Слике страница
PDF
ePub

LONDON JOURNAL.

TO ASSIST THE INQUIRING, ANIMATE THE STRUGGLING, AND SYMPATHIZE WITH ALL.

WEDNESDAY, Nov. 12, 1834.

A NEW BOOK WORTH KNOWING.

No. 33.

brings before us. This is not to be expected with
any book or with any readers, till all our under-
standings get respectively into completer and more
harmonious condition. He, and all of us, are doubt-

less to seek in numberless matters; but with love for
his guide, and the substitution of the good of others
for self-seeking, he surely is in the best
quiring wisdom as well as imparting it; and when

way

for ac

PRICE THREE HALFPEnce.

head. The spectator of this admirable specimen of intellect and good feeling, which was all necessarily the thought and act of a moment, had his hand instinctively in his pocket for a shilling, but was stopped by the teacher, who disowns all inferior motives for acts of kindness and justice. The little hero, however, had his reward: for the incident was related by the teacher in full school, in the presence of the strangers, and was received with several rounds of hearty applause.

We have been deeply interested in a book just
published, intitled Necessity of Popular Education
as a National Object; with Hints on the Treatment of
Criminals, and Observations on Homicidal Insanity.
By James Simpson, Advocate.' It is printed for
Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh; and Long-
man and Company, London; and should be in the
hands of every friend of his species that can afford
to purchase it.
books, we hope, by this announcement, to give it
introduction; and extracts shall bring many others
acquainted with it, whose pockets are not equally
rich as their hearts. We see, at page 121, that Mr
Simpson commends our estimable contemporaries,
the Messrs Chambers, for reprinting in their Journal,
"with the author's consent," the lectures given by
Mr Combe, in Edinburgh, on Popular Education.
We should be happy to obtain the like honour for
the London Journal,' in Mr Simpson's permission
to avail ourselves, not indeed of the use of his in-
tire work (there is a difference in this respecct be-
tween lectures already delivered, and a good-sized
original work-not to mention other circumstances),
but of the liberty to draw more freely upon his
pages than we feel warranted in doing unlicensed.
There is a good long chapter, for instance, and a
very edifying one, which we should like to give
intire, On the Effects of Imperfect Education upon
the Condition of the Class of the People above Manual
Labour;' and as we read further (for we have just
received the book, and, at present, have got little
beyond), we see very plainly that our love will be
for taking larger draughts of it. We should like
to know how far we and our readers may drink.

we differ from such men, we differ from them with
dinner.
To many such true readers of respect and hesitation, and delight to see how cal-
culated such a system is to correct its errors as it

That chapter just mentioned has particularly struck us. It helps to show what a quantity of education is wanted even by "the educated," and how it becomes us all to look about us, lest our defects of moral training, rendered still more visible by the supposed and ostentatious perfection of our intellect, should not only be keeping up the old war between our passions and our judgments, but expose us to the amazement of the very infants whom such men as Mr Simpson and Mr Wilderspin are instructing, as they too often do, in fact, already, in our own homes and families; for children are far shrewder and more attentive observers than people suppose; and by no means shut up the eyes of their natural discernment, purely because we, in our more than childish will, wish them to do so, or run our own heads behind some fine fancied veil of sophistry and inconsistency, itself an exposure.

Meantime we have extracted from Mr Simpson's book the interesting evidences afforded by the Edinburgh Infant School Society, of the easiness and success of a system of love and candour, in fetching out these natural powers of children, and enabling them govern themselves. The secret is two

to teach and

fold, and consists, firstly (not in telling them, but) in convincing them, that you desire their good, and not your own power; and in so habituating them to a consideration for others, that, when they, come to judge of their own actions, they do it as third parties. O those two grandest of all secrets for making men loving and true! It scarcely need be observed, that we do not agree in every item of reasoning or practice as it arises in Mr Simpson's book, and the examples he

1 From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.]

goes.

I. EFFECTS OF MORAL TRAINING.

I. Incidents to show the good effects of exercising
kindness and consideration for others, in opposition
to reckless mischief, hard-heartedness, and cruelty;
vices which render the lower orders dangerous and
formidable.

1. Two of the children, brothers, about five and
four years of age, coming one morning late into
school, were to go to their seats without censure, if
they could give an account of what they had been
doing, which should be declared satisfactory by the
whole school, who should decide. They stated sepa-
rately that they had been contemplating the proceed-
ings of a large caterpillar, and noticing the different
positions of its body as it crossed their path-that it
was now horizontal, and now perpendicular, and pre-
sently curved, and finally inclined, when it escaped

into a tree.

The master then asked them abruptly,
Why did you not kill it? The children stared.
Could you have killed it? asked the teacher.
Yes,
but that would have been cruel and naughty, and a
sin against God. The little moralists were ac-
quitted by acclamation; having, in ants as they

were, manifested a character which, were it universal
in the juvenile population, would in another gene-
ration reduce our penal code to a mass of waste
paper, in one grand department of its bulk.*

that he had been occupied about a boy and a girl who
2. The teacher mentioned to the children one day
had no father or mother, and whose grandfather and
grandmother, who took care of them, were bed-rid
and in great poverty. The boy was seven years of
age, too old for the Infant School; but some gentle-
men, he said, were exerting themselves to get the
boy into one of the hospitals. Here he purposely
stopped to try the sympathies of his audience for the
girl. He was not disappointed; several little voices
called out at once: 0! Master! what for no the
lassie too? He assured them that the girl was to
come to the Infant School, and to be boarded with
him and Mrs Wright; and the intelligence was
received with loud plaudits.

3. One day, when the children were in the play-
ground, four boys occupied the boys' circular swing,
while a stranger gentleman was looking on with the
teacher. Conscious of being looked at, the little fel-
lows were wheeling round with more than usual
swiftness and dexterity, when a creature of two or
three years made a sudden dart forward into their
very orbit, and in an instant must have been knocked
down with great force. With a presence of mind and
consideration, and with a mechanical skill, which to
admire most we know not, one of the boys, about five
years old, used the instant of time in which the singu-
lar movement was practicable, threw his whole body
into a horizontal position, and went clear over the
infant's head! But this was not all in the same well-

employed instant, it occurred to him that this move

ment was not enough to save the little intruder, as he
himself was to be followed as quick as thought by
the next swinger. For this he provided, by drop-
ping his own feet to the ground and stopping the
whole machine, the instant he had cleared the child's

* This instance of practical mercy occurred strongly to my mind one day last spring, in London. When passing along a street, I saw several big boys with a live mouse at the end of a string. I returned in a few minutes the same way, and found they had killed it, and were beating it to atoms with their sticks!!

4. J. J. accused H. S. of having eat up J. J.'s It was proved by several witnesses that H. S. not only appropriated the dinner, but used force. The charge being proved to the satisfaction of the jury (the whole school), the same tribunal were requested by the teacher to decide what should be the consequences to the convict. One orator rose and suggested that, as H. S. had not yet eat his own dinner, he ought to give it to J. J. This motion, for the children always welcome any reasonable substitute for corporal punishment, was carried by acclamation. When one o'clock came, and the dinner was handed over, coram publico, to J. J., H. S. was observed by him to be in tears, and lingering near his own dinner. They were by this time nearly alone, but the teacher was watching the result. The tears were too much for J. J., who went to H. S., threw his arms about his neck, told him not to cry,

but to sit down and take half. This invitation was

of course accepted by H. S., who manifested a great
inferiority of character to the other, and furnished an
example of the blindness of the unjust to the justice
of retribution, which they always feel to be mere
revenge and cruelty. He could not bear to see J. J.
even sharing his dinner, and told him, with bitter-
ness, that he would tell his mother. Weel, weel!
said the generous child, I'll gie ye'd a' back again.
Of course the teacher interfered to prevent this gross
injustice; and, in the afternoon, made their school-
fellows completely aware of the part each had acted.
It is not easy to render a character like that of H. S.
liberal; but a long course of such practice, for pre-
cept is impotent in such cases, might much modify
what in after life would have turned out a selfish,
unjust, and unsocial character.

II. Incidents to show the good effects of practically
exercising honesty and truth,-to the end of super-
seding another branch of criminal jurisprudence.
1. One of the children lost a halfpenny in the
play-ground. The mistress was so certain that it
would be found and accounted for, that she lent the
loser a halfpenny. Some time after, when the
incident was nearly forgotten, one of the boys, J. F.,
found a halfpenny in the play-ground, and although
no one saw him find it, he brought it at once to the
teacher. As the latter knew nothing about the loss of
a halfpenny already alluded to, it appeared to him
a halfpenny without an owner; but one of the
children suggested that it must be the lost halfpenny
for which the mistress had given the substitute.

What then shall be done with it? Many voices
answered, The mistress should get it.
The girl
who lost the halfpenny was called out, and at once
knew her own. It was given to her, and she imme-
diately transferred it to the mistress. The teacher then
appealed to the whole school. Is that right? Yes,
yes, right, right, was called out by the whole assem-
blage with much applause and animation. This last
accompaniment of their approbation is strongly con-
trasted with the more tranquil and evidently re-
gretting way in which they condemn, when anything
is wrong.

2. A penny was found in the play-ground, which
had lain so long as to be mouldy and rusty.
It was
held up for an owner, but claimed by none. What
shall we do with it? Keep it master, keep it.
Why should I keep it? I have no right to it more
than any one here. This was puzzling to all, till a
little girl, not four years old, stood up and said,
Put it in the box. Many voices seconded this
excellent motion, and the master referred it to a show
of hands; up went every hand in the school, most of
the children showing both hands for a greater cer-
tainty, and the penny was put into the subscription-
box amid cheers of animation and delight.

3. Immediately before the vacation in August, 1830, three boys plucked a few black currants, which had ripened on the play-ground wall; fruit and flowers being cultivated to exercise self-denial and refinement in the children. One of the boys kept to himself double the quantity which he vouchsafed to each of the other two, but gave a part to a fourth boy, who had seen the transaction, evidently to purchase his silence; but thinking this hopeless, he took back the gift, and struck the boy to give it up, remarking, that as he knew he would tell, he, the speaker, need not lose his berries into the bargain. They all confessed, and expressed their sorrow, except the striker, decidedly in all respects the most guilty, who maintained a bold and hardened countenance. The voice of the school was, however, merciful to them all, which so much affected the last-mentioned offender, that he burst into tears. A Clergyman, one of the Directors, was present, whose eye the boy caught, and instantly brushed away his tears, and joined in the hymn which was sung at the moment. He staid behind the rest, assiduously assisted the master to put away the things, a civility he never showed before, and begged to shake hands with him when he went away. 4. P. M. was brought to solemn trial before the whole school, for keeping up a penny of his weekly school fee. After the trial and award, which were both just and judicious, the teacher asked the school, How many of us have been tried now? A voice called out, J. H. has been tried. This was indig nantly denied by J. H. The teacher turning to J. M., asked him if he had ever been tried? He hung his head and answered, Yes. What was it for? Master, do you not remember yoursel? I do; but are you any the better of your trial and punishment? I've never stolen since, any how. What was your reason for not stealing? I listened to the thing in my breast, and that told me it was a crime.

J. M.'s offence had been, watching, all the time of school, a penny-piece which had been dropped under the stove, and secretly appropriating it when the school was dismissed. His confession bore that his first purpose was to buy bowls (marbles), but he felt so unhappy that he could not make up his mind to look upon what he should purchase, and formed the singular resolution to expend the money in something eatable, that he might get it out of his sight! This he did, and gave a share to a schoolfellow. He was asked whether his conscience did not upbraid him? He answered, It did not speak very loud at first; but I grew very unhappy, and was happier after I was tried and punished. His contrite tears moved the compassion of bis numerous judges, who wished to have spared him; but this was not admissible in the circumstances, and a few pats on the hand was the form of corporal punishment allotted him. He was sorely tempted, for he confessed that he kept his eye on the penny-piece for two hours before he took it.

5. The following incident was communicated by a gentleman from England, Dr Harrison Black, who, in company with the Chevalier de Frasans, Judge of Assize under Charles X, witnessed the whole occurrence: The Chevalier de Frasans being present, the master was suddenly called into the play-ground, in consequence of a cry that one boy had struck another on the forehead, so as to make the blood flow. All the children were immediately called in, and inquiry made as to who had been witness of the affair. Those who presented themselves were sent into an adjoining room, and the injured party desired to state his grievance. He simply said that T. B. had struck him with a spade (which had for a moment been left by a workman), and that he did not believe it had been done on purpose. The offending party being called, said, J. M. had told him he could not lift up the spade, and in trying to show that he could do it, the blow was given. The witnesses were called in, one by one, and gave their testimony with great clearness, particularly a little Quaker girl. They all corroborated the statement of the accused party.

The teacher then asked of the whole assembly of children what punishment ought to be awarded? The general cry was, Three palmies (i. e. three pats upon the palm of the hand), because that punishment had been a few days before awarded to H. S. But one boy rose, and exclaimed, No, that is not fair, for H. S. told a falsehood about the fault he had committed, and T. B. did not tell any falsehood.

The justice of this remark seemed to be generally understood; and part only of the punishment was determined on. The culprit was then reminded, that, although the blow had not been given intentionally,

still he had broken a law which forbade all the children to touch the tools of the workmen, and was made sensible that the punishment was not inflicted because the teacher was angry, but because he, T. B., had broken a law. The truth of this the little offender fully acknowledged to the bystanders, as well as to his master and schoolfellows. The punishment actually inflicted was a gentle tap upon the hand.

Hereupon, a new and unexpected scene arose: the offended party, seeing that all around concurred in condemning the offender, cried out, I'll find

a coachman's whip and lash him. This gave occasion to another appeal to the children as to the injustice of this threatened second punishment, and ended by the threatener being made sensible that all present were now against him. As a proof, he said, Don't be frightened, Tom, I'll not whip you or tell my father. It appeared that he had been so short a time in the school, as not to have become imbued with the governing principles of the place.

6. A little boy caine to school with his hands covered with paint. He applied to the teacher's sister to aid him in his extremity, which she did effectually by dint of hot water and soap. He promised to reward her with a halfpenny, whenever he should get one. She, wishing to try him, asked him some days afterwards if he had forgot his promise? He answered, No, but that he had put the first halfpenny he had got into the poors' plate at church. Having soon after got a halfpenny from a lady, he rung the teacher's house-bell, and gave the money to his creditor, who took it, but, after some days, restored it.

III. Proofs of the success of the system, in its fundamental principle of governing by Love, and not by Fear, and that consistently with the most perfect order and discipline.

1. The master one day intimated that he wanted a number of articles, of a kind which he enumerated, to illustrate the lessons. He was next day inundated with all sorts of odds and ends, every child bringing with him something-leather, feathers, cloth, silk, stones, wood, glass, &c.

2. Accidentally saying that he would come and visit his pupils at their own homes, and if he did, how would they entertain him, the question was answered by a burst of hospitality, and the number and variety of the articles of cheer enumerated were too much for his gravity. We observed, however, that whisky was not among the temptations offered him, in the competition for the preference of his company.

3. A parent came one day to the school, expressly to be satisfied on the puzzle, as he said it was to him, how a schoolmaster could render himself the object of love. His own was always the object of terror; and, instead of running to him when he appeared, he and his schoolmates went off in the opposite direction, with the greatest alertness. His boy, he said, runs to the master whenever he sees him, and is proud to come home and tell that he has shaken hands with Mr Wright; of whom, as well as Mrs Wright and Maggy, (the latter a worthy of three years old, the master's child, who sets an example to the whole school,) he never ceases to speak.

Mr Wright requested the inquirer to remain and see how he treated his scholars. He did so, and witnessed the kindness, the cheerfulness, and the fun which never flags, while he saw discipline and obedience at the same time. The children went to the play-ground, and to the amazement of the visitor, the teacher ran out, crying, Hare and hounds! Hare and hounds! taking the first character on himself. He was instantly pursued full cry by the whole pack round and round the play-ground: at last he was taken, and worried by an immense act of co-operation. In his extremity, he rang his hand-bell for school instantly the hounds quitted their prey, rushed into school, the door being scarcely wide enough for them, and were, within a minute, as still as a rank of soldiers, seated in their gallery, and busy with the multiplication table. The visitor went away, with a shrug, muttering, Na, the like o' that I ne'er

saw.

Many pages might be filled with anecdotes illus. trative of the beneficial effects of the system, in preventing the numerous fears, follies, envyings, discontents, and prejudices, which render the lower classes so intractable. The superstitious fear of ghosts, witches, &c., is practically removed. A person informed Mr Wright that, as he was crossing the church-yard, not without the habitual dread which from his youth he could not separate from the place, he met a little girl of five years' old marching through, all alone. Was she not afraid? Not a bit: we learn at the Infant School that ghosts and all that is nonsense. All. dirty, gross, destructive, selfish, and insolent habits are proscribed, and carefully prevented; and, above all, whisky is held up as the greatest of curses to society, and many a lesson is taught of its effects on both mind and body. The children heard, with much indignation, of a crowd in the teazed an idiot,of the mob breaking windows on street insulting a poor Turk,-of some boys who occasion of the illumination, and of the people mal treating the doctors for their kindness in trying to

cure the cholera.

N.B. It is unnecessary to give examples of the Effect of Intellectual Practice, as there is less novelty in children being trained to acuteness and sagacity; and much of this is capable of exhibition to the public, which is not possible, on set occasions, with proofs of moral advancement. The results in this department, it may, however, be mentioned, are most satisfactory.

II. LETTERS FROM THE PARENTS.

In order to ascertain that the effects of the moral

training were not a mere show at school, Mr Wright was directed to write a circular note to a large proportion of the parents, requesting their opinion, in writing, of the improvement of their children attending the school, in learning, manners, affection, obedience, health, and happiness. Above thirty answers were received, of which we can only give a very few as specimens, which we do at random. The originals may be seen by any one who chuses, in Mr Wright's hands. It may in general be remarked that there is a striking agreement among them in a zealous readiness to express, in strong terms, their sense of and gratitude for the advantages their children enjoy at school, and the improvement of their own comfort in their intercourse with their children at home. delight of the children in attending school, and affection for the teacher, are mentioned in most of them.

The

[blocks in formation]

2. Sir, I received your letter regarding the opinion I had formed of my son's improvement at the Infant School. I beg leave to state, that it has exceeded my utmost expectation; and, in answer to your questions, the Infant School System, so far from alienating the affections of children to their parents, it increases them to a high degree, and makes them more obedient, and promotes greatly their health and happiness, and they are greatly benefited by the instructions they receive. I have also to return my sincere thanks for your kindness and indulgence to them.-I am, &c. E. GRAHAM.

(Signed)

[blocks in formation]

4. Dear Sir,-It gives me great satisfaction to inform you of the rapid progress the child is making under your care; indeed, it is wonderful for so short a time. Owing to your excellent method, she has acquired a taste for learning she never could get at home. She has forgot her playthings, and if the day is so bad that she cannot go to school, she either sings us a song, tells us a story, or goes through part of her school exercises the best way she can by herself. She often mentions some part of scripture, although she is only five years old. I assure you, Sir, her love and respect for her master are great. I think, Sir, all this will give you pleasure to hear, and with good wishes for the improvement of the children, and thanks for what has already been done, I am, &c.

(Signed) CATHERINE ROBERTSON.

5. Sir, I am really delighted with my son for his intelligence since he went under your tutorage; and I altogether approve of Mr Wilderspin's system of treating children, and, in my opinion, it is not only now, but in future years, it will be instilled in his memory. And, you, Sir, I am convinced have done your duty, from the affection that he has towards you; for he is always speaking about Mr Wright, or giving us a recital of the useful information you give him; and so much I approve of the system, that I am going to send another boy of mine as soon as the days get a little longer, and please accept of our best thanks for your attention to our son.—I am, &c.

(Signed) THOMas Watson.

6. Sir, With regard to our son's morals, we think them very much improved; for he has a true sense between right and wrong, and the greatness His intellectual parts are as and goodness of God. far advanced as we could expect in the time he has been at school, and we by no means think his affections alienated from us. As far as our judgment can direct us, we think it must be a great benefit to society. I am, &c.

(Signed) JAMES THOMSON.

Many of the other letters are both well written and worded, and all of them are interesting and satisfactory.

One day, says Menage, I had hold of one of Madame de Sevigné's hands betwixt both mine. Upon her drawing it away, M. Pelletier, standing by, said, Menage, that is the finest work which ever came from your hands.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BUTTERFLY.
For the London Journal.

The sunny

I HAVE Outlived three score sunsets and ten. Summer is no more-and her warm honeyed breath I find no longer gently resisting the motion of my wings, and lifting me from the ground. The flowers, too, are dead—or dying now around me. beams, in which I floated as in a sea of gold, grow fainter every day, and every day the sun returns but for a shorter period. It is then time that I should lay my wings at rest, and that the holy sun, whose rays have been my life, should now withdraw me from this vegetable world-to dwell for ever in its realms of warmth and light.

Threescore days and ten!. -a longer life than is vouchsafed to any of our favoured race. I am not vain-but yet I may surmise that the experience of such a life may not be without its use and moral for the world.

could perceive the love which I bore to each flower.
These beings are too big-they cannot see one hun-
dreth part of what goes on around them. I have
seen them poke their noses into a rose-
-and say
"'twas sweet,"-but their gross senses cannot taste
the intoxication of the odour of a flower-and then,
like us, reel joyously above it till, overpowered with
delight, they sink upon its bosom! The gardener I
always liked (his huge size he could not help) for he
really loved the garden- and long before the sun
arose to shine upon the flower-beds and trees, he
would come whistling down the walks. But will it
be believed, that this superior being paid the respect

of an inferior to the poor creatures who so seldom
came to taste the fragrant breath of nature? I may

be asked, how I know the tokens of respect and fear
among men ? Have I not hovered around the toils
of the spider, when a poor fly has supplicated for life
and liberty? and may it not be surmised that the
subdued voice and humble look speak the same lan-

I can give little account of my birth and parent-
age. Conjecture is open-but spark-like is the light guage with both man and fly?

I could ever obtain on this immaterial question, though my mind was early turned to the inquiry by the impertinent question as to "who I was," put to me by a fair but conceited tulip. Prompted by affection, I searched in every quarter for information, but little was my success, and the time lost was great so much so, that, when I returned to my goddess with what I hoped might prove satisfactory information, I found her charms so greatly on the wane, that I began to wonder what had brought me thither, and so flew off again, humming a favourite air, "I am free, I am free!" And so the tulip lost her lover, and gained no information.*

But this is what I either remembered, or had heard of myself, before I was myself. When I first woke up, it was in a field of waving grass, and it must have been its angry war, as the wind levelled its proud crests to the earth, that woke me up. All was sweet around, and bright and sunny. But so soon as I found the use of my wings, and that I could remove from the uproar by their friendly aid, I pushed off, and settled in a more tranquil spot. Methought I had had a dream—a long and pleasant dream-of wandering among trees and over leaves-of living well and banqueting for ever, and that my life was

one continual feast. Could this have been reality?

no, it must have been a dream, for life is not quite all
enjoyment. But after this, it seemed as if there
came a blank-a dream within a dream-a helpless
sleep, perchance. I thought I was alone, alive, but
could not move; not dead, but yet no life was stir-
ring in me. Perhaps mysterious thought-I grew
as grows the seed I've seen the gardener strew upon
the ground.
I may have been enclosed, like it,
within a husk, and my wings have then burst forth
like opening leaves !

Say, first, of life before, or life to be,

What can we reason but from what we see? What strengthens me in this belief is, that one with whom I always was at enmity, did tell me once, but in scorn he said it, that he had seen me long before lying like a clod among the clods, rolled up in a shapeless, ugly mass. (The latter description can never have been true, but let it pass.) How many minutes' labour have hypotheses, built on these slender foundations, cost my philosophic mind! One thing I learnt, however, by the incident-that is, to gain information even from the lips of an enemy.

In my career there has been much to puzzle me. Passing my days mostly in a region of flowers, I observed that there was one enormous creature who tended them continually sometimes beings like himself would visit us, and stare about-and look upon the flowers; but in their stupid faces, I never

:

There seems hardly verisimilitude enough in the love between an insect and a flower, considering there are creatures more kindred to their nature. Yet our correspondent (besides the visits manifestly paid by a butterfly, and the phrase "love for flowers," and what else the depth of his floral philosophy might say for it) has critical warrant in the Persian loves of the nightingale and the rose; and Dr Darwin was inclined to think that insects were portions of flowers let loose,-warmed into distinct life by an unusual glow of the vital spirit.-ED.

It is but an unworthy task for an old butterflyone o'er whom a long life has passed, and bleached the hair of his head even as the grass of the meadow is bleached by the sun's rays—it is, I say, for one so sage, so ripe, so time-honoured, a ridiculous task to record the events of his youthful loves. But yet, in all candour, I confess that the recollection of those events fills me with delight (one excepted, which I shall narrate) as the recovery of some sense long lost. Yes, time has destroyed these things, as the plain of waving green was levelled by the scythe; but still how fragrant did the insipid grass become when lying dried, scattered, and dead-scattered by the spoiler, too, upon its own hearth! Such is the hallowed light thrown over the past: such are the uses of adversity.

I have already touched on the subject of my first amour, when my fair friend was too particular as to my pedigree. But there remains another to narrate, which, as I have known insects whose complexions changed with the colour of what they took for dinner, so, its progress and its end being luckless and unhappy, for ever after tinged my joyous nature with the dark hue of melancholy. My heart was wrapped in darkness. And yet, who could have read my feelings? How smooth my feathers still-how sleek and clean my feelers-my head how nicely powdered; and my wings-ah! who to have seen me pour the oily fluid on those well-formed limbs, could have presumed to think me wretched, and that concealment, like a worm in the bud, preyed on my heart?

I

I loved a lily (time was the thing was common, but now the papillon has spurned the fleur-de-lis). found my love returned, and, for a time, things prospered gloriously. Hours went-returned—and still found me at her side. We lived but for each other.

She said not much-what would you have a virgin

say? but then she looked so sweet! One luckless
evening I was lured away, on some excursion, no
matter where or wherefore. Oh, unhappy hour! on
my return, I found a spider, a bloated wretch, had
usurped my place. He now reigned triumphant,
and the noxious cannibal had spread his fearful nets
over that fair head which I most adored. In despair
I fluttered away, almost sinking to the earth, cursing
him--as only butterflies can curse-and hating her for
her inconstancy. I consoled myself, however, with
making this reflection,-that, to retain the female
heart, you must watch over it as zealously as the
miserly ant guards her ill-gotten grain.

It was not till sometime after this that I disco-
vered how my passion had hurried me into indiscre-
tion. In quitting Lily so precipitately, I had done
her wrong, for I learned that the spider was but an
unwelcome intruder, and would have forced her
affections. To me she looked for succour, while I

-mad fool!

How often have I since reflected that even flies cannot see everything, and that it behoves them to be very circumspect when other beings are concerned.}

A joyous life I led of it too, for a long period before this. Fanned by the zephyr, courted by the

rose, floating for hours in the sun-beam, bathing in the transparent softly-scented dew, watching every opening flower, and catching their first sweet breaths as they softly sighed forth life-these were but a few of my daily pleasures. With what delight I rocked upon the taper branches of the lavender, till sleep crept over me! And then came night, and with the night the moon, whose beams reflected strange unwonted beauty alike upon the plainest and the loveliest objects.

But now I come to the most fearful event of my troubled life. Near where I dwelt there lived a

glow-worm, round whose cheering light a jovial set of us were wont to congregate o' nights. A chirruping knot were we, and often have we made the night gallop through her course to the music of our revels. When the club dispersed, I used to mount to my retirement aloft, and there gaze on the friendly lamp of my light-hearted friend, till I dropped asleep. One night I woke from dreams of these happy meetings-the merry notes of my mates rang in my ears -and I thought they were keeping it up without me, and accordingly determined to drop in upon their revels; but, strange to say, no light shone below, as was usual. I looked about, and at last perceived it above me. This was strange; but, without thinking, up I mounted. Higher still and higher, but no nearer did I approach. They are keeping it up, thought I, with a vengeance. I wonder where Master Snail got his wings to mount so high! Time flew on, and so did I, but it was of no avail: the enticing light was as distant as ever, and the malicious rogues were moving off as fast as I could move on. Meantime, the air grew colder, the zephyrs were cross, and handled me most roughly. I felt myself beating about in space, nor knew I where to fly. My heart failed me, and my strength was gone; and I had fallen back into the realms of darkness, had not the strong winds caught me in their arms and hurried me onwards, now a helpless victim, till I landed suddenly on the earth. Unhappy wretch, I had mistaken a star for the light I sought! and now, for punishment, I found myself a bruised wanderer in a land of strangers. Here, then, have I sojourned, unknown, uncared for.

Commiseration is dear to the heart of a fly; therefore have I put pen to paper, in the belief, that when dead, my tale will at least draw one tear from the well of grief springing in every heart. This hope will throw a glow over the sunset of my days. For, although neither gouty, nor flying with the aid of crutches, still I am very old-I feel it. My voice is weak in physical power; but, from my age, I think it intitled to be heard. If time is not at an end-if other butterflies should ever live to love, and to mistake an unapproachable for a friendly light to them I leave this long memorial of my

patriarchal days, now so near their closing. Here

ends my task.

Here, too, ended his innocent life. One moment sufficed him to die, whose creation had been the miracle of months. The butterfly is dead, "his wings are at rest," his bright eye shall no more be dimmed by a passing cloud-his pure loving heart no longer be vexed at the puzzles of insect life-nor his bones rattle in the cold blast of coming Autumn. PSYCHOPHILUS.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

an

A Pleasant Ensign of the Guards.-La Calprenede (afterwards the writer of the old celebrated French romances, Cleopatra,' Cassandra,' &c.), was Ensign in the Guards, and when he was upon duty at Court, used to get up into the apartments, and there soon get an audience about him by the agreeable knack he had of telling stories. The Court ladies and maids of honour were often among his hearers. The Queen, one day, reprimanded her women, that of late they seemed all at once to have entered into a combination to neglect their duty, upon which one of them answered, "That there was a new Ensign who came up into the ante-chamber, and told such delightful stories, that there was no leaving him." This raised the Princess's curiosity, and she was so taken with him, that she added a pretty pension to his pay.

THE WEEK.

From Wednesday the 12th, to Tuesday the 18th November.

HONEY-COMES AND WAX-LIGHTS.

We did wrong the other day to say that the flowers were all going, for, not to mention the present mild season, which has wonderfully retained the beauties both of our woods and gardens, it is ungrateful and monstrous in us to forget that there are flowers of some sort all the year round, or nearly so, especially the most beautiful of all flowers-the rose, which Nature seems to love so fondly as to be unable to part with it. You may see cottages still covered with it all over, like household smiles.

Even of the flowers that have gone, we possess the results, and we should not forget to see their floral elements in those. The other night we were sitting at a friend's house amidst wax-candles, and thought how busy those little fairies, the bees, had been in making them for us, bringing, with mysterious efficacy, out of the flimsiest beauty, a beauty so solid. Wax-lights, though we are accustomed to over-look the fact, and rank them with ordinary commonplaces, are true fairy tapers,—a white metamorphosis from the flowers, crowned with the most intangible of all visible mysteries-fire.

Then there is honey, which a Greek poet would have called the sister of wax,-a thing as beautiful to eat as the other is to look upon, and beautiful to look upon too. What two extraordinary substances to be made, by little winged creatures, out of roses and lilies! What a singular and lovely energy in Nature to impel those little creatures thus to fetch out the sweet and elegant properties of the coloured fragrancies of the gardens, and serve them up to us for food and light-honey to eat, and waxen tapers to eat it by! What more graceful repast could be imagined on one of the fairy tables made by Vulcan, which moved of their own accord, and came gliding, when he wanted a luncheon, to the side of Apollo! the honey golden as his lyre, and the wax fair as his shoulders. Doubtless he hath eaten of it many a time, chatting with Hebe before some Olympian concert, and as he talked in an under-tone, fervid as the bees', the bass-strings of his lyre murmured as they.

Let honey then be on our November breakfasttable, reminding us of the flowers, and let us have a good and intire account of the nature of it out of the pages of Dr Bevan.

Honey is a well-known, sweet, tenacious substance, which, in fine weather, is continually secreting in the nectaries of flowers, chiefly from certain vesicles or glands situated near the basis of every petal, from whence it is collected by bees and other insects. The domestic honey-bees consume a portion of this honey for food, at or near the time of gathering; but the principal part is regurgitated, and poured into the cell of the hive, for the use of the community in winter. So very abundant are these collections in favourable seasons, as to afford to the apiarian an extensive share of them, without distressing the pro vident hoarders. Mr Wildman states that, in the year 1789, he purchased a glass filled with exceedingly fine honey-comb, weighing 63 pounds, which had been collected within a month; and that the hive which it had surmounted still contained a full supply for the winter's consumption for the bees. however, was an unusual quantity; a hive, or box, of the dimensions recommended in this work, may be considered as well stocked when it yields from 30 to 40 pounds of honey.

This,

The honey intended for early use, and for the nursing bees and drones, is deposited in cells which are allowed to remain open, and is, probably, of an inferior sort; whilst the finest honey, which is laid up in store for winter, is placed in the most inacessible parts of the hive, and closed in the cells with waxen lids.

There, clustered now, clear wells of nectar glow,
Like amber drops that sparkle in the Po,
And now (so quick the change), ere one short moon
Shrinks with waned crescent 'mid the blaze of noon,
All veiled from view, these amber drops are lost,
And each clear well with waxen crown embost.

[ocr errors]

Kirby and Spence do not admit this statement; as the nectar of flowers is not of so thick a consistence as honey, they think it must undergo some change in the stomach of the bee. This opinion is strengthened by what has been stated by Reaumur: he observed that, if there was a deficiency of flowers at the season of honey-gathering, and the bees were fur, nished with sugar, they filled their cells with honey, differing in no other respect from honey collected in the usual way but in its possessing a somewhat higher flavour, and in its never candying, nor ever losing the fluidity by long keeping. The same will be observed when they imbibe the juices of sweet fruits, for bees do not confine themselves solely to flowers and honeydewed leaves; they will sometimes very greedily abspoil them for the table; they also visit, in crowds, sorb the juice of raspberries, for instance, and thus

In the Philosophical Transactions for 1792,' Mr Hunter has stated that, whatever time the contents of the honey-bags may be retained, they still remain pure and unaltered by the digestive powers. Mr Polhill, a gentleman to whom the public are indebted for several articles in Rees's Cyclopædia' appertaining to bees, is also of this opinion. Messrs

the vats of the cider and wine-maker.

Reaumur has likewise remarked that, in each honey-cell, there is a cream-like layer covering, of a thicker consistence than the honey itself, which apparently serves to retain the more liquid collections that may from to time be introduced under it. Messrs Kirby and Spence say that, if honey were the unaltered nectar of flowers, it would be difficult to conceive how this cream could be collected in proper proportions. This observation is made in consequence of their presuming that some of this creamlike covering is conveyed into the cells with each deposition of fresh honey, and it has been supposed, that this cream was the last portion disgorged. According to an article in Rees's Cyclopædia,' probably written by Mr Polhill, this cream-like matter is formed at the very first, and every addition of honey is deposited beneath it. The bee, entering into the cell as deeply as possible, puts forward its anterior pair of legs, and with them pierces a hole through the crust, or cream; while this hole is kept open by the feet, the bee disgorges the honey, in large drops, from its mouth; these, falling into the hole, mix with the whole mass below; the bee, before it flies off, new models the crust, and closes up the hole. This mode of proceeding is regularly adopted by every bee that contributes to the general store.

The power of regurgitation in the bee is very remarkable its alimentary organs, like those of the pigeon, besides being subservient to the purpose of nutriment, afford it a temporary store-room or reservoir. Ruminating animals may be considered as regurgitating animals, though in them the operation is performed for different purposes. In some, it is exercised for the purpose of digesting the food-in others, for feeding the young; but in bees, its use is to enable them to disburden themselves of the honey which they gather for the winter's store of the community.

Highland honey was often of a dirty brownish colour, which was supposed to be given to it by the "blooming heather," as Burns calls it; the people of Edinburgh, however, though great consumers of it, never complain of any ill-effects from it. It produced upon the Doctor a soporific effect. The most innocent honey will often disagree with those who take it in large quantities, or who have irritable bowels. The mischievous qualities of honey have been said to be destroyed by boiling and straining, or even by long keeping only; yet when made into metheglin it has been found as deleterious as ever.

The finest flavoured and most delicate honey is that which is collected from aromatic plants, and has been stored in clean new cells: it has been usually called virgin-honey, as though it were elaborated by a fresh swarm of bees; but this is not essential to the perfection of honey; for, provided the cells in which it is deposited have never contained either brood or farina, it is not material whether it have been collected by swarms or by old stocks: the season and the flowers having been the same, the quality of the honey will, in both cases, be alike. F. Lamberti asserts, that the best honey in the world is produced in Pontus, and that its superiority is attributable to the greater quantity of balm growing there. In this quarter of the world the Narbonne honey is regarded as the finest, owing to the rosemary which abounds in the neighbourhood of Narbonne. "The honey, for which Narbonne is so deservedly celebrated, is every year diminishing. Bees have ceased to be an object of attention to the peasantry; they now devote their time to the vineyards, and neglect the bees. The flowers of the wild plants in the neighbourhood of Narbonne are highly aromatic, and give the flavour which is peculiar to its honey: this peculiarity is attributed exclusively to the wild rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis."—(Dappe's Miscellaneous Observations and Opinions on the Continent, 1825.') Attempts are said to have been made to imitate Narbonne honey, by adding to other honey an infusion of rosemary flowers.

The quality of honey varies with the time of gathering, and that, even, though the whole, season The collection at the honey of the year, the flowers being then most may have been favourable. commencement of summer is regarded as the prime abundant, and in the full glow of health; and that which is collected in spring is superior to the gleaning of autumn.

Of the power which some flowers possess of imparting deleterious qualities to their honey, I have already spoken in the chapter on pasturage. I will here add, however, what has been said of the appearance of the pernicious kind of honey. It is usually distinguished from what is innocent, by its crimson or reddish brown colour, its better flavour, and thicker consistence; but in Florida and Carolina, it is so similar, in all respects, to innocent honey, that the hunters depend upon experience only, and, knowing that bad honey soon shows its effect, they at first eat very sparingly. The converse of this would appear in the blood-red honey found by Mr Bruce at Dixan, in Abyssinia, to which he ascribes no evil properties. (Travels to the Nile,' vol. v.) Linnæus informs us, that, in Sweden, the honey of autumn is principally gathered from the flowers of the erica or heath, and that it has a reddish cast. The honey of our native heaths is also of the same colour. Dr Barton has observed that, during his residence at Edinburgh, the

Heber states that the secretion of honey and the formation of wax are singularly promoted by electricity: hence the works may always be observed to advance rapidly when there is a southerly wind, a moist warm air, and an impending storm; whereas the secretion is impeded and sometimes suspended, by long protracted droughts, cold rains, and a northerly wind.

Prime honey is of a whitish colour, an agreeable smell, a pleasant taste, and a thick consistence. When taken from the combs it is in a fluid state, but gradually thickens by age, and in cold weather, if genuine, becomes firm and solid. In England, it has seldom, if ever, been known to assume this solid state while in the hives; and even out of them, if it remain in the combs, it will preserve its clearness, purity, and fine flavour, for at least a year. honey of tropical climates is always in a fluid state.

The

Much of the fine flavour of honey will depend on the manner of its separation from the comb. That will be the most delicate which flows spontaneously from the purest and whitest combs; the next in excellence will be that which is expressed without heat; and the coarsest, that which is obtained by the aid of heat and pressure.

Care should be taken in the selection of the vessels

com

used for storing honey; the most appropriate are jars of stone ware, called Bristol ware. The principal constituents of sugar and honey are the same, viz. hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen. Besides these, their common elements, honey contains mucilage and extractive matter, and also an excess of oxygen: in plain English, honey posseses a greater portion of acid than is contained in sugar, and in a state more capable of acting upon those bodies with which it comes in contact. From this arises the reason for my recommending stone jars for its preservation: the acid of the honey, acting upon the lead with which every other kind of earthen ware is glazed, causes the honey to receive an impregnation from it, which may prove injurious to those whose constitutions are delicate; the stone ware, being glazed with common salt, cannot municate any injurious property to the honey which is stored in it. Honey should be kept in a cool and dry situation, as warmth promotes fermentation and generates a sensible acidity. The circumstance of honey, when separated from the combs and put into jars, being disposed to ferment in a temperature much below the usual heat of the hive, is calculated to excite our admiration of the instinctive intelligence of the bee, which leads it to distribute its treasure in small cells and to seal them closely over, whereby the honey can be preserved from fermentation for a long period, even in a high temperature. The Jews of Moldavia and the Ukraine, prepare from honey a sort of sugar, which is solid, and as white as snow, which they send to the distilleries at Dantzic. They expose the honey to frost for three weeks, in some places where neither sun nor snow can reach it, and in a vessel which is a bad conductor of caloric, by which process, the honey, without being congealed, becomes clear and hard like sugar.

Prior to the discovery of sugar, honey must have been an article of great utility; and, notwithstanding that discovery, if we may judge from the quantity imported into this country, and the price at which it sells when of fine quality, it may still be regarded as a commodity of great importance, and worthy of more attention from our rural population than it generally obtains. In the Ukraine, some of the peasants have four or five hundred hives each, and find their bees more profitable than their corn. This is a number, however, which, I should think, would overstock most districts, and which could only be supported naturally by having recourse to transportation. This seems to be evinced by the inhabitants of Egypt, France, Savoy, Piedmont, and other places availing themselves of that practice, as already stated.

The most productive parts of this kingdom, in all probability, are the borders of Cambridgeshire, Hertfordshire, and part of Hampshire, which, abounding in heaths, commons, and woods, afford so much pabulum for bees, as to enable some of the farmers to have from 100 to 150 stocks of them, the largest number that I have ever heard of in this kingdom.

On the subject of overstocking, M. Espinasse says, that few parts of England which he has visited afford flowers in sufficient profusion and of sufficient variety to support numerous colonies. "In the village," says he, "where my house is situated, many persons, induced by my example, produced bees; they were too numerous for what was to feed them; more than one half of them died in the ensuing winter, and nearly one third of my own were with difficulty saved with feeding." The proprietor of bees may know whether or not his situation is overstocked, if he will

attend to the produce of his apiary for several years

together.

ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.

THE author of the Lounger's Common-Place Book' says there have been two songs written on the following adventure, but that they are bad. We have an impression upon our memory, that we have seen a good song upon it, though we cannot remember where,-probably in Mr Allan Cunningham's collection of the Songs of Scotland. We should be obliged to any correspondent who could find it for us. subject, one would think, is too affectingly true, not to have called forth some corresponding strain.

The

Adam Fleming, the son of a little farmer, during the reign of Mary, inheriting from nature an attractive person and a vigorous mind, and receiving, from the kindness of a maternal uncle an education superior to what is generally bestowed on persons of his rank in society, had won the affections of a beautiful and wealthy heiress in the shire of Dumfries. But, as it seldom happens that we can enjoy any pleasure or any happiness without exciting envy or discontent in those who are less fortunate or less deserving, the preference given to Fleming by Helena Irving, before a host of visitors, excited in one of the disappointed candidates inveterate malignity, and vows of vengeance. Observing that a favourite evening walk of the lovers was on the banks of the Kirtle, a romantic little stream, skirted with shrubs and overhanging rocks, flowing in a serpentine course near the Abbey of Kirkconnel, the villain procured a carbine, and at their accustomed hour concealed himself in a thicket near the place. The fond pair soon approaching, he levelled the instrument of death at his unsuspecting rival; but occasioning, as he moved, a rustling of the leaves, Helena turned quickly round, saw his deadly purpose, and defeated it by throwing herself before her lover; but, in preserving him, she received the contents of the gun in her own bosom, and sunk a bloody and lifeless corse into his

arms.

Neither love nor justice admitted a moment's deJay: placing his murdered mistress gently on a bank, Adam pursued the flying, the cowardly assassin with the fury of a hungry lion; soon overtook him, and seizing the merciless ruffian by the hair of his head, planted a dagger in his heart. The report of the piece, and the cries of the dastardly fugitive drawing several peasants to the spot, Fleming, instead of submitting his conduct to the justice of his country, which must have considered it as a justifiable homicide, and without well knowing what he sought, fled towards the sea-coast, where he saw a vessel outward bound; throwing himself into a boat, he went on board, made a confidant of the captain, and sailed with him to Lisbon.

Careless of life, and probably wishing to shorten it, he entered into the service of the king of Portugal, and distinguished himself, in a military capacity, at some of the distant possessions of that monarch, in the Brazils. Receiving, after many years, ample rewards, and an honourable dismission, he resolved, in the spirit of the times, to expiate the crime of a murder, to which he received such urgent provocation, but for which he could not forgive himself, by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Having accomplished his purpose, he was anxious to pass the short space of life which remained in his native country; trusting for safety to the mercy or oblivion of his former neighbours. Soon after landing in Scotland, he determined to visit the spot where his beloved, his long-lost Helena was interred: worn down by years, sorrow, and the toils of war, and naturally agitated by recollecting the circumstances, and viewing the place of her death, his debilitated frame was not equal to such emotion: reaching with difficulty her tomb in the chapel of Kirkconnel, he sunk on the earth which covered her remains, and expired without a groan.

This little narrative, which the scrupulous critic may consider as the romantic fiction of a novelist, is founded on fact, supported by the evidence of authentic family documents in the possession of a worthy baronet, who resides near the spot, and corroborated by the remains of a monumental inscription in the chapel, which is now in ruins.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

Literature.']
This celebrated orator was born in the year 640,
being then ten years younger than Cotta and Sulpi-

cius.

early age of nineteen-that is, in 659: and his ex-
cellence, says Cicero, was immediately acknowledged,
like that of a statue by Phidias, which only requires

His first appearance at the bar was at the

to be seen in order to be admired. The case in which

he appeared was one of considerable responsibility for
one so young and inexperienced, being an accusation,
at the instance of the Roman province of Africa,
against its governors, for rapacity. It was heard
before Scævola and Crassus, as judges-the one the
ablest lawyer, the other the most accomplished speaker
of his age; and the young orator had the good for-
tune to obtain their approbation, as well as that of
all who were present at the trial. His next pleading
of importance was in behalf of Nicomedes, King of
Bythynia, in which he even surpassed his former
speech for the Africans. After this we hear little of
him for several years. The imminent perils of the
Social War, which broke out in 663, interrupted, in a
great measure, the business of the Forum. Hortensius
served in this alarming contest for one year as a volun-
teer, and in the following season as a military tribune.
When, on the re-establishment of peace in Italy, in
666, he returned to Rome, and resumed the more
peaceful avocations to which he had been destined
from his youth, he found himself without a rival.
Crassus, as we have seen, died in 662, before the
troubles of Marius and Sylla. Antony, with other
orators of inferior note, perished in 666, during
the temporary and last ascendancy of Marius, in the
absence of Sylla. Salpicius was put to death in the
same year, and Cotta driven into banishment, from
which he was not recalled until the return of Sylla to
Rome, and his election to the dictatorship, in 670.
Hortensius was then left for some years without a
competitor, and, after 670, with none of eminence but
Cotta, whom also he soon outshone. His splendid,
warm, and animated manner, was preferred to the
calm and easy elegance of his rival.
when engaged in a cause on the same side, Cotta,
then ten years senior, was employed to open the case,
while the more important parts were left to the
management of Hortensius. He continued the un-
disputed sovereign of the Forum, till Cicero returned
to his quartership in Sicily, in 689, where the talents
of that orator first displayed themselves in full perfec-
tion and maturity. Hortensius was thus, from 666
till 679, at the head of the Roman bar; and being,
in consequence, engaged, during that long period, on
one side or other, in every cause of importance, he soon
amassed a prodigious fortune. He lived, too, with a
magnificence corresponding to his wealth.
An ex-

Accordingly,

ample of splendour and luxury had been set to him
by the orator Crassus, who inhabited a sumptuous
palace in Rome, the hall of which was adorned with
pillars of Hymettian marble, twelve feet high, which
he brought to Rome in his ædileship, at a time when
there were no pillars of foreign marble even in the
public buildings. The court of this mansion was
particularly ornamented by six lotus trees, which
Pliny saw in full luxuriance in his youth, but which
were afterwards burned in the conflagration in the
time of Nero. He had also a number of vases, and two
drinking cups, engraved by the artist, Mentor, but
which were of such immense value that he was ashamed
to use them. Hortensius had the same tastes as Crassus,
but he surpassed him and all his contemporaries in
magnificence. His house at Rome, which was splen-
didly furnished, formed the centre of the chief impe-
rial palace, which increased from the time of Augus-
tus to that of Nero, till it nearly covered the whole
Palatine Mount, and branched over other hills.
sides his mansion in the capitol, he possessed sump-
tuous villas at Tusculum, Bauli, and Laurentum,
where he was accustomed to give the most elegant
and expensive entertainments. He had frequently
peacocks at his banquets, which he first served up at
a grand augural feast, and which, says Varro, were
more commended by the luxurious than by men of
probity and austerity. His olive plantations, he is
said to have regularly moistened and bedewed with
wine; and, on one occasion, during the hearing of an
important cause, in which he was engaged along with
Cicero, begged that he would change with him the
previously arranged order of pleading, as he was
obliged to go to the country to pour wine on a favour-
ite platanus, which grew near his Tusculan villa.
Notwithstanding this profusion, his heir found not
less than 10,000 casks of wine in his cellar, after his

Be

death. Besides his taste for wine and fondness for
plantations, he indulged a passion for pictures and
fish-ponds. At his Tusculan villa, he built a hall for
the reception of a painting of the expedition of the
Argonants, by the painter Cydias, which cost the
enormous sum of one hundred and forty-four thou-
sand sesterces. At his country seat, near Bauli, on

the sea-shore, he vied with Lucullus and Philippus in the extent of his fish-ponds, which were constructed at immense cost, and so formed that the tide flowed into them. Under the promontory of Bauli, travellers are yet shown the Piscina Mirabilis, a subterraneous edifice, vaulted and divided by four rows of arcades, and which is supposed by some antiquaries to have been a fish-pond of Hortensius. Yet, such supply, that when he gave entertainments at Bauli, was his luxury, and his reluctance to diminish his he generally sent to the neighbouring town of Puteoli, to buy fish for supper. He had a vast number of fishermen in his service, and paid so much attention large stock of small fish to be devoured by the great to the feeding of his fish, that he had always ready a

ones.

persuaded to part with any of them; and Varro deIt was with the utmost difficulty he could be clares that a friend could more easily get his chariotmules out of his stable, than a mullet from his ponds.

He was more anxious about the welfare of his fish than the health of his slaves, and less solicitous that a

sick servant might not take what was unfit for him, than that his fish might not drink water which was unwholesome. It is even said that he was so passionately fond of a particular lamprey, that he shed tears for its untimely death.

The gallery at the villa, which was situated on the little promontory of Bauli, and looking towards Puteoli, commanded one of the most delightful views in Italy. The inland prospect, towards Cumæ, was magnificent and extensive. Puteoli was seen along

the shore at the distance of thirty stadia, in the direction of Pompeii; and Pompeii itself was invisible only from its distance. The sea view was unbounded; it was enlivened by the numerous vessels sailing across the bay, and the ever changeful hue of its waters, now saffron, azure, or purple, according as the breeze blew, or the sun ascended or declined.

Hortensius's villa at Laurentum, which also commanded a distant prospect of the sea, rivalled, in its sylvan pomp, the marine luxuries of Bauli. This mansion lay between Ostia and Lavinium, near the spot where the town of Paterno now stands, and contiguous to the still more celebrated residence afterwards possessed by the younger Pliny. Around were the walks and gardens of patrician villas; on one side was the village of Laurentum, with its public baths; on the other, but at a greater distance, the town of Ostia. Near the house were groves, and fields covered with herds-beyond were hills clothed with woods, and magnificent mountains bounded the horizon.

Hortensius had here a wooded park of fifty acres, encompassed with a wall. This enclosure he called a nursery of wild beasts, all of which came for their provender at a certain hour, on the blowing of a horn, an exhibition with which he was accustomed to villa. Varro mentioned an entertainment where those amuse the guests who visited him at his Laurentian invited supped upon an eminence, called a Triclinium, in this sylvan park. During the repast, Hortensius summoned his Orpheus, who, having come with his musical instruments, and being ordered to display his talents, blew a trumpet, when such a multitude of deer, boars, and other quadrupeds rushed to the spot from all quarters, that the sight appeared to the delighted spectators as beautiful as the courses with wild animals in the great circus of the Ediles.

The elegance of Hortensius procured him not only all this wealth and luxury, but the highest official honours of the state. He was Edile in 679, Prætor in 682, and Consul two years afterwards. The wealth and dignities he had obtained, and the want of competition, made him gradually relax from that assiduity by which they had been acquired, till the increasing fame of Cicero, and particularly the glory of his consulship, stimulated him to renew his exertions. But his habits of labour had been in some degree lost, and he never again recovered his former reputation. Cicero partly accounts for this decline, from the peculiar nature and genius of his eloquence. It was of that showy species called Asiatic, which flourished in the Greek colonies of Asia Minor, and was infinitely more florid and ornamental than the oratory of Athens, or even Rhodes, being full of brilliant thoughts and sparkling expressions. This glowing style of rhetoric, though deficient in solidity and weight, was unsuitable to a young man; and being further recommended by a beautiful cadence of periods, met with the utmost applause. But Hortensius, as he advanced in life, did not correct this exuberance, nor adopt a chaster eloquence; and this luxury and glitter of phraseology, which, even in his earliest years, had occasionally excited ridicule or disgust among the graver fathers of the senatorial order, being totally inconsistent with his advanced age and consular dignity, which required something more serious and composed, his reputation diminished with increase of years; and though the bloom of his eloquence might be in fact the same, it appeared to be somewhat withered. Besides, from his declining health and strength, which greatly failed in his latter years, he may not have been able to have given full effect to that showy species of rhetoric in which he indulged. A constant tooth-ache and swellings in the jaws,

not

« ПретходнаНастави »