WEEKLY DIARY. AUGUST. SEXTILIS was the ancient Roman name of this month, being the sixth from March. The Emperor Augustus changed this name, and gave it his own, because in this month Cæsar Augustus took possession of his first consulship; celebrated three triumphs; reduced Egypt under the power of the Roman people; and put an end to all civil wars. The Saxons called August arn-monat (more rightly barnmonat), intending thereby the then filling of their barnes with corne. REMARKABLE DAYS. TUESDAY 6-Transfiguration. Though this day was observed in remembrance of our Lord's Transfiguration on the Mount, by the primitive Christians, yet it is but of recent date in the Church of Rome; as it was not instituted by Pope Calixtus until the year 1455. WEDNESDAY 7.-Name of Jesus. Before the Reformation, this day was dedicated to Afra, a woman who had been converted to Christianity by Narcissus, Bishop of Jerusalem, and who afterwards suffered martyrdom; and the breviary was recognized by Paul V. Afterwards Donatus, who became martyr in the time of Julian, for refusing to sacrifice, was substituted in her place. Our reformers devoted it to the NAME OF OUR BLESSED LORD. On this day the Jews commemorate the death of Aaron the High Priest. : SATURDAY 10.-Saint Lawrence. still a Cocke for a weake bodie that is consumed," But the most extraordinary of all the Calinary that the smoke do not choke her, and that the fire St. Lawrence was, by birth, a Spaniard, see her giddy with running, and begin to stumble, her heart wants moisture, and she is roasted enough. cry as you cut off any part from her, and will be al- We suppose Mr. Mizald stole this receipt from the CULINARY CURIOSITIES. The following specimen of the unaccountably whimsical Harlequinade of Foreign Kitchens is from "La Chappelle" Nouveau Cuisinier, Paris, 1748. "A Turkey," in the shape of "a Football," or "a Hedge-Hog.""A Shoulder of Mutton," in the shape of a "Bee-Hive."-" Entrée of Pigeons," "in the form of a Spider," or Sun-Fashion, or "in the form of a Frog," or, in "the form of the Moon." -Or," to make a Pig taste like a Wild Boar :" Take a living Pig, and let him swallow the following drink, viz. boil together in vinegar and water, some rosemary, thyme, sweet basil, bayleaves, and sage; when you have let him swallow this, immediately whip him to Death, and roast him forthwith. How to 321. Magicke, fol. 1658, p. This very curious (but Many articles were in vogue in the 14th Century mens of THE CULINARY AFFAIRS OF DAYS OF YORE. Sauce for a Goose, A. D. 1381. "Take a faire panne, and set hit under the Goose whill she rostes ;---and kepe clene the grese that droppes thereof, and put thereto a godele (good deal) of Wyn, and a litel vynegur, and verjus, and onyons mynced, or garlek; then take the gottes (gut) of the Goose and slitte hom, and scrape hom clene in watur and salt, and so wash hom, and hack hom small, then do all this togedur in a piffenent (pipkin) and do thereto raisinges of corauce, and peuder of pepur and of ginger and of canell, and hole clowes and maces, and let hit boyle and serve hit forthe." "That unweildy marine animal the PORPUS was dressed in a variety of modes, salted, roasted, stewed, &c. Our ancestors were not singular in their partiality to it; I find, from an ingenious friend of mine, that it is even now, A. D. 1790, sold in the markets of most towns in Portugal---the flesh The CRANE, was a darling dainty in William the Conqueror's time, and so partial was that monarch to it, that when his prime favourite William Fitz Osborne, the steward of the household, served him with a Crane scarcely half roasted, the King was so highly exasperated, that he lifted up his fist, and would have strucken him, had not Euds (appointed Dapifer immediately after) warded off the blow."---WARNER'S Antiq. Cul. p. 12. SEALS, CURLEWS, HERONS, BITTERNS, and the PEACOCK---that notable bird "the food of Lovers and the meat of Lords"---was also at this time in high fashion--when the Baronial Entertainments were characterized by a grandeur and pompous of Royalty: there was scarcely any Royal or Noble ceremonial, approaching nearly to the magnificence feast without PECOKKES, which were stuffed with Spices and Sweetherbs, roasted and served up whole, and covered after dressing with the skin. and feathers---the beak and comb gilt and the tail spread---and some instead of the feathers, covered it with leaf-gold :---it was a common dish on grand occasions---and continued to adorn the English table till the beginning of the 17th Century. In Massinger's Play of "the City Madam," Holdfast exclaiming against city luxury says, "three fat wethers bruised, to make sauce for a single Peacock." This Bird is one of those luxuries which were often sought, because they were seldom found: its scarcity and external appearance is its only recommendation-- the meat of it is tough and tasteless. Another favourite dish at the tables of our Forefathers was a PYE of stupendous magnitude, out of which, on its being opened, a flock of living birds flew forth, to the no small surprise and amusement of the guests. "Four-and-twenty Blackbirds bak'd in a Pye; "When the Pye was open'd the birds began to sing"Oh! what a dainty dish-'tis fit for any King." This was a common Joke at an old English Feast. These animated Pies were often introduced "to set on," as Hamlet says, "a quantity of barren spectators to laugh,"---there is an instance of a Dwarf undergoing such an incrustation.---About the year 1630, King Charles and his Queen were entertained by the Duke and Duchess of Buckingham, at Burleigh on the Pill, on which occasion JEFFERY HUDSON, the Dwarf, was served up in a cold Pye.---See WALTOLE'S Anecdotes of Painting, vol. ii. p. 14. The BARON OF BEEF was another favourite and substantial support of Old English Hospitality. Among the most polished nations of the 15th and 16th Centuries the powdered (salted) Horse seems to have been a dish in some esteem: Grimalkin herself could not escape the undistinguish ing fury of the Cook. Don Anthony of Gaevera, the Chronicler to Charles V., gives the following account of a feast at which he was present. "I will tell you no lye, I sawe such kindes of meates eaten, as are wont to be sene, but not eaten---as a HORSE roasted---a CAT in gely---LYZARDS in hot brothe, FROGGES fried, &c. While we are thus considering the curious dishes of olden times, we will cursorily mention the singular diet of two or three nations of antiquity noted by Herodotus, L. 4. The Androphagi (the cannibals of the ancient world) greedily devoured the carcases of their fellow-creatures; while the inoffensive Cabri (a Scythian tribe) found both food and drink in the agreeable nut of the Pontic Tree. The Lotophagi lived entirely on the fruit of the Lotus Tree. The It is a curious illustration of the de gustibus non est disputandum, that the ancients considered the Swan as a high delicacy, and abstained from the flesh of the Goor as impure and indigestible."-MOU BRAY on Poultry, p. 36. savage Troglodyte esteemed a living serpent the most delicate of all imorsels; while the capricious palate of the Zyguntini preferred the Ape to every thing." Vide WARNER'S Antiq. Cul. p 135. The Romans in the luxurious period of their empire, took five meals a day; a Breakfast (jentaculum); a Dinner, which was a light meal without any formal preparation (prandium), a kind of Tea, as we could call it, between dinner and supper (merenda); a Supper, (cana), which was their great meal, and commonly consisted of two courses; the first of meats the sceoad, what we call a Dessert ;--and a Posset, or something delicious after supper, (comissatio).—ADAM's Rom. Antiq. p. 434 and 447. The Romans usually began their entertainments with eggs, and ended with fruits; hence AB OVO USQUE AD MALA, from the beginning to the end of supper, Horat. Sut. i. 3. 6.; Cic. Fam. ix. 20. The dishes (edulia) held in the highest estimation by the Romans are enumerated, Gell. vii. 16. Macrob. Sat. ii. 9. Martial. v. 79. ix. 48. xi. 53. &c. a Peacock, (PAVO, V. us) Horat. Sat. ii. 2. 23. Juvenal. i. 143. first used by Hortensius, the orator, at a supper, which he gave when admitted into the college of priests, (aditiali cæná sacerdotii), Plin. x. 20. s. 23. a pheasant, (PHASIANA, ex Phasi Colchidis Auvio), Martial iii. 58. xiii. 72. Senec. ad Helv. 9. Petron. 79. Manil. v. 372. a bird called Attagen velina, from Ionia or Phrygia, Horat. Eopd. ii. 54. Martial. xiii. 61. a guinea hen, (avis Afra, Horat. ibid. Gallina Numidica vel Africana, Juvenal, xi. 142. Martial. xiii. 73.) a Melian crane; an Ambracian kid; nightingales, lusciniae; thrushes turdi; ducks, geese, &c. TOMACULUM, (a TEμvw), vel ISICIUM, (ab inseco), sausages or paddings, Juvenal. x, 355. Martial. 42. 9. Petron. 31.-See ADAM'S Roman Antiquities, 2nd Edition, 8vo. 1792, p. 447. That the English reader may be enabled to form some idea of the heterogeneous messes with which the Roman palate was delighted, I introduce the following receipt from Apicius. "THICK SAUCE FOR A BOILED CHICKEN."Put the following ingredients into a Mortar ;—Aniseed, dried Mint, and Lazer Root, (similar to Assafoetida,) cover them with vinegar.---Add dates; pour in Liquamen, Oil, and a small quantity of Mustard Seeds--reduce all to a proper thickness with Port Wine warmed; and then pour this same over your Chicken, which should previously be boiled in Aniseseed water. The Liquamen and Garum were synonimous terms for the same thing; the former adopted in the room of the latter---about the age of Aurelian. It was a liquid, and thus prepared :-The Guts of large fish and a variety of small Fish, were put into a vessel and well salted, and then exposed to the Sun till they became putrid. A liquor was produced in a short time, which being strained off, was the Liquamen.-Vide LISTER in Apicium, p. 16. notes. Essence of Anchovy, as it is usually made for sale, when it has been opened about ten days, is not much unlike the Roman Liquamen. -Some suppose it was the same thing as the Russian Caviar, which is prepared from the Roe of the Sturgeon. The BLACK BROTH of Lacedæmon will long continue to excite the wonder of the Philosopher, and the disgust of the Epicure. What the ingredients of this sable composition were, we cannot exactly ascertain. Jul. Pollux says, the Lacedæmonian Black Broth was blood, thickened in a certain way: Dr. LISTER (in Apicium) supposes it to have been hog's blood; if so, this celebrated Spartan dish bore no very distant resemblance to the black-puddings of our days. It could not be a very alluring mess, since a citizen of Sybaris having tasted it, declared, it was no longer a matter of astonishment with him, why the Spartans were so fearless of death, since any one in his senses would much rather die, than exist on such execrable food. Vide Athenæum, L. iv. c. 3: When Dionysins the Tyrant had tasted the Black Broth, he exclaimed against it as miserable stuff; the Cook replied," it was no wonder, for the sauce was wanting." "What sauce?" says Dionysius. The answer was,-“ labour and exercise, hunger and thirst, these are the sauces we Lacedæmonians use," and they make the coarsest fare agreeable. CICERO, 3 Tuscul. A MERMAID. Extract of a letter from the Rev. Dr. Philip, representative of the London Missionary Society, at Cape Town, Cape of Good Hope, dated April 26, 1822 I have to-day seen a mermaid, now exhibiting in this town. I have always treated the existence of this creature as fabulous; but my scepticism is now removed. The head is almost the size of that of a baboon. It is thinly covered with black hair, hanging down, and not inclined to frizzle. On the upper lip and on the chin there are a few hairs, resembling those upon the bead. The ossa malarum, or cheek-bones, are prominent. The forehead is low, but, except in this particular, the features are much better proportioned, and bear a more decided resemblance to the human countenance, than those of any of the baboon tribes. The head is turned back, and the countenance has an expression of terror, which gives it an appearance of a caricature of the human face; but I am disposed to think that both these circumstances are accidental, and have arisen from the manner in which the creature met its death. It bears the appearance of having died in great agony. The ears, nose, lips, chin, breasts and nipples, fingers and nails, resemble those of a human figure. The spinous processes of the vertebræ are very prominent, and apparently arranged as in the human body. From the position of the arms, and the manner in which they are placed, and from such an examination as could be made in the circumstances in which I was placed at the time I saw it, I can have no doubt that it has clavicles: an appendage belonging to the human subject, which baboons are without. The appearance of the teeth affords sufficient evidence that it is full grown; the incisores being worn on the upper surface. There are eight incisores, four canine, and eight molares. The canine teeth resemble those of a full-grown dog; all the others resemble those of the human subject. The length of the animal is three feet; but not having been well preserved it has shrunk considerably, and must have been both longer and thicker when alive than it is now. Its resemblance to the human species ceases immediately under the mammæ. On the line of separation, and directly under the breasts, are two fins. From the point where the human figure ceases, which is about twelve inches below the vertex of the head, it resembles a large fish of the salmon species. It is covered with scales all over. On the lower part of the animal the scales resemble those of a fish; but on that part of the animal which resembles the human form, they are much less, and scarcely perceptible, except on a near inspection. On the lower part of the body it has six fins, one dorsal, two ventrical, two pectoral, and the tail. The pectoral fins are very remarkable; they are horizontal, and evidently formed as an apparatus to support the creature when in an erect posture, like that in which it has been sometimes represented combing its hair. The figure of the tail is exactly that which is given in the usual representation of the mermaid. The proprietor of this extraordinary animal is Capt. Eades, of Boston, in the United States of America. Since writing the above description he has called upon me, and I have learned from him the following particulars : 'It was caught somewhere on the north of China, by a fisherman, who sold it for a trifle; after which it was brought to Batavia. Here it was purchased by Captain Eades, for 5000 Spanish dollars, and he has since been offered 10,000 Spanish dollars for it, but refuses to part with it for that sum. Captain Eades is a passenger on board the American ship Lion, now in Table Bay; he leaves this port in about a fortnight, and the Lion visits the Thames on her passage to America, so that it will probably be soon exhibited in London.' THE DIVING BELL. The strains of music grew fainter and fainter, as the bell descended through the green fluid which surrounded me; and I now began to experience that variety and intensity of feeling, which I have so often seen described by divers. The first sensation was a painful pressure upon my ears, as if a body of considerable power and magnitude had been endeavouring to enter my brain through those apertures. After a while, their cavities became expanded, and the pain was relieved; but as the bell sank, it was frequently again renewed, and as often exchanged for ease. I had scarcely descended above three or four fathoms, when I felt the amazing weight of the ocean, pressing upon, and girding round my head, like an iron crown rivetted fast to the scull; the force of which was so very tremendous, that it was with difficulty that my senses were preserved.---This painful feeling was then exchanged for a species of restless agitation and excitement, which might not entirely be the effect of my situation and extraordinary voyage, but might partly arise from some recollection of the imminent danger in which I was placed. A kind of langour, which increased almost to fainting, now overcame me; the blood left my face, and my limbs grew cold; and, indeed, although I was well supplied with air, by a continual exchange of the barrels from above, life seemed on the point of departing. In the course of my voyage, I frequently looked out upon the waters, which of themselves presented nothing but a clear green fluid; but frequently there came rushing by the bell, fishes of extraordinary forms and magnitude, some of the most beautiful colours and appearance, and others armed with dreadful teeth, stings, and fangs, with scales and eyes of a fiery lustre. I felt a constant dread, which perhaps tended to keep off other fears, that some of them might enter through the lower part of the diving-bell, and attack me in my strong hold, where escape and opposition would be equally in vain. Occasionally I passed some marine production, between a fish and a plant, which spread out into branches filled with innumerable mouths, and never-ceasing motion. Now and then methought I heard a noise like music in the deep; but the continual rushing, roaring, and washing of the current against the sides of the bell, prevented any thing like a distinct hearing; only from this I am convinced, that the ocean is not a silent world. Sometimes the waters would seem deserted and vacant; and then again there would rush by, such shoals of living beings, pursuing each other either in sport or anger, that their course was too rapid for the eye to discern their forms. Once or twice, indeed, I thought there appeared somewhat like a human figure covered with scales of silvery green, but the image was too swiftly gone for me to speak with certainty; added to which, the optical illusion occasioned by the waters might have deceived me. length, at the depth of seventy fathoms, the bell rested on the basin of the sea; and it may be imagined only what were my feelings at that moment. I was more than four hundred feet below the ocean! in a frail machine of wood, depending upon a few ropes; and in a world which seems to be the principal abode of the most terrific monsters !---I cannot, however, even at this distant period, trust my recollection with the maddening subject; and therefore I hasten forward with my tale. The bed of the deep is in itself a fair and beautiful sand, on which are placed rocks that seem to glow with a metallic lustre of various colours, on which is to be seen many a fair living tree of silvery whiteness, in constant motion, while shells of all kinds and hues are scattered over them. The view is indeed a landscape, the most wild and magical that can be imagined; and although there really want the artificial erections of man, yet are the rocks shivered and hollowed out, into the form of temples, domes, pinnacles, minarets, and palaces; upon which there is a continual change of light, produced by the continual movement of the sea. When I arrived at this place, the painful sensations which I had experienced in my At voyage had left me; I could breathe freely, and upon viewing the beautiful objects around me, I began to think that the ocean world was indeed as delightful as the poets and water spirits had described it to be. But after emerging from the bell I saw many a sight that filled me with terror. The rocks were interspersed with the half-devoured corses of those lost in the late wreck, on which the fishes were still feeding; while thousands of whitening bones and skeletons lay scattered about, some resting on the outstretched arms of the giant polypus which had fed on them, and others in the dreadful opening made by the shell of the enormous clamp fish. The packages, jewels, gold, anchors, and fragments of wrecks, which appeared strewed about, were innumerable; but my respiration now becoming difficult, from the agitation produced by so terrible yet sublime a spectacle, I turned from it to search for the body of my friend. After a long, dangerous, and almost hopeless examination, I discovered it in a cave, some distance from the diving bell, still dressed as when I last saw him, but blue, swoln and livid. I raised the body in my arms, and taking one hand, drew from it a seal-ring, with an aquamarine stone, which well preserves the memory of my friend's death, and my own hazards in obtaining of it; and since I first put it on, neither force nor any other method will draw it off. When I had done this, I looked the corse steadily in the face, and still holding it by the right hand, said, "George Harvey, the pledge of Raymond Mortiake is redeemed;" when to my surprise, yet not to my terror, methought the eyes opened and gazed fervently upon me, while a smile seemed to play around the mouth, and the hand I fancied returned my pressure. At this moment I discovered that a sea-monster, consisting of a huge mis-shapen mass of scaly flesh, somewhat resembling a man, had fastened his long teeth on the body of my friend. I caught up a large piece of wreck that lay near me, and with one blow laid the monster level and powerless; whilst I bastened to secure a burial for the corse, by dropping it into one of the many springs which gush from the bottom of the sea; whose strength is such, as to terrify all the inhabitants of the deep.---This was has invented various machines by which some Mathematicians are well aware that tables Mr. Babbage has sketches of two other machines, one by which the product of any number by any other number may be found; and another, by which all prime numbers from O to ten millions may be determined. He has also a fourth machine, whose plans are in a more advanced state, by which tables having no order of differences constant may be constructed. This last is immediately applicable to the construction of Logarithmic and Astronomical tables of every kind; and in order to avoid the errors which might be produced in copying and printing the numbers in the comhe has contrived means by which the machines mon way, the ingenious inventor states, that shall take, from several boxes containing type, the numbers which they calculate, and place them side by side; thus becoming at once a substitute for the computer and the compositor. THE DRAMA. MANCHESTER DRAMATIC REGISTER. Saturday, July 6th.-Hamlet; Hamlet, Mr. Young: with How to Die for Love. Saturday, 13th.-King Lear: Lear, Mr. Young: with Saturday, 20th.-Twelfth Night; with No Song no The name of Mr. Dibdin's forthcoming drama is The Abyssinian. A new five act Opera, founded on the history of "Gil Blas," the music by Mr. Moss and Mr. Sor, is in rehearsal at the English Opera House. The Theatrical world has just suffered an irreparable loss in the death of Mr. EMERY. That admirable performer died on Thursday night, in his 47th year. In his line, which was limited, he was certainly never excelled, if ever he was equalled, upon the stage. Rough nature, strong passions, and at other times a fine simplicity, marked his acting. Foreign judges were always struck with his force ; and it is not too much to say, that the lovers of the drama at home could hardly have had a loss more difficult to be repaired, or a favourite more truly to be regretted. LECTURES ON ANATOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, MR. T. TURNER, Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, &c. intends, during the ensuing Winter, to deliver a COURSE of LECTURES on ANA TOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, and SURGERY. Further information will be communicated in a future advertisement. 22, Piccadilly, Manchester, August 3, 1822. This Day is Published, price one Shilling, A DESCRIPTION OF BAGSHAW CAVERN, at Bradwell, in the Peak of Derbyshire, with some Inhabitants. BY JOHN BRADWELL. THOMSON. "These conceal'd scarcely effected, with a very brief farewell, when SCIENCE. ---KAL. LITERARY NOTICES. Mr. Roscoe has in the press, Additional Observations on Penal Jurisprudence and the Reformation of Criminals, in reply to an article on Prisons, in the Edinburgh Review; and also on the Punishment of CULATING AND PRINTING OF MATHEMA- | Solitary Confinement, as proposed in some of the APPLICATION OF MACHINERY TO THE CAL TICAL TABLES. A very eminent Mathematician, CHARLES BABBAGE, Esq. F. R. S. London and Edinburgh, &c. in a letter addressed to Sir Humphry Davy, President of the Royal Society of London, has announced to the world that he United States of America. The Hermit in the Country is about to publish a A new Poem is shortly expected from the pen of Journal of a Voyage to Greenland, in 1821, with TO CORRESPONDENTS. Advertisements.-The last column of the Iris is open to such advertisements only as are of a Literary or Scientific nature, comprising Education, Institutions, Sales of Libraries, &c. SATURDAY, AUGUST 10, 1822. up the subject, and said, that "he thought "What can conduce more to devout and "But let my due feet never fail MILTON. go What can be better calculated to rouse the mind to the ensuing solemnities of worship, than the pealing organ announcing the entrance of the minister? His very surplice appears to me emblematical of the purity of the worship in which he is about to engage. Where, indeed, is there such a collection of prayers as is contained in the liturgy of the church? I dare challenge any one to produce a composition so beautiful and appropriate in its kind, as The General Thanksgiving,' and which, on that account, I make all my pupils commit to memory among their first exer cises." Here the Widower, who is a dissenter, took 66 PRICE 3 d. to a better house, by which I soon understood a more elegant and expensive one. I could not help being surprised at this information, for although my friend has a good salary, yet he has no other dependance, and has a young wife and numerous family. I ventured to ask what was the reason of this removal, and my friend's wife informed me, that none of the families they visited lived in so small a house as themselves, and that she really had not a decent room to receive company in. I sighed," said the Tradesman, "but did not say any thing, as I knew that these visitings were considered by my friend and his wife, rather in the light of religious privileges, than as expensive amusements. Yet I could not but think that my friend was making a great sacrifice for a very questionable good. For what are the advantages connected with these visitings? I fear they too frequently tend to excite a passion for large houses, fine furniture, and expensive dress. And let me ask what is the religious conversation, which is made the pretext for such visitings? The conversation I have heard, when I have been introduced, has related to the opening of chapels, the amount of collections, or the character of ministers, enlivened occasionally which did not always appear to me to exhibit by remarks on other professors of religion, the greatest charity." The Tradesman, who had listened with some symptoms of impatience to the latter part of these remarks, now entered on the subject. "To the correctness of some of your obser- The Secretary, who had hitherto listened vations," said he, addressing himself to the to the discussion without taking any part in it, Widower, "I accede, but I question much shewed us, by the following statement of his whether the select meetings and visitings of opinion on the subject, that he had not been the dissenters, are not, in some cases, accom- inattentive to the conversation of the evening. panied by many and great evils. I have once" I am," said he, "warmly attached to the or twice been present at the private meetings of dissenters, and I have observed, that the answers to the questions put to the individuals by the person who took the lead, were generally of a gloomy character. Almost every one gave such an account of his evil heart,' worldly thoughts,' and unworthiness,' that I could not avoid thinking it would be very hazardous for any other person to speak so ill of him. But what surprised me most was that, after the meeting had concluded, those who had spoken in such mournful terms of themselves and their feelings, were all at once as full of animation as possible, eagerly making up visiting parties, or enquiring how their friends had gotten home from the last visit. All sorrow had ceased with the meeting. I called the other day," continued the Tradesman, "at the house of a friend who is a dissenter, and who lives in habits of intimacy with the leading members of the congregation to which he belongs. I was informed by my friend's wife, that they were about to remove established church, and can participate in all the feelings which have been described by the President. I, too, love the high embowed roof,' and feel my devotion kindled when I enter the venerable piles which the piety of our ancestors has consecrated to religion, I trust, however, that my adherence to the church, does not render me insensible to the superiority, in some respects, of the discipline which exists among dissenters. I think we might, with advantage, adopt some of their arrangements. At the same time I am constrained to admit, that the bad consequences which have been pointed out by Mr. do too frequently result from the intercourse which takes place between the families of dissenting congregations. Perhaps it is not possible that it should be otherwise; for the best and most useful institutions, are, by the fatality of human affairs, always accompanied by some admixture of evil." THE AUGUSTAN AGE IN ENGLAND. (See page 210.) The names of second degree of the age of Anne are, we are free to admit, many and distinguished. Prior, Parnell, Gay, Steele, Garth, Arbuthnot, though none of very high literary rank when taken singly, do certainly, as a body, form a phalanx of considerable power. But not one of these can be considered a man of genius;-not one has added in an important degree to the literary riches of his country. We question whether the name least known among them-Arbuthnot-be not that which deserves the highest place. Few men had more powers of humour, and humour of the best kind. The Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus, in which he had far the greatest share, prove what he might have done in that way, if he had had more time, or more inclination, to devote himself to literature. GARTH was highly esteemed in his time; and, it may be, with justice-but his poem is of so temporary and confined a nature, that it can excite no interest at this time of day. PARNELL wrote but very little; and that little does not appear to us of a merit sufficient to entitle him to the fame he acquired. We must conclude that he was one of those persons, who, living much in literary society, and contributing, himself, largely to its pleasures, are so frequently and so landingly mentioned by their more celebrated friends, that they are towed by them, as it were, into fame, with little or no exertion of their own. This applies, though in a far less degree, to STEELE. As the chief author of the Tatler, and one of the principal contributors to the Spectator, his name has descended to posterity with deserved distinction. He is a pleasing and most gentlemanly writer, with a considerable share of quiet humour-though without great force in that, or indeed in any thing. His dramatic writings have fallen into deserved neglect; in them he is cold, formal, and constrained-even his humour appears introduced with effort, and nothing can be more tame than the serious Any page of the Funeral, or the Conscious Lovers, will fully exemplify and confirm this position. The chief merit of PRIOR Consists in the extreme ease of his compositions-that is, of his lighter works, for on them his fame wholly rests. They are perfect in their style: our language has but few writings of this sort, and none which have the grace and point of Prior. It is in this style of poetry-if poetry it can be calledin which the French excel; and Prior is almost the only English author who has contrived to preserve the archness and malice of their manher. But this style of composition is but of a very inferior order, and if it have not been much cultivated in our language, it is probably on account of its unworthiness. Such productions are not those of a very high mind, and cannot gain for their author any advanced grade of poetical reputation. When we say that they are almost the only English works of the kind, we need scarcely observe that we are far from meaning that our language is at all deficient in comic writing in verse. Prior's light and elegant pieces are equally remote from the broad humour of Butler, and the brilliant wit and keenness of some compositions of the present day. The fame of GAY has continued to stand high up to this time. We ascribe this partly to the grateful recollection which we all retain of the deligh: his scenes. Fables afforded to our childhood, and partly in opposition to Pope. In this, Swift is repreto the real merit of the Beggar's Opera. It is sented as going to the drawing-room, to collect strange how the popularity of this piece keeps subscriptions in the antichamber; and Addiits ground, when its chief satire is totally lost son is mentioned as having 66 at least as much sight of. The Beggar's Opera is admired by influence with the Whigs as Swift with the the lovers of music by those who are fond of Tories." But it is scarcely necessary to refer humorous representations of low life-and by to single instances to prove our assertion-to others who delight in the less apparent humour any one conversant with the literary history of the piece, as a Newgate pastoral." But of the times it must be perfectly apparent. these different classes of admirers all overlook Another great extrinsic help to fame which that the play was originally designed as a satire the works of these authors received, was the on the Italian Opera; that it was meant to peculiar constitution of society in relation to expose the absurdity of two wenches quarrel-literature. The authors themselves were more ling in the quavers of a duet, and a highway- in a knot-they bore a greater affinity to the man dying, like a swan, to the melody of his French hommes de lettres, than at any previous own music. The numerous singers who make or subsequent period. They used to meet at their debût in Polly always play it as if it were Will's and Button's,-talk over the new work intended to be a serious and pathetic character; of the day,-and give the cue to the shoal of and lose sight completely of the sly mock- witlings who were on the gape to catch their heroic of the part, in their anxiety to give opinion. At the present advanced period of touching interest to the simple ballads, and society, all persons are, in a certain degree, effect to the more bravura airs. If the Beg- conversant with literature-but in those times, gar's Opera were to be acted according to its writers were, comparatively, but few, and their original design, we can conceive few represen- productions, if possessed of any portion of tations of more humorous power-though we real merit, rose at once into notice from having are, perhaps, inclined to think that its moral little, if any, competition to struggle with. benefit would be but small. These causes we consider to have raised the names of the authors of the age of Anne far beyond their deserts; and, when once a name is classically established, it takes almost a lapse of ages to shake off the prejudice in its favour prejudice though it be. In this review of the principal writers of the reign of Anne, what appears chiefly striking to us is the decided lack of genius which it presents. We do not know that there is any period of English literary history at which this want was so great. That Pope was a man of genius we fully admit-but he has produced way of thinking began to decline; and with It is now, however, some years since this scarcely any work of genius, from the peculiar most it has entirely passed away. As this line of composition which he chose to follow. change of opinion gained progress, the atten He called forth all the powers of his judgment, tion was turned to the giant-spirits of our older of his wit, of his fancy; but his genius was writers; and the star of Addison and his fellows left-indeed we may say was made-to slum- faded from the sight before the sun-like radiber. The Eloise to Abelard is not only the ance of the Shakspearian age. Freed from the sole work of genius of Pope, but of the age chains of classical prejudice, the public mind of Anne. Of humour there was abundance in England began to feel how vastly superior of wit a sufficiency of judgment and sense its new faith was to the idols which it so long an unusual share, but of genius, absolutely had worshipped. The cold productions of rigid none. Can those who have been accustomed judgment the compositions of elegant and to worship this age of authors cite one work fanciful frivolity-sank into nothing before the of sublimity-of passion-of pathos? Can power of genius, luxuriating in its natural they name one production which excites or and unbounded richness. To what emotions softens our hearts-which makes the imagina- does not the very name of SHAKSPEARE give tion kindle, or which speaks to the responsive rise! The grave man and the humourist-the feelings of nature within us? We think not:- reflecting, the mirthful, and the melancholy, of political, moral, and literary disquisition-must all feel their hearts expand to Shakspeare of satirical and reasoning poetry, they may and his creations.-There is no mood of the produce much; but in the triumphs of genius, mind-we mean, of course, those in which we which cause us to glory in the magnificence can bring ourselves to read at all-when it is of human intellect, this vaunted age is totally not delightful to turn to his volumes. We are deficient. certain of finding there accordance with our feelings, whatever they may be enjoyment for the healthy mind, or medicine for the wounded one. There is an heartless anecdote told of Lord Oxford that he induced a young man to learn Spanish, in the hope of a diplomatic appointment, and when he had acquired it, presented him with a Spanish copy of Don Quixote, saying it was full repayment for his labour to be enabled to read that in the origi nal. It would be almost a friendly treachery to make in this manner a foreigner learn Eng lish-that he might revel with freedom in all the native luxuriances of Shakspeare. We scarcely use the word "revel" metaphorically. All must, we are sure, have felt the fulness of have feasted on their favourite beauties in his delights which the term implies, when they "wilderness of sweets." But though we venerate him thus highly, and, we may add, without hyperbole, love him thus dearly, we are by no means blind to the beauty and power of his contemporaries. Shakspeare is as Mont What, then, has given to these authors the fame which they indisputably have acquired? We think there are many causes which conduced to this. In the first place, the spirit of party existed at that time in a degree even beyond what these most political days present, The principal, indeed nearly all, the authors of the period, were intimately connected with one side or the other; and their political friends made their success a matter of party triumph. The success of Cato was wholly occasioned by this; and it applies in a great, though in a minor degree, to all the publications of that age. Even when they were totally free from politics in themselves, they were cried up as the works produced by one of the party;"and they thus derived a most powerful support, wholly unconnected with their intrinsic merit. If it be suspected that we overrate this assistance, let any one who doubts it read the controversy occasioned by the translation of the first book of Homer by the Whig party, |