The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 13, No. 351, January 10, 1829 by Various
The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 13, No. 351, January 10, 1829 by Various
The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 13, No. 351, January 10, 1829 by Various
OF
LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
Vol. 13. No. 351. SATURDAY, JANUARY 10, 1829. [PRICE 2d.
[pg 18]
MACCLESFIELD BRIDGE.
This picturesque structure crosses the Canal towards the Northern verge of the Regent's Park; and nearly
opposite to it is a road leading to Primrose Hill, as celebrated in the annals of Cockayne as was the Palatino
among the ancient Romans.
The bridge was built from the designs of Mr. Morgan, and its construction is considered to be "appropriate
and architectural." Its piers are formed by cast-iron columns, of the Grecian Doric order, from which spring
the arches, covering the towing-path, the canal itself, and the southern bank. The abacus, or top of the
columns, the mouldings or ornaments of the capitals, and the frieze, are in exceeding good taste, as are the
ample shafts. The supporters of the roadway, likewise, correspond with the order; although, says Mr. Elmes,
the architect, "fastidious critics may object to the dignity of the pure ancient Doric being violated by
degrading it into supporters of modern arches." The centre arch is appropriated to the canal and the
towing-path, and the two external arches to foot-passengers, and as communications to the road above them.
Mr. Elmes1 sums up the merits of the bridge as follows:—"It has a beautiful and light appearance, and is an
improvement in execution upon a design of Perronet's for an architectural bridge, that is, a bridge of orders.
The columns are well proportioned, and suitably robust, carrying solidity, grace, and beauty in every part;
We are happy to quote the above praise on the construction of Macclesfield Bridge, inasmuch as a critical
notice of many of the structures in the Regent's Park would subject them to much severe and merited censure.
The forms of bridges admit, perhaps, of more display of taste than any other species of ornamental
architecture, and of a greater means of contributing to the picturesque beauty of the surrounding scenery.
CRABBE.
"It was the early wish of Pope," says Dr. Knox, "that when he died, not a stone might tell where he lay. It is a
wish that will commonly be granted with reluctance. The affection of those whom we leave behind us is at a
loss for methods to display its wonted solicitude, and seeks consolation under sorrow, in doing honour to all
that remains. It is natural that filial piety, parental tenderness, and conjugal love, should mark, with some fond
memorial, the clay-cold spot where the form, still fostered in the bosom, moulders away. And did affection go
no farther, who could censure? But, in recording the virtues of the departed, either zeal or vanity leads to an
excess perfectly ludicrous. A marble monument, with an inscription palpably false and ridiculously pompous,
is far more offensive to true taste, than the wooden memorial of the rustic, sculptured with painted bones, and
decked out with death's head in all the colours of the rainbow. There is an elegance and a classical simplicity
in the turf-clad heap of mould which covers the poor man's grave, though it has nothing to defend it from the
insults of the proud but a bramble. The primrose that grows upon it is a better ornament than the gilded lies on
the oppressor's tombstone."
MACCLESFIELD BRIDGE. 2
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
The Greeks had a custom of bedecking tombs with herbs and flowers, among which parsley was chiefly in
use, as appears from Plutarch's story of Timoleon, who, marching up an ascent, from the top of which he
might take a view of the army and strength of the Carthaginians, was met by a company of mules laden with
parsley, which his soldiers conceived to be a very ill boding and fatal occurrence, that being the very herb
wherewith they adorned the sepulchres of the dead. This custom gave birth to that despairing proverb, when
we pronounce of one dangerously sick, that he has need of nothing but parsley; which is in effect to say, he's a
dead man, and ready for the grave. All sorts of purple and white flowers were acceptable to the dead; as the
amaranthus, which was first [pg 19] used by the Thessalians to adorn Achilles's grave. The rose, too, was very
grateful; nor was the use of myrtle less common. In short, graves were bedecked with garlands of all sorts of
flowers, as appears from Agamemnon's daughter in Sophocles:—
Several other tributes were frequently laid upon graves, as ribands; whence it is said that Epaminondas's
soldiers being disanimated at seeing the riband that hung upon his spear carried by the wind to a certain
Lacedæmonian sepulchre, he bid them take courage, for that it portended destruction to the Lacedæmons, it
being customary to deck the sepulchres of their dead with ribands. Another thing dedicated to the dead was
their hair. Electra, in Sophocles, says, that Agamemnon had commanded her and Chrysosthemis to pay this
honour:—
It was likewise customary to perfume the grave-stones with sweet ointments, &c.
P.T.W.
SONG.
ELFORD.
An event in the life of this nobleman gave Otway the plot for his celebrated tragedy of "The Orphan," though
he laid the scene of his play in Bohemia. It is recorded in the "English Adventures," a very scarce pamphlet,
published in 1667, only two or three copies of which are extant. The father of Charles Brandon retired, on the
death of his lady, to the borders of Hampshire. His family consisted of two sons, and a young lady, the
daughter of a friend, lately deceased, whom he adopted as his own child.
This lady being singularly beautiful, as well as amiable in her manners, attracted the affections of both the
brothers. The elder, however, was the favourite, and he privately married her; which the younger not knowing,
and overhearing an appointment of the lovers to meet the next night in her bed-chamber, he contrived to get
his brother otherwise employed, and made the signal of admission himself, (thinking it a mere intrigue.)
Unfortunately he succeeded.
On discovery, the lady lost her reason, and soon after died. The two brothers fought, and the elder fell. The
father broke his heart a few months afterwards. The younger brother, Charles Brandon, the unintentional
author of all this family misery, quitted England in despair, with a fixed determination of never returning.
Being abroad for several years, his nearest relations supposed him dead, and began to take the necessary steps
for obtaining his estates; when, roused by this intelligence, he returned privately to England, and for a time
took obscure lodgings in the vicinity of his family mansion.
While he was in this retreat, the young king, (Henry VIII.), who had just buried his father, was one day
hunting on the borders of Hampshire, when he heard the cries of a female in distress in an adjoining wood.
His gallantry immediately summoned him to the place, though he then happened to be detached from all his
courtiers, where he saw two ruffians attempting to violate the honour of a young lady. The king instantly drew
on them; and a scuffle ensued, which roused the reverie of Charles Brandon, who was taking his morning
walk in an adjoining thicket. He immediately ranged himself on the side of the king, whom he then did not
know; and by his dexterity, soon disarmed one of the ruffians, while the other fled.
The king, charmed with this act of gallantry, so congenial to his own mind, inquired the name and family of
the stranger; and not only repossessed him of his patrimonial estates, but took him under his immediate
protection.
It was this same Charles Brandon who afterwards privately married Henry's sister, Margaret, queen-dowager
of France; which marriage the king not only forgave, but created him Duke of Suffolk, and continued his
favour towards him to the last hour of the duke's life.
He died before Henry; and the latter showed, in his attachment to this nobleman, that notwithstanding his fits
of capriciousness [pg 20] and cruelty, he was capable of a cordial and steady friendship. He was sitting in
council when the news of Suffolk's death reached him; and he publicly took that occasion, both to express his
own sorrow, and to celebrate the merits of the deceased. He declared, that during the whole course of their
acquaintance, his brother-in-law had not made a single attempt to injure an adversary, and had never
whispered a word to the disadvantage of any one; "and are there any of you, my lords, who can say as much?"
When the king subjoined these words, (says the historian,) he looked round in all their faces, and saw that
confusion which the consciousness of secret guilt naturally threw upon them.
Otway took his plot from the fact related in this pamphlet; but to avoid, perhaps, interfering in a circumstance
which might affect many noble families at that time living, he laid the scene of his tragedy in Bohemia.
There is a large painting of the above incident now at Woburn, the seat of his Grace the Duke of Bedford; and
the old duchess-dowager, in showing this picture a few years before her death to a nobleman, related the
particulars of the story.
A CORRESPONDENT.
THE TOPOGRAPHER.
CARMARTHEN.
The best or north-east view of Carmarthen comprises the bridge, part of the quay, with the granaries and
shipping, and in the middle is seen part of the castle. Few towns can, perhaps, boast of greater antiquity, or of
so many antiquarian remains as Carmarthen, South Wales; although, I am sorry to say, that their origin and
history have not been, I believe, clearly explained or understood by the literary world. One would conclude,
that as a Welshman is almost proverbially distinguished for deeming himself illustriously descended, and
relating his long pedigree, he would naturally boast of, and exhibit to the public, some account of these
vestiges of his ancestors; but such is not the case, and to their shame be it spoken, these ruins are scarcely
noticed with any degree of interest by the inhabitants of Carmarthen. But to my subject. The name is derived
from caera, wall, and marthen, a corruption of Merlyn, the name of its founder, who was a great necromancer
and prophet, and held in high respect by the Welsh. There is a seat hewn out of a rock in a grove near this
town, called Merlyn's Grove, where it is said he studied. He prophesied the fate of Wales, and said that
Carmarthen would some day sink and be covered with water. I would concur with the author of a "Family
Tour through the British Empire," by attributing his influence, not to any powers in magic, but to a superior
understanding; although some of his predictions have been verified. The town of Carmarthen is pleasantly
situated in a valley surrounded by hills; it has been fortified with walls and a castle, part of which remain; so
that it appears to have been the residence of many princes of Wales. It has also been a Roman station, and has
W.H.
P.S. Since I sent you an account of Picton's Monument at Carmarthen, it has [pg 21] been altered. The statue,
bas-reliefs, and ornaments of the Picton Monument, have been bronzed by the direction of Mr. Nash, on his
late visit to this town. Elegant as this column was before, the effect of the bronze, and a few other alterations,
have so improved its appearance, as to make it seem a different structure. Nothing now remains to complete
the outside but the names of the different actions in which Sir T. Picton was engaged during his honourable
career. These are to be placed in bronzed letters on the base. A Latin inscription, already prepared, together
with the arms and a bust of Picton, will ornament the inside of the building. It certainly is a monument worthy
of the hero to whose memory it has been erected, and of the country by which it has been raised.
By an eye witness.
[For the following very interesting Narrative, our acknowledgments are due to the United Service Journal,—a
work which has just started with the year, and to which, in the "customary" phrase, we wish "many happy
returns."]
The summer of 1815 found me at Brussels. The town was then crowded to excess—it seemed a city of
splendour; the bright and varied uniforms of so many different nations, mingled with the gay dresses of
female beauty in the Park, and the Allée Verte was thronged with superb horses and brilliant equipages. The
tables d'hôte resounded with a confusion of tongues which might have rivalled the Tower of Babel, and the
shops actually glittered with showy toys hung out to tempt money from the pockets of the English, whom the
Flemings seemed to consider as walking bags of gold. Balls and plays, routs and dinners were the only topics
of conversation; and though some occasional rumours were spread that the French had made an incursion
within the lines, and carried off a few head of cattle, the tales were too vague to excite the least alarm. I was
then lodging with a Madame Tissand, on the Place du Sablon, and I occasionally chatted with my hostess on
the critical posture of affairs. Every Frenchwoman loves politics, and Madame Tissand, who was deeply
On the 3rd of June, I went to see ten thousand troops reviewed by the Dukes of Wellington and Brunswick.
Imagination cannot picture any thing finer than the ensemble of this scene. The splendid uniforms of the
English, Scotch, and Hanoverians, contrasted strongly with the gloomy black of the Brunswick Hussars,
whose veneration for the memory of their old Duke, could be only be equalled by their devotion to his son.
The firm step of the Highlanders seemed irresistible; and as they moved in solid masses, they appeared
prepared to sweep away every thing that opposed them. In short, I was delighted with the cleanliness, military
order, and excellent appointments of the men generally, and I was particularly struck with the handsome
features of the Duke of Brunswick, whose fine, manly figure, as he galloped across the field, quite realized my
beau ideal of a warrior. The next time I saw the Duke of Brunswick was at the dress ball, given at the
Assembly-rooms in the Rue Ducale, on the night of the 15th of June. I stood near him when he received the
information that a powerful French force was advancing in the direction of Charleroy. "Then it is high time
for me to be off," said the Duke, and I never saw him alive again. The assembly broke up abruptly, and in half
an hour drums were beating and bugles sounding. The good burghers of the city, who were almost all
enjoying their first sleep, started from their beds at the alarm, and hastened to the streets, wrapped in the first
things they could find. The most ridiculous and absurd rumours were rapidly circulated and believed. The
most general impression seemed to be that the town was on fire; the next that the Duke of Wellington had
been assassinated; but when it was discovered that the French were advancing, the consternation became
general, and every one hurried to the Place Royale, where the Hanoverians and Brunswickers were already
mustering.
About one o'clock in the morning of the 16th, the whole population of Brussels seemed in motion. The streets
were crowded as in full day; lights flashed to and fro; artillery and baggage-wagons were creaking in every
direction; the [pg 22] drums beat to arms, and the bugles sounded loudly "the dreadful note of preparation."
The noise and bustle surpassed all description; here were horses plunging and kicking amidst a crowd of
terrified burghers; there lovers parting from their weeping mistresses. Now the attention was attracted by a
park of artillery thundering through the streets; and now, by a group of officers disputing loudly the demands
of their imperturbable Flemish landlords; for not even the panic which prevailed could frighten the Flemings
out of a single *stiver; screams and yells occasionally rose above the busy hum that murmured through the
crowd, but the general sound resembled the roar of the distant ocean. Between two and three o'clock the
Brunswickers marched from the town, still clad in the mourning which they wore for their old duke, and
burning to avenge his death. Alas! they had a still more fatal loss to lament ere they returned. At four, the
whole disposable force under the Duke of Wellington was collected together, but in such haste, that many of
the officers had not time to change their silk stockings and dancing shoes; and some, quite overcome by
drowsiness, were seen lying asleep about the ramparts, still holding, however, with a firm hand, the reins of
their horses which were grazing by their sides. About five o'clock, the word "march" was heard in all
directions, and instantly the whole mass appeared to move simultaneously. I conversed with several of the
officers previous to their departure, and not one appeared to have the slightest idea of an approaching
engagement. The Duke of Wellington and his staff did not quit Brussels till past eleven o'clock; and it was not
till some time after they were gone, that it was generally known the whole French army, including a strong
corps of cavalry, was within a few miles of Quatre Bras, where the brave Duke of Brunswick first met the
enemy:
By an eye witness. 7
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
Dismay seized us all, when we found that a powerful French army was really within twenty-eight miles of us;
and we shuddered at the thought of the awful contest which was taking place. For my own part, I had never
been so near a field of battle before, and I cannot describe my sensations. We knew that our army had no
alternative but to fly, or fight with a force four times stronger than its own: and though we could not doubt
British bravery, we trembled at the fearful odds to which our men must be exposed. Cannon, lances, and
swords, were opposed to the English bayonet alone. Cavalry we had none on the first day, for the horses had
been sent to grass, and the men were scattered too widely over the country, to be collected at such short
notice. Under these circumstances, victory was impossible; indeed, nothing but the stanch bravery, and exact
discipline of the men, prevented the foremost of our infantry from being annihilated; and though the English
maintained their ground during the day, at night a retreat became necessary. The agony of the British, resident
at Brussels, during the whole of this eventful day, sets all language at defiance. No one thought of rest or
food; but every one who could get a telescope, flew to the ramparts to strain his eyes, in vain attempts to
discover what was passing. At length, some soldiers in French uniforms were seen in the distance; and as the
news flew from mouth to mouth, it was soon magnified into a rumour that the French were coming. Horror
seized the English and their adherents, and the hitherto concealed partizans of the French began openly to
avow themselves; tri-coloured ribbons grew suddenly into great request, and cries of "Vive l'Empereur!"
resounded through the air. These exclamations, however, were changed to "Vive le Lord Vellington!" when it
was discovered that the approaching French came as captives, not conquerors.
Between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, I walked up to the Porte de Namur, where the wounded were
just beginning to arrive. Fortunately some commodious caravans had arrived from England, only a few days
before, and these were now entering the gate. They were filled principally with Brunswickers and
Highlanders; and it was an appalling spectacle to behold the very soldiers, whose fine martial appearance and
excellent appointments I had so much admired at the review, now lying helpless and mutilated—their
uniforms soiled with blood and dirt—their mouths blackened with biting their cartridges, and all the splendour
of their equipments entirely destroyed. When the caravans stopped, I approached them, and addressed a
Scotch officer who was only slightly wounded in the knee.—"Are the French coming, sir?" asked I.—"Egad I
can't tell," returned he. "We know nothing about it. We had enough to do to take care of ourselves. They are
fighting like devils; and I'm off again as soon as my wound's dressed."—An English lady, elegantly attired,
now rushed forwards—"Is my husband safe?" asked she eagerly.—"Good God! Madam," replied one of the
men, "how can we possibly [pg 23] tell! I don't know the fate of those who were fighting by my side; and I
could not see a yard round me." She scarcely heeded what he said; and rushed out of the gate, wildly repeating
her question to every one she met. Some French prisoners now arrived. I noticed one, a fine fellow, who had
had one arm shot off; and though the bloody and mangled tendons were still undressed, and had actually dried
and blackened in the sun, he marched along with apparent indifference, carrying a loaf of bread under his
remaining arm, and shouting "Vive l'Empereur!" I asked him if the French were coming.—"Je le crois bien,"
returned he, "preparez un souper, mes bourgeois—il soupera à Bruxelles ce soir."—Pretty information for me,
thought I. "Don't believe him, sir," said a Scotchman, who lay close beside me, struggling to speak, though
apparently in the last agony. "It's all right—I—assure—you—." The whole of Friday night was passed in the
greatest anxiety; the wounded arrived every hour, and the accounts they brought of the carnage which was
taking place were absolutely terrific. Saturday morning was still worse; an immense number of
supernumeraries and runaways from the army came rushing in at the Porte de Namur, and these fugitives
increased the public panic to the utmost. Sauve qui peut! now became the universal feeling; all ties of
friendship or kindred were forgotten, and an earnest desire to quit Brussels seemed to absorb every faculty. To
effect this object, the greatest sacrifices were made. Every beast of burthen, and every species of vehicle were
put into requisition to convey persons and property to Antwerp. Even the dogs and fish-carts did not
escape—enormous sums were given for the humblest modes of conveyance, and when all failed, numbers set
off on foot. The road soon became choked up—cars, wagons, and carriages of every description were joined
together in an immovable mass and property to an immense amount was abandoned by its owners, who were
too much terrified even to think of the loss they were sustaining. A scene of frightful riot and devastation
ensued. Trunks, boxes, and portmanteaus were broken open and pillaged without mercy; and every one who
By an eye witness. 8
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
pleased, helped himself to what he liked with impunity. The disorder was increased by a rumour, that the
Duke of Wellington was retreating towards Brussels, in a sort of running fight, closely pursued by the enemy;
the terror of the fugitives now almost amounted to frenzy, and they flew like maniacs escaping from a
madhouse. It is scarcely possible to imagine a more distressing scene. A great deal of rain had fallen during
the night, and the unhappy fugitives were obliged literally to wade through mud. I had, from the first,
determined to await my fate in Brussels; but on this eventful morning, I walked a few miles on the road to
Antwerp, to endeavour to assist my flying countrymen. I was soon disgusted with the scene, and finding all
my efforts to be useful, unavailing, I returned to the town, which now seemed like a city of the dead; for a
gloomy silence reigned through the streets, like that fearful calm which precedes a storm; the shops were all
closed, and all business was suspended. During the panic of Friday and Saturday, the sacrifice of property
made by the British residents was enormous. A chest of drawers sold for five francs, a bed for ten, and a horse
for fifty. In one instance, which fell immediately under my own observation, some household furniture was
sold for one thousand francs, (about 40l.) for which the owner had given seven thousand francs, (280l.) only
three weeks before. This was by no means a solitary instance; indeed in most cases, the loss was much greater,
and in many, houses full of furniture were entirely deserted, and abandoned to pillage.
Sunday morning was ushered in by one of the most dreadful tempests I ever remember. The crashing of
thunder was followed by the roar of cannon, which was now distinctly heard from the ramparts, and it is not
possible to describe the fearful effect of this apparent mockery of heaven. I never before felt so forcibly the
feebleness of man. The rain was tremendous—the sky looked like that in Poussin's picture of the Deluge, and
a heavy black cloud spread, like the wings of a monstrous vulture, over Brussels. The wounded continued to
arrive the whole of Saturday night and Sunday morning, in a condition which defies description. They
appeared to have been dragged for miles through oceans of mud; their clothes were torn, their caps and
feathers cut to pieces, and their shoes and boots trodden off. The accounts they brought were vague and
disheartening—in fact, we could only ascertain that the Duke of Wellington had late on Saturday taken up his
position at Waterloo, and that there he meant to wait the attack of the French. That this attack had commenced
we needed not to be informed, as the roar of the cannon became every instant more distinct, till we even
fancied that it shook the town. The wounded represented the field of battle as a perfect quagmire, and their
appearance [pg 24] testified the truth of their assertions. About two o'clock a fresh alarm was excited by the
horses, which had been put in requisition to draw the baggage-wagons, being suddenly galloped through the
town. We fancied this a proof of defeat, but the fact was simply thus: the peasants, from whom the horses had
been taken, finding the drivers of the wagons absent from their posts, seized the opportunity to cut the traces,
and gallop off with their cattle. As this explanation, however, was not given till the following day, we thought
that all was over; the few British adherents who had remained were in despair, and tri-coloured cockades were
suspended from every house. Even I, for the first time, lost all courage, and my only consolation was the joy
of Annette. "England cannot be much injured by the loss of a Single battle," thought I; "and as for me, it is of
little consequence whether I am a prisoner on parole, or a mere wanderer at pleasure. I may easily resign
myself to my fate; but this poor girl would break her heart if she lost her lover, for he is every thing to her." In
this manner I reasoned, but in spite of my affected philosophy, I could not divest myself of all natural feeling;
and when about six o'clock we heard that the French had given way, and that the Prussians had eluded
Grouchè, and were rapidly advancing to the field, I quite forgot poor Annette, and thanked God with all my
heart. At eight o'clock there was no longer any doubt of our success, for a battalion of troops marched into the
town, and brought intelligence that the Duke of Wellington had gained a complete victory, and that the French
were flying, closely pursued by the Prussians. Sunday night was employed in enthusiastic rejoicing. The
tri-coloured cockades had all disappeared, and the British colours were hoisted from every window. The great
bell of St. Gudule tolled, to announce the event to the surrounding neighbourhood; and some of the English,
who had only hidden themselves, ventured to re-appear. The only alloy to the universal rapture which
prevailed, was the number of the wounded; the houses were insufficient to contain half; and the churches and
public buildings were littered down with straw for their reception. The body of the Duke of Brunswick, who
fell at Quatre Bras, was brought in on Saturday, and taken to the quarters he had occupied near the Chateau de
Lacken. I was powerfully affected when I saw the corpse of one, whom I had so lately marked as blooming
By an eye witness. 9
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
with youth and health; but my eyes soon became accustomed to horrors. On Monday morning, June 19th, I
hastened to the field of battle: I was compelled to go through the forest de Soignês, for the road was so
completely choked up as to be impassable.—The dead required no help; but thousands of wounded, who
could not help themselves, were in want of every thing; their features, swollen by the sun and rain, looked
livid and bloated. One poor fellow had a ghastly wound across his lower lip, which gaped wide, and showed
his teeth and gums, as though a second and unnatural mouth had opened below his first. Another, quite blind
from a gash across his eyes, sat upright, gasping for breath, and murmuring, "De l'eau! de l'eau!" The anxiety
for water, was indeed most distressing. The German "Vaser! vaser!" and the French "De l'eau! de l'eau!" still
seem sounding in my ears. I am convinced that hundreds must have perished from thirst alone, and they had
no hope of assistance, for even humane persons were afraid of approaching the scene of blood, lest they
should be taken in requisition to bury the dead; almost every person who came near, being pressed into that
most disgusting and painful service. This general burying was truly horrible: large square holes were dug
about six feet deep, and thirty or forty fine young fellows stripped to their skins were thrown into each, pell
mell, and then covered over in so slovenly a manner, that sometimes a hand or foot peeped through the earth.
One of these holes was preparing as I passed, and the followers of the army were stripping the bodies before
throwing them into it, whilst some Russian Jews were assisting in the spoilation of the dead, by chiseling out
their teeth! an operation which they performed with the most brutal indifference. The clinking hammers of
these wretches jarred horribly upon my ears, and mingled strangely with the occasional report of pistols,
which seemed echoing each other at stated intervals, from different corners of the field. I could not divine the
meaning of these shots, till I was informed, that they proceeded from the Belgians, who were killing the
wounded horses. Hundreds of these fine creatures were, indeed, galloping over the plain, kicking and
plunging, apparently mad with pain, whilst the poor wounded wretches who saw them coming, and could not
get out of their way, shrieked in agony, and tried to shrink back to escape from them, but in vain. Soon after, I
saw an immense horse (one of the Scotch Greys) dash towards a colonel of the Imperial Guard, who had had
his leg shattered; the horse was frightfully wounded, and part of a [pg 25] broken lance still rankled in one of
its wounds. It rushed snorting and plunging past the Frenchman, and I shall never forget his piercing cry as it
approached. I flew instantly to the spot, but ere I reached it the man was dead; for, though I do not think the
horse had touched him, the terror he felt had been too much for his exhausted frame. Sickened with the
immense heaps of slain, which spread in all directions as far as the eye could reach, I was preparing to return,
when as I was striding over the dead and dying, and meditating on the horrors of war, my attention was
attracted by a young Frenchman, who was lying on his back, apparently at the last gasp. There was something
in his countenance which interested me, and I fancied, though I knew not when, or where, that I had seen him
before. Some open letters were lying around, and one was yet grasped in his hand as though he had been
reading it to the last moment. My eye fell upon the words "Mon cher fils," in a female hand, and I felt
interested for the fate of so affectionate a son. When I left home in the morning, I had put a flask of brandy
and some biscuit into my pocket, in the hope that I might be useful to the wounded, but when I gazed on the
countless multitude which strewed the field, I felt discouraged from attempting to relieve them. Chance had
now directed my attention to one individual, and I was resolved to try to save his life. His thigh was broken,
and he was badly wounded on the left wrist, but the vital parts were untouched, and his exhaustion seemed to
arise principally from the loss of blood. I poured a few drops of brandy into his mouth, and crumbling my
biscuit contrived to make him swallow a small particle. The effects of the dose were soon visible; his eyes half
opened, and a faint tinge of colour spread over his cheek. I administered a little more, and it revived him so
much that he tried to sit upright. I raised him, and contriving to place him in such a manner, as to support him
against the dead body of a horse, I put the flask and biscuit by his side, and departed in order to procure
assistance to remove him. I recollected that a short time before, I had seen a smoke issuing from a deep ditch,
and that my olfactory nerves had been saluted by a savoury smell as I passed. Guided by these indications, I
retraced my steps to the spot, and found some Scotch soldiers sheltered by a hedge, very agreeably employed
in cooking a quantity of beefsteaks over a wood tire, in a French cuirass!! I was exceedingly diverted at this
novel kind of frying-pan, which served also as a dish; and after begging permission to dip a biscuit in their
gravy for the benefit of my patient, I told my tale, and was gratified by the eagerness which they manifested to
assist me; one ran to catch a horse with a soft Hussar saddle, (there were hundreds galloping over the field,)
By an eye witness. 10
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
and the rest went with me to the youth, whom we found surprisingly recovered, though he was still unable to
speak. The horse was brought, and as we raised the young Frenchman to put him upon it, his vest opened, and
his "livret" fell out. This is a little book which every French soldier is obliged to carry, and which contains an
account of his name, age, pay, accoutrements, and services. I picked it up, and offered it to my patient—but
the young man murmured the name of "Annette," and fainted. "Annette!" the name thrilled through every
nerve. I hastily opened the livret, and found that it was indeed Louis Tissand whom I had saved! The rest is
soon told. Louis reached Brussels in safety, and even Madame's selfishness gave way to rapture on recovering
her son. As to Annette—but why perplex myself to describe her feelings? If my readers have ever
loved, they may conceive them. Louis soon recovered; indeed with such a nurse he could not fail to get well.
When I next visited Brussels, I found Annette surrounded by three or tour smiling cherubs, to whom I was
presented as le bon Anglais, who preserved the life of their papa.
NOTES OF A READER
GERMAN SCHOOLS.
A law respecting schools has existed, more or less, in the states of the south of Germany, for above a century,
but which has been greatly improved within the last thirty years. By this law, parents are compelled to send
their children to school, from the age of six to fourteen years, where they must be taught reading, writing, and
arithmetic, but where they may acquire as much additional instruction in other branches as their parents
choose to pay for. To many of the schools of Bavaria large gardens are attached, in which, the boys are taught
the principal operations of agriculture and gardening in their hours of play; and, in all the schools of the three
states, the girls, in addition to the same instruction as the boys, are taught knitting, sewing, embroidery, &c. It
is the duty of the police and priest (which may be considered equivalent to our parish vestries) of each
commune or parish, to see that the law is duly executed, [pg 26] the children sent regularly, and instructed
duly. If the parents are partially or wholly unable to pay for their children, the commune makes up the
deficiency. Religion is taught by the priest of the village or hamlet; and where, as is frequently the case in
Wurtemberg, there are two or three religions in one parish, each child is taught by the priest of its parents; all
of which priests are, from their office, members of the committee or vestry of the commune. The priest or
priests of the parish have the regular inspection of the school-master, and are required by the government to
see that he does his duty, while each priest, at the same time, sees that the children of his flock attend
regularly. After the child has been the appointed number of years at school, it receives from the schoolmaster,
and the priest of the religion to which it belongs, a certificate, without which it cannot procure employment.
To employ any, person under twenty-one, without such a certificate, is illegal, and punished by a fixed fine, as
is almost every other offence in this part of Germany; and the fines are never remitted, which makes
punishment always certain. The schoolmaster is paid much in the same way as in Scotland; by a house, a
garden, and sometimes a field, and by a small salary from the parish, and by fixed rates for the children.
A second law, which is coeval with the school law, renders it illegal for any young man to marry before he is
twenty-five, or any young woman before she is eighteen; and a young man, at whatever age he wishes to
marry, must show, to the police and the priest of the commune where he resides, that he is able, and has the
prospect, to provide for a wife and family.—London's Mag. Nat. Hist.
NOTES OF A READER 11
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
There is not a more vulgar mistake than that of confounding good eating with gluttony and excess. It is not
because a man gets twenty or five-and-twenty guineas per sheet for a dashing article, and has taste to expend
his well-earned cash upon a cook who knows how to dress a dinner, that he is necessarily to gorge himself
like a mastiff with sheep's paunch. On the contrary, if he means to preserve the powers of his palate intact, he
must "live cleanly as a nobleman should do." The fat-witted people in the City are not nice in their eating,
quantity being more closely considered by them than quality. There is, I admit, something in the good man's
concluding conjecture, that "the sort of diet men observe influences their style." I should know an
"heavy-wet" man at the third line; and I can tell to a nicety when Theodore Hook writes upon claret, and when
he is inspired by the over-heating and acrimonious stimulus of Max. Hayley obviously composed upon tea
and bread and butter. Dr. Philpots may be nosed a mile off for priestly port and the fat bulls of Basan; and
Southey's Quarterly articles are written on an empty stomach, and before his crudities, like the breath of Sir
Roger de Coverley's barber, have been "mollified by a breakfast."—New Monthly Mag.
SACRED POETRY.
Songs and hymns, in honour of their Gods, are found among all people who have either religion or verse.
There is scarcely any pagan poetry, ancient or modern, in which allusions to the national mythology are not so
frequent as to constitute the most copious materials, as well as the most brilliant embellishments. The poets of
Persia and Arabia, in like manner, have adorned their gorgeous strains with the fables and morals of the
Koran. The relics of Jewish song which we possess, with few exceptions, are consecrated immediately to the
glory of God, by whom, indeed, they were inspired. The first Christians were wont to edify themselves in
psalms and hymns, and spiritual songs; and though we have no specimens of these left, except the occasional
doxologies ascribed to the redeemed in the Book of Revelation, it cannot be doubted that they used not only
the psalms of the Old Testament, literally, or accommodated to the circumstances of a new and rising Church,
but that they had original lays of their own, in which they celebrated the praises of Christ, as the Saviour of
the world. In the middle ages, the Roman Catholic and Greek churches statedly adopted singing as an
essential part of public worship; but this, like the reading of the Scriptures, was too frequently in an unknown
tongue, by an affectation of wisdom, to excite the veneration of ignorance, when the learned, in their
craftiness, taught that "Ignorance is the mother of devotion;" and Ignorance was very willing to believe it. At
the era of the Reformation, [pg 27] psalms and hymns, in the vernacular tongue, were revived in Germany,
England, and elsewhere, among the other means of grace, of which Christendom had been for centuries
defrauded.—Montgomery.
SUPERSTITION.
Grievously are they mistaken who think that the revival of literature was the death of superstition—that
ghosts, demons, and exorcists retreated before the march of intellect, and fled the British shore along with
monks, saints, and masses. Superstition, deadly superstition, may co-exist with much learning, with high
civilization, with any religion, or with utter irreligion. Canidia wrought her spells in the Augustan age, and
Chaldean fortune-tellers haunted Rome in the sceptical days of Juvenal. Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder,
and Lilly, the astrologer, were contemporaries of Selden, Harrington, and Milton. Perhaps there never was a
more superstitious period than that which produced Erasmus and Bacon. —Blackwood's Mag.
"FELLOW" FEELING.
A "certain exalted personage," as the newspapers would say, commanded the attendance of a physician, who
was only a Licentiate, and, thereby, struck consternation throughout the whole body of "Fellows." The great
men already in attendance were dreadfully alarmed and confounded by this terrible subversion of established
College etiquette. "Sire!" said one of them, "we humbly acquaint your Majesty, with all dutiful submission
CHINESE NOVELS.
The character of the Chinese novels is the same with that of the better parts of Don Quixote, Gil Blas, Tom
Jones, and Cecilia. Their authors address themselves to the reason rather than the imagination of their readers.
The other Asiatic nations, led away by a passion for the marvellous, have often disfigured the most
respectable traditions, and converted history itself into romance. The Chinese, on the other hand, may be said
to have given their romances the truth of history.—N. American Review.
The Canadian Indian females are described as passionately fond of their children, as submissive slaves, and at
the same time affectionately attached to their husbands. This they evince by self-immolation, after the manner
of eastern wives. Among the few poisonous plants of Canada, is a shrub, which yields a wholesome fruit, but
contains in its roots a deadly juice, which the widow, who wishes not to survive her husband, drinks. An
eye-witness describes its effects; the woman having resolved to die, chanted her death song and funeral
service; she then drank off the poisonous juice, was seized with shivering and convulsions, [pg 28] and
expired in a few minutes on the body of her husband.
"FELLOW" FEELING. 13
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
CHARLES DIX.
We shall be in Twenty-nine.
It will do in Twenty-nine.
It will be in Twenty-nine.
The gratifications of a residence in Rome are inexhaustible. At every turn I discover some new evidence of
the power and magnificence of her ancient inhabitants, and vivid sensations of delight and awe rapidly
succeed each other. This venerable metropolis is the tomb and monument, not of princes, but of nations; it
illustrates the progressive stages of human society, and all other cities appear modern and unfinished in
comparison.
Exploring this forenoon the vicinity of Monte Palatino, I discovered in an obscure corner, near the temple of
Romulus, the time-hallowed spring of Juturna, rising with crystal clearness near the Cloaca maxima, into
which it flows unvalued and forgotten. I refreshed myself in the mid-day heat by drinking its pure lymph from
the hollow of my hand, and gazed with long and insatiable delight upon the memorable fountain. This sacred
spot is surrounded and obscured by contiguous buildings, and the walls are luxuriantly fringed and mantled
with mosses, lichens, and broad leaved ivy. The proud aqueducts of the expanding city diminish the value and
importance of this spring, but it was unquestionably the ruling motive which determined Romulus, or possibly
an earlier colony of Greeks, to take root here, as within the wide compass of the Roman walls there is no other
source of pure water.—Blackwood's Magazine.
SONG, BY T. CAMPBELL
When Love came first to Earth, the SPRING
SONG, BY T. CAMPBELL 19
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
But at College, how different!—There, a man begins to feel that it is a matter of total indifference to
him whether he sit on a hard wooden bench, or a soft stuffed chair; there, the short coat is discarded, and he
stalks about with the air of a three-tailed bashaw, as his own two, generally, at first, are prolonged a little
below the knee; there, his penny tart, which he bought on Saturdays at the door of the school, is exchanged for
a dessert from Golding's; his beer, which he occasionally imbibed at the little pot-house, two miles beyond the
school bounds, is exchanged for his wine from Butler's.—Books from Talboy's, the most enterprising
of bibliopoles, supply the place of the tattered Dictionary he brought to the University, which, after being
stolen when new, and passing, by the same process, through twenty hands, is at last, when fluttering in its last
leaves, restolen by the original proprietor, who fancies he has made a very profitable "nibble." [pg 30] The
trot he used to enjoy by stealth on the butcher's broken-kneed pony, is succeeded now by a gallop on a steed
of Quartermain's; and he is delighted to find that horse and owner strive which shall be the softest-mouthed
and gentlest charger. The dandy mare, we suppose, has many long years ago made fat the great-grandfathers
of the present race of dogs; and old Scroggins, we imagine, has been trod to pieces in boots and shoes, the
very memory of which departed long, long before they were paid for. Of old Scroggins—as Dr.
Johnson says—and of his virtues, let us indulge ourself in the recollection. Though not formed in the
finest mould, or endowed with the extremity of swiftness, his pace was sure and steady—equal to
Hannibal in endurance of fatigue; and, like that celebrated commander, his aspect was rendered peculiarly
fierce and striking by a blemish in his eye; not ignorant of the way to Woodstock was the wall-eyed veteran;
not unacquainted with the covers at Ditchley; not unaccustomed to the walls at Hethrop: but Dandy and
Scroggins have padded the hoof from this terrestrial and unstable world—peace to their
manes!—Blackwood's Magazine.
SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.
Friction of Screws and Screw-presses.
An examination of the friction in screws having their threads of various forms, has led M. Poncelet to this
very important conclusion, namely, that the friction in screws with square threads is to that of equal screws
with triangular threads, as 2.90 to 4.78, proving a very important advantage of the former over the latter,
relative to the loss of power incurred in both by friction.—Brande's Journal.
Fulminating Powder.
According to M. Landgerbe, a mixture of two parts nitre, two parts neutral carbonate of potash, one part of
sulphur, and six parts of common salt, all finely pulverized, makes a very powerful fulminating powder. M.
Landgerbe adopts the extraordinary error of supposing that these preparations act with more force downwards
than in any other direction.—Bull. Univ.
Aurora Borealis.
An aurora borealis was seen from North End, Hampstead, near London, from about seven o'clock until eleven,
on the evening of Dec. 1. It generally appeared as a light resembling twilight, but shifting about both to the
east and the west of north, and occasionally forming streams which continued for several minutes, and
extended from 30 to 40 degrees high. The light on the horizon was not more than 12 or 15 degrees in
height.—Brande's Journal.
Paper Linen.
According to the Paris papers, a new invention, called papier linge, has lately attracted much attention. It
consists of a paper made closely to resemble damask and other linen, not only to the eye, but even to the
touch. The articles are used for every purpose to which linen is applicable, except those requiring much
strength and durability. The price is low, a napkin costs only five or six centimes (about a halfpenny), and
when dirty, they are taken back at half-price. A good sized table-cloth sells for a franc, and a roll of paper with
one or two colours for papering rooms or for bed curtains, may be had for the same price.
Maturation of Wine.
M. de St. Vincent, of Havre, states, from his own experience of long continuance, that when bottles containing
wine are closed by tying a piece of parchment or bladder over their mouths, instead of using corks in the
ordinary manner, the wine acquires, in a few weeks only, those qualities which is only given by age in the
ordinary way after many years.—Nouveau Jour, de Paris.
Whenever a fungus is pleasant in flavour and odour, it may be considered wholesome; if, on the contrary, it
have an offensive smell, a bitter, astringent, or styptic taste, or even if it leave an unpleasant flavour in the
mouth, it should not be considered fit for food. The colour, figure, and texture of these vegetables do not
afford any characters on which we can safely rely; yet it may be remarked, that in colour, the pure yellow,
gold colour, bluish pale, dark or lustre brown, wine red, or the violet, belong to many that are esculent; whilst
the pale or sulphur yellow, bright or blood red, and the greenish, belong to few but the poisonous. The safe
kinds have most frequently a compact, brittle texture; the flesh is white; they grow more readily in open
SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY. 21
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
places, such as dry pastures and waste lands, than in places humid or shaded by wood. In general, those
should be suspected which grow in caverns and subterranean passages, on animal matter undergoing
putrefaction, as well as those whose flesh is soft or watery.—Brande's Journal.
[pg 31]
Zoological Society.
Dr. Brookes, in his address to the recent anniversary meeting of the Zoological Society, stated that the
Museum already contains 600 species of mammalia, 4,000 birds, 1,000 reptiles and fishes, 1,000 testacea and
Crustacea, and 30,000 insects. During the last seven months, the Gardens and Museum have been visited by
upwards of 30,000 persons. The vivarium contains upwards of 430 living quadrupeds and birds. The expenses
of the past year have been 10,000l., partly contributed by the admission of the public, and still more largely by
the members of the Society, who already exceed 1,200 in number. These are gratifying facts to every lover of
natural history, as they serve to indicate the progress of zoology in this country—a study which it has
ever been our aim to identify with the pages of the MIRROR.
RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.
ENGLISH ROADS.
The roads of England are the marvel of the world. The improvements which have been effected during a
century would be almost miraculous, did we not consider that they had been produced by the spirit and
intelligence of the people, and were in no degree dependant upon the apathy or caprice of the ruling power.
The first turnpike-road was established by an act of the 3rd Charles II. The mob pulled down the gates; and
the new principle was supported at the point of the bayonet. But long after that period travelling was difficult
and dangerous. In December, 1703, Charles III. king of Spain, slept at Petworth on his way from Portsmouth
to Windsor, and Prince George of Denmark went to meet him there by desire of the queen. In the relation of
the journey given by one of the prince's attendants, he states, "We set out at six in the morning, by torchlight,
to go to Petworth, and did not get out of the coaches (save only when we were overturned or stuck fast in the
mire) till we arrived at our journey's end. 'Twas a hard service for the prince to sit fourteen hours in the coach
that day without eating any thing, and passing through the worst ways I ever saw in my life. We were thrown
but once indeed in going, but our coach, which was the leading one, and his highnesses body coach, would
have suffered very much, if the nimble boors of Sussex had not frequently poised it, or it with their shoulders,
from Godalming almost to Petworth; and the nearer we approached the duke's house, the more inaccessible* it
seemed to be. The last nine miles of the way cost us six hours' time to conquer them; and, indeed, we had
never done it, if our good master had not several times lent us a pair of horses out of his own coach, whereby
we were enabled to trace out the way for him." Afterwards, writing of his departure on the following day from
Petworth to Guildford, and thence to Windsor, he says, "I saw him (the prince) no more, till I found him at
supper at Windsor; for there we were overturned, (as we had been once before the same morning,) and broke
our coach; my Lord Delaware had the same fate, and so had several others."—Vide Annals of Queen
Anne, vol. ii. Appendix, No. 3.
In the time of Charles, (surnamed the Proud,) Duke of Somerset, who died in 1748, the roads in Sussex were
in so bad a state, that, in order to arrive at Guildford from Petworth, travellers were obliged to make from the
nearest point of the great road leading from Portsmouth to London. This was a work of so much difficulty, as
to occupy the whole day; and the duke had a house at Guildford which was regularly used as a resting-place
for the night by any of his family travelling to London. A manuscript letter from a servant of the duke, dated
from London, and addressed to another at Petworth, acquaints the latter that his grace intended to go from
London thither on a certain day, and directs that "the keepers and persons who knew the holes and the sloughs
must come to meet his grace with lanterns and long poles to help him on his way."
The late Marquess of Buckingham built an inn at Missenden, about forty miles from London, as the state of
the roads compelled him to sleep there on the way to Stow—a journey which is at present performed
between breakfast and dinner.
THE GATHERER.
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
SHAKSPEARE.
Sir Joseph Banks used to tell a story of his being at Otaheite with Capt. Cook, when it was accidentally
discovered to be the king's birth-day, on which it was suddenly agreed to have a jollification; every soul on
board got fuddled, except three men who were on duty. The next day they came on deck, and begged to speak
to the captain. "Well," said the captain, "what have you got to say?"— "Please your honour, you were
all drunk yesterday, all except we three; will your honour be pleased to allow us to get drunk to-day?" Sir
Joseph, who was standing [pg 32] by, was so tickled with the oddity of the request, that he begged they might
be indulged, and that he would subscribe two bottles of rum and two bottles of brandy. The boon was granted,
and in less than three hours, these messmates balanced accounts, being as drunk as their hearts could
wish.—Mr Wadd.
MADEMOISELLE MARS.
Some time after Napoleon's return to Paris, in 1815, as he was passing the troops in review at the Place
Carousel, he happened to see the celebrated Mademoiselle Mars, stationed among the troops, in order to view
the imposing military spectacle. The emperor, approaching the spot, and addressing her, said, "What do you
do here, Mademoiselle? this is no place for you."—"Sire," answered the witty and animated daughter of
Thalia, "I come to behold a real hero; I am tired of seeing mock ones upon the stage."
INA.
Some years ago the following inscription, engraved on the fragment of a stone, was discovered amongst the
relics of an antiquarian, and was considered by him as a great curiosity, and enhanced in value by its
translation having puzzled the best scholars of the age:—
BENE.
ONERE. POS. ET
E. SELLERO
F. IMP
ENGLISH ROADS. 23
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
TH. HI
S. C.
ON. SOR.
T. I. A. N. E.
Some supposed it to refer to the Emperor Claudian, till a lad one day spelt it out: "Beneath this stone reposeth
Claud Coster, tripe-seller, of Impington, as doth his consort Jane." R. B.
DRINKING.
Captain John Graunt, in his Observations on the Bills of Mortality, says, that of 229,250 persons, who died in
twenty years, only two are put to the account of excessive drinking. But, perhaps, if the matter were truly
stated, a great many of the dropsies, apoplexies, and palsies ought to have been placed under that head. It is
not impossible that those who had the charge of rendering these accounts, might have entertained the opinion
of old Dick Baldwyn, who stoutly maintained that no man ever died of drinking. "Some puny things," said he,
"have died learning to drink, but no man ever died of drinking!" Now, this was no mean authority; for he
spoke from great practical experience, and was moreover many years treasurer of St. Bartholomew's
Hospital.—Mr. Wadd—in Brande's Journal.
The "Sunday Times" of the 28th ult. has the following paragraph inserted:—
Typographical Errors.
The New Times speaks (some time ago) of a "Party given by the Duke of Pork!" Another paper, of
"Proceedings in the Court of Common Fleas!" and the Morning Chronicle of Tuesday last speaks of "an
atrocious Bobbery!" The cream of this criticism on others is, that the very same paper has the following
paragraph:—"Fleet Prison, Dec. 26th. Died last night, about 12 o'clock, the Rev. Mr. Chaundy, in the
meridian of life. This makes the ninth death which has happened in the Fleet since the 29th of April last. The
free use of spirituous liquors is the cause of so much MORALITY in the prison."
BONAS.
A "MELTING SUBJECT."
M. Tissot, a celebrated French physician, who was the intimate friend of Zimmerman, relates the case of a
literary gentleman, who would never venture near a fire, from imagining himself to be made of butter, and
being fearful he should melt.
MADEMOISELLE MARS. 24
The Mirror of Literature, Issue 351.
s. d.
Mackenzie's Man of Feeling ... 0 6
Paul and Virginia ... 0 6
The Castle of Otranto ... 0 6
Alaeoran and Hamet ... 0 6
Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia ... 0 6
The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayna ... 0 6
Rasselas ... 0 8
The Old English Baron ... 0 8
Nature and Art ... 0 8
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield ... 0 10
Sicilian Romance ... 1 0
The Man of the World ... 1 0
A Simple Story ... 1 4
Joseph Andrews ... 1 6
Humphry Clinker ... 1 8
The Romance of the Forest ... 1 8
The Italian ... 2 0
Zeluco, by Dr. Moore ... 2 6
Edward, by Dr. Moore ... 2 6
Roderick Random ... 2 6
The Mysteries of Udolpho ... 3 6
Footnote 2: (return) I have taken these words for my motto, because they enable me to tell a
story. When the present King of France received his first address on the return from the
emigration, his answer was, "Rien n'est changé, mes amis; il n'y a qu'un Français de plus."
When the Giraffe arrived in the Jardin des Plantes, the Parisians had a caricature, in which the
ass, and the hog, and the monkey were presenting an address to the stranger, while the
elephant and the lion stalked angrily away. Of course, the portraits were
recognisable—and the animal was responding graciously, "Rien n'est changé, mes
amis: il n'y a qu'un bête de plus!"
Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New
Market, Leipsic; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.F.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
new filenames and etext numbers.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.net
EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to
download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
download by the etext year.
http://www.gutenberg.net/etext06
EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part
of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is
identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single
digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For
example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
http://www.gutenberg.net/1/0/2/3/10234