The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 581, December 15, 1832

And thou O sad and fatal mound!That oft hast heard the death-axe sound,As on the noblest of the land,Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand.

The hill has, however, less terrible association; it being after called Hurly Hacket, from James V. and his nobles there playing at that game, which consisted in sliding down the steep banks on an inverted cutty stool. This was, at least, more rational than cutting off heads. Next is Abbey Craig, a rock upon which Wallace defeated the English; Dollava, a village on a gloomy rock, almost insulated by two streams, whose Celtic names signify the glens of care and the burns of sorrow; Tillabody, the birthplace and property of Sir Ralph Abercrombie; the crumbling walls and bell tower of Cambuskenneth Abbey, wherein several parliaments were held, and at whose high altar the clergy and nobles swore fealty to Robert and David Bruce; Edinburgh, with its castle, thirty-eight miles from Stirling, whence it is discernable in clear weather; the Carron Iron-works; and the Carron, of more classic celebrity in Ossian, and the battles of the Romans and the Scots and Picts; the dome-shaped hill of Tinto, in Lanarkshire, 60 miles from Stirling, and 2,336 feet in height; Arthur's Hill, a circular mound of earth, surrounded by seats of turf in the royal gardens, sometimes called the king's knot, where the court held fêtes, and where James used to amuse himself with the pastime called the Knights of the Round Table; Ben Lomond, 3,240 feet above the lake, which is 32 feet above the level of the sea; Ben Venue, and Ben Ledy, or the hill of God, in Perthshire, 3,009 feet in height, so called from the inhabitants of the surrounding villages, in former times, meeting on its summit at the summer solstice, three days and nights for the purpose of devotion. These three mountains, with their vicinities are enshrined in Sir Walter Scott's Lady of the Lake; and the village of Balquidder, at the foot of Ben Ledy, is the burial place of Rob Roy. We have just described the circle: over the garden wall of the Castle, at a considerable distance, is the well-wooded estate and mansion of Craig Forth, said to have once belonged to a blacksmith of Stirling: this man having placed the iron bars (which still remain to the windows of the palace), and done other work for James VI. when that monarch came to the throne of England, made a demand of one thousand pounds Scots,—but by some error, the accounts being paid in Stirling money, he with it purchased the estate and built the house of Craig Forth. Next, to the right is Blair Drummond, formerly the residence of the accomplished Lord Kaimes; and beyond are the celebrated ruins of Donne Castle; not the least interesting incident of its annals was the imprisonment there in 1745, of John Home, (the author of Douglas,) who has left a narrative of his clambering escape over the high walls.

It is time to speak of the Panorama as a work of art; for hitherto we have rather considered its intellectual interest. The Castle and Palace we take to be finely painted, with admirable picturesque effect: the huge gateway, flanked with two towers, the battlemented walls, and battery, are in fine bold relief, as is the clinging vegetation about the building; nor must we omit the grotesque figures or corbelled pedestals, and the identical window bars, the work of the wily Scot of Craig Forth; the latter especially, are clever. A portion of the esplanade otherwise devoid of interest, is peopled with a meeting of the Highland Society celebrating the feats of the ancient Caledonians, the object of the Society being to preserve their language, costume, music, gymnastic sports, and martial games. This introduction happily fills up what would otherwise have been the only void in the scene, so thickly is it studed and storied with objects and recollections. Altogether, we have rarely seen a topographical panorama of such diversified character: it has reminiscences of history and poetry to lead us through the retrospect of chivalrous ages, princely contests for crowns that rarely sat lightly on their wearers, and the last flickering hopes of defeated ambition and ill-starred fortune. Yet, how powerfully, not to say painfully, are these pages in the chronicles of human actions, when contrasted with the broad volume of nature, as spread before us in this picture. Alas! what is the majesty of the mightiest of the kings that dwelt in its palace in comparison with the sublimities of Tinto, Ben Lomond, Venue, or Ledy; or what the peace of their halls amidst the smiling expanse of the Carse of Stirling in all its quiet luxuriance. They and their houses have become dust or crumbling ruin, and death has with a little pin bored through their castle walls—while Nature has been flourishing from year to year, and reading man an epitome of existence in the succession of her changes.

It has been stated that Mr. Burford, the successful painter of Stirling, is engaged on a Panorama of the Falls of Niagara. All admirers of this style of painting must be anxious for his success.

SIR WALTER SCOTT

Mr. Parker has issued in addition to the Medal already noticed in our pages, a Medallion of the lamented Poet and Novelist, from Chantrey's bust. It is, we think, the obverse of the Medal, with bronzed circular frame work bearing the motto suggested by Sir Walter. Though handsome, it is an economical memorial of one whose amiable talents must endear him to every fireside in the kingdom.

NEW BOOKS

POMPEII

[The second and concluding volume of the descriptive history of Pompeii, in the Library of Entertaining Knowledge, is still more attractive than its predecessor. It contains the very domestic economy of the ancient inhabitants—chapters on domestic architecture, paintings and mosaics, streets and fountains, private houses, villas, and tombs; and, moreover, on the art of baking, and the forms of domestic utensils. We are, therefore, led through hall, parlour, bath, kitchen, and shop, with amusing minuteness; and, in the account of furniture and domestic implements, it is curious to observe, how far we are indebted to the ancients for the forms of similar contrivances now in use. One of the best passages in this portion of the work is the following, on the]

Lamps and Candelabra

No articles of ancient manufacture are more common than lamps. They are found in every variety of form and size, in clay and in metal, from the most cheap to the most costly description. We have the testimony of the celebrated antiquary Winkelmann to the interest of this subject: "I place among the most curious utensils, found at Herculaneum, the lamps, in which the ancients sought to display elegance, and even magnificence. Lamps of every sort will be found in the museum at Portici, both in clay and bronze, but especially the latter; and as the ornaments of the ancients have generally some reference to some particular things, we often meet with rather remarkable subjects." A considerable number of these articles will be found in the British Museum, but they are chiefly of the commoner sort. All the works, however, descriptive of Herculaneum and Pompeii, present us with specimens of the richer and more remarkable class, which attract admiration both by the beauty of the workmanship, and the whimsical variety of their designs. We may enumerate a few which occur in a work now before us, "Antiquités d'Herculanum," in which we find a Silenus, with the usual peculiarities of figure ascribed to the jolly god rather exaggerated, and an owl sitting upon his head between two huge horns, which support stands for lamps. Another represents a flower-stalk, growing out of a circular plinth, with snail-shells hanging from it by small chains, which held the oil and wick. The trunk of a tree, with lamps suspended between the branches. Another, a naked boy, beautifully wrought, with a lamp hanging from one hand, and an instrument for trimming it from the other, the lamp itself representing a theatrical mask. Beside him is a twisted column, surmounted by the head of a Faun, or Bacchanal, which has a lid in its crown, and seems intended as a reservoir of oil. The boy and pillar are both placed on a square plateau, raised upon lions' claws. But, beautiful as those lamps are, the light which they gave must have been weak and unsteady, and little superior to that of common street-lamps, with which indeed they are identical in principle. The wick was merely a few twisted threads, drawn through a hole in the upper surface of the oil-vessel; and there was no glass to steady the light, and prevent its varying with every breeze that blew.

Still, though the Romans had not advanced so far in art as to apply glass-chimneys and hollow circular wicks to their lamps, they had experienced the inconvenience of going home at night through a city ill-paved, ill-watched, and ill-lighted, and, accordingly, soon invented lanterns to meet the want. These we learn from Martial, who has several epigrams upon this subject, were made of horn or bladder;—no mention, we believe, occurs, of glass being thus employed. The rich were preceded by a slave bearing their lantern. This, Cicero mentions, as being the habit of Catiline upon his midnight expeditions; and when M. Antony was accused of a disgraceful intrigue, his lantern-bearer was tortured, to extort a confession whither he had conducted his master.4 One of these machines, of considerable ingenuity and beauty of workmanship, was found in Herculaneum in 1760, and another, almost exactly the same, at Pompeii, a few years after.

One of the most elegant articles of furniture in ancient use was the candelabrum, by which we mean those tall and slender stands which served to support a lamp, but were independent of and unconnected with it. These, in their original and simple form, were probably mere reeds, or straight sticks, fixed upon a foot by peasants, to raise their light to a convenient height; at least, such a theory of their origin is agreeable to what we are told of the rustic manners of the early Romans, and it is in some degree countenanced by the fashion in which many of the ancient candelabra are made. Sometimes the stem is represented as throwing out buds; sometimes it is a stick, the side branches of which have been roughly lopped, leaving projections where they grew; sometimes it is in the likeness of a reed or cane, the stalk being divided into joints. Most of those which have been found in the buried cities are of bronze; some few of iron. In their general plan and appearance there is a great resemblance, though the details of the ornaments admit of infinite variety. All stand on three feet, usually griffins', or lions' claws, which support a light shaft, plain or fluted according to the fancy of the maker. The whole supports either a plinth large enough for a lamp to stand on, or a socket to receive a wax-candle, which the Romans used sometimes instead of oil in lighting their rooms. Some of them have a sliding shaft, like that of a music-stand, by which the light might be raised or lowered at pleasure.

We may here say a few words on the art of inlaying one metal with another, in which, as in all ornamental branches of the working of metals, the ancient Italians possessed great skill. In the time of Seneca, ornaments of silver were seldom seen, unless their price was enhanced by being inlaid with solid gold. The art of uniting one metal to another was called by the general term ferruminare. Inlaid work was of two sorts; in the one, the inlaid work projected above the surface, and was called emblemata, as the art itself was called, from the Greek, embletice. It is inferred, from the inspection of numerous embossed vases in the Neapolitan Museum, that this embossed work was formed, either by plating with a thin leaf of metal figures already raised upon the surface of the article, or by letting the solid figures into the substance of the vessel, and finishing them with delicate tools after they were attached. In the second sort, the inlaid work was even with the surface, and was called crusta, and the art was called, from the Greek, empaestice. This is the same as the damask work so fashionable in the armour of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, which is often seen beautifully inlaid with gold. It was executed by engraving the pattern upon the surface of the metal, and filling up the lines with fine plates of a different metal; the two were then united with the assistance of heat, and the whole burnished. Pliny has preserved a receipt for solder, which probably was used in these works. It is called santerna; and the principal ingredients are borax, nitre, and copperas, pounded, with a small quantity of gold and silver, in a copper mortar.

[The volume is enriched with four steel-plate engravings, and 154 cuts, of clever execution.]

THE WONDERS OF THE LANE

Strong climber of the mountain's side,Though thou the vale disdain,Yet walk with me where hawthorns hideThe wonders of the lane.High o'er the rushy springs of DonThe stormy gloom is rolled;The moorland hath not yet put onHis purple, green, and gold.But here the titling5 spreads his wing,Where dewy daisies gleam;And here the sunflower6 of the springBurns bright in morning's beam.To mountain winds the famish'd foxComplains that Sol is slow,O'er headlong steeps and gushing rocksHis royal robe to throw.But here the lizard seeks the sunHere coils, in light, the snake;And here the fire-tuft7 hath begunIts beauteous nest to make.Oh! then, while hums the earliest beeWhere verdure fires the plain,Walk thou with me, and stoop to seeThe glories of the lane!For, oh! I love these banks of rock,This roof of sky and tree,These tufts, where sleeps the gloaming clock,And wakes the earliest bee!As spirits from eternal dayLook down on earth, secure,Look here, and wonder, and surveyA world in miniature:A world not scorned by Him who madeE'en weakness by his might;But solemn in his depth of shade,And splendid in his light.Light!—not alone on clouds afar,O'er storm-loved mountains spread,Or widely teaching sun and star,Thy glorious thoughts are read;Oh, no I thou art a wondrous bookTo sky, and sea, and land—A page on which the angels look—Which insects understand!And here, O light! minutely fair,Divinely plain and clear,Like splinters of a crystal hair,Thy bright small hand is here!Yon drop-fed lake, six inches wideIs Huron, girt with wood;This driplet feeds Missouri's tide—And that Niagara's flood.What tidings from the Andes bringsYon line of liquid light,That down from heaven in madness flingsThe blind foam of its might?Do I not hear his thunder roll—The roar that ne'er is still?'Tis mute as death!—but in my soulIt roars, and ever will.What forests tall of tiniest mossClothe every little stone!—What pigmy oaks their foliage tossO'er pigmy valleys lone!With shade o'er shade, from ledge to ledge,Ambitious of the sky,They feather o'er the steepest edgeOf mountains mushroom-high.Oh, God of marvels! who can tellWhat myriad living thingsOn these gray stones unseen may dwell!What nations, with their kings!I feel no shock, I hear no groan,While fate, perchance, o'erwhelmsEmpires on this subverted stone—A hundred ruined realms!Lo! in that dot, some mite, like me,Impelled by woe or whim,May crawl, some atom's cliffs to see—A tiny world to him!Lo! while he pauses, and admiresThe works of nature's might,Spurned by my foot, his world expires,And all to him is night!Oh, God of terrors! what are we?—Poor insects sparked with thought!Thy whisper, Lord, a word from thee,Could smite us into naught!But should'st thou wreck our father-land,And mix it with the deep,Safe in the hollow of thy handThy little one will sleep.Amulet.

RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS

POVERTY

Owen Feltham says—"The poverty of a poor man is the least part of his misery. In all the storms of fortune, he is the first that must stand the shock of extremity. Poor men are perpetual sentinels, watching in the depth of night against the incessant assaults of want; while the rich lie strowd in secure reposes, and compassed with a large abundance. If the land be ruffetted with a bloodless famine, are not the poor the first that sacrifice their lives to hunger? If war thunders in the trembling country's lap, are not the poor those that are exposed to the enemy's sword and outrage? If the plague, like a loaded sponge, flies, sprinkling poison through a populous kingdom, the poor are the fruit that are shaken from the burdened tree; while the rich, furnished with the helps of fortune, have means to wind out themselves, and turn these sad indurances on the poor, that cannot avoid them. Like salt-marshes, that lie low, they are sure, whenever the sea of this world rages, to be first under, and embarrened with a fretting care. Who like the poor are harrowed with oppression, ever subject to the imperious taxes, and the gripes of mightiness? Continual care checks the spirit; continual labour checks the body; and continual insultation both. He is like one rolled in a vessel full of pikes—which way soever he turns, he something finds that pricks him. Yet, besides all these, there is another transcendent misery—and this is, that maketh men contemptible. As if the poor man were but fortune's dwarf, made lower than the rest of men, to be laughed at. The philosopher (though he were the same mind and the same man), in his squalid rags, could not find admission, when better robes procured both an open door and reverence. Though outward things can add nothing to our essential worth, yet, when we are judged on, by the help of others' outward senses, they much conduce to our value or disesteem. A diamond set in brass would be taken for a crystal, though it be not so; whereas a crystal set in gold will by many be thought a diamond. A poor man wise shall be thought a fool, though he have nothing to condemn him but his being poor. Poverty is a gulf, wherein all good parts are swallowed;—it is a reproach, which clouds the lustre of the purest virtue. Certainly, extreme poverty is worse than abundance. We may be good in plenty, if we will; in biting penury we cannot, though we would. In one, the danger is casual; in the other, it is necessitating. The best is that which partakes of both, and consists of neither. He that hath too little wants feathers to fly withal; he that hath too much, is but cumbered with too large a tail. If a flood of wealth could profit us, it would be good to swim in such a sea; but it can neither lengthen our lives, nor inrich us after the end. There is not in the world such another object of pity as the pinched state; which no man being secured from, I wonder at the tyrant's braves and contempt. Questionless, I will rather with charity help him that is miserable, as I may be, than despise him that is poor, as I would not be. They have flinty and steeled hearts that can add calamities to him that is already but one entire mass."

W.G.C

ACCOUNT OF THE IRISH MANTLE

Edmund Spencer (the English poet) in his View of the State of Ireland, says—"First the outlaw, being for his many crimes and villanies banished from the towns and houses of honest men, and wandering in waste places, far from danger of law, maketh his mantle his house, and under it covereth himself from the wrath of heaven, from the offence of the earth, and from the sight of men. When it raineth, it is his pent-house; when it bloweth, it is his tent; when it freezeth, it is his tabernacle. In summer he can wear it loose; in winter he can wrap it close; at all times he can use it—never heavy, never cumbersome. Likewise for a rebel it is as serviceable; for in his warre that he maketh, (if at least it deserve the name of warre), when he still flyeth from his foe, and lurketh in the thick woods and strait passages, waiting for advantages, it is his bed, yea, and almost his household stuff; for the wood is his house against all weathers, and his mantle is his couch to sleep in. Therein he wrappeth himselfe round, and coucheth himself strongly against the gnats, which in that country doe more annoye the naked rebells, whilst they keepe the woods, and doe more sharply wound them than all their enemies' swords, or spears, which can seldome come nigh them; yea, and oftentimes their mantle serveth them, when they are neare driven, being wrapped about their left arme, instead of a target, for it is hard to cut through with a sword; besides, it is light to bear, light to throw away, and being (as they commonly are) naked, it is to them all in all. Lastly, for a thiefe it is so handsome, as it may seem it was first invented for him; for under it he may cleanly convey any fit pillage that cometh handsomely in his way, and when he goeth abroad in the night free-booting, it is his best and surest friend; for lying, as they often doe, two or three nights together abroad, to watch for their booty, with that they can prettily shroud themselves under a bush, or bankside, till they may conveniently do their errand; and when all is over, he can, in his mantle, passe through any town or company, being close hooded over his head, as he useth, from knowledge of any to whom he is endangered. Besides this, he, or any man els that is disposed to mischiefe or villany, may under his mantle goe privily armed, without suspicion of any, carry his head-piece, his skean, or pistol, if he please, to be always in readinesse."

Spencer traces these mantles from the Scythians. He says—"The Irish have from the Scythians mantles and long glibs, which is a thick curled bush of hair, hanging down over their eyes, and monstrously disguising theme."

This curious View of the State of Ireland remained in manuscript till it was printed, in 1633, by Sir James Ware, denominated "the Camden of Ireland."

P.T.W

DOMESTIC HINTS

CONSUMPTION OF FISH

There is but little fish consumed in the interior of Great Britain; and even in most seaport towns the consumption is not very great. In London, indeed, immense quantities of fish are annually made use of; and there can be little doubt that the consumption would be much greater, were it not for the abuses in the trade, which render the supply comparatively scarce, and, in most instances, exceedingly dear. All fish brought to London is sold in Billingsgate market; and, in consequence of this restriction, the salesmen of that market have succeeded in establishing what is really equivalent to a monopoly, and are in a great measure enabled to regulate both the supply and the price.—Macculloch.

This inconsiderable consumption of fish will be a matter of surprise, when we see that the supply of fish in the seas round Britain is most abundant, or rather quite inexhaustible. "The coasts of Great Britain," says Sir John Boroughs, "doe yield such a continued harvest of gain and benefit to all those that with diligence doe labour in the same, that no time or season of the yeare passeth away without some apparent meanes of profitable employment, especially to such as apply themselves to fishing; which, from the beginning of the year unto the latter end, continueth upon some part or other of our coastes; and there in such infinite shoals and multitudes of fishes are offered to the takers as may justly cause admiration, not only to strangers, but to those that daily are employed amongst them."—"That this harvest," says Mr. Barrow, "ripe for gathering at all seasons of the year,—without the labour of tillage—without expense of seed or manure—without the payment of rent or taxes—is inexhaustible, the extraordinary fecundity of the most valuable kinds of fish would alone afford abundant proof. To enumerate the thousands, and even millions of eggs which are impregnated in the herring, the cod, the ling, and, indeed, in almost the whole of the esculent fish, would give but an inadequate idea of the prodigious multitudes in which they flock to our shores. The shoals themselves must be seen, in order to convey to the mind any just notice of their aggregate mass." Mr. Macculloch, however, observes, that "notwithstanding this immense abundance of fish, and notwithstanding the bounties that have been given by the legislature to the individuals engaged in the fishery, it has not been profitable to those by whom it has been carried on, nor has it made that progress which might have been expected."

NANKEEN

Nankeen, or Nanking, takes its name from Nanking in China, where the reddish-yellow thread of which the stuff is made was originally spun. In England, we erroneously apply the term Nankeen to one colour; though, in the East Indies, vast quantities of white, pink, and yellow nankeens are made.