Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 405, December 19, 1829», страница 5

FRENCH DRAMA

Voltaire, as a dramatic writer, studied only to complete what is called stage effect; and with him, moreover, originated the contemptible practice, now so prevalent in France, and once so much in this country, (and which the Irish triumvirate justly call 'blarneying John Bull,') of flattering the passions, and pouring incense on the high altar of popular vanity.—Foreign Review.—Nearly all Colman's comedies have this glaring weakness, although some allowance should be made for the strong excitement amidst which they were first produced on our stage.

It was a remark of Lord Chatham's, and equally so of Mr. Burke's, that the occasional use of low words does not detract from the dignity of true eloquence. Mr. Canning and some of his successors have, however, ventured to differ from these two great men.

The people of England have, in the last year, consumed one half more of candles, soap, starch, bricks, sugar, brandy, and one-third more of tea, than they did only twelve years ago, a date which seems to most of us recent.—Finance Article, in Quarterly Review.

THE ANECDOTE GALLERY

DR. SOUTHEY.
BALLADS VERSUS BONNETS

(For the Mirror.)

A Mr. L–, a respectable straw-hat manufacturer, from the vicinity of Bond-street, who had dabbled considerably in the fine arts, in the way of sketches and outlines, taken at the different watering-places which he visited, determined on making a tour to the Lakes, "in search of the picturesque." Desirous of rendering his journey poetically interesting, he solicited from a friend of his in town, who was acquainted with Dr. Southey, a letter of introduction to the Laureate, which was accorded. But the epistle, instead of describing Mr. L– as an artist, merely designated him "an honest bonnet-maker," who had a penchant for lionizing, and who desired to be introduced to Dr. Southey in "the way of business." With this vexatiously facetious and laconic scrawl, poor Mr. L. made his way to the Lakes, and in due time was ushered into the Parnassian presence of the author of "Thalaba." The address of one of Southey's celebrity might well perplex a "man of straw;" and it had somewhat of this effect on our tradesman-artist; who, however, according to his own account of the affair, bustled through pretty tolerably; adopting the nonchalance of Geoffrey Crayon's uncle on entering a superb drawing-room—looking around him with an air of indifference, which seemed to say, "he had seen finer things in his time." After some desultory conversation, regarding the heights of hills, the breadths of lakes, and the curative influence of the sentimental region on the smoke-dried citizens, mixed with some elaborate eulogies on the "Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society," the "last new work" of the Doctor's, he began to evince a little uneasiness at so much ceremony with a mere tradesman; which was more than was called for towards even the modest and retiring "bard of Sheffield," on Mr. Southey's difficultly-acquired interview with the latter. Mr. L., however, before parting, thought it due to the poet, as a mark of an artist's respect for the "classic nine," to present him with a few sketches of the scenery, which he had already taken. Unrolling a bundle of drawing paper, Southey, who thought he had been talking to a bonnet-maker, come to solicit orders, remarked, "Your latest spring patterns, I suppose?" "Sir!" faintly articulated the now-enlightened Mr. L., "I merely beg leave to present you—" "Really, Sir," said the impatient poet, "I thank you sincerely; but I have no taste in selecting bonnets; had the ladies—" a sentence which was interrupted by the abashed and confounded bonnet-maker grasping his hat and drawings, and hastily wishing the Laureate a good morning.

* * H.

BEST'S MEMS

Dr. George Horne was a man of unaffected piety, cheerful temper, great learning, and, notwithstanding his propensity to jesting, dignified manners. He was much beloved in Magdalen College, of which he was president; the chief complaint against him being, that he did not reside the whole of the time in every year that the statutes required. He resigned his headship on being promoted from the Deanery of Canterbury to the See of Norwich; the alleged reason was, the incompatibility of the duties; though other heads of houses, when made bishops, have retained their academical situations. He never manifested the least ill-humour himself, and repressed it, but with gentleness, in others. Having engaged in a party at whist, merely because he was wanted to make up the number, and playing indifferently ill, as he forewarned his partner would be the case, he replied to the angry question, "What reason could you possibly have, Mr. President, for playing that card?" "None upon earth, I assure you." On the morning when news was received in college of the death of one of the fellows, a good companion, a bon vivant, Horne met with another fellow, an especial friend of the defunct, and began to condole with him: "We have lost poor L–." "Ah! Mr. President, I may well say I could have better spared a better man." "Meaning me, I suppose?" said Horne, with an air that, by its pleasantry, put to flight the other's grief. I was talking with Henry James Pye, late poet-laureate, when he happened to mention the name of Mr. P., a gentleman of Berkshire, and M.P. I think, for Reading; "That is the man," said I, "who damned the king's wig in the very presence of his majesty; with great credit, however, to his own loyalty, and very much to the amusement of the king." "I do not well see how that could be." "You shall hear a story which our president (Pye had been a gentleman commoner of Magdalen College) told at his own table. The king was out a hunting; P– was in, and of, the field; the king's horse fell; the king was thrown from the saddle, and his hat and wig were thrown to a little distance from him: he got on his feet again immediately, and began to look about for the hat and wig, which he did not readily see, being, as we all know, short-sighted. P–, very much alarmed by the accident, rides up in great haste and arrives at the moment when the king is peering about and saying to the attendants, 'Where's my wig? where's my wig?' P– cries out, 'D—n your wig! is your majesty safe?'"

CURIOUS CONCEITS

While the late Edmund Burke was making preparation for the indictment before the House of Lords, of Warren Hastings, Governor-general of India, he was told that a person who had long resided in the East Indies, but who was then an inmate of Bedlam, could supply him with much useful information. Burke went accordingly to Bedlam, was taken to the cell of the maniac, and received from him, in a long, rational, and well-conducted conversation, the results of much and various knowledge and experience in Indian affairs, and much instruction for the process then intended. On leaving the cell, Burke told the keeper who attended him, that the poor man whom he had just visited, was most iniquitously practised upon; for that he was as much in his senses as man could be. The keeper assured him that there was sufficient warranty and very good cause for his confinement. Burke, with what a man in office once called "Irish impetuosity," known to be one of Burke's characteristics, insisted that it was an infamous affair, threatened to make the matter public, or even bring it before parliament. The keeper then said, "Sir, I should be sorry for you to leave this house under a false impression: before you do so, be pleased to step back to the poor gentleman's cell, and ask him what he had for breakfast." Burke could not refuse compliance with a request so reasonable and easily performed. "Pray, Sir," says he to his Indian counsellor, "be so obliging as to tell me what you had for breakfast." The other, immediately putting on the wild stare of the maniac, cried out, "Hobnails, Sir! It is shameful to think how they treat us! They give us nothing but hobnails!" and went on with a "descant wild" on the horrors of the cookery of Bethlehem Hospital. Burke staid no longer than that his departure might not seem abrupt; and, on the advantage of the first pause in the talk, was glad to make his escape. I was present when Paley was much interested and amused by an account given by one of the company, of a widow lady, who was of entirely sound mind, except that she believed herself made of glass. Given the vitrification, her conduct and discourse were consequent and rational, according to the particulars which Paley drew forth by numerous questions. Canes and parasols were deposited at the door of her drawing-room as at the Louvre or Florentine Gallery, and for the same reason. "You may be hurt by a blow," said she, to one of flesh and blood; "but I should be broken to pieces: and how could I be mended?"—Best's Mems.