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and glossy, my complexion brunette, clear and smooth. My features are regular, and the form of my face oval. My eyes are fine; a certain mixture in their colour renders them bright and sparkling. My nose is well formed; my mouth, though not small, agreeable; and my lips of a good colour. My teeth, exquisitely white and well arranged, are the finest in the world. My neck is beautiful, nor need I blush to display my hands and arms. My air is lovely and delicate. My glass persuades me that I see nothing superior, if equal, to the image which it presents me. My appearance is youthful, my dress neat and tasteful. Such is my exterior form.
Others possibly are the best judges of our minds, since there is no mirror that reflects them faithfully. I am, nevertheless, persuaded that mine does not disgrace my person. It appears to me that I possess judgment to estimate things properly, though not by acquired knowledge. My mind is at once penetrating, delicate, solid, and reasonable. I profit little by the wit of others, and succeed better when guided by my own discernment than by the rules of art; I, therefore, use only my native good sense. I have frequently heard it observed (though, I confess, not without doubts of its truth), that, in conversation with me, time passes more rapidly than in other society; and that, on serious subjects, my sentiments are worthy of being adopted. Of my humour I shall speak with the same sincerity. I love praise, and return, with interest, the compliments paid to me; and, though somewhat haughty and scornful, I can be soft and conciliating. I neither oppose nor contradict the opinions of others, and I keep my own reserved. I can with truth say that I was born modest and discreet, while pride has preserved in me these qualities. I am not only proud, but indolent; and these defects have been productive of others. I take no pains to court favour, not even by flattery. I neither trouble myself to seek pleasure or amusement; yet to those who are at the pains to procure them for me I hold myself greatly obliged. I appear lively and gay, but in moderation. I take care to offend no persons, unless they wilfully call it upon themselves; and even then I avenge myself by raillery rather than by serious anger. I have no turn for intrigue; yet, should I engage in one, I am convinced I should conduct myself with prudence and discretion. I am resolute, persevering to obstinacy, and secret to excess. In one respect, I own myself the most unjust of human beings: I wish evil to those who comform not to my desires. Such as are desirous of forming a friendship with me must be at the trouble of making all the advances. In return, I make them amends, and omit no opportunity of doing them service; I defend them against their adversaries, I speak in their praise, and sanction nothing which might prove detrimental to their interest. Time, which effaces impressions from the minds of others, gives strength to mine. I am truly disinterested, but not easily duped. I never choose a friend because he can do me a service; but should he neg lect the opportunity when it occurs, I regard him no longer-he forfeits my friendship. I have not sufficient virtue to disregard wealth and honours, but enough to be satisfied and resigned to my lot. To say truth, I am neither good nor bad enough to serve myself. I am not devout, though I have through life desired to become so. I am greatly affected by the merits of others, and apt to over-rate my own; but my presumption extends but to the qualities of the heart. I am long in deliberating; but, when once resolved, it is difficult to divert me from my purpose. I strictly observe a promise, and do not easily pardon a breach of faith in others. In asking favours for myself, I cannot persist. I had rather resign my expectations than obtain them by servility. My attachment and fidelity are secured by gratitude rather than by hope. Many of my faults proceed from pride; none from meanness. If unable to conquer the pride which governs my actions, I direct it to those purposes which capacitate me to appear without blushing.
Confessions of this nature, (says Miss Hays,) notwithstanding the egotism they may display, are always interesting. Madame de Bregy preserved her charms and her talents to an advanced age, and died at Paris April 3, 1693. She was interred with her husband at St Gervais, and an epitaph inscribed over their remains.
AN article on this subject in the second volume of the Penny Cyclopædia, just published, refers to one in the Foreign Quarterly Review, from which we had some time ago made an extract for publication, and which we here give our readers. "There is more in heaven and earth" than is "dreamt of" in most people's "philosophy," those of the philosophers themselves not cxcepted; and like the German poet, with whose wisdom we have been lately adorning our pages, we are not fond of seeing any speculation, in
teresting to man's nature, prejudged or hastily ridiculed. The possibilities of truth, however, may be ill-treated by another sort of haste and presumption; and in the curious instance before us, a genuine philosophist and quack seems exposed, in all the knavery of his solemn trifling.
Hell, a Jesuit, had rendered himself very celebrated by the number of his magnetic cures, and about the year 1774 communicated his experiments and success to Mesmer, under whom the theory was to assume a new form, and the practice to become so extended as to attract universal attention, exercise the ingenuity and research of physical enquirers, and obtain the honour of a special investigation from the French Royal Academy of Sciences, and other learned bodies.
Mesmer had commenced his career by publishing, in 1766, a dissertation on "The Influence of the Planets on the Human Body," in which he maintained, that, as the sun and moon cause and direct on our globe the flux and reflux of the sea, so these exercise on all the component parts of organized bodies, and particularly on the nervous system, a similar influence, producing in them two different states, which he termed intension and remission, and which seemed to him to account for the different periodical revolutions observable in several maladies in different ages, sexes, &c. The property of the animal body, which rendered it susceptible of this influence, he termed animal magnetism. Hell's observation seemed to him to throw new light on his theory, and having caused the Jesuit to make him some magnets of a peculiar form, he determined on a set of experiments which should give some certainty to his ideas. Expect a miracle, and it will be sure to happen. Mesmer has the good fortune to meet with a young lady called. Oesterline, suffering under a convulsive malady, the symptoms of which exactly coincided with his new theory. The attacks were periodical, and attended by a rush of blood to the head, causing severe pain, followed by delirium, vomiting, and syncope. How far these attacks were connected with the state of the moon he does not mention, but he soon succeeded in reducing them under his system of planetary influence, so that he was enabled to foretel the periods of accession and remission. Having thus discovered the cause of the disease, it struck him that his discovery would be perfect, and lead to a certain mode of cure, if he could ascertain "that there existed between the bodies which compose our globe, an action equally reciprocal and similar to that of the heavenly bodies, by means of which he could imitate artificially the periodical revolutions of the flux and reflux before mentioned." Of course, as he only wanted this little matter to complete so great a theory, he could not fail to find it; and he soon announced that this material influence did exist, but in some way, for which he does not clearly account, his own body had come to be the principal depôt in which it centred, and from which it could be communicated to all others. Thus, when M. Ingenhousy came with him to see Mademoiselle Oesterline in a fit, he found that he might touch any part of her body without appearing to produce in her sensation; but when Mesmer, taking him by the hands, communicated to him animal magnetism, and then sent him back to make fresh trials, he found that now the simple pointing of his finger was sufficient to cause convulsive motions.
Henceforth animal magnetism was distinctly and definitely separated from mineral magnetism; and though Mesmer continued for some time to use magnets in his experiments, it was not on account of their own inherent power, but of the quality which he attributed to them of being conductors of the newly discovered influence: in 1776 he discontinued their use altogether. Finding his discoveries rather undervalued at Vienna, where they had been ridiculed by Stoerk and Ingenhousy, whom, in turn, Mesmer denominated "petty experiment-maker to the ladies of the court," he set out on an experimental tour through Swabia and Switzerland, where he found a formidable rival in father John Joseph Garner, already celebrated for casting out devils, which he held to be the primary causes of most diseases. Mesmer, however, showed much of that tact which has distinguished his followers in similar difficulties, and in place of questioning the truth of Father Garner's cures, at once adopted them as facts, and declared them to be the evident results of the great power he had so lately discovered. He succeeded himself in healing an ophthalmia and a gutta serena, with due certificates of which achievements he returned to Vienna. Here he undertook to cure Mademoiselle Paradis of blindness and convulsions, and after magnetizing her for some time, declared her perfectly recovered. Barth, the oculist, went to see her, and declared her blind as ever, and her family found on her return home that the convulsions continued as before. This was a sad mistake; but Mesmer, whose great talent was unblushing effrontery, pronounced it a false report, got up to injure his fame, and asserted that the girl was quite well, and "that her family forced her to imitate convulsions and feign blindness." The cool impudence of this was a little too much, and Mesmer found it
convenient to leave Vienna, and after some consider. ation determined that his next appearance should be at Paris. Here, as M. Virey informs us, he commenced modestly; he addressed himself to the savans and physicians, and explained to them his system, without, however, making any converts; he then sought for patients, and pretended to have made some cures, but as he did not attract much attention, he published his "Memoir on the Discovery of Animal Magnetism," the same work from which we have already quoted. In this he announces twenty-seven general propositions, asserting not only the existence of a magnetic fluid, as before described, but of an antimagnetic, which was so powerful in the bodies of some persons that their very presence was sufficient to prevent the operation of the magnetic power even in others. The utility of this new power is quite obvious, as it afforded him a ready means of accounting for the failure of any of his experiments. He now addressed himself to M. le Roi, president of the Académie des Sciences, and various negociations were set on foot for a public inquiry into his system, which Mesmer always managed to break off when they were coming to anything decisive. It was not, however, until Deslon, a French physician of some eminence, had announced himself a convert, and joined Mesmer in the practice of magnetism, that it acquired much renown. Their method of operating was as follows:
In the centre of the room was placed a vessel of an oval or circular shape, about four feet in diameter and one deep. In this were laid a number of bottles disposed in radii, with their necks directed outwards, well corked and filled with magnetized water. Water was then poured into a vessel so as to cover the bottles, and occasionally pounded glass or filings of iron were added to the water. This vessel was termed the baquet. From its cover, which was pierced with many holes, issued long, thin, moveable rods of iron, which could be applied by the patients to the affected part. Besides, to the ring of the cover was attached a cord which, when the patients were seated in a circle, was carried round them all, so as to form a chain of connexion; a second chain was formed by the union of their hands, and it was recommended that they should sit so close as that those adjoining should touch by their knees and feet, which was supposed wonderfully to facilitate the passage of the magnetic fluid. In addition to this, the magnetists went round, placed themselves en rapport with the patients, embraced them between the knees, and gently rubbed them down along the course of the nerves, using gentle pressure over different regions of the chest and abdomen. The effect of such treatment on delicate women might have been foretold, but it was not left to work alone.
The house which Mesmer inhabited was delightfully situated. His rooms were spacious and sumptuously furnished, stained glass and coloured blinds shed
a dim religious light," mirrors gleamed at intervals along the walls, a mysterious silence was preserved, delicate perfumes floated in the air, and occasionally the melodious sounds of the harmonica or the voice came to lend their aid to his magnetic powers. His salons became the daily resort of all that was brilliant and spirituel in the Parisian fashionable world. Ladies of rank, whom indolence, voluptuous indulgence, or satiety of pleasures, had filled with vapours or nervous affections-men of luxurious habits, enervated by enjoyment, who had drained sensuality of all that it could offer, and gained in return a shattered constitution and premature old age-came in crowds to seek after the delightful emotions and novel sensations which this mighty magician was said to dispense. They approached with imaginations heated by curiosity and desire; they believed because they were ignorant; and this belief was all that was required for the action of the magnetic charm. The women, always the most ardent in enthusiasm, first experienced yawnings, stretchings, then slight nervous spasms, and finally, crises of excitation, according as the assistant magnetizers (jeunes hommes beaux et robustes comme des Hercules) multiplied and prolonged the soft passes or attouchemens, by which the magnetic influence was supposed to be communicated. The emotions once begun were soon transmitted to the rest, as we know one hysterical female, if affected, will induce an attack in all other similarly predisposed in the same apartment. In the midst of this strange scene entered Mesmer, clothed in a long-flowing robe of lilaccoloured silk, richly embroidered with golden flowers, and holding in his hand a long white wand. Advancing with an air of authority and magic gravity, he seemed to govern the life and movements of the individuals in crises. Women panting were threatened with suffocation, they must be unlaced; others tore the walls or rolled themselves on the ground with strong spasms in the throat, and occasionally uttering loud shrieks, the violence of the crises must be moderated. He approached, traced over their bodies certain lines with his wand; they became instantly calm, acknowledged his power, and felt streams of cold or burning vapours through their entire frames according to the directions in which he waved his hand.
Mesmer now was in a fair way; he had obtained
notoriety, he was the subject of general conversation; hend those productions of human genius and skill, even where the design is very simple, a powerful immoney, which he eagerly coveted, was flowing on which are more or less addressed to the sentiment of pression on the imagination may be excited from him, and he was even offered a handsome pension
They are first employed in embellishing magnitude, proportion, or other causes. In such and the order of St Michael, if he had made any real objects of mere utility, but their highest office is to cases, however, it will still be evident, that we lose discovery in medicine, and would communicate it to meet our impression of beauty, or sublimity, however sight of the laborious means in the absorbing imphysicians nominated by the king. This scrutiny acquired, by imitative or adequate representation, pression of the effect, and the art thus regains its was exactly what Mesmer most dreaded; accordingly, The capacity of the human mind for receiving such dignity. It would be an invidious as well as a diffiin place of accepting the offer, he suddenly affected impressions, whether directly from nature or through cult task to assign the precise order in which paintwonderful magnanimity, spoke of his disregard of the medium of the arts, depends greatly on civiliza- ing, architecture, sculpture, and music, would folmoney compared with his love of science, his philan- tion, and that leisure which supposes that first wants low poetry and its sister, eloquence; but it may be thropy, and his desire to have his great discovery ac- are satisfied; but there exists no state of society, remarked, that the union of the arts is a hazardous knowledged and patronized by government; then, however ignorant, in which some symptoms of taste experiment, and is often destructive of their effect. breaking off the negociation, set off abruptly for Spa, . and some attempts to arrest the beautiful are not to The drama itself, which unites poetry with many where he had the mortification to hear that Deslon be met with, the difference between such efforts and characteristics of the formative arts, and with music, had succeeded to his business, and all his emoluments the most refined productions is a difference only in is in constant danger of violating the first principle at Paris. To console him for this misfortune, Ber- degree; the fact of the existence of the arts in some of style, viz. the consistency of its conventions, and gasse, one of his patients, proposed opening a sub- form may be always taken for granted, and it would in the more intimate union of poetry and music, the scription of 100 shares, at 100 louis each, the profits only remain to regulate their influence and direct latter, though the inferior art, is too independent and of wbich should be offered to him on condition that their capabilities aright.
too attractive to be a mere vehicle, and accordingly he would disclose his secret to the subscribers, who “ The arts are peculiarly interesting as human crca- usurps the first place." were to have it in their power to make what use they tions. They are composed of nature operating on hupleased of it. Mesmer readily embraced the proposal man sympathies, and reflected through a human meand returned to Paris, where the subscription was dium; and as nations, like individuals, present eversoon filled; and, the generosity of the subscribers varying modification, so the free growth of the fine arts
BETTY BOLAINE, exceding their promises, he received no less a sum partakes of all these varieties, and may be compared to than 340,000 livres. Among his pupils were La the bloom of a plant, true to its developing causes Fayette, d'Epremenil, and M. Bergasse, to whom he whatever they may be, and nurtured in the first O Betty Bolaine! with the days that have been, was indebted for the whole plan.
instance by the soil from which it springs. In bar- Thy figure grotesque, and the crowd it drew after, Numerous writings now appeared on each side. barous or degenerate nations, the sentiment of the
Are gone from the streets where thy satins were seen, M. Count de Gebelin, author of the Monde Pri- beautiful has ever been attained only in the lowest mitif,” professed himself cured by magnetism, and be- degree, while a false excitement founded on a sup
Where thy coming along tickled grief into laughter. came one of its most enthusiastic supporters, but, un- pression of the feeling of nature, may be said to have
The world was then bursting on me but a scion, fortunately dying soon after, revealed to a post-mortem usurped the place of the sublime. We smile at the examination that his kidneys were in a complete state simple attempt of the savage to excite admiration by
And all things were wonders for childhood to of disorganization of long standing, and that there- the gaudiness of his attire; but we should shudder fore the magnetic cure had no existence but in his to contemplate the scenes wliich his fortitude or ob- Now far from the city where thou wert a lion, imagination. About the same time, Berthollet, the duracy can invest with the attributes of sublimity.
My fancy still teems with the forms it first fell on. celebrated chemist, who had gone so far as to become The just value of life, the characteristic of that civi. one of Mesmer's pupils, announced in a pithy advertise. lization which reduces the defensive passions to their Old miserly maiden-so motly, so stately! ment, that the whole was a piece of quackery, and it is due limits, at the same time naturally elevates the
Thy issuing forth was the signal of muster, said even went so far as to threaten his master with a sources of gratification by pointing out the pleasure caning for having imposed on him. But it was at of the mind as distinguished from those of the sense ;
We measured our footsteps by thy steps sedately, length determined that a serious examination should and the perception of the beautiful is in its turn the And we stared and we dogg'd thee like lambs in a take place, the king directed the attention of the Aca- cause, as it is in some degree the result, of the
cluster. démie des Sciences, to the subject, and a committee rational enjoyment life. of investigation was appointed, of which' Bailly, Frank
“ The great use of the arts is thus to humanise and Thy lace, and thy trimmings -- thy mantle - thy lin, Lavoisier, and others, were members, Mesmer refine, to purify enjoyment, and, when duly appre
skirtat once perceived his danger, refused all communica
ciated, to connect the perception of physical beauty tion with the commissioners, and absented himself
Thy high heels -- thy buckles—thy bonnet and with that of moral excellence; but it will at once be from the inquiry. His presence, however, was not scen that this idea of usefulness is in a great measure
plume, required. M. Deslon, who had long assisted in his
distinct from the ordinary meaning of the terın Long centuries ago perhaps moved in a court, practice, known his theory, and produced the same as applicable to the production of human ingenuity. Or they fell from some spectre sent back to her effects, was either more sincere or more silly than his A positive use results, indeed, indirectly from the
tomb. master. He laid open to the commissioners all cultivation of the formative arts, precisely in prothe proceedings, displayed all his varieties of convul.
portion as their highest powers are developed: for O Betty, thy gaze was on vacancy rollid; sions, crises, and cures, and enabled them to convince
it will be found that at all times when the grandest themselves and every rational person that Mesmer style of design has been practised with success,
For the eye of thy mind was on robbers that roamwas a bold charlatan, and Deslon a clever dupe. and particularly when the human figure has been
Upon bolts-upon chests-upon silver and gold; Their report, which presents one of the most beautiful duly studied, the taste thus acquired from the And 'twas only thy body that wandered from home. examples of judicious experiment and clear logical
source of the beautiful has gradually influenced deduction, has been so often reprinted, and so gene. all kinds of manufactures. Again, as illustrating
Lone was thy passion, and strong was the flame. rally quoted, that it is unnecessary for us to do more science, the fine arts may be directly useful in
It fed thee-it sheltered-it clad thee in armour, than to repeat its conclusions.
the stricter sense, but this is not the application To turn back the arrows of scorn as they came; “ It shows that there is no proof of the existence which best displays their nature and value. The of a universal fluid, or magnetic power, except from
And it poured over thy pillow the song of the essence of the fine arts begins, where utility in its its effects on human bodies; that those effects can narrower acceptation ends. The abstract character
charmer. be produced without passes or other magnetic mani
of ornament is to be useless. That this principle pulations; that those manipulations alone are insuffi
Thro' the march of long years, on thy wall, on thy exists in nature we immediately feel in calling to cient to produce the effects, if employed without the mind the merely beautiful appearances of the visible
ceiling, patient's knowledge ; that, therefore, imagination world, and particularly the colours of flowers. In The sunbeam, the moonbeam, by turns took their will, and animal magnetism will not, account for the every case in nature where fitness or utility can be
sleep; results produced.”
traced, the characteristic quality or relative beauty of The commissioners also notice the effect of the the object is found to be identified with that fitness :
Say, Oshade of Bolaine, did not spirits come attouchemens in sensitive patients, and of imitation in -a union imitated as far as possible in the less de
stealing inducing many crises to follow the first.
corative part of architecture, furniture, &c. ; but Around thy lone couch, drawn by stillness so deep? We have now done with Mesmer : this report
where no utility, save that of conveying delight annihilated him.
(perhaps the bighest of all) exists, we recognize the Didst thou pierce to the verge of a world that is principle of absolute beauty. The fine arts in general
hidden ? may be considered the human reproduction of this
Did the air assume shape at thy mortal behest ? UTILITY AND BEAUTY -SPIRIT OF
principle. The question of their utility, therefore,
Didst thou pay back thy spirit in friendships This is another specimen of the goodness of the the beauties of nature. The agreeable facts of the
forbidden Penny Cyelopædia. The Diffusers of Knowledge adding a cların to existence, but they appeal to those
external world have not only the general effect of For life's thousand charities banished thy breast ? are accused of taking a merely mechanical and un
susceptibilities which are particularly human, and it O Betty Bolaine! Though thy history sink, philosophicial view of utility. But they here more becomes necessary to separate the instinctive feelings
Though thy wardrobe, unhonoured, be scattered than disprove the charge. The only objection to which we possess in common with the rest of the
like chaff; be made to this excellent article is referable perhaps
creation, from that undefinable union of sensibility
With the proudest-the bravest thou still art a link, to its closing remark about music; which is an art while it enlists the imagination as the auxiliary of Who couldst throw o'er thy shoulder the world that in its union with words in general may reas- beauty, is, in its highest influence, less allied to love
and its laugh! sonably, take, we think, the higher place, inferior as than admiration. It is this last feeling which the
+ noblest efforts of the arts aspire to kindle, which not it is to poetry in the abstract. For when music is only elevates the beautiful, but reduces ideas of
[Poor Betty, who has remained in our corresponsinging, the finest part of our senses takes the place fear and danger to the lofty sentiment of the sublime, dent's memory since childhood, in the shape of a of the more definite intellect, and nothing surely can which, as its objects become worthier, is the link be- fantastic spectre in a faded fine dress, appears to surpass the power of an affecting and enchanting air tween matter and mind, and which tends to ennoble
have been an old maid. Probably the same imagi. in awakening the very flower of emotion. On this
sympathy and encrease self-respect.
nation and the same imprisoned feelings, which account, we can well understand a startling saying are generally considered the most worthy in which
made her become a spectacle and a miser, would attributed to the great Mozart; that he did not care the mental labour employed and the mental pleasure have rendered her a natural and happy woman under for having excellent words to his music. He wanted produced are the greatest, and in which the manual different circumstances.-Edit.] only the names (as it were) of the passions.
labour or labour of any kind is least apparent. This own poetry supplied the rest.
test would justly place poetry first; but the criterion
should not be incautiously applied: for in architec“ The fine arts are generally understood to compre
ture, where human ingenuity is most apparent, and
To the Editor of the London Journal.
August 12th, 1834.
Allow me most sincerely to congratulate you upon the successful establishment of your London Journal, calculated as it is, in so eminent a degree, to further the object your writings have long shewn you to have at heart the advancement of your fellow countrymen (and country women too) in knowledge and happiness. * [Our warm-hearted correspondent here expands into a strain of approbation, which the more delightful it is to us, the more difficult it becomes to repeat.] Your papers on German literature-here you have opened a source inexhaustible indeed, and admirably you avail yourself of it-every lover of German literature must thank you for your remarks on the character of Goethe, so much talked of, and so little understood in this country; but on this subject, you must allow me a remark also. I agree with nearly all that you have said about him, and I particularly admire your candid avowal of your changing and dubious feeling; but I carry my admiration still further than you do (I allude to your qualifying remarks as to his political character and conduct, and yet my opinions on politics, as on many other matters, coincide, I believe, very much with yours, and, indeed, I am not unindebted to you with respect to their formation): in the first place, I cannot remember anything in those works of Goethe, with which it is my good fortune to be acquainted, which shew that he was opposed to "the abstract theory of the advancement of society," WITHOUT REFERENCE to the designs and plans of the revolutionists of his own day. Will you be kind enough to point out to me any passages which lead you to form this opinion? But if, as it appears to me, this political "inertia" of Goethe's really had reference to the revolutionary plans which, during his time, were so rife in Germany, did he not pursue precisely that course which, under all the circumstances, was pre-eminently
GOETHE AND LA FAYETTE.
In the 19th Number of your excellent Journal, speaking of Goethe and La Fayette, you say "there is no comparison between the powers of these two great men. Goethe, undoubtedly, was a man of far greater literary attainments than La Fayette; but whose mind was the more pure and exalted-who did more for the great and glorious work of Universal Freedom? It is not the powers a man has, it is the use he turns them to. Goethe seems to have had no feeling towards the advancement of his native Germany from the abject state in which it was, and is, but sat himself down contentedly, without endeavouring to effect a change.
There is one excuse for his not endeavouring to effect a change. He was born and brought up in the old system, was the favourite of a Duke, and it was his interest to remain as he did.
But what can be more noble than the disinterested conduct of La Fayette, born in France, when he saw the glorious cause of Freedom required him ;' he went to America to render his valuable assistance to the heroic Americans? What could be more disinterested than this? Who could turn his powers to a better purpose?
MR. D'ISRAELI AND ALBERTUS MAGNUS,
To the Editor of the London Journal.
Hampstead, 22d Aug. 1834. SIR,-I may as well begin by confessing that for the last one and twenty weeks, I have been longing to freight a sheet of note-paper with some of the secret produce of my little hermitage, and boldly to launch it into the dense sea of smoke beneath me, till it should be landed at your busy wharf, and garnered under your eye. I would have sent you a smile, but all the world has been smiling on you a sonnet, but you are growing formidable to sonnetteers: a tale of true adventure, but I wished not only to be, but to seem true: at last my mind is made up, and I am going to send you a little indignation. I might find it in my heart to upbraid you with the overrunning extent of some of your selections, which provoke me whenever they curtail the pure flow of your own wit; but, Sir, it is against the nature of these extracts that I now more seriously protest. You have burned incense on the shrines of art, poetry, and truth, and believe me the chiffonnier which Mr D'Israeli has built for his fame to stand upon is unworthy of you. I take the first sentence of your last extract (L. J. p. 165) as a specimen. The name of Albertus Magnus was not De Groot, but he belonged to the Bolstadt family, and was born at Lavingen, in Suabia, not in Holland as this bastard-Dutch appellation seems to imply. Albertus is never styled Grotius, nor was Hugo Grotius ever styled Magnus. In fact, the name Groot has nothing to do with the Philosopher of Cologne, and the word Groot has nothing to do with the idea of greatness, except in Low Dutch. That Albertus Magnus deserved his sirname, those who have read "Stella Clericorum" know. In that number I fear that Mr D'Israeli cannot be counted; but he might have known that Thomas Aquinas was the pupil, not the master, of this great man: it was Albert who first discovered the intellectual energies of the future Doctor, and who strengthened the early piety of the future Saint. Everybody knows that when the schoolfellows of the young Aquinas called him "the ox," from his apparent stupidity, Albert replied that "he was an ox who would astonish the world with his bellowing.'
the best? is it not the bane of almost all revolutionary movements that they are premature? that they are set in motion by a few active spirits long before the great bulk of the people are morally and mentally prepared for change? and can a mind of gigantic mould, like that of Goethe, be more nobly, more usefully employed, than in cultivating, morally and intellect ually, the minds of his fellow countrymen? in raising the national character, in conferring upon his country the inestimable benefit of a great national literature (and Goethe, as the great model, the master spirit of his age, did scarcely less), and thus laying the surest and most lasting basis of a brilliant futurity? Had those richly endowed men, who exercised so powerful an influence upon the first French revolution, thus employed themselves, might not these still, notwithstanding all drawbacks, inestimable advantages, which are accruing and will accrue from that event, have been obtained, perhaps indeed at a period somewhat later, but at how much less dreadful a cost? When again we consider the actual condition of that little state, of which Goethe was the ornament, and remember the character of the rule of its excellent and truly magnanimous monarch, and how under that rule it was steadily advancing in the only path to true greatness, can we think, with patience, of political intrigue and violent revolution? If we cannot, what must Goethe have thought of them? And where shall we find nobler patriotism than that displayed by Goethe upon the memorable approach of the French, described, I think, by Baron Fálk, and so vividly translated by Mrs Austin, in what you justly term her " delightful characteristics?"
Pardon, dear Mr Editor, the unreasonable length of this; but on such a subject it is difficult to stop, even though one's thoughts should have neither novelty nor value to recommend them. There are several other points on which I wished to say a word to you, but pressing matters demand my attention, and thus your patience will be spared.
Believe me, dear sir, yours most respectfully,
We are sent into the world to benefit one another,
August 16th, 1834.
[We give insertion to these two letters, in
question, will not take it amiss, if we here close the
Modern German Nobleman.-We should change our notion of the German nobleman: that ancient, thirsty, thick-headed, sixteen-quartered Baron, who still hovers in our minds, never did exist in such perfection, and is now as extinct as our own Squire Western. His descendant is a man of culture, other aims, and other habits. We question whether there is an aristocracy in Europe, which, taken as a whole, both in a public and private capacity, more honours art and literature, and does more both in public and private to encourage them. Excluded from society! What, we would ask, was Wieland's, Schiller's, Herder's, Johannes Müller's society? Has not Goethe, by birth a Frankfort burgher, been, since his twentysixth year, the companion not of nobles but of princes, and for half his life a minister of state? And is not this man, unrivalled in so many far deeper qualities, known also and felt to be unrivalled in nobleness of breeding and bearing; fit, not to learn of princes in this respect, but by the example of his daily life to teach them?- Carlyle.
Your extract goes on to mention the "Opus Magus" of Roger Bacon; but the title of that work is Opus Majus," in contra-distinction to the Opus Minus, and Opus Tertium of the same author. The two latter exist only in manuscript, the former was published a century ago by Dr Jebb: but they were all writings of solemn science, energetic freedom, and dignified truth, unmixed with the conceits which Mr d'Israeli dreams of: by the change of a letter (perhaps by a misprint), the name of a great work, which may be termed the first British Instauration, is converted into the barbarous denomination of a book of necromancy.
Yours very sincerely,
* Or Lawingen.
The treatise De Secretis' was written by Heinrich von Sachsen, one of Albert's pupils.
[We are loth to admit controversial matters, and hard words into this our most peaceful journal, even though tempted by able correspondents; though, as Mr D'Israeli is not very tender himself in such matters, he might be prepared for a little rough handling, and possibly take a pleasure in it. We have thought it best, however, to omit a passage at the close of this letter, especially as the mistake in the preceding paragraph originated with the London Journal, and not with Mr D'Israeli; being, as our correspondent conjectured, an error of the press. In future, we have reason for believing, these errors will be much less numerous than we regret to say they have been. As to Mr D'Israeli's book, we cannot but be thankful to a work which has furnished us so many extracts on subjects so curious; but we are conscious of having made both these, and extracts from other works, of late, somewhat too long; and mean to improve in that respect; as our present number, we trust, will testify.-Edit.]
The verses from Pinkney's Green next week. We should be glad to hear, on other subjects, from MARK LEMON. Those of the two papers sent us do not happen to suit our journal. for him at the publisher's.
The articles are left
IMPENNIS will not be forgotten. Nor Les Deux Amis. To judge from the ease, vivacity, and untiredness of the rhymes of our old acquaintance, Mr Wilson, of Hatton Garden, he ought to be one of the best dancers extant. We heartily wish success to his Ball, though we are unable to attend it.
LONDON: Published by H. HOOPER, 13, Pall Mall East. From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.
TO ASSIST THE ENQUIRING, ANIMATE THE STRUGGLING, AND SYMPATHIZE WITH ALL.
WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 10, 1834.
PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.
DANCING AND DANCERS.
leave the gout, and a thousand other ills beside you, My grave Lord Keeper led the brawls ;
come and sport a toe with me, at 18, Kirby street, His seal and maces danc'd before him. WHILE Tory genius boasts of its poetic Wilson, and Hatton garden
His high crown'd hat and satin doublet ornithology of his brother, and the fine arts of Wilson
Moved the stout heart of England's queen, " the English Claude,” the minor graces insist upon For you'll meet many there, who to doctors ne'er
Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it. having their Wilson too in the person of the eminent
Sir Christopher bequeathed his name to Hatton Mr Thomas Wilson, author of several dramatic pieces, Who enjoy health and spirit, from sporting a toe; Garden; so that Mr Wilson resides in fit neighbourand inductor of ladies and gentlemen into the Who neither want powder, pill, mixture, nor hood, and doubtless has visions of cavaliers and maids shapely and salutary art of dancing.
of honour in ruffs, “ sporting their toes" through his This old, though doubtless at the same time ever- But a partner and fiddle to set them in motion.” dreams by night. young acquaintance of ours, who has done us the
Our artist's vindication of the juvenility of dancers honour for several years past of making us acquainted Truly, we fear that the tip-end of Mr Wilson's in- at fifty, reminds us of a pleasant realization we exwith his movements, and inviting us to his balls, dignant bow strikes hard upon many a venerable gout, perienced the other day of a stage joke, nay, of a great which it has not been our good fortune to be able to and that these dancing philosophers of Kirby street improvement on it,-a Romance of Real Life. In attend, always sends us, with his invitations, a placard have the advantage of a great many otherwise sage one of Colman's farces, an old man hearing another of equal wit and dimensions, in which he takes pa- people who take pills instead of exercise, and think called old, and understanding he was only forty, extriotic occasion to set forth the virtues of his art. to substitute powders and lotions for those more an- claims “ Forty! quite a boy !” We heard this opinion He does not affect to despise its ordinary profits, in- cient usages, yelept the laws of the universe. Such, pronounced upon a man of sixty, by an old gentleman, come-wards. That would be a want of candour, as Mr Wilson tells us, was the philosophy of Socrates. who, we suppose, must be eighty, or thereabouts. It unbefitting the intireness of his wisdom. On the There can be no doubt of it; it was the philosophy was in an omnibus, in which he was returning from contrary, dancing being a liberal art, he is studious
of all his countrymen, the Greeks, with whom danc- a city dinner, jovial and toothless, his rosy gills gracto inculcate an equally liberal acknowledgment on ing formed a part of their very worship, and who had ing his white locks; an Anacreon in broad-cloth. the part of those who are indebted to it. But being figures accordingly, fit to go to church and thank Some friend of his was telling him of the death of an a man of a reflective turn of leg, and great animal heaven with. Bacchus himself, with them, was a acquaintance, and in answer to his question respectspirits, he omits no opportunity of shewing dancer, and a slender-waisted young gentleman. Such ing the cause of it, said he did not know, but that how good his art is for the happiness as well as was also the philosophy of Mr Wilson's brother poet, the deceased was “sixty years of age.” The remark the graces of his countrymen, how it renders them Soame Jenyns, a lively old gentleman of the last cen- seemed hardly to be an indiscretion in the ears of the light of spirit as well as body, shakes melancholy tury, who wrote a poem on the “ Art of Dancing,” venerable old boy, he considered it so very inapplicaout of their livers, and will not at all suffer them from which Mr Wilson should give us some extracts ble. “Sixty !” cried he, with a lisp that was really to be gouty. Nay, he says it is their own faults if in his next placard ; (we wish we had it by us); and robust; “ well, that's nothing you know, compared they grow old.
what is curious, and shows how accustomed these with life. Why, he was quite a boy.” We hardly dare to introduce, abruptly, the re- saltatory sages are to consider the interests of the Wilson. This must have been a dancer. marks on this head which form the commencement whole human being, spiritual as well as bodily, Mr Edit. Or a rider. of his present year's Exposé. But the energy of Mr Jenyns had a poetical precursor on that subject, who W. Well, horseback is a kind of dancing. Wilson's philanthropy forces its way through his ele- was no less a personage than a chief justice in the
Edit. Or a walker. gancies; the good to be done is a greater thing, in time of Elizabeth,—Sir John Davies, and who, like W. Well, walking is dancing too; that is to say, inis mind, even than the graces with which he invests himself, wrote also on religious matters, and the Im. good walking. You know, my dear sir, people are it; and in answer to his question, “Why don't every mortality of the Soul. Sir John, however, appears said to “ walk a minuet.” body dance ?” he says, in a passion of sincerity which not to have sufficiently practised his own precepts, Edit. But they say dancers are not good walkers. sweeps objection away with it,~" Because the Eng. for he died of apoplexy at fifty-seven,-a very crude W. How, sir! Dancers not good walkers !! It lish prefer the pleasures of the table and sedentary and juvenile age, according to Mr Wilson. But then is true, I must allow in candour, that some profesamusements, with their gout, apoplexy, shortness of he was a lawyer, and injudicious enough to be a judge, sional dancers are apt to turn out their toes a little breath, spindle-shanks, and rum.puncheon bellies,” -to sit bundled up in cloth and ermine, instead of too much ; but not all, ny dear sir-not the best : (pardon us, O Bacchus of Anacreon !) “to the more dancing in a “light cymar." Again, there was Sir and, as to dancers in general, I will affirm, meo periwholesome and healthy recreation of dancing. If Christopher Hatton, Chancellor in the time of Eliza- culo (as the philosopher says), they walk exquisitely you ask a person of fifty (says he) to take a dance, beth, who is said to have absolutely danced himself –à la merveille. Come and see my dancers walking the usual reply is, ' My dancing days are gone by ;
into that venerable position, through a series of ex- into the ball-room, or my new dance of the “ Rival it's not fit amusement for people of my time of life,'traordinary steps of court favour, commencing in a Beauties ; " " thirty young ladies,” sir, all moving to and such like idle cant; for idle cant it really is, as ball-room, and not improbably either; for, like some the sweet and peaceful battle at once. See how they these pretences are either made as excuses for idle- of his great brethren in that office, Sir Christopher walk, my dear sir. You would never forget it. ness, or to comply with the usual fastidious customs appears to have been a truly universal genius, able, Edit. I shall never forget it, as it is, Mr Wilson. of the day. They manage things better in France,
“like the elephant's trunk," to pick up his pin as well I see it, in imagination, painted in the beautiful red as Yorick says; for it would be quite as difficult, as knock down his tiger, and it is not to be wondered letters of your placard, and do not wonder that you amongst that polite and social people, to find a person
at if sovereigns sometimes get at a knowledge of the are a man in request for Richmond parties, and of fifty who did not dance, as it is in gloomy, cold, profounder faculties of a man, through the medium records of it in verse. calculating Old England, to find one who has good of his more entertaining ones. The Chancellor, how- Here Mr Wilson finishes the dialogue with a bow, sense enough to laugh at these fastidious notions, ever, appears to have turned his dancing to no better to which it would be bad taste and an anti-climax to with a sufficient stock of social animal spirits to share account, ultimately, than the Justice; for they say reply. There is a final and triumphant silence of in this polite and exhilirating amusement. More- he died prematurely of a broken heart, because the eloquence, to which nothing can be said. over, if we wanted a sanction to continue to dance as queen pressed him for a debt,—an end worthier of a To return to the matter of age.
There can be no long as we are able, I could here give a list (had I
courtier than of a sage and dancer. This it is to ac- doubt that dancers of fifty are a very different sort of room) of a hundred eminent persons, who did not quire legal habits, and “ make the worse appear the quinquagenarians from sitters of fifty, and that men consider it a disgrace to dance, even at a very advanced
better reason," even to one's-self. Hatton should of the same age often resemble each other in no age; amongst the number, Socrates, one of the wisest have been above his law, and stuck to his legs,-to
other respect. “ The same is not the same.” Some men and greatest philosophers that ever lived, used his natural understanding, as a punster would call it; people may even be said to have begun life over again, to dance for his exercise and amusement when he and then nothing would have overthrown him. Gray, at a time when the dissipated and the sullen are was upwards of seventy. Read this, ye gormands and with a poet's license, represents him as dancing after preparing to give it up. It is not necessary to mencard-players of fifty, and if you are wise, and would he was Chancellor. It is a pity it was not true. tion such cases as those of Old Parr. Marmontel
[From the Steam-Press of C. & W. REYNELL, Little Pulteney-street.)
a man of letters, of taste and fancy, and therefore, it her early world. She has even something good to sive landscape lies in varied, solemn beauty, before is to be presumed, of no very coarse organization, say in behalf of the ill-health of modern times and us; while, such is the reposing stillness of nature, married at fifty-six, and, after living happily with a the rich delicacy of its perceptions; so that we might. perhaps the clapping of pigeons' wings, as they rise
that not a sound disturbs the sunny solitude, save family born to him, died at the age of seventy-seven. be warranted in supposing that she is ever improving, from the stubble. The clearness of vision may partly But though a man of letters, and living at a period even when she least appears to be so; and that your arise from the paucity of vapour ascending from thc when there was great license of manners, to which pastoral longevity, though a good pattern in some ground at this dry season, and partly from the eye his own had formed no very rigid exception--he had respects for that which is to come, had but a poor which it is oppressed in summer ; but be it what it
being relieved from the intensity of splendour with led, upon the whole, a natural life, and was temperate. milk-and-water measure of happiness, compared with
may, the fact has not escaped one of our most beauBesides, Nature is very indulgent to those who do the wine and the intellectual movement of us inter. not violently contradict her with artificial habits, mediate strugglers. At all events, the measure,
". There is a harmony
In Autumn, and a lustre in its sky, excesses of the table, or sullen thoughts. She hates somehow or other, may be equal_and the difference
Which through the summer is not heard or seen, alike the extremes, not of cheerfulness, but of Comus only a variety of sameness. And there is much com- As if it could not be, as if it had not been.” and of Melancholy. A venerable gentleman of Nor- fort in that reflection, and a great difficulty solved in Now it is delightful among mountains. Mounfolk, now living, married and had an heir born to it. Only Nature, after all, still incites us to look tains! How one's heart leaps up at the very word!
There is a charm connected with mountains so his estate at a venerable age, which nobody thought forward ; and, whether it be for the sake of real or
powerful, that the merest mention of them, the of treating with jests of a certain kind; for he of apparent change, forward we must look, and look
merest sketch of their magnificent features, kindles also had been a denizen of the natural world, and was heartily, taking care to realize all the happiness we the imagination, and carries the spirit at once into as young, with good sense and exercise, as people of can, as we go. This seems the true mode of keeping the bosom of their enchanted regions. How the
mind is filled with their vast solitude! how the inhalf his age-far younger than many. We remember all our faculties in action—all the inevitable thoughts ward eye is fixed on their silent, their sublime, their the face of envying respect and astonishment with given to man, of past, present, and future ; and, with everlasting peaks! How our heart bounds to the which the news was received by “ a person of wit this grave reflection, we conclude our present dance music of their solitary cries, to the tinkling of their and honour about town" (now deceased), in whose under Mr Wilson's patronage, intending to have gushing rills, to the sound of their cataracts! How company we happened to be at the moment, and who another with him before long; and gravely, as well inspiriting
are the odours that breathe from the up
land turf, from the rock-hung flower, from the hoary might have been his son three or four times over. as gaily, recommending his very useful art, mean- and solemn pine! How beautiful are those lights Query--at what age must a person take to vene- while, to all lovers of health, grace, and sociality.
and shadows thrown abroad, and that fine transparent rable manners, and consent to look old if he does not Why do not people oftener get up dances at home, and slopes, as over a vast, inimitable picture!
haze which is diffused over the valleys and lower feel so ? Mr Wilson will say,
* when he is forced
At this season of the year, the ascents of our own to leave off dancing.” And there is a definite notion drawback of late hours ? It would be a great addition mountains are become most practicable. The heat of in that. If any one, therefore, wishes to have pre- to the cheerfulness and health of families.
summer has dried up the moisture with which winter cise ideas on this point, and behave himself as be
rains saturate the spongy turf of the hollows; and
the atmosphere, clear and settled, admits of the most comes his real, not his chronological, time of life,
extensive prospects. Whoever has not ascended our we really think he cannot do better than study in
mountains, knows little of the beauties of this beauKirby street, or at Willis's, and learn to know at
tiful island. Whoever has not climbed their long what age it becomes him to be reverend, or how long From Wednesday the 3d, to Tuesday the 9th September. tain-flower, the glowing moss, the richly-tinted
and heathy ascents, and seen the trembling mounhe may continue laughing at those who remonstrate We have taken our country entertainment this lichens at his feet; and scented the fresh aroma of with him because they hobble. Linnæus, in his week from our old and often-plundered friend, Mr
the uncultivated sod, and of the spicy shrubs; and travels, gives an account_ludicrous in the eyes of us Howitt, (who can well afford it), and have followed
heard the bleat of the flock across their solitary ex
panses, and the wild cry of the mountain plover, the spectators of the staid and misgiving manners of up the extract with vindications of the dignity of
raven, or the eagle; and seen the rich and russet hues people at the same time of life--of two Laplanders another friend of our's, not in so high a class of things of distant slopes and eminences, the livid gashes of who accompanied him on some occasion (we forget poetical, but far too lightly esteemed; to wit, the
ravines and precipices, the white glittering line of what), but who carried bundles for him, and had Elder tree. We take them, partly from the Sylva' round the lofty summits; and then stood panting on
falling waters, and the cloud tumultuously whirling otherwise reason for being tired, the way being long of Cowley's friend, Evelyn, one of the most learned
that summit, and beheld the clouds alternately gather One of them was fifty, the other considerably older ; vindicators of plants vernacular, and partly from and break over a thousand giant peaks and ridges, of yet what did these old boys, at the close of their Evelyn's friend, Mr Phillips, (who by the way,
every varied hue,—but all silent as images of eterjourney, but, instead of sitting down and resting as an Irish critic would remark, ought to quote him, smoking towns, and wide lands, to the very ocean,
nity: and cast his gaze over lakes, and forests, and themselves, begin laughing and running about after when he does so).
in all their gleaming and reposing beauty,-knows noone another, like a couple of antediluvian children, as
thing of the treasures of pictorial wealth which his if they had just risen! They wanted nothing but The orchards are affluent of pears, plums and ap
own country possesses. pinafores, and a mother remonstrating with them for ples; and the hedges are filled with the abundance of [This is rather a rash assertion on Mr Howitt's not coming and having their hairs combed.
their wild produce, erabs, black glossy clusters of pri- part, but luckily he has disproved it so well in all the
vet, blackthorn and elder-berries, which furnish the Most people are astonished, perhaps, as they ad
rest of his book, that we need say nothing further farmer with a cordial cup on his return from market vance beyond the period of youth and middle life, at on a winter's eve, and blackberries, reminding us of
about it.] not finding themselves still older ; and, if they took the Babes in the Wood.
EVELYN'S ACCOUNT OF THE ELDER TREE. wise advantage of this astonishment, they would all Their little hands with blackberries,
This makes a considerable fence, if set of reasonlive to a much greater age. It is equally by not
Were all besmeard and dyed,
able lusty truncheons, much like the willow, and (as daring to be too young nor consenting to be too old, And when they saw the darksome night,
I have seen them maintained) laid with great curioThey sat them down and cried.
sity. Thiese far excel those extravagant plantations that men keep themselves in order with Nature, and
of them about London, where the tops are permitted in heart with her. We kill ourselves before our The hedge rows are also brightened with a profu- to grow without due and skilful laying. There is a time, alike with artificial irregularities and melan.
sion of scarlet berries of hips, haws, honeysuckles, sort of Elder which has hardly any pith; this makes choly resentments. We hasten age with late hours, ash, woody night-shade, and wild service, is truly for cogs of mills, butchers' skewers, and such tough
viburnum, and bryony. The fruit of the mountain. exceedingly stout fences, and the timber very useful and the table, and want of exercise; and hate it, and beautiful; nor are the violet-hued sloes and bullaces, employments.
Old trees do in time become firm, make it worse when it comes, with bad temper and or the crimson, mossy excrescences of the wild rose- and close up the hollowness to an almost invisible inactive regrets.
tree, insignificant objects amid the autumnal splen- pith. But if the medicinal properties of the leaves, dour of the waning year.
bark, berries, &c. were thoroughly known, I cannot A boy of ten thinks he shall be in the prime of
Notwithstanding the decrease of the day, the tell what our countryman could ail, for which he life when he is twenty, and (as lives go) he is so ;
weather of this month is, for the most part, splen- might not fetch a remedy from every hedge, either though, when he comes to be twenty, he shoves off didly calm; and Nature, who knows the most fa- for sickness or wound. The inner bark of Elder, aphis notion of the prime to thirty, then to thirty-five,
vourable moment to display all her works, has now plied to any burning, takes out the fire immediately:
instructed the geometric spider to form its radiated that, or in season the buds, boiled in water gruel for then to forty; and when, at length, he is forced to
circle on every bush, and the gossamer spider to hang a breakfast, has effected wonders in a fever; and the own himself no longer young, he is at once astonished its silken threads on every blade of grass. We behold decoction is admirable to assuage inflammations and to think he has been young so long, and angry to find its innumerable filaments glittering with dew in the tetterous humours, and especially the scorbut (scurvy). himself no younger. This would be hardly fair upon morning, and sometimes, such is the immense quan
But an extract, or theriaca (so famous in the poem tity of this secretion, that it may be seen floating in of Nicander'), may be composed of the berries, the indulgence of Nature, if Nature supplied us with
a profusion of tangled webs in the air, and cording which is not only efficacious to eradicate this epieducation as well as existence, and the world itself
our clothes as we walk in the fields, as with cotton. demical inconvenience, and greatly to assist longedid not manifestly take time to come to years of dis- These little creatures, the gossamer spiders, it has vity, but is a kind of catholicon against all infirmities cretion. In the early ages of the world, the inability long been known, have the faculty of throwing out whatever; and of the same berries is made an incom
several of their threads on each side, which serve to lead artificial lives was the great cause of longevity;
parable spirit, which, drunk by itself, or mingled with them as a balloon to buoy them up into the air. wine, is not only an excellent drink, but admirable as in future ones, it is to be hoped, the appreciation With these they sail into the higher regions of the in the dropsy. In a word, the water of the leaves. of the natural life will bring men round to it. It atmosphere, or return with greater velocity. By re- and berries is approved in the dropsy, every part of would have put the pastoral, patriarchal people sadly
cent experiments it appears that the spider and its the tree being useful, as may be seen at large in
web are not, as it was supposed, of less specific graout to keep late hours at night, and to sit after dinner
Blocwitzius's Anatomy thereof. The ointment made vity than the air, and by that means ascend. The with the
buds and leaves in May, with butter, “pushing about" the milk !
phenomenon has been supposed to be electrical; but is most sovereign for aches, shrunk sinews, hæmorNature, in the mean time, acts with her usual this is doubtful. It yet requires explanation.
rhoids, &c.; and the flowers, macerated in vinegar, good-natured instinct, and makes the best of a bad
There is now a brightness of the sky, and a dia- not only are of grateful relish, but good to attenuate business; rather, let us say, produces it in order to
phanous purity of the atmosphere, at once surprising and cut raw and gross humours. Lastly, the fungus
and delightful. We remark with astonishment, how (which we call Jew's-ears), decocted in milk, or maproduce a better, and to enable us to improve upon perfectly and distinctly the whole of the most exten. cerated in vinegar, is of known effect in the angina
MR HOW ITT ON SEPTEMBER.