Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 375, June 13, 1829», страница 3

On a fine grey morning, about a week after these events occurred, I wandered out towards the shore: there had been rough weather in the channel, and many wrecks, and the turbulence of the ocean had not yet subsided. It was about half-flood when I reached the Bonne Esperance. She had disappeared by piece-meal under the repeated assaults of the sea, but the principal part of the hull was still hanging together. Each wave as it struck her tattered timbers, seemed to sap away her strength and threatened to shake her to fragments. I sat with the supercargo for about an hour, watching the flow of the tide. Her timbers cracked louder and louder at each shock of the breakers; when a heavy sea struck her, her joints loosened, and she broke up at last, scattered into fragments, and whelmed in a gulf of boiling waters which foamed like an immense cauldron over the place she had occupied a minute before. We had watched the progress to this final disaster with the deepest interest—I may almost say sympathy—for we could hardly help looking upon the ship as a friend in need, hovering as it were over destruction without an arm being stretched forth to save her, and it was not without a real feeling of pain and sorrow that we witnessed her destruction.

About half-ebb we descended to the shore—it was covered as far as the eye could reach with her ruin and materials; and one could almost imagine it had been the destruction of a fleet. Thus ended the fate of La Bonne Esperance of Brest, and the occasional appearance of a solitary fragment on the beach, was soon all that recalled her history to the remembrance of the passers-by.

VYVYAN.

OLD POETS

GOOD DEEDS

 
Wretched is he who thinks of doing ill.
His evil deeds long to conceal and hide;
For though the voice and tongues of men be still,
By fowls and beasts his sins shall be descried.
And God oft worketh by his secret will,
That sin itself, the sinner so doth guide,
That of its own accord without request,
He makes his wicked doings manifest.
 

SIR J. HARRINGTON

DEATH

 
Death is a port whereby we reach to joy,
Life is a lake that drowneth all in pain,
Death is so near it ceaseth all annoy,
Life is so leav'd that all it yields is vain;
And as by life to bondage Man was brought,
Even so likewise by death was freedom wrought.
 

EARL OF SURREY

BEAUTY

 
Nought under Heaven so strongly doth allure
The sense of man and all his mind possess,
As Beauty's lovely bait that doth procure
Great warriors oft their rigour to repress,
And mighty hands forget their manliness.
Driven with the power of an heart robbing eye,
And wrapt in flowers of a golden tress,
That can with melting pleasance mollify
Their hard'ned hearts enur'd to blood and cruelty.
 

SPENSER

LEARNING

 
——But that Learning in despite of fate
Will mount aloft and enter Heaven's gate;
And to the seat of Jove itself advance,
Hermes had slept in Hell with Ignorance.
Yet as a punishment they added this,
That he and Poverty should always kiss.
And to this day is every scholar poor,
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.
 

C. MARLOWE

FEELING

 
——The feeling power which is life's root,
Through every living part itself doth shed,
By sinews which extend from head to foot,
And like a net all over the body spread.
Much like a subtle spider, which doth sit
In middle of her web which spreadeth wide,
If aught do touch the outmost thread of it,
She feels it instantly on every side.
 

J. DAVIES

INJUSTICE

 
So foul a thing, O thou injustice art,
That torment'st the doer and distrest;
For when a man hath done a wicked part,
O how he strives to excuse—to make the best;
To shift the fault t' unburden his charg'd heart,
And glad to find the least surmise of rest;
And if he could make his, seem other's sin,
O what repose, what ease he'd find therein.
 

DANIELL

RICHES

 
Vessels of brass oft handled brightly shine.
What difference between the richest mine
And basest earth, but use? for both not used
Are of little worth; then treasure is abused,
When misers keep it; being put to loan,
In time it will return us two for one.
 

C. MARLOWE

THE IDIOT LOVER

(DRAWN FROM LIFE.)

(For the Mirror.)

 
"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman."
 

John Laconi was born in the romantic country of Switzerland. He was educated tolerably well; he was a good musician, and could draw excellently. He possessed a small, though independent fortune. However, notwithstanding his advantages and acquirements, he proved, when he became a lover, to be an idiot.

At a certain period of his life, he fell violently in love with a beautiful young Swiss lady. She was considerably younger than our hero, was much taller, and her elegant refinements rendered her a very desirable object. John had a sister, to whom the young lady paid frequent friendly visits, and upon such occasions, owing probably to that mauvaise honte, with which he was cursed, he was usually absent from home. I will not disgust my fair readers with a minute description of all his absurdities; one example, or so, shall suffice.

One fine evening, in the month of June, after spending the day with Laconi's sister, the young lady prepared to return alone to her father's château, at the distance of about a mile; and on this occasion, John determined to give a specimen of his gallantry in escorting the fair one home, resolving likewise to declare his passion in plain terms. Accordingly, having put on his hat and cloak, and stationed himself at the gate, he appeared as formidable as any doughty knight in the days of romance, ready to offer his protection to some forlorn damsel. No sooner, however, did the lady appear, than he became so confused as not to be able to answer her greeting. She was also confused for a moment at his manner, but immediately began her walk with much disgust and nonchalance; while he, like a silly valet de chambre, followed behind, leaving his dear mistress' questions unanswered, and gazing with a vacant stare at the moon. At length, to the lady's infinite satisfaction, the white gate of her father's château appeared in view, and John, finding they had nearly reached their destination, articulated, in a half suffocated tone, "I—I beg pardon, ma—madam, I have been considering—." "You have, indeed, Mr. John," quickly returned the smiling damsel, "but I think you might have chosen another opportunity, more seasonable than the present, to consider the moon!" To this retort, he said nothing, but looked extremely foolish and ridiculous. However, when they had actually gained the gate of the château, he boldly resolved to kiss his fair enslaver; but, after a moment, his resolution failed, and his legs tottered under him. Without hearing the lady's sweet "good night," as she tripped gaily from him, he exclaimed, "Madam, can you love me?" This appeal was not heard by the flying maiden, who hastily ascended the steps to her father's door, which opened and concealed her lovely form from the sight of the amazed lover, who had not courage sufficient to follow her.

Whether our idiot did not comprehend the behaviour of his mistress, I cannot say; certain it is, he went home well contented with the success he imagined he had gained towards winning her heart. But, in reality, she was disgusted with his foolery, and ceased paying any more visits to her female friend, in order to avoid the sight of so strange a lover.

John, however, was a kind of philosopher, and calmly sustained his love misfortunes. A particular occurrence happened which will somewhat account for this passive resignation. One evening, during a solitary walk, he saw his identical mistress in company with a young French officer. He walked sullenly home, wrote some verses on the inconstancy of women, drew from recollection a portrait of the cruel fair, which he hung in his study, and banished his former pretences. Report says, that he lived the remainder of his days in a state of celibacy. G.W.N.

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY

Sincerely do we regret to announce the death of this great and good man—the most celebrated philosopher of our times, who has done more for the happiness of his species than any associated Academy in Europe. He died at Geneva, May 29, aged 51. We shall endeavour to do justice to his talents and amiable character, in a Memoir to be published at the close of this volume of THE MIRROR—prefixed to which will be a fine Portrait of the illustrious deceased.

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY

DISCOVERY OF THE FATE OF LA PEROUSE

Abridged from the United Service Journal

The fate of this celebrated French navigator, which for upwards of forty years has remained enveloped in mystery, has at length been satisfactorily ascertained, a result that is owing to the active and spirited exertions of our gallant and enterprising countryman Captain Dillon.

It is a remarkable circumstance, that the discovery of the relics of La Perouse, arose out of the massacre of the ship Hunter's crew, at the Feejee Islands, in 1813.

In this unfortunate affair, fourteen persons in all, from the ship Hunter, lost their lives. The two that escaped with Mr. Dillon, were William Wilson and Martin Buchart, a Prussian, who resided for two years at Bough. The latter entreated captain Robson to give him and his Bough wife a passage to the first land at which he might arrive, as they would certainly be sacrificed if they returned to the island. Having made Tucopia on the 20th of September, Buchart, his wife, and a Lascar, were put on shore, and the Hunter proceeded on her voyage to Canton.

On the 13th of May, 1826, while in command of the St. Patrick, bound from Valparaiso to Pondicherry, captain Dillon came in sight of the island of Tucopia. Prompted by curiosity, as well as regard for old companions in danger, he lay to, anxious to ascertain whether the persons left there in 1813, were still alive. A canoe, in which was the Lascar, soon afterwards put off from land and came alongside. This was immediately succeeded by another canoe, containing Martin Buchart, the Prussian. They were both in excellent health, and exceedingly rejoiced to see him. They informed him, that the natives had treated them very kindly; and that no ship had touched at the island from the time they were first landed, until about a year previous to his arrival, when an English whaler visited them, and was soon after followed by a second. The Lascar had an old silver sword-guard, which he bartered for a few fishing-hooks. Captain Dillon inquired where he had obtained it; the Prussian informed him, that on his arrival at the island, he saw it in the possession of the natives, also several chainplates belonging to a ship, a number of iron bolts, five axes, the handle of a silver fork, a few knives, tea-cups, glass beads and bottles, one silver spoon with a crest and a cipher, a sword, &c. As soon as he became sufficiently acquainted with the language, he asked the natives how they obtained those articles, as they said that the Hunter was the first ship with which they had ever held communication. They replied, that about two days' sail in their canoes to leeward, there was a large group of islands, known generally by the name of Manicolo, to which they were in the habit of making frequent voyages, and that they had procured these articles from the inhabitants, who possessed many more of a similar description.

Buchart proceeded to state, that the Tucopians asserted that a great number of articles were on the Manicolo Islands in a state of preservation, and such articles were evidently obtained from the wreck of a vessel. About seven months before captain Dillon touched at Tucopia, a canoe had returned from Manicolo, and brought away two large chain plates, and an iron bolt, about four feet in length. He spoke with some of the crew of the canoe which had last made the voyage to Manicolo. They told him that there was abundance of iron materials still remaining on the island. Those which Martin Buchart saw were much oxydized and worn. The only silver spoon brought to Tucopia, as far as captain Dillon could learn, was beaten out into a wire by Buchart, for the purpose of making rings and other ornaments for the female islanders. Upon examining the sword-guard minutely, captain Dillon discovered, or thought he discovered, the initials of Perouse stamped upon it, which circumstance prompted him to be more eager in his inquiries.

The Prussian said he had himself never made a trip to Manicolo with the Tucopians, but the Lascar had gone once or twice. He positively affirmed, that he had seen and conversed at Paiow, a native town, with the Europeans who spoke the language of the islanders. They were old men, he said, who told him that they had been wrecked several years ago in one of the ships, the remnants of which they pointed out to him. They informed him also that no vessel had touched at the islands since they had been there; that most of their comrades were dead, but they had been so scattered among the various islands, that they could not tell precisely how many of them were still living.