it with his honour, to suffer them to pass without notice. "Póh," said the marquess, "I never trouble myself with anything that passes behind my back."

Epitaph in Wycombe Churchyard, 1688.

Here lies one whose restGives me a restless life,Because I've lost a goodAnd virtuous wyfe.

General Generalissimo.—Bayle tells us of a General of the Jesuits at Rome, once exulting of his greatness and his order—who thus expressed himself to a friend:—"I will tell you, in this very chamber, I govern Rome—what am I talking about? Rome! I govern all Italy—what do I say? Italy! I govern Europe itself; and not Europe alone, but the whole world." P.T.W.

Classic Felony.—Sir John Hayward, was imprisoned by order of Queen Elizabeth, on account of some things advanced in his Life and Reign of Henry IV. She applied to Bacon to see if he could discover any passages that were treasonable, but his reply was, that "for treason he found none, but for felony, very many," which he explained by saying, that the author had stolen many sentences from Tacitus, and translated them into English. P.T.W.

A Likeness.—One of our old travellers on the continent, tells the following anecdote of a capuchin preacher: The friar observed, that whenever he held forth to his congregation, a certain man never failed to burst into tears, and continue weeping during the sermon. Supposing he had touched the man's soul by the eloquence of his oratory, the friar, with much self-satisfaction, one day ventured to inquire why he wept. "Ah, father!" said the peasant, "I never see you but I think of a venerable goat, which I lost at Easter! We were bred up together in the same family; he was the very picture of your reverence; one would swear you were brothers. Poor Baudoim! He died of a fall—God rest his soul! I would willingly pay for a couple of masses to pray him out of purgatory." W.G.C.

The Peerage.—The following is the number in each grade of the English peerage:—Dukes, 25; Marquesses, 34; Earls, 142; Viscounts, 22; Barons, 125; Countess, 1; Viscountess, 1; and Baronesses, 4.

*** In the article "Premiers," page 320, of the present volume, for Mr. Fox 7, read 9. W.G.C.

1

For a View and Description of Cliefden, see Mirror, vol. xv. p. 97.

2

For a View of Bray Church, see Mirror, vol. xvii. p 209.

3

"One head of St. John the Baptist (for there are many, and John was at last [Greek: ekaton ta kephalas],) was found at the monastery of St. John of Angeli, at Saintange."—Jortin's Remarks on Eccles. Hist. ann. 1010.

4

Erycius Puteanus (Vander Putten,) added the seventh note to complete the octave, in the sixteenth century.

5

Isaiah, xiv. 16, 17, 18, 20.

6

See Mirror, vol. xiv. p. 66, and vol. xviii. p. 225.