Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

cold and rushing Seine, the dark and grinning heads upon the arch above him, and his own wretched and unseen end. But he cannot bear, even in death, to quit the portrait-he would not have it gazed at by the vulgar eyes that shall first find the memorials he has left behind, and he returns it once more under his vest. He turns his glassy and sunken eyes along the illuminated quays, now alive with pleasure-seekers, and giving one last look at the world he is about to quit, plunges, without a shudder, into the rapid current beneath him. The waters are troubled for an instant, and then roll on as swiftly, and evenly, as before.

In a few days his body is found entangled in the nets which are stretched across the Seine, at St. Cloud, and it is conveyed to the Morgue. The garments are displayed above it for recognition, and amongst them is a portrait, but the water has destroyed and mixed the colours, and few traces of the original de. sign can be made out. Before long, the body is claimed and interred-its place, in this public channel, is soon supplied by another the same idle crowd assembles to gaze on the remains, and the Morgue continues to sustain its melancholy interest, appalling to all its visitors but the Parisians.

KNIPS.

TEA-DRINKING IN RUSSIA. THE Russians are the most inveterate teadrinkers out of China; and with such excellent tea as they have, the passion is quite excusable. Tea in Russia and tea in England are as different as peppermint-water and senna. With us it is a dull, flavourless dose; in Russia it is a fresh, invigorating draught. They account for the difference by stating that, as the sea-air injures tea, we get only the leaves, but none of the aroma of the plant which left Canton; while they, on the other hand, receiving all their tea over-land, have it just as good as when it left the celes tial empire. Be the cause what it may, there can be no doubt of the fact, that tea in Russia is infinitely superior to any ever found in other parts of Europe. Englishmen are taken by surprise on tasting it; even those who never cared for tea before, drink on during the whole of their stay in Russia. Like every thing else here, however, it is very expensive: the cheapest we saw, even at Nishnei-Novgorod, which is the greatest mart in the em pire, cost from 11 to 12 roubles (about 10 shillings) a pound; and when a bearded Russian wants to give a feast, he will pay as high as 50 roubles (27) for a pound of some high-flavoured kind of bohea. The differ ence between these and English prices, arises from the same cause as the difference in the quality- the long land-carriage, which is te

dious and very expensive, through regions where there are neither roads nor restingplaces. It should be stated, however, that, in travelling especially, no price will be thought too high for this, the only comfort of the wanderer in Russia. It banishes many a headache, and cheers under all the annoyances of a country, which, by universal consent, is the most troublesome and fatiguing to travel in that can be visited. Tea may always be had at the inns in large towns, but being too dear an article for most of the country post-houses, everybody should carry a stock for himself: we once paid 6s. 8d. for the tea necessary to make breakfast for four; but such a charge is rare. The Russian seldom eats with his tea; he never adds cream to it like the English; nor does he disgust people by making tea-drinking an excuse for tippling, like the Germans, who half fill their cup with brandy when they can get it. The only thing the Muscovite mingles with his tea is sugar, and sometimes a thin slice of lemon; and these being duly added, he sips the brown draught, not from a cup, but from a common drinking glass, slowly and seriously, with all the solemnity of a libation.-Bremner's Excursion in Russia.

ANCIENT ATTITUDE AT TABLE. In the Assemblies of Divines, after the Reformation was completed, the great heads of the Episcopalian and Presbyterian bodies displayed as determined an opposition each to the other, in their explanation and settlement of non essentials, as they had in contending against spiritual error for those truths which many by their martyrdom showed to be dearer to them than life. In few things was there more ink shed than as to the posture in which the eucharist was to be received. Each contended for the primitive and scriptural position of sitting over kneeling, and kneeling over sitting. A reference to early engravings will show that neither church adopts the original manner, namely, the oriental; and happily for us, for it is lazy, luxurious, and enervating; also extremely inconvenient. Some of the engraved sketches show the construction of the table; i. e. three tables so set together as to form but one. Around these tables are placed, not seats, but, as it were, couches, or beds, one to each table: each of these beds being called elinium; three of these elinia united, to surround the three tables, formed the triclinium (three beds.) At the end of each clinium was a footstool for the convenience of mounting up to it. These beds were formed of mattresses, stuffed, &c., and were supported on frames of wood, often highly ornamented. The guests reclined on these, on their left elbows, leaving the right hand free for use. Observe, too, that the feet

of the person reclining being towards the external edge of the bed, they were much more readily reached by anybody passing, than any other part of the person so reclining.

Other engravings show a dining-table clear from guests; with the manner of forming a circular table: the cushions laid around it. In these beds, crescent-formed, the right extremity was the first place of honour; and the left extremity was the second place of honour.

In very early times, the attitude at table was sitting: so in Homer, when Ulysses arrives at the palace of Alcinous, the king displaces his son Laodamas, in order to seat Ulysses in a magnificent chair. The Egyptians sat at table anciently, says Appolodorus, in Athenæus; so did the Romaus till towards the end of the second Punic war, when they began to recline at table.

The office and duty of the ARCHITRICLINIUS, (chief of the triclinium,) the master or superintendant of a feast, were not unlike that of a chairman of a company, among ourselves. He gave directions to the servants, superintended every thing, commanded the tables to be covered, &c. He tasted the wine, and distributed it to the guests. This office is mentioned in John ii. 8, 9, in the beginning of Miracles which our Saviour wrought. This office among the Greeks, when presiding over the Greeks, was called KING. The youths who served the tables were called Atakovo, DEACONS, and owxoot, wine pourers; in modern language, wine-coopers. There is a manifest allusion to servants of the tables (Deacons,) in our Lord's rebuke of his disciples, (Luke xxii. 25.) The KINGS of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them: and those possessing authority over them are called benefactors. But among you it shall not be so but he who is greatest among you, let him be as the youngest; and he who takes place as a ruler as he who serveth, (a Deacon.) For whether is greater, he who reclines at table, or he who serveth, (the Deacon? Whereas I am among you as he who serveth, (the Deacon.)

For want of proper description and discrimination in respect to the attitude at table, several passages of the Gospel are not merely injured as to their true sense, but are absolutely divested of sense in our translation. Refer to the exquisite and touching parable recorded in Luke vii. 36, which the said engravings render intelligible. The same observation applies to John xii. 3. Lazarus was one who reclined at table, avakeμevwv, with Jesus; and Mary anointed the feet of Jesus. Likewise, John's reclining on the Lord's bosom at the Last Supper, is simply explained by these.

MOUNT ETNA.

DURING the eruption of Mount Etna, in 1669, the lava, after overflowing fourteen towns and villages, some of which had a population of between three and four thousand inhabitants, arrived at length at the walls of Catania. These walls, (observes a recent writer,) had been purposely raised to protect the city; but the burning flood accumulated until it rose to the top of the rampart, which was sixty feet in height, and then fell in a fiery cascade, and overwhelmed part of the city. The wall, however, was not thrown down, being discovered long afterwards by Prince Biscari, when making excavations in the rock, by means of which the solid lava may be seen curling over the top of the rampart. This great current, when it entered the sea, after performing a course of fifteen miles, was one thousand eight hundred feet broad, and forty deep: it covered some territories in the environs of Catania, which had never before been visited by the lavas of Etna. Its surface was, in general, a mass of solid rock, and its mode of advancing, as is usual with lava streams, was by the occasional fissuring of solid walls. M. Pappalardo, a gentleman of Catania, being desirous of securing the city from the approach of the threatening torrent, went out with a party of fifty men, dressed in skins, to protect them from the heat, and armed with iron crows and hooks. Having broken open one of the solid walls which flanked the current near Belpasso, a river of melted matter issued forth, which took the direction of Paterno; but the inhabitants of that town, being alarmed for their safety, took up arms, and prevented them from carrying on their operations. It is related by M. Recupero, that in 1766, having ascended a small hill formed of ancient volcanic matter, to behold the slow and gradual approach of a fiery current, two miles and a half broad, two small threads of liquid matter suddenly issued from a crevice, and having detached themselves from the main stream, ran rapidly towards the hill, from which M. Recupero and his guide had just time to escape. They had scarcely left the hill, which was fifty feet in height, before it was surrounded with liquid lava, and in a quarter of an hour, was melted down into the burning mass. This complete fusion of rocky matter, when coming in contact with lava, is not of universal, or even common occurrence. On the site of Mompiliere, one of the towns overflowed in the great eruption, in 1669, an excavation was made in 1704; and after an immense deal of labour, the workmen reached, at the depth of thirty-five feet, the gate of the principal church, where there were three statues, held in high veneration; when one of these statues, a bell, some money, and other articles, in a good state of preservation, were extracted from beneath a great arch formed by the lava..

W. G. C.

[ocr errors][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed][merged small]

THIS pillar is erected on the summit of a lofty hill, called Moel y Golfa, in Montgomeryshire, by a subscription of the gentlemen of the county, as a mark of their gratitude to the brave RODNEY, for the eminent services he rendered his country. It has the following inscriptions on the pedestal :-"Summæ pereunt Columnæ, Georgii Brydges Rodney Baronetti viget nomen et vigebit."-"Erected in honour of Sir George Brydges Rodney, Admiral of the White, by a subscription of the gentlemen of the county:" and these lines in Welsh

"Y Colofnan uchaf a fyrthiant
Ar Tyran cadarnaf annularant
Ond Clôd Syr Brydges Rodney.
Agyrnnydda bennydd

Ai Emw da ef ni ddileuir."

[graphic]

Certainly, if any warrior was entitled to such a memorial of his country's regard, it was the invincible Rodney-a man whose life gave the denial to that assertion, generally ascribed to the Lord Bute, "that every man was to be bought." For this hero, when living in retirement on the Continent, being in embarrassed circumstances, on account of an election contest for the borough of Northampton, the French government, aware of his necessities, and knowing his prowess, made overtures which would have immediately relieved him from his difficulties; but the honest sailor rejected them, not only without hesitation, but in such terms as marked his sense of the insult offered him by the proposal; and the fact having come to the ears of Lord Sandwich, then first Lord of the Admiralty, he immediately invited him to take the command of a squadron in the Mediterra nean; and on the 12th of August, 1782, the gallant Rodney had an opportunity of resenting the affront he received from the French government, by defeating their celebrated Count De Grasse, and gaining a complete victory over the fleet under his command. In 1780, he also defeated Admiral Langara, off Cape St. Vincent, bringing home five ships of the line as the fruits of his victory. For these and other services rendered his country, a barony and a pension of two thousand pounds were the rewards of his bravery; and a monument voted to his memory, to be erected in the north transept of St. Paul's Cathedral.

Rodney was born in Somersetshire, in 1717; and died in the spring of 1792.

Lord Rodney is described, by some writers on naval affairs, as the first who put in practice the system of tactics afterwards adopted with such success by Nelson and other commanders, the principal feature of which consists in breaking through the centre of the enemy's line.

New Books.

MEMOIRS OF JOHN BANNISTER, COMEDIAN.

By John Adolphus, Esq.*

[IN these volumes Mr. Adolphus has managed to present a faithful, and, therefore, a very agreeable portrait of a man whose character, both public and private, cannot be contemplated without admiration, and even affection. What the reader will seek for in vain is anything like kindred liveliness between the subject and his biographer; and he will be at a loss to conceive, how, out of such an atmosphere of animal spirits and pleasant badinage, should issue a production so merely judicious. To those who recollect Bannister on the stage, the analytical descriptions of plays and characters in which the comedian appeared, will not be without a peculiar interest, but to the mass of readers the effect must necessarily be in a serious degree wearisome.

Even when an actor's life is diversified by many incidents, it will be found that the incidents of one are generally similar to those of all his class; and therefore it is that the reader takes up a theatrical biography, prepared to read that the late Mr. So-and-so, at an early age, became stage-stricken, that his friends had strong objections, that he braved them all, and made his debut at a private theatre, afterwards plunged into the thick of country" business," had to contend with the caprices of country managers and country audiences, and at length attained the goal of an actor's ambition-a London engagement. Bannister's ascent to histrionic greatness, was different from this, in being easier. His father, Charles Bannister, enjoyed a high reputation as a singer at the London theatres, and through his influence, young John early became initiated into theatrical mysteries, and without difficulty stepped into a town engagement. He was born in 1760; at the age of 23 he married a Miss Harper, a young lady in the vocal department of his own profession, and related to Mr. Rundell, the celebrated goldsmith. This marriage, contrary to the predictions of some persons less wise than they supposed themselves, was a singu larly happy one. Bannister settled at once into the regular habits of good domestic life, without the sacrifice of a spark of that natural gaiety and boyish cheerfulness, which, throughout his career, made him the delight of all his acquaintance.

Much has been said and written on the fleeting nature of an actor's fame; but, after all, the successful actor has little reason to complain; for, once established in public estimation, he creates in the breasts of many who witness his public exhibitions, feelings Published by Bentley.

which have all the tenderness of private regard, and are not less permanent. It was the good fortune of Bannister, beyond, perhaps, any of his contemporaries, to excite those feelings. When you saw him represent those characters which, from their unaffected generosity, spontaneous outpourings of the affections, the joys or the sorrows of the heart, seemed to be not acting, but the natural following out of his own impulses; you could not restrict your admiration merely to the powers of the actor, but felt yourself impelled to extend your regard to the man. Such a man you feel cannot, off the stage, be essentially different from what he here appears, and your sympathies follow him accordingly. If such were the impressions excited by Bannister on the stage, happily there was nothing to contradict them when you were admitted to his home. He stood out a living exemplar of the respectability consistent with a profession admitted to be often perilous to strict principles, and he leaves behind him a character estimable in all the relations of life, conspicuous for companionable qualities, prudent habits, and the liberal exercise of the heart's best impulses. We proceed to give a few extracts.]

Bannister's Opinion of Kean.

[ocr errors]

66 Having introduced the name of that celebrated performer, Kean, candour requires I should state Bannister's judgment on his merits, which I derive from memoranduins to which I have already conferred my obligations, written by the author of Wine and Walnuts.' Standing at the first-floor window, he says, of a house in Cecil-street, in the Strand, nearly opposite the residence of Mr. Kean, the tragedian, and seeing him and the late Mr. Whitbread go out from the street door, arm-in-arm, Bannister observed,' How grateful to Providence that young man ought to be for his sudden elevation, when contrasted with what he has experienced.' I asked Bannister what he thought of Kean as an actor, particularly as to the manner of his playing Richard the Third, in comparison with the performance of the same character by Garrick, asking at the same time whether he could recollect Garrick's Richard. He answered, 'Yes, very distinctly. For some time,' he said, 'I could not form a judgment, and yet was unable to account for it. I had only seen Kean from behind the scenes, so one night I seated myself rather beyond the centre of the pit, and there he appeared to me another man. You think this strange, but it is true. In this new, and, as I suppose, proper station, 1 seemed at once to discover his merits, which grew upon my imagi nation, first to approbation of his powers, and ended in surprise and admiration! Indeed, 1 found his conception of the character so entirely original, and so excellent,

that I almost forgot my old master, Davy Garrick.""

"From such a degraded position-education, taste, and ambition, rescued Bannister; school of Garrick, he never could have been and whatever he might have been in the deemed a proficient in the school of Kemble. It is not meant to be asserted that he would ever, under any circumstances, have been a first-rate tragedian, but certainly the altered state of dramatic performance was adverse to his attempts.

Characteristics of Bannister's style of Acting "Tragedy was his first aim, and in that he was encouraged by the best critics, and the most admired performer of the day. But soon after Bannister's appearance, the tone and mode of tragic exhibition were totally changed. The unforced, natural, and almost comic manner of delivering the mere cursory dialogue, was changed for one, in which it seemed to be assumed, that no sentence, however ordinary, or even unimportant, could have been written without an occult meaning; no phrase could have been penned without a concealed point. 'Will you play upon this instrument? was delivered as if it had been a declaration of hostility, or the announcement of a detected conspiracy; and the very little which Cibber has left of the rich spor--speak their feelings, and I am certain they tive sarcasm with which Shakspeare endued the character of Richard, is so suppressed, that when the tyrant banters his mother, he may almost be expected to aim his dagger at her heart.

"Garrick's agile movement and elegant levity, in which Bannister might have been a valuable follower, were utterly superseded; a dignified and super-majestic manner was thrown around every character, from Shakspeare's murderous Thane to Rowe's gay rake. This taste descended through all the perform ers in tragedy; and he who had to deliver a message of no more importance than Cæsar sends health to Cato,' would well have earned Quin's indignant reproof, I wish he had sent it by some other messenger.'

“Mrs. Siddons and Kemble, by the lofty grace of their persons, and the refined dignity of their manners, put to flight, for their day at least, all hopes that could be entertained by those who, without all the perfections of Garrick, struggled against the disadvantages which result from the want of a stately elevation of form. When Mrs. Siddons appeared and acted, the effect was similar to that which might have been expected, if one of the sublimest conceptions of Michael Angelo had been animated for the occasion, and Kemble gave us everything that could be achieved if the same miracle had been per formed on the most perfect production of the chisel or the pencil, employed in the representation of Roman or Grecian life, person, and manners. In them these perfections were gifts of nature, improved to their highest pitch by art and study; in them they were becoming and captivating; but they who attempted to form themselves, by imitating those incomparable models, would soon become monotonous mannerists, mere plaster casts, humbly representing the noble statues; lame, clumsy wood-cuts, engraved after the inimitable picture.

"What he was in comedy and in comic opera, has been so much described that addition is unnecessary; but there is a sort of midway character, uniting the pathos of tragedy with the hilarity of comedy, in which he was peculiarly great, and if the expression may be used without offence, unrivalled. Let those, and they are still many, who recollect him in a long line of characters-in Sadi, for example, La Gloire, Shacabac, or Walter, must accord with mine on this subject.

"His power over the audience was derived from the simple, though not very usual, means of appearing to be quite unconscious of their presence. He not only laid no traps for applause and no gestures, looks, or efforts, to obtain it, but when it was given spontaneously, and even tumultuously, he was never driven from the business of the scene; if his voice could not for a time be heard, his action never was suspended, and the character in the play was never for a moment set aside to show the contented, overjoyed, the elate individual Bannister.

"He acquired fame by deserving, not by courting it; and while he enjoyed the public approbation with all the susceptibility of his excellent heart, he never, in public or in private, showed an affected complacency or an overweening pride.”

Bannister at the time of his retirement.

[ocr errors]

"In retiring when he did from the profession he had never ceased to adorn, Bannister evinced that solid judgment and unperverted taste which had distinguished him throughout his life. His absence had never been desired. The public witnessed with regret the attacks made upon him by illness, but they never had reason to think that his infirmity infected his playing; unless the Archbishop of Granada in Gil Blas,' whose sermons smell of the apoplexy, the acting of Bannister never was in the slightest degree redolent' of gout. The graceful and animated vigour of his motion, the silver tone and deep feeling of his voice, the enlivening play of his smile, and the animated lustre of his eye, had not only remained to him, but were undiminished and unenfeebled; nor was eulogy ever more true and justly applied, than one which declared that his first performance of Walter did not exceed, in any dramatic requisite, his last personation of the character, a character

« ElőzőTovább »