The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction by Various
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Various >> The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction
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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
VOL. X, NO. 277.] SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1827. [PRICE 2d.
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[Illustration: The Palace at Stockholm.]
THE PALACE AT STOCKHOLM.
The palace at Stockholm is the redeeming grace of that city.--Stockholm
"not being able to boast any considerable place or square, nor indeed
any street wider than an English lane; the exterior of the houses is
dirty, the architecture shabby, and all strikes as very low and
confined. Yet the palace must be excepted; and that is commanding, and
in a grand and simple taste." Such is the description of Stockholm by
Sir Robert Ker Porter; but, as he admits, he had just left the city of
St. Petersburgh, and being probably dazzled with the freshness of its
splendour, Stockholm suffered in the contrast.
But Sir R.K. Porter is not entirely unsupported in his opinion. Mr.
James, in his interesting "Journal of a Tour in Sweden, &c." published
in 1816, describes the suburbs of Stockholm as "uniting every beauty of
wild nature, with the charms attendant upon the scenes of more active
life; but the examples of architecture within the town, if we except the
mansions of the royal family, are not of a style at all corresponding
with these delightful environs. The private houses make but little show;
and the general air of the public buildings is not of the first style of
magnitude, or in any way remarkable for good taste. One point, however,
may be selected, that exhibits in a single prospect all that the capital
can boast of this description. There is a long bridge of granite,
connecting the city in the centre with the northern quarters of the
town: immediately at one extremity rises the _royal palace_, a
large square edifice, with extensive wings, and of the most simple and
elegant contour; the other extremity is terminated by an equestrian
statue of Gustavus Adolphus, forming the chief object of a square, that
is bounded on the sides by handsome edifices of the Corinthian order;
one the palace of the Princess Sophia, the other the Italian
Opera-house."
Mr. A. de Capell Brooke, who visited Stockholm in the summer of 1820,
describes the palace as "a beautiful and conspicuous object, its walls
washed by the Baltic."--It is square, on an elevated ground, has a
spacious court in the centre, and is in every respect worthy a royal
residence. Near the entrance are two large bronze lions, which are
admirably executed. "The view of the palace from the water," says Sir
R.K. Porter, "reminds us of Somerset House, though it far exceeds the
British structure in size, magnificence, and sound architecture." It
contains some good paintings, and a fine gallery of statues, chiefly
antique, collected by the taste and munificence of Gustavus III. The
_Endymion_ is a _chef d'oeuvre_ of its kind, and the Raphael
china is of infinite value, but a splendid example of genius and talent
misapplied.
All travellers concur in their admiration of the site and environs of
Stockholm, and in deprecating the malappropriation of the former, Porter
says, "The situation of this capital deserves finer edifices. Like St.
Petersburg, it is built on islands; seven, of different extent, form its
basis; they lie between the Baltic and the Malar lake. The harbour is
sufficiently deep, even up to the quay, to receive the largest vessels.
At the extremity of the harbour, the streets rise one above another in
the form of an amphitheatre, with the magnificent palace, _like a rich
jewel in an AEthiop's ear_, in the centre."
Mr. Brooke describes the situation of the city as "singular and even
romantic. Built on seven small rocky islands, it in this respect
resembles Venice. A great part of the city, however, stands upon the
steep declivity of a very high hill; houses rising over houses, so that,
to the eye, they seem supported by one another. Below, commerce almost
covers the clear waters of the Baltic with a tall forest of masts; while
far above, and crowning the whole, stands the commanding church of St.
Catherine. From the top of this the eye is at first lost in the
boundless prospect of forest, lake, and sea, spreading all around: it
then looks down upon Stockholm, intersected in all directions by water;
the royal palace; and lastly, ranges over the forests of pines extending
themselves almost down to the gates of the city, spotted with villas,
and skirted in the most picturesque manner by the numerous beautiful
lakes, which so pleasingly relieve the beauties of the country. The
other objects, which will repay the curiosity of the stranger in
inspecting them, are, the royal palace; the military academy at
Cartberg; the arsenal; the senate house; the _Ridderholm_, where
the kings of Sweden are interred; the cabinet of natural history; the
annual exhibition of paintings; the fine collection of statue in the
palace."
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CROSS FELL, WESTMORELAND.
(_For the Mirror._)
This mountain is situate near the end of a ridge of mountains, leading
from Stainmore or Stonemore, about sixteen miles in length. It descends
gradually from Brough to the Grained Tree, the former boundary mark
dividing Yorkshire from Westmoreland. Passing over several mountains, we
arrive at Dufton Fell, of the same ridge.
At the foot of this fell there is a curious little petrifying spring,
which turns moss, or any other porous matter which may fall within its
vortex, or the steams and vapours arising therefrom, into hard stone,
insomuch that upon the mouth of it there is a considerable hill of such
petrifaction.
Cross Fell is the highest mountain of the whole ridge, and is bounded by
a small rivulet stocked with trouts. This was formerly called Fiends'
Fell, from evil spirits, which are said to have haunted its summit, "and
to have continued their haunts and nocturnal vagaries upon it, until
Saint Austin erected a _cross_ and _altar_, whereon he offered
the _holy eucharist_, by which he countercharmed those hellish
fiends, and broke their haunts."--_Robinson's History of Cumberland
and Westmoreland_, 1709.
Since the saint expelled the fiends, the mountain (it appears) has taken
the name of Cross Fell, in commemoration of the event.
There are now existent seven stones lying in a careless condition on the
top of this mountain, as if destroyed by the hand of time. The stones,
it is supposed, are the remains of the cross and altar. One stone is
considerably higher than the rest, and they are overgrown with moss.
I have heard many of the traditions which are very current, but all such
hyperboles, that were I to give one, the reader would be convulsed with
laughter. I trust, sir, if you have any travellers among your numerous
readers, they will give this a further investigation, and I (as well as
yourself, doubtless) shall be happy to learn the result.
Your's. &c.
W.H.H.
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SALMON KIPPERING, IN DUMBARTONSHIRE.
(_For the Mirror_.)
Salmon are caught in less or greater abundance in all the rivers of this
county. The salmon-fisheries of Lochlomond and the Leven are of
considerable value. In several parts of the county salmon are cured in a
peculiar manner, called kippering; and throughout Scotland kippered
salmon is a favourite dish. It is practised here in the following
manner:--All the blood is taken from the fish immediately after it is
killed; this is done by cutting the gills. It is then cut up the back on
each side the bone, or chine, as it is commonly called. The bone is
taken out, but the tail, with two or three inches of the bone, is left;
the head is cut off; all the entrails are taken out, but the skin of the
belly is left uncut; the fish is then laid, with the skin undermost, on
a board, and is well rubbed and covered over with a mixture of equal
quantities of common salt and Jamaica pepper. Some of this mixture is
carefully spread under the fins to prevent them from corrupting, which
they sometimes do, especially if the weather is warm. A board with a
large stone is sometimes laid upon the fish, with a view to make the
salt penetrate more effectually. In some places, as Dumbarton, instead
of a flat board, a shallow wooden trough is used, by which means the
brine is kept about the fish; sometimes two or three salmon are kippered
together in the same vessel, one being laid upon the other. The fish,
with the board or trough, is set in a cool place for two or three days;
it is then removed from the board, and again rubbed with salt and
pepper; after which it is hung up by the tail, and exposed to the rays
of the sun or the heat of the fire. Care is previously taken to stretch
out the fish by means of small sticks or hoops placed across it from
side to side. After it has remained in the heat a few days, it is hung
up in a dry place till used. Some people, in order to give the kipper a
peculiar taste, highly relished by not a few, carefully smoke it with
peat reek, or the reek of juniper bushes. This is commonly done by
hanging it up so near a chimney in which peats or juniper bushes are
burnt, as to receive the smoke; there it remains two or three weeks, by
which time it generally acquires the required flavour.
T.S.W.
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DEBTOR AND CREDITOR.
(_Concluded from page 227._)
Debt is obligation, and "obligation," says Hobbes, "is thraldom." This
will be evident if we once consider to what a variety of mean shifts the
state of being in debt exposes us. It sits like fetters of iron on
conscience; but as old offenders often whistle to the clanking of their
chains, so rogues lighten their hearts by increasing their debts. It
destroys freedom as much as a debtor is his creditor's slave; and, under
certain circumstances, his range may be reduced to a few square feet,
and his view prescribed by a few cubits of brick walls; and, humiliating
as this may appear, it sits lightly on the majority, since, even the
brawlers for liberty, forgetting "the air they breathe," are often to be
found within its pale; but in this case they also forget, that being in
legal debt is less venial than many other sins, since it cannot be
cleared by any appeals to argument, or settled by shades of opinion.
Subterfuge, lying, and loss of liberty, are not all the miseries of a
conscious debtor: in the world he resembles a prisoner at large; he
walks many circuitous miles to avoid being dunned, and would sooner meet
a mad dog than an angry creditor. He lives in a sort of _abeyance_,
and sinks under shame when caught enjoying an undue luxury. In short, he
is cramped in all his enjoyments, and considers his fellow, out of debt,
as great as the emperor of the celestial empire, after whose repast
other kings may dine. Hence ensue repining and envy: he fancies himself
slighted by the world, and, in return, he cares not for the opinion of
the world; his energies waste, and he falls.
These sufferings, however, appertain but to one class of debtors. There
are others who scorn such compunctious visitations, and set all laws of
conscience at defiance. They press into their service all the aids of
cunning, and travel on byroads of the world till they are bronzed enough
for its highway. Their memories are like mirrors, and their debts like
breathings on them, which vanish the same moment they are produced. They
look on mankind as a large family, and the world as a large storehouse,
or open house, where they have a claim proportioned to their wants. They
clear their consciences by maintaining, that what is parted with is not
lost, and foster their hopes with the idea of its reversion. They think
those who _can_ ride ought not to walk; and, therefore, that all
men have the option of such chances of good-fortune. With this laxity of
principle they quarter themselves on the credulity of extortionate
tradesmen, and the good-natured simplicity of friends or associates.
If, perchance, they possess any excellence above their society, they
consider it as a redeeming grace for their importunities, and,
calculating on the vulgarism _ad captandum_, that what is dearest
bought is most prized, they make their friends pay freely for their
admiration. Nor are such admirers willing to break the spell by which
they are bound, since, by their unqualified approval they sanction, and
flatter _the man_ of their party, to their mutual ruin; for, as
Selden observes, "he who will keep a monkey should surely pay for the
glasses he breaks."
Prone as men are to the crooked path, and still more apt as the weak and
ignorant are to indulge them in such a course, perhaps the love of
principle is as strong in men's hearts as it ever will be. Of times gone
by, we must not here speak; because the _amor patriae_ its has long
since shifted to _amor nummi_, and naked honesty has learned the
decency of dress. There have been profligates in all ages; but the
world, though sometimes a severe master, ruins as many by its deceitful
indulgence, as by its ill-timed severity. Good fellows are usually the
worst treated by the world allowing them to go beyond their tether, and
then cutting them off out of harm's way. Nothing but an earlier
discipline can improve us; for so habitual is debt, that the boy who
forestals his pocket-money uses it as a step-ladder to mortgaging his
estate. The sufferers, in such cases, are generally shut up in prisons
or poor-houses, to afflict or console each other as their sensibilities
may direct; and thus the salutary lessons, which their condition might
afford, is lost to the world. Neither are such scenes of real misery
courted by mankind; the nearest semblances which they can bear being in
the sentimentalities of the stage, encumbered as they often are by
overstrained fiction and caricature. On the contrary, a walk through
those receptacles of human woe, and the little histories of their
inmates, will often furnish as many lessons of morality and
world-knowledge as will suffice us for life. We may there see the
rapacious creditor at the same goal with the unfortunate debtor, whom he
has hunted through life, supplicating mercy which he never exercised,
and vainly attempting to recant a course of cruelty and persecution, by
mixing up his merited sufferings with the distresses of his abused
companions.
Goldsmith has said, that "every man is the architect of his own
fortune;" and perhaps there are few men, who, in the moments of their
deepest suffering, have not felt the force of this assertion. In high
life, embarrassments are generally to be attributed to the love of
gambling, prodigality, or some such sweeping vice, which no station can
control. Bankruptcies, or failures in trade, being common occurrences,
are seldom traced to their origin, too often found to be in expensive
habits, and overreaching or misguided speculations, and sometimes in the
treachery and villany of partners; and, amidst this bad system, so
nicely is credit balanced, that a run of ill luck, or a mere idle
whisper, is often known to destroy commercial character of a century's
growth. But in these cases it should be recollected, that the reputation
of the parties has probably been already endangered by some great
stretch of enterprize, calculated to excite envy or suspicion.
Debts of fashion, or those contracted in high life, are usually the most
unjust, probably the result of honesty being more a virtue of necessity
than of choice, and of the disgraceful system of imposing on the
extravagant and wealthy. Experience, it is granted, is a treasure which
fools must purchase at a high price; but however largely we may hold
possession of that commodity, it will not excuse that scheme of
bare-weight honesty, which some are apt to make the standard of their
dealings with the rich. A man of family, partly from indiscretion, and
from various other causes, becomes embarrassed; the clamours of his
creditors soon magnify his luxuries, but not a word is said about their
innumerable extortions, in the shape of commissions, percentages, and
other licensed modifications of cheatery, nor are they reckoned to the
advantage of the debtor. These may be practices of experience, custom,
and money-getting, but they are not rules of conscience. In truth, there
is not a more painful scene than the ruin of a young man of family.
There is so much vice and unprincipled waste opposed to indignant and
rapacious clamour, often accompanied with idle jests. Here again is food
for the vitiated appetites of scandalmongers, and that miserable but
numerous portion of mankind, who rejoice at the fall of a superior. The
name of _debtor_ is an odium which a proud spirit can but ill
support; cunning and avarice come in a thousand shapes, not to retrieve
lost credit, but to swell the list of embarrassments;--friends have fled
at the approach of the crisis, and associates appear but to pluck the
poor victim of the wrecks of his fortune! Absenteeism, the curse of
England, is the only alternative of wretched and humiliating
imprisonment. An entire change of habit ensues: ease and elegance of
manners dwindle into coldness and neglect, liberality to meanness, and
good-natured simplicity to chicanery and cunning. In society, too, how
changed; once the gay table companion, full of gallantry and wit, now
solitary and dejected, with the weeds of discomfort and despair rankling
around his heart. If fortune ever enable him to regenerate from such
obscurity, perhaps custom may have habituated him to privation till the
return of comfort serves little more than to awaken recollections of
past error or obligation, and to embitter future enjoyment. Such a
change may, however, empower him to adjust his conscience with men, of
all satisfaction the most valuable; notwithstanding that the world is
readier to exaggerate error, than recognise such sterling principle. It
is alike obvious, that men who are under the stigma of debt, do not
enjoy that ease which they are commonly thought to possess. The horrors
of dependance, in all its afflicting shapes, are known to visit them
hourly, although in some instances, buoyancy of spirits, and affected
gaiety may enable them to appear happy; and ofttimes would they be
awakened to a sense of these fallacies, and thus become reformed, were
it not for the rigour of persecution, which renders them reckless of all
that may ensue, and callous to the honourable distinctions of man. This
of a truth, is tampering with human weakness, and is too often known to
prove the upshot of industry, by sacrificing principle to vindictive
passion.
That a system of debt is identified with the existence and framework of
all commercial republics, is well known; else, genius would cease to be
fostered, enterprise would be cramped, and industry wither on her own
soil. Nevertheless, the system may be so extended, as to beget
indifference for the future and neglect of our present concerns, which
leads to gradual ruin. Time "travels at divers paces," but with none
more quickly than the unprepared debtor; and he who allows his debts to
get the start of his fortune, lives upon other men's estates, and must
accordingly become the slave of their passions and prejudices: in truth,
he may be thus said to be parting with his existence by piece-meal.
Hence, he becomes a kind of _convict_ in society--his debts
resembling a log of wood chained to his body, and a brand-mark on his
conscience. Thus pent up with fear and disquietude, his imprisonment is
twofold, and being an enemy to his own peace, he is apt to imagine all
men to be leagued against him. If his debts are those of youth, his old
age will probably resemble the sequel to revelry, when appetite is fled
to make way for disgust and spleen: and he dies--in debt. Mark the
lamentable scenes that follow, when the pride of inheritance sinks
before the unsparing hand of the usurer, or extortionate mortgagee.
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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
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SIR LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON.
Sir Lumley St. George Skeffington was the dandy of the olden time, and a
kinder, better-hearted man, never existed. He is a person of some taste
in literature, and of polished manners, nor has his long intercourse
with fashionable society at all affected that simplicity of character
for which he has been remarkable. He was a true dandy: and much more
than, that, he was a perfect gentleman. I remember, long long since,
entering Covent Garden Theatre, when I observed a person holding the
door to let me pass; deeming him to be one of the box-keepers, I was
about to nod my thanks: when I found, to my surprise, that it was
Skeffington, who had thus goodnaturedly honoured a stranger by his
attention. We with some difficulty obtained seats in a box, and I was
indebted to accident for one of the most agreeable evenings I remember
to have passed.
I remember visiting the Opera, when late dinners were the rage, and the
hour of refection was carried far into the night. I was again placed
near the fugleman of fashion (for to his movements were all eyes
directed: and his sanction determined the accuracy of all conduct). He
bowed from box to box, until recognising one of his friends in the lower
tier, "Temple," he exclaimed, drawling out his weary words,
"at--what--hour--do--you--dine--to-day?" It had gone half-past eleven
when he spoke!
I saw him once enter St. James's Church, having at the door taken a
ponderous red-morocco prayer-book from his servant; but, although
prominently placed in the centre aisle, the pew-opener never offered him
a seat; and, stranger still, none of his many friends beckoned him to a
place. Others, in his rank of life, might have been disconcerted at the
position in which he was placed: but Skeffington was too much of a
gentleman to be in any way disturbed; so he seated himself upon the
bench between two aged female paupers, and most reverently did he go
through the service, sharing with the ladies his book, the print of
which was more favourable to their devotions than their own diminutive
Liturgies.
_New Monthly Magazine._
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MARQUESS OF CLEVELAND.
In the Gazette of September 17, 1827, is registered the grant of the
title of _Marquess of Cleveland_ to the Earl of Darlington.
The noble Earl probably selected the title of "Cleveland" in consequence
of his representing the extinct Dukes of Cleveland. King Charles the
Second, on the 3rd of August, 1670, created his mistress, Barbara
Villiers, the daughter and heiress of William, second Viscount Grandison
in Ireland, and wife of Roger Palmer, Earl of Castlemaine, Baroness
Nonsuch, in the county of Surrey, Countess of Southampton, and
_Duchess of Cleveland_, with remainder to two of her natural sons
by the King, Charles Fitz Roy, and George Fitz Roy, who was created Duke
of Northumberland in 1674, but died S.P., and to the heirs male of their
bodies lawfully begotten respectively. The Duchess died in 1709, and was
succeeded by her eldest son, Charles, who had been before created Duke
of Southampton. He had issue, three sons: William, his successor in his
honours; Charles, and Henry, who both died S.P.; and three daughters,
Barbara, who died unmarried; Grace; and Ann; who was the wife of Francis
Paddy, Esquire, and had issue.
Grace, the Duke's second daughter, married Henry, first Earl of
Darlington; and on the death of her brother William, second and last
Duke of Cleveland, S.P., in 1774, her son, Henry, second Earl of
Darlington, the father of the present Marquess of Cleveland, became one
of the representatives of that family. It is an extraordinary fact, that
the attainder of the celebrated Sir Henry Vane should never have been
reversed, though his son was created a Baron, his great-grandson a
Viscount and Earl, and his great-great-great-grandson a Marquess. The
only individual on whom the title of Cleveland has been conferred,
besides Barbara Villiers and her descendants, was Thomas, fourth Lord
Wentworth, who was created Earl of Cleveland in February, 1626; but it
became extinct on his death, S.P.M., in 1667.
_Retrospective Review._
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DIRTY PEOPLE.
A dirty dog is a nuisance not to be borne. But here the question
arises,--who--what--is a dirty dog? Now there are men (no women)
naturally--necessarily--dirty. They are not dirty by chance or
accident--say twice or thrice per diem--but they are always dirty--at
all times and in all places--and never and nowhere more disgustingly so
than when figged out for going to church. It is in the skin--in the
blood--in the flesh--and in the bone--that with such the disease of dirt
more especially lies. We beg pardon, no less in the hair. Now such
persons do not know that they are dirty--that they are unclean beasts.
On the contrary, they often think themselves pinks of purity--incarnations
of carnations--impersonations of moss-roses--the spiritual essences
of lilies, "imparadised in form of that sweet flesh." Now, were such
persons to change their linen every half hour night and day, that is,
were they to put on forty-eight clean shirts in the twenty-four
hours,--and it would not be reasonable, perhaps, to demand more of
them,--yet though we cheerfully grant that one and all of the shirts
would be dirty, we as sulkily deny that at any given moment from sunrise
to sunset, and over again, the wearer would be clean. He would be just
every whit and bit as dirty as if he had known but one single shirt all
his life--and firmly believed his to be the only shirt in the universe.