ORIGINAL ANECDOTES, LITERARY NEWS, INCIDENTS, &c. POOR RELATIONS. grandfather; and will thrust in some mean, and quite unimportant anecdote of-the A Poor Relation is-the most irrelevant thing in nature,—a piece of impertinent so flourishing as "he is blest in seeing it family. He knew it when it was not quite correspondency,--an odious approxima now." He reviveth past situations, to intion, a haunting conscience,-a prepos- stitute what he calleth-favourable comparterous shadow, lengthening in the noon- isons. With a reflecting sort of congratutide of your prosperity,-an unwelcome remembrancer,—a perpetually recurring mor- lation, he will inquire the price of your furtification,—a drain on your purse,-a more niture; and insults you with a special comintolerable dun upon your pride,—a draw-mendation of your window-curtains. He is back upon success,-a rebuke to your rising,-a stain in your blood,—a blot on your scutcheon,-a rent in your garment,—a death's head at your banquet,-Agathocles' pot,-a Mordecai in your gate,-a Lazarus at your door, a lion in your path,-a frog in your chamber, a fly in your ointment, -a mote in your eye, a triumph to your enemy,-an apology to your friends,-the one thing not needful,-the hail in harvest, the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet, the bore par excellence. He is known by his knock. Your heart telleth you "That is Mr. "A rap, between familiarity and respect; that demands, and, at the same time, seems to despair of, entertainment. He entereth smiling, and embarrassed. He holdeth out his hand to you to shake, and-draweth it back again. He casually looketh in about dinner time-when the table is full. He offereth to go away, seeing you have company-but is induced to stay. He filleth a chair, and your visitor's two children are accommodated at a side table. He never cometh upon open days, when your wife says with some complacency, "My dear, perhaps Mr. will drop in to-day." He remembereth birth-days-and professeth he is fortunate to have stumbled upon one. He declareth against fish, the turbot being small-yet suffereth himself to be importuned into a slice against his first resolution. He sticketh by the port-yet will be prevailed upon to empty the remainder glass of claret,-if a stranger press it upon him. He is a puzzle to the servants, who are fearful of being too obsequious, or not civil enough, to him. The guests think "they have seen him before." Every one speculateth upon his condition; and the most part take him to be-a tide-waiter. He calleth you by your Christian name, to imply that his other is the same with your own. He is too familiar by half, yet you wish he had less diffidence. With half the familiarity, he might pass for a casual dependent; with more boldness, he would be in no danger of being taken for what he is. He is too humble for a friend, yet taketh on him more state than befits a client. He is a worse guest than a country tenant, inasmuch as he bringeth up no rent-yet 'tis odds, from his garb and demeanour, that your other guests take him for one. He is asked to make one at the whist table; refuseth on the score of poverty, and-resents being left out. When the company break up, he proffereth to go for a coachand lets the servant go. He recollects your of opinion that the urn is the more elegant shape, but, after all, there was something more comfortable about the old tea-kettle which you must remember. He dare say you must find a great convenience in pealeth to your lady if it is not so. Inhaving a carriage of your own, and apquireth if you have had your arms done on vellum yet; and did not know till lately, that such-and-such had been the crest of the family. His memory is unseasonable; his compliments perverse; his talk a trouble; his stay pertinacious; and when he corner, as precipitately as possible, and goeth away, you dismiss his chair into a feel fairly rid of two nuisances. There is a worse evil under the sun, and that is a female Poor Relation. You may do something with the other; you may pass him off tolerably well; but your indigent she-Relative is hopeless. “He is an old humourist," you may say, “and affects to go threadbare. His circumstances are better than folks would take them to be. You are fond of having a Character at your table, and truly he is one." But in the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below without shuffling. "She is plainly related herself from caprice. The truth must out to the Ls; or what does she at their house?" She is, in all probability, your wife's cousin. Nine times out of ten, at least, this is the case. Her garb is something between a gentlewoman and a beggar, yet the former evidently predominates. She is most provokingly humble, and ostentatiously sensible to her inferiority. He may require to be repressed sometimes-aliquando sufflaminandus erat-but there is no raising her. You send her soup at dinmer, and she begs to be helped-after the gentlemen. Mr. requests the honour of Port and Madeira, and chooses the formertaking wine with her; she hesitates between because he does. She calls the servant Sir; and insists on not troubling him to hold her plate. The housekeeper patronizes her. The children's governess takes upon her to correct her when she has mistaken the pias no for a harpsichord. The following anecdote of the late virtuous M. Lambrecht is amusing and descriptive of the man and the times :-In 1797, notwishstanding his absence, he was named minister by the government. He arrived one evening in the capital by the diligence, took a fiacre, and descended at the gate of the hotel of the ministry to which he was appointed. The concierge opened the door, and seeing a plain man with a small parcel under his arm, he regulated his conduct according to the custom of his place. "What do you want, my friend? the bureaux have been shut for some hours.""But I am-'"A beggar, no doubt; we have persons enow of your description."Not exactly; I am the new minister.' —“Ah, mon Dieu, mon Dieu! Est-il possible? Votre excellence, will you forgive me!"Yes, my excellence will forgive you; but learn for the future to be more patient and more civil.' A blind beggar has lately been condemned to five years improvement for the crime of bigamy. The wits remark, C'est bien là le cas de dire, Où diable l'amour vaet-il se nicher ! BROWN'S HYPOCHONDRIACISM. Mr. Simon Brown, a dissenting minister of eminent piety and great abilities, was seized with so strange a disorder, that he quitted the duties of his function, and though he continued to write with eloquence upon religious subjects, he could not be persuaded to join either in public or private worship. The reason which he assigned for this singularity of conduct was, "that he had fallen under the displeasure of God, who had caused his rational soul gradually to perish, and left him only an animal life, in common with brutes; that it was, therefore, profane in him to pray, and improper for him to be present at the prayers of others!! In this opinion he remained fixed, nor could any reasoning prevail upon him to believe that he possessed an immortal soul. While under the influence of this delusion, he wrote a masterly defence of reveal ed religion, against Tindal, but prefixed to it a most extraordinary dedication to Queen Caroline, in which he says, "that by the immediate hand of an avenging God, his very thinking substance has for more than seven years heen continually wasting away, till it is wholly perished out of him, if it be not utterly come to nothing." The cause of this very extraordinary insanity is thus related by Dr. Percival. "Mr. Brown and another minister, were walking together near Hampstead, in a part of the road infested by a notorious footpad. His companion said, "suppose the footpad should attack us, what shall we do?" "It will be a shame," replied Mr Brown, "for two persons so stout as we are, to be robbed by one man." Soon afterwards the footpad appeared; and whilst the other minister amused him with the delivery of his money, Mr. Brown got behind him, took him in his arms, threw him down, and held him fast, but did not strike him. The companion ran for assistance, and soon returned. Mr. B. rose up; but on detaching himself from the robber, found that he had pressed him to death. The shock of this event, with his previous agitation of mind, affected his brain so forcibly, that he thought God had taken away his soul from him; and that he did it judicially, for his neglect of the divine rule of our Saviour, "If any man take thy cloak, let him have thy coat also." HANDEL, late in life, like the two great poets, Homer and Milton, was afflicted with blindness, and nothing could be more affecting than to led forward to the front of the stage, to see this venerable musician, upwards of 70 make an obeisance to that public which he had for so many years charmed and instructed. When Samson was performed, and Beard sang with feeling the words, Total eclipse-no sun, no moon, All dark amid the blaze of noon. the association of ideas, and the view of the sightless musician affected every body to tears. FATE OF BOOKS. There are 1000 books published per annum in Great Britain, on 600 of which there is a commercial loss,-on 200 no gain, on 100 a trifling gain, and only on 100 any considerable profit. 750 are forgotten within the year, other 100 in two years, other 150 in three years, not more than 50 survive seven years, and scarcely 50,000 books published in the 17th century, 10 are thought of after 20 years. Of the not 50 are now in estimation. And of the 80,000 published in the 18th century, not more than 300 are considered worth re printing, and not more than 500 are sought 1400 years before Christ, i. e. in 32 centuafter in 1823. Since the first writings, ries, only about 500 works of writers of all nations have sustained themselves against the devouring influence of time. COUNT WORONZOW, the Russian ambassador to the Court of London, related to me, (says Mr. Dutens) that in a province in Russia, a man dying, was carried as is customary into the church, the evening previous to the day of his interment. It is usual to place the corpse in an open coffin, and a priest, attended only by a boy of the choir, remains all night praying by the side of the body; and on the following day, the friends of the deceased come to close up the coffin, and inter the body. On this occasion, after the evening service had been performed, every one retired from church and the priest, with the young chorister, withdrew to supper; but soon returned, and the former commenced the usual prayers. What was his astonishment, when he beheld the dead body rise from the coffin, and advance towards him. Terrified in the extreme, the priest flew to the font, and conjuring the corpse to return to its proper station, showered holy water on him in abundance. But the obstinate and evil-minded corpse, disregarding the power of holy water, seized the unfortunate priest, threw him to the ground, and soon, by repeated blows, extended him without life on the pavement. Having committed this act of barbarity, he appeared to return quietly to his coffin. On the following morning, the persons who came to prepare for the funeral, found the priest murdered, add the corpse as before in its coffin. Nothing could throw any light upon this extraordinary affair but the testimony of the boy, who had concealed himself on the first movement of the dead body, and who persisted in declaring, that he saw from his hiding-place the priest killed by the corpse. Conjectures and endeavours to discover the truth, were alike vain, tormenting, and fruitless. Many resources were tried; for it was not every one that submitted themselves to the belief of a dead body rising to kill a priest, and then quietly returning itself to the place of of its consignment. Many years after, a malefactor, condemned to death for various crimes, and brought to the torture, confessed that having (for some unknown reason) conceived an implacable hatred against the priest in question, he had formed the design of thus avenging himself. Having found means to remain in the church, he seized the moment of the priest's retiring to supper, withdrew the dead body from the coffin, and placed himself in in its stead in the shroud and other appurtenances. After executing the murder of the priest, he restored the corpse to its place, and got unperceived out of the church, when the friends of the deceased came in the morning to attend the funeral. Patriotism. It is well known that Major Martin, who died some years ago in the English East India Company, after having made an immense fortune, bequeathed a considerable legacy to the city of Lyons, his birthplace. A number of judicial inquiries and proceedings took place with regard to this legacy. Eventually the payment of the legacy has been directed by a decree of the Supreme Court of Judicature at Calcutta,dated the 22d of December 1822. The sum adjudged amounts to no less than 1,927,000 francs, above £80,000 sterling; besides an annual payment of 12,500 francs for the relief of the inhabitants of Lyons confined for debt. NEW WORKS, SEPT. 13. Dramas from the Novels and Romances of Waverly, &c. 12mo. 5s. 6d.-Leslie's Illustrations of Novels and Tales of the Author of Waverly, 12mo. 12s. ; 8vo. 8s.; proofs, 4to. 30s.; India proofs, 388.- Bramsen's Remarks on the North of Spain, 8vo. 6s. 6d.-Evans's Political Institutions of Europe (Vol. I. Part I. of France,) 8vo. 98. Letters to Marianne, by W, Coombe, Esq. Author of Dr. Syntax, 12mo. 3s. 6d. Brookshaw's Horticultural Repository, 2 vols. royal 8vo. 61. 10s.-Martin's Practice of stating Averages, 4to. 12s.-Supplement to the Crown Circuit Companion, 8vo. 9s. -Sea-Gunner's Pocket Companion, 18mo. 28.-William's Maitre Mythologique, 12mo. 38. 6d. William's Clavis Classica, 12mo. 38. Edwards Prometheus Chained, in Eng lish Prose, 8vo. 8s. The publisher of Don Juan has several more cantos of that Poem in MS. three of which are in the press. He has also another drama from Lord Byron, of a very curi ous kind, entitled the Deformed Transformed, and founded partly on the idea which forms the ground work of Goethe's Faust. A young physician, M. Deleau, has just published a pamphlet on the diseases of the ear, "Observations de deux Sourdes et Muelles qui entendent et qui parlent, pour servir de preuve que beaucoup de sourds peuvent jouir du méme bienfait." M. Deleau desires to take the treatment of deafness out of the hands of the ignorant and empirical. In a former publication he maintained that the tympanum is not absolutely necessary to the sense of hearing; an opinion that huntsmen, who sometimes injure those of their dogs, have long asserted; and he adds, that in many deafnesses a part must be sacrificed to recover the -hearing; but, before an operation, it is necessary to ascertain that it is the diseased state of this organ that occasions the deafness. After having evidence that it is not the trompe, but of the tympanum, M. Deleau decides on perforation, and also, sometimes, in order to obtain access to the trompe, to cleanse and invigorate that organ; this operation he performs with an instrument which he has invented, and which appears to be both ingenious and well adapted. Success has crowned his studies and his efforts; several persons, deaf and dumb, have recovered their hearing and speech, and especially two young girls have received a perfect cure. In his last work he makes the following remark: "L'auscultation ou la volonté présente dans l'auditeur, is not so strongly possessed by the deaf and dumb as is supposed. You think that the desire to hear, by those who have lost the faculty of hearing at an advanced age, is the same in others; but you are mistaken. A young female of nine years, finds it more difficult to hear and to speak than to continue to make signs, and she hardly conceives why so much pains are bestowed to make her change her language-she was happy and contented with her own; often, too, she forgets what she hears and says, so that it is found necessary to prevent, by rewards or privations, the use of her old signs. And, on reflection, this fact is not very surprising: we only submit to labour and fatigue when we feel a great and pressing necessity or want; the deaf and dumb do not feel that pressing want, because they make themselves understood by their relatives; and as for the future, they do not care by anticipa tion, for, in general, the want of education diminishes exceedingly those kind of perceptions. Thus the young deaf and dumb child resembles a scholar who begins to learn Latin, or any other foreign language." The Royal Academy of Science has made a report, very favourable of the discoveries and experiments of M. Deleau, SPIRIT OF THE ENGLISH MAGAZINES. BOSTON, DECEMBER 1, 1823. (Blackwood's Mag.) THE UNKNOWN GRAVE. Man comes into the world like morning mushrooms, soon thrusting up their heads into the air, and conversing with their kindred of the same production, and as soon they turn into dust and forgetfulness. Who sleeps below? who sleeps below?— Say, do they heed, or hear thy call? A hundred summer suns have shower'd Their fostering warmth, and radiance bright; A hundred winter storms have lower'd Say, did he come from East,-from West? The howling billows as they roll? Within what realm of peace or strife, Did he first draw the breath of life? Was he of high or low degree? Did grandeur smile upon his lot? Or, born to dark obscurity, Dwelt he within some lonely cot, And, from his youth to labour wed, From toil-strung limbs wrung daily bread? Say, died he ripe, and full of years, Bowed down, and bent by hoary eld, When sound was silence to his ears, And the dim eye-ball sight with-held; Like a ripe apple falling down, Unshaken, 'mid the orchard brown ; When all the friends that bless'd his prime, Were vanish'd like a morning dream ; Pluck'd one by one by spareless Time, And scatter'd in oblivion's stream; Passing away all silently, Like snow-flakes melting in the sea: 22 ATHENEUM VOL. 14. Jeremy Taylor. Perhaps he perish'd for the faith, One of that persecuted band, To free from mental thrall the land, Say, was he one to science blind, A groper in Earth's dungeon dark ?Or one, whose bold aspiring mind Did, in the fair creation, mark Then, what is life, when thus we see What doth it matter then, if thus, We float not on the breath of fame; Since soul decays not; freed from earth, And earthly coils, it bursts away ; Receiving a celestial birth, And spurning off its bonds of clay, It soars, and seeks another sphere, Do good; shun evil; live not thou, To draw thy steps from truth aside; ITALIAN ART OF HOAXING. (Blackwood's Mag.) Of the Hoax of Hoaxes, practised by Lorenzo de' Medici upon Master Manente the Physician, and of the many rare and diverting Occurrences which proceeded from it. From the Novels of Lasca. The following Tale possesses, on many accounts, very peculiar merit-first, as exhibiting a picture, or rather a series of pictures, of national manners and customs, not exceeded in liveliness and fidelity by those which are presented to us in that invaluable repository of Oriental portraiture, the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, to which it will also strike the reader as bearing no little affinity in the resemblance between its hero, Lorenzo de Medici (commonly called the Magnificent,) and the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, a name so familiarly interwoven with all our recollections of childhood, by its frequent occurrence in that delightful store-house of fiction. Secondly, it is no less worthy of notice on account of the new light which it casts on the character of that hero, whom his illustrious English biographer has certainly omitted to represent to us in this view of his features. And lastly, it affords a very wide field for reflection, when it leads us to consider to what an extent, even under the forms of a popular and democratic government, the middling and lower classes of society were held as lawful subjects for the jest and diversion of the great, when so popular a chief as Lorenzo made no scruple of playing his favourite physician a trick which cost him his liberty and his honour, and exposed his life and reason to the utmost peril, for no cause more just than that he was apt to make too free use of his bottle, especially when he could contrive to do so at a friend's expense. The treatment sustained by the worthy knight of La Mancha, at the hands of the unfeeling grandees of Spain, to whom he had the misfortune of becoming a laughing-stock, bears some analogy, (in that respect at least) to the present story; but I will not conclude these prefatory remarks without repeating, that it seems impossible to regard the tale as a mere fiction, or otherwise than as a narrative (perhaps highly coloured) of some real occurrences, the account of which was in general circulation at the time when the author composed it, that is, not more than fifty years after the death of the most distinguished personage whose name is mentioned in it. The distinction of "Lorenzo il Vecchio," or The Elder, by which the hero of the jest is identified, led me once to imagine that another Lorenzo (the brother of Cosmo, surnamed Parens Patriæ,) was here intended; and the epithet "Il Magnifico" assigned to him, would not alone have disproved the supposition, but have only confirmed the truth of an undeniable assertion, made by Sismondi, and somewhat petulantly called in question by Roscoe, that the appellation itself was no other than an honorary mark of distinction, conferred indiscriminately on persons illustrious by birth or office. However, the mention of the "Selve d'Amore," (an undoubted work of the Lorenzo whom we usually distinguish by the name of the Magnificent,) seems to prove that no other than he was the person here meant to be referred to; and the phrase of "Il Vecchio" applied to him, must therefore be taken in contradistinction to a third Lorenzo, (commonly called Lorenzino,) the assassin of the first Duke Alexander. INTRODUCTION. Giacinto had arrived at the conclusion of his novel, with which he had not a little rejoiced and enlivened his auditory, when Amarantha, to whom alone now remained the task of paying the expected tribute, thus, sweetly smiling, began-"I design, most fair ladies, and gentle sirs, to relate to you an anecdote of mystification, which, albeit not brought to perfection under the guidance of Scheggia, or Zoroastro, or any other of the great masters of the art already noticed, I humbly opine that you will think no less worthy of admiration, nor less artificially contrived and executed, than any which you have had already recounted to you. It is one which was practised by the Magnifico, Lorenzo the Elder, upon a certain physician, one of the most arrogant and assuming that the world ever witnessed. In which the so many strange accidents intervened, and such various chances were given birth to, that, if you ever in your lives were moved to surprise of laughter, you will now find matter for both, to your hearts' content." |