The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, No. 565 by Various
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Various >> The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, No. 565
Jonathan, despite his bald head, his diminutive stature, his ample
pot-belly, and ampler nose, was a man of fine feelings. Nature was
outraged when he became a barber. He most assuredly was never destined
by her to shave beards, and manufacture perukes for heads more
brainless, many of them, than his own blocks. He ought to have been a
professor of metaphysics or logic in some famous university, such
as Heidelburg, Gottingen, or Glasgow;--but why lament over cureless
evils? it is sufficient to say he is a barber, and there is an end of
the matter.
We must now return to Merton. His solitary walks on the opposite side
of the street had not even, from the first, escaped the scrutinizing
eyes of Mr. Hookey. No: he saw in the tall, pale, elegant, dark-haired
student the victim of deep sensibility. From seeing him, he wondered,
from wondering he loved him, from loving he adored him: he knew
at once he was no common man. Having perused Byron's _Manfred_, he
conceived him to be such another as that strange character; or he
might be a second Lara; or, more, he might be, nay he was, a glorious
genius, full of high imaginings. Little do we know what bright
thoughts passed through the mind of the enthusiastic Hookey. He cursed
his profession, which debarred him from the fellowship of such a man:
he cursed his nose, which stood between him and the object of his
adoration.
Day after day had Mr. Hookey noticed the accomplished, the
highly-gifted Merton; but it was only upon this particular morning
that the recognition was mutual. Merton, on turning his eyes by chance
from the ground, looked to the opposite side of the street, and there
beheld _a nose_. He then turned his eyes to the earth in his usual
meditative mood; but, reflecting that a nose without an owner was
rather a singular phenomenon, he looked a second time, and there,
behind the nose, he saw a man; it was Mr. Hookey himself.
This was the first time that the melancholy and intellectual student
reciprocated upon Hookey the attention which Hookey had hitherto
bestowed exclusively upon him. No more was the barber's "sweetness
wasted upon the desert air," but fell on one who knew how to
appreciate it to its fullest extent. Merton stood stock-still, and
gazed upon him with mute admiration. He was positively fascinated. The
nose operated upon him like the head of Medusa, and almost turned him
to stone. And Mr. Hookey was fascinated too. Merton also had become
Medusafied, and exercised a petrifactive influence upon the barber. He
was nailed fast to the threshold of his own door, and gazed upon his
fancied personification of Lara and Manfred with an indomitable and
resistless perseverance, which utterly confounded himself; while
Merton, nailed alike fast to the opposite footpath, stood staring at
his antagonist, or rather at his nasal protuberance. This impressive
scene continued for several minutes, when Merton, regaining the power
of locomotion, slowly approached the barber, his arms all the while
crossed, and his eyes intently fixed upon the nose. Nine slow and
awful steps brought him face to face with Hookey. The barber's eyes
were fixed intently upon _his--his_ eyes upon the barber's nose. The
scene was extremely dreadful; and Mr. Hookey, after vainly trying to
keep his ground, retreated into the shop, still facing Merton, who
kept advancing upon him as he receded. Back, step by step, went
Hookey; forward, step by step, came Merton; each all the while eyeing
the other with equal astonishment. The barber continued retreating,
the other following him,--first through the shop, then through the
kitchen, then through the parlour--the three apartments leading into
one another. At last he got to the remotest corner of the parlour, and
could get no farther. Here he paused, and Merton paused also. Still
they gazed on each other,--the barber in the corner overpowered with
amazement, and the student standing before him hardly less surprised.
At last Merton broke silence in the following awful words,--"GRACIOUS
HEAVENS WHAT A NOSE!" So saying, he retreated as slowly as he entered,
leaving Mr. Hookey utterly stupified and bewildered. The sentence went
like iron into the barber's soul; he felt it in all its bitterness.
It is almost unnecessary to say what an effect this scene had upon the
highly-susceptible temperament of Merton. From that moment peace fled
his mind. He went instantly home; but instead of devoting himself, as
before, to those studies in which he delighted, and in which he was
wont so highly to excel, he immured himself in his chamber, giving way
to gloomy abstraction, and agonizing his spirit with painful and most
distressing fancies. The great power of his imagination caused him,
in a peculiar manner, to suffer from the remembrance of what he had
witnessed; and, accordingly, his waking as well as his sleeping hours
were haunted with visions of noses,--noses of stupendous size, which
arose, like ocean islands, amid the gloomy tabernacle of his brain,
and filled him with utter despair. At last, from bad to worse, he
became the mere shadow of his former self, the wreck of what he
was, and a picture of fallen and shattered genius. To drive away
the hideous phantasmagorias that tortured him, as with the stings of
demons, he had recourse to gin, and soon became a confirmed drunkard:
the next stage was lunacy; and he was confined for fourteen months in
Saint Luke's Hospital for the insane.
The fate of the barber was equally deplorable. The awful words
pronounced by Merton may be considered his death-knell. They rang ever
after in his ears; and, in a few weeks, his head was turned, his
shop shut up, and himself sent to Bedlam. "_Gracious heavens, what a
nose!_" This dreadful sentence--more dreadful than the hand-writing on
the wall to Belshazzar,--haunted him by day and by night. Reason was
dethroned, and "moody madness, laughing wild," was the result. Such
are the frightful consequences of _extreme susceptibility_, against
which the youth of both sexes ought to be constantly on their guard.
The worst remains to be told. These unhappy men were liberated from
confinement about the same time, and both returned to Oxford. They
seemed to have recovered their reasoning faculties, but the result
showed that this was very far from being the case; for, happening to
meet on the banks of the Cherwell, they attacked each other with
such fury, that, like Brutus and Aruns, they were both killed on
the spot,--the barber having been _burked_ in the encounter, and the
student having died of a wound which he received in the throat by his
antagonist's razor.--_Fraser's Magazine._
* * * * *
THE LAST OF THE FAMILY.
I bid thee welcome to my father's halls,
But fled for ever is their wonted mirth,
Death hath been busy in these fated walls,
Casting dark shadows o'er our house and hearth,
The brave--the beauteous from their home have past,
And I remain of that loved band the last.
Thou wilt not now my gallant brothers greet,
Hiding amidst the glades with hound and horn,
Nor my fair sisters, warbling ditties sweet,
While gathering wild flowers in the dewy morn;
Evening will come, but will not bring again,
The song--the tale--the dance--the festal train.
I can but bid thee to my lonely room,
Where in fond dreams I pass my blighted youth.
Musing on vanished loveliness and bloom,
Man's dauntless courage, woman's changeless truth,
And scenes of joyous glee, or tranquil rest,
Shared with the early-lost--the bright--the blest.
Yet chide me not--mine is no impious grief,
Meekly I pray for Heaven's supporting grace.
And soon, I feel, his hand will give relief,
And the last sad survivor of her race
Quit this lone mansion for the home above.
Where dwell her happy family of love!
_Metropolitan._
* * * * *
CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON.
_BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON_.
It is difficult to judge when Lord Byron is serious or not. He has
a habit of mystifying, that might impose upon many; but that can be
detected by examining his physiognomy; for a sort of mock gravity, now
and then broken by a malicious smile, betrays when he is speaking for
effect, and not giving utterance to his real sentiments. If he
sees that he is detected, he appears angry for a moment, and then
laughingly admits, that it amuses him to _hoax_ people, as he calls
it, and that when each person, at some future day, will give their
different statements of him, they will be so contradictory, that _all_
will be doubted,--an idea that gratifies him exceedingly! The mobility
of his nature is extraordinary, and makes him inconsistent in his
actions as well as in his conversation.
Byron spoke to-day in terms of high commendation of Hope's
"Anastasius;" said that he wept bitterly over many pages of it, and
for two reasons, first, that _he_ had not written it, and secondly,
that _Hope_ had; for that it was necessary to like a man excessively
to pardon his writing such a book--a book, as he said, excelling all
recent productions, as much in wit and talent, as in true pathos. He
added, that he would have given his two most approved poems to have
been the author of "Anastasius."
From "Anastasius" he wandered to the works of Mr. Galt, praised the
"Annals of the Parish" very highly, as also "the Entail," which we had
lent him, and some scenes of which he said had affected him very much.
"The characters in Mr. Galt's novels have an identity," added Byron,
"that reminds me of Wilkie's pictures."
As a woman, I felt proud of the homage he paid to the genius of Mrs.
Hemans, and as a passionate admirer of her poetry, I felt flattered,
at finding that Lord Byron fully sympathized with my admiration. He
has, or at least expresses a strong dislike to the Lake school of
poets, never mentions them except in ridicule, and he and I nearly
quarrelled to-day because I defended poor Keats.
On looking out from the balcony this morning, I observed Byron's
countenance change, and an expression of deep sadness steal over it.
After a few minutes silence he pointed out to me a boat anchored to
the right, as the one in which his friend Shelley went down, and he
said the sight of it made him ill.--"You should have known Shelley
(said Byron) to feel how much I must regret him. He was the most
gentle, most amiable, and _least_ worldly-minded person I ever met;
full of delicacy, disinterested beyond all other men, and possessing a
degree of genius, joined to a simplicity, as rare as it is admirable.
He had formed to himself a _beau ideal_ of all that is fine,
high-minded, and noble, and he acted up to this ideal even to the
very letter. He had a most brilliant imagination but a total want of
worldly-wisdom. I have seen nothing like him, and never shall again,
I am certain. I never can forget the night that his poor wife rushed
into my room at Pisa, with a face pale as marble, and terror impressed
on her brow, demanding, with all the tragic impetuosity of grief and
alarm, where was her husband! Vain were all our efforts to calm her;
a desperate sort of courage seemed to give her energy to confront the
horrible truth that awaited her; it was the courage of despair; I have
seen nothing in tragedy on the stage so powerful, or so affecting,
as her appearance, and it often presents itself to my memory. I knew
nothing then of the catastrophe, but the vividness of her terror
communicated itself to me, and I feared the worst, which fears, were
alas! too soon fearfully realized."
Byron talked to-day of Leigh Hunt, regretted his ever having embarked
in the "Liberal," and said that it had drawn a nest of hornets on him,
but expressed a very good opinion of the talents and principle of Mr.
Hunt, though, as he said, "our tastes are so opposite, that we are
totally unsuited to each other. He admires the Lakers, I abhor them;
in short, we are more formed to be friends at a distance, than near."
I can perceive that he wishes Mr. Hunt and his family away. It appears
to me that Byron is a person who, without reflection, would form
engagements which, when condemned by his friends or advisers, he would
gladly get out of without considering the means, or at least, without
reflecting on the humiliation such a desertion must inflict on the
persons he had associated with him. He gives me the idea of a
man, who, feeling himself in such a dilemma, would become cold and
ungracious to the parties with whom he so stood, before he had mental
courage sufficient to abandon them. I may be wrong, but the whole of
his manner of talking of Mr. Hunt gives me this impression, though he
has not said what might be called an unkind word of him.
Much as Byron has braved public opinion it is evident he has a great
deference for those who stand high in it, and that he is shy
in attaching himself publicly to persons who have even, however
undeservedly, fallen under its censure. His expressed contempt and
defiance of the world, reminds me of the bravadoes of children, who,
afraid of darkness, make a noise to give themselves courage to support
what they dread. It is very evident that he is partial to aristocratic
friends, he dwells with complacency on the advantages of rank and
station, and has more than once boasted that people of family are
always to be recognised by a _certain air_, and the smallness and
delicacy of their hands.
* * * * *
NEW BOOKS.
THE PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE OF A WOMAN OF FASHION.
[This work is, to our thinking, what it professes to be, an
actual correspondence, and from the pen of a lady who, as her
motto states--"writes of countries and their societies as she
finds them, and as they strike her imagination." There is much
good sense in her letters, and less aristocratic affectation
than might be expected. The subjects are of the most
miscellaneous description. Her pen is what the small critics
call eminently graphic: in short, the work is one of the
pleasantest of the season. To be more explicit, it consists of
letters written between June, 1814, and December, 1816;
dated from South Lancing, (near Worthing), Rouen, Paris, and
Brussels; and the writer's _domicile_, Hampton Court. The most
interesting portion of the work is the gossip it contains on
the _state of things_ in the French capital, on the return
of Napoleon, in 1815, and in Brussels, before and after
the battle of Waterloo. Nevertheless, as the whole is
indiscribably discursive, so must be our quotations.]
_Arundel Castle._--Arundel Castle did not gratify my expectations
although the _coup d'oeil_, taking the structure _en masse_, is
imposing, and it has an advantageous position on the banks of the
river Arun. The Castle has undergone modern alterations in bad taste;
the details are of that description of the ornamental gothic, which
appear to me to throw severe criticism on the abilities of the
architect; and, as a family residence, its interior is neither grand
nor comfortable. From its commanding site and vicinity to the Roman
villa, it was probably a Roman station previous to its becoming a
Saxon residence. The walls and Norman gateway are fine. The massive
keep, ponderous in stability, has the characteristic marks of the
twelfth century, and is a noble ruin. It is called King Alfred's Keep;
and with what hallowed feelings of reverence must a _locale_ ever
be approached which bears the name of that illustrious monarch! The
present occupants are an assemblage of German owls, of varied species;
they look analagous with the venerable ruin.
The castle contains a few curious portraits of the illustrious race of
Howard, which have an interest also from the distinguished parts that
family have played in English history. There is one of Henry Howard,
Earl of Surrey, so famous for his talents in state affairs, and for
his bravery in the field. He is represented standing under a noble
gateway. The picture is moreover valuable as a work of art.[6]
[6] Surrey's accomplishments and political talents, and his
bravery in the battle-field, cast additional splendour over
the house of Howard; and his violent death, another stain on
the tyranny of Henry VIII.
Some richly-wrought chalices[7] and censers, and other symbolic
emblems of the Roman Catholic religion are there, but I imagine little
prized by the present noble possessor; for at the age of twenty-seven,
he became a convert to the Protestant faith. Whether conviction, or
ambition to serve his country as a legislator were his motives, it is
not for man to judge: but he is unlike his ancestor, Philip
Howard, Earl of Arundel, who, braving the power of Queen Elizabeth,
disregarded her favour, and almost merited the title of martyr from
the persecutions she heaped upon him for having abjured the Protestant
worship, although educated in it by his father, the attainted Duke of
Norfolk, in despite of Mary and her Spanish consort, who was likewise
his sponsor.
[7] Several of these splendid emblems of the Roman Catholic
faith the late duke gave to his worthy kinsman, the present
possessor of C----y Castle; and they decorate his house
in London, amidst some _chef d'oeuvres_ of the old Italian
masters, which his good taste selected in Italy.
_The late Queen Caroline._--A servant entered in haste to induce me to
go down to the sea-shore, and witness the embarkation of the P----ss
of W----s. I immediately sallied forth, and found her r----l h----ss
seated on the shingles, the _adopted boy_ at her feet; and on her left
sat, with the skirts of his coat spread under his r----l mistress,
to protect her from the stones, our old ally Sir W----m G----l. The
frigate had arrived off Worthing some days previous, commanded by
the handsome Captain K----g; but her r----l h----ss was deterred from
embarking there by a numerous assemblage of John Bulls, their wives,
and babes, who were so rude and impetuous, as to terrify and induce
her to take refuge on a less populous shore. The lively and merry Lady
C---- L----y, and the less pleasing Lady E---- F--s, with two foreign
women, Major S--r, and the odious S----o, composed her suite. Her
r----l h----ss was habited in light green cloth, embroidered in
silver, a Prussian cap of green satin, with a splendid plume of
green feathers: the crown of the cap was conical, giving her an air
something resembling Mother Shipton. Terror and dismay were depicted
on her countenance, with all the varieties of unhappy feelings--not a
smile played over her features--her voice was tremulous, and her
brow contracted into one deep furrow--she was highly rouged, and her
eyebrows pencilled with a broad line of black chalk--never was any
person's appearance less formed to inspire interest!
Sir W----m forgot his usual indifferent manner on seeing me, and put
on one of his comic expressions. In the impulse of the moment, I was
on the point of addressing him, but fortunately recovered my presence
_d'esprit_, and did not commit such a breach of etiquette, although
there was such a total deficiency of r----l dignity in the group that
I might almost have been excused. In half an hour the cutter put off
from the frigate: Captain K--g came from W---- by land, and apologized
for the delay. Her r----l h----ss replied in a tremulous voice "Never
mind!" A small group of persons kept a respectful distance and a
profound silence. One old man blessed her and wished her a
safe return--when her footman burst into tears. The ocean raged
tempestuous, as if in the spirit of anger, and the boat could not
reach the shore. Her r----l h----ss was obliged to enter a pony cart,
and her coachman drove it with difficulty through the billows. With
some exertion Captain K--g and his lieutenant dragged her unwieldy
form into the barge: the P----ss went first, Lady E. F----s followed,
and then the _tin box_: our knight went last; he came up to me,
squeezed my hand affectionately, whispered a saucy adieu, and jumped
into the boat. Such was the embarkation of the P----ss of W----s, and
so passed away the illustrious consort of the heir apparent of these
realms.
[WE SHALL RETURN TO THESE AMUSING VOLS.]
* * * * *
EGYPTIAN PYRAMIDS AND HINDOO TEMPLES COMPARED.
The most common form of the Hindoo pagodas[8] is the pyramidal,
of which one of the most remarkable is that of Chalembaram, on the
Coromandel coast, about thirty-four geographical miles south of
Pondicherry, and seven from the sea.
[8] The word pagoda is a corruption of _Bhagavati_, "holy
house," one of the several names by which the Hindoo temples
are known.
The whole temple, with its attached buildings covers an area of
1,332 feet by 936, (according to others 1,230 feet by 960,) and is
surrounded with a brick wall[9] 30 feet high and 7 thick, round which
there is another wall furnished with bastions. The four entrances are
under as many pyramids, which, up to the top of the portal, 30 feet in
height, are formed of free-stone, ornamented with sculptured figures.
Above the portal, the pyramid is built of tiles or bricks, to the
height of 150 feet, with a coat of cement upon it, which is covered
with plates of copper, and ornaments of baked clay. On passing through
the chief portico of the western propylaea, we see on the left an
enormous hall with more than 1,000 pillars, which are above 36 feet
high, and covered over with slabs of stone; this hall might have
served as a gallery for the priests to walk about in, just like
the hypostyle halls of the Egyptian temples. In the midst of these
columns, and surrounded by them, is a temple called that of eternity.
On the right or south side, we see the chief temple, with halls of
several hundred pillars at the east and west end, also supporting a
flat roof of stone. The pagoda itself rests on a basis 360 feet long
and 260 broad, and rises to a surprising height. It is formed of
blocks of stone 40 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 5 thick, which must
have been brought, about 200[10] miles, as there are no stone quarries
in the neighbourhood. The temple has a peristyle round it; and
thirty-six of the pillars, which are placed in six rows, and form
the portico, support a roof of smooth blocks. The columns are 30 feet
high, and resemble the old Ionic pillar. The whole pyramid surpasses
in size St. Paul's church in London, the latter being only 474[11]
feet long and 207 wide. The roof of the pyramid has a copper casing
covered with reliefs referring to mythical subjects; the gilding which
was once on it is still visible. In the middle of the courtyard there
is a great tank, surrounded with a gallery of pillars and also an
enclosure round it of marble, well polished and ornamented with
sculptures and arabesques. In the eastern part there is still another
court surrounded with a wall, on the inside of which is a colonnade
covered with large slabs of stone. Here also there is a pagoda, which
is but little inferior in size to the larger one; but it contains only
large dark chambers covered with sculptures, which have reference
to the worship of certain deities, particularly Vishnu. The interior
ornaments are in harmony with the whole; from the nave of one of
the pyramids there hang, on the tops of four buttresses, festoons of
chains, in length altogether 548 feet, made of stone. Each garland,
consisting of twenty links, is made of one piece of stone 60
feet long; the links themselves are monstrous rings 32 inches in
circumference, and polished as smooth as glass. One chain is broken,
and hangs down from the pillar. In the neighbourhood of the pagodas
there are usually tanks and basins lined with cement, or buildings
attached for the purpose of lodging pilgrims who come from a distance.
It is, however, often the case that the adjoining buildings, as well
as the external ornaments in general, are in bad taste, and the work
of a later age than the pagoda itself.
[9] The outer wall is brick cased with stone: the inner is all
of stone. The four sides are turned respectively to the four
cardinal points,--Heeren, India, p. 74.
[10] Fifty meilen.
[11] These dimensions are not exact, even making allowance for
Berlin feet.
The pyramidical entrances of the Indian pagodas are analogous to the
Egyptian propyla, while the large pillared rooms which support a flat
roof of stone, are found frequently in the temples of both countries.
Among the numerous divisions of the excavations of Ellora, there is
an upper story of the _Dasavatara_, or the temple of Vishnu's
incarnations, the roof of which is supported by sixty-four square
based pillars, eight in each row. This chamber is about 100 feet wide,
and somewhat deeper, and as to general design may be compared with the
excavated chambers of Egypt, which are supported by square columns.
The massy materials, the dark chambers, and the walls covered with
highly wrought sculptures; and the tanks near the temples, with their
enclosure of stone, and the steps for the pilgrims, are also equally
characteristic of a pagoda and an Egyptian temple. To this we may
add the high thick wall, of a rectangular form, carried all round the
sacred spot: it is, however, principally the massy structure of
these surrounding walls which forms the point of comparison, as Greek
temples also had a wall enclosing the sacred ground, and the temples
and churches of all countries are as a general rule separated from
unhallowed ground, if not by strong walls at least by some mark which
determines the extent of the sacred precincts. Yet there is a further
resemblance worth noticing between some of these Hindoo pagodas and
the great temple of Phtha at Memphis. The Egyptian temple had four
chief entrances, or propyla, turned to the four cardinal points of the
compass; which is also the case with the pagoda of Chalembaram,
with another at Siringam, and probably others also. The pagoda of
Chalembaram, according to Indian tradition, is one of the oldest in
their country, and this opinion is confirmed by the appearance of the
principal temple contained within the walls; but other parts, such as
the pyramidal entrances, the highly finished sculptures, and the chain
festoons, must be the work of a later date. It seems probable then
that this enormous religious edifice was the growth of many ages,
each adding something to enlarge and perfect the work of former
days.--_Lib. Ent. Knowledge._