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AROMATIC VINEGAR,

To many of our readers aromatic vinegar is undoubtedly known, as yielding a penetrating agreeable odour, and for its being extremely beneficial in relieving nervous head-aches, and faintings, to which females are more particularly subject.

The chemical name for vinegar is acetic acid, which, strictly speaking, belongs only to the sour portion of that useful liquid. In a state of great purity, acetic acid is prepared by a tedious and difficult process. It is then fluid, at a temperature, above 50° and colourless, its odour exceedingly pungent; producing very painful sensations in the nostrils and eyes, when those delicate organs are incautiously exposed to its vapour. To the taste, concentrated acetic acid is intensely acrid and sour. When placed in contact with the skin, it occasions a sensation similar to that of burning; accompanied by a blister and sometimes a troublesome sore. At the temperature of 45° to 50°, it becomes solid, crystallizing in thin plates of a pearly lustre. Its vapour, like that of spirit of wine, is highly inflammable.

The vinegar usually employed for domestic purposes is a very weak solution of acetic acid. That of the strongest kind (No. 24) contains only five parts of real acid in every hundred parts of vinegar; the remaining ninety-five parts consisting of water mixed with one or two other vegetable acids, colouringmatter, mucilage, and a little spirit of wine, which is generated by the fermentative process the mixture has previously undergone. The manufacturer of vinegar, in this country, is allowed by law to mix with it one thousandth part of its weight of sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol.) On account of its comparative cheapness the prescribed quantity of the latter is sometimes exceeded. The aromatic vinegar, sold by apothecaries and druggists, consists of about two parts of acetic acid with one part water. This is sometimes called radical vinegar. Thus diluted, the acid is sufficiently strong to blister the skin; causing considerable pain. For its fragrance it is indebted chiefly to camphor; to which is generally added a little of the essential oils of cloves, lavender, and rosemary; all of which bodies the acid readily dissolves. If we pour a few drops of the vinegar into a wine-glass of water, the mixture will instantly assume a milky appearance: this is occasioned by the separation of the aromatics from the acid, which, in its diluted state, is no longer capable of retaining them in solution. In this experiment the camphor will be seen floating in the iquid in a solid form, and it will also be distinctly recognized by its peculiar odour.

As we mentioned, on a former occasion, in reference to smelling-salts, aromatic vinegar requires to be kept in securely-stopped bottles. When carried about the person, it should never be in greater quantities than can be absorbed by sponge or cotton-wool, provided for the purpose.

SWALLOWS have a strong attachment to places where they once found security, and sometimes make their nests in curious situations. At Blois, in France, a chimney which had a moving iron top placed over it to prevent smoking, became, in consequence of the fire-place being bricked up, a safe place for building in; and, no doubt, the birds discovered that it was such. Within the very hood, or top of this machine, swinging about with every wind, and making a most hideous noise, swallows have built their nests for two successive years; and often, for five minutes or more, when the wind was high, they have been noticed in vain attempting to get into it, the constant motion preventing them from entering their airy dwelling. The force of habit must be very strong indeed, to induce birds to choose so inconvenient a situation for incubation. No doubt, however, the feelings of security overcame other considerations. -WHITE'S Selborne (Note).

GUILDFORD CASTLE. GUILDFORD, in Surrey, was distinguished as the residence of many of our kings, a royal estate called the King's Manor, having been laid out there by King Henry the Second, and occupied by several of his successors. On a height anciently thrown up for the purposes of defence, southward of the town, are the remains of a castle, the age and founder of which are unknown. No notice is taken of this castle in the annals of the Saxon kings, nor in the Domesday Book; from which circumstance some county-histories have fixed upon a period late in William the Conqueror's reign, as the earliest date of its erection; Domesday Book, which is a survey of England, having been begun (1081) and completed (1087) during the life-time of that monarch. Notwithstanding, there are features about the old ruined keep, now almost the only relic, which seem to betoken a Saxon origin. The walls of the keep, or citadel, still continue firm up to the battlements. They are seventy feet high, about ten feet thick in the lower story, and contain a square of forty-four feet on the outside. The foundations of these, to the height of eight or nine feet, are of chalk, mixed with flints, above which are found rag-stone, brick and flints, cemented with a very hard mortar. The building is uncovered: the roof, owing to its state of decay, was taken down about 1630.

The first time this venerable fortress is alluded to in history, is in 1216, when Louis, the Dauphin of France, having come hither at the invitation of the barons, whose fealty he had received in London, got possession of Guildford castle. In 1299, the profits of the castle and estates were given to Margaret, second wife of the reigning king, Edward the First, as part of her dowry. But very soon afterwards it was used as the common county-gaol; and on Henry de Say, keeper of the king's prisoners, praying Edward that a commission might be granted for delivering the prison of its troublesome inmates, or that they might be taken to some safer place, the castle not being strong enough for the purpose; the king's lofty and decisive answer was, that if the castle were not of sufficient strength, the keeper must make it so; if not of sufficient size, he must make it larger; and that at any rate he must see to keeping his prisoners safe, for that the king was not advised to remove them. In the reign of Edward the Second, however, when the powerful and turbulent Earl of Lancaster and others had risen against those court favourites, the Spensers, steps were taken to put the castle in a posture of defence, a writ having been issued to the constable to furnish it with provisions, &c., for the king's service. Still we continue to read of it chiefly as a gaol, till the time of Richard the Second; and the next recorded mention of it that occurs, is the grant of the property by James the First, to Francis Carter of Guildford, whose descendants retained it, till, some years since, it was purchased by the Duke of Norfolk.

King, in his Observations on Ancient Castles, says of that at Guildford,-"On the ground-floor there were no windows, nor even so much as loop-holes; but in the upper story there was one great window near the middle on each side, the form of which was circular at the top. As to the rest of the present windows, they are all modern breaches; and some of the old ones have plainly been altered and repaired, and have even had frames and pillars of brick-work inserted. The present entrance, also, is clearly a breach made in these later ages; and the original entrance may be still perceived to have been through a stone arch in the midst of the west front at a considerable height, and must have been approached by a staircase on the outside of the wall. This arch, in which

is a great peculiarity, (it being a pointed one, though of a date long before pointed arches were introduced into common use,) still remains very perfect; and though it now passes for a window, yet that it was the ancient portal is plain, both from the stone arch within, which exactly corresponds with it, and differs from the arches of all the windows, and also from hence, that whereas the windows on the other three sides are at the same height from the ground, this arch and portal is some feet lower, and its bottom level with the walks of the floor within. There was a circular staircase in one corner of the building, and there are also galleries in the thickness of the wall, as at Rochester, for the more speedy conveyance of orders in case of a siege. There is likewise, on the south side, the appearance of a mock entrance or sally-port, having, in order to increase the deception, machicolations* over it, at a great height, as if to defend it from attacks. These false sally-ports were contrivances to mislead the besiegers, by leading them to attempt a breach, under the idea of succeeding, where in reality it was impossible.

On the wall of a room in the second story of the castle are several rude and curious figures cut in chalk. The first represents St. Christopher with his staff in his right hand, and in the left the infant Jesus. A second is a bishop with his mitre: over him is an antique crown, and beneath, a poor sketch of our Saviour on the cross. A third displays a square pillar, the capital of which has Saxon ornaments. A fourth exhibits the crucifixion, with a variety of figures badly executed. The fifth is the figure of a king, in a crown of ancient form, and holding a globe in his right hand; and near him are the slight traces of another. The room is about ten feet by four, and about eight or nine feet high. Tradition makes the carvings the work of a great personage confined there, who used to beguile the tedious hours of his imprisonment, by amusing himself in this manner. Who this great personage was, or at what time he was confined there, is not known: but the style of the figures bespeak them of ancient date. Several A kind of grate, through which scalding water, or other mischievous matter might be thrown down on the besiegers.

melancholy devices and mottoes carved under similar circumstances, were discovered, and are now to be seen, on the dreary walls of the Beauchamp tower, once the principal state-prison in the Tower of London, but now used as the officers' mess-room. The pensive, and in many instances pious tone of feeling which runs through the sentences, seems to show the mind of the writer as prepared for death, and inly conscious of that awful truth so often experienced in times of civil trouble, that there is but a short step from the prison to the scaffold. In old times, state criminals were subjected to the meanest and most severe privations; the use of books, and even many of the necessary comforts of life, having been often denied to persons who had before been accustomed to the refinements of polished circles, or whose tender sex, if not dignity of birth, ought to have ensured greater indulgence.

A DERVISE travelling through Tartary, being arrived at the town of Balk, went into the king's palace by mistake, as thinking it to be a public inn or caravansary. Having looked about him for some time, he entered into a long gallery, where he laid down his wallet, and spread his carpet, in order to repose himself upon it after the manner of eastern nations. He had not been long in this posture, him what was his business in that place? The Dervise told before he was discovered by some of the guards, who asked them he intended to take up his night's lodging in that caravansary. The guards let him know, in a very angry manner, that the house he was in, was not a caravansary, but the king's palace. It happened that the king himself passed through the gallery during this debate, and, smiling at the mistake of the Dervise, asked him how he could possibly be so dull as not to distinguish a palace from a caravansary? "Sir," says the Dervise, "give me leave to ask your majesty a question or two. Who were the persons who lodged in this house when it was first built? The King replied," His ancestors." And who," says the Dervise, "was the last person that lodged here?" The King replied, "His father." "And who is it," says the Dervise, "that lodges here at present?" The King told him "that it was he himself." "And who," says the Dervise," will be here after you?" The King answered, "The young prince, his son." "Ah, sir," said the Dervise, "a house that changes its inhabitants so often, and receives such a perpetual succession of guests, is not a palace, but a caravansary."-Spectator.

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LONDON: Published by JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND; and sold by all Booksellers.

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GREAT STREET, AND FOUNTAIN OF GOOD SUCCESS, MADRID.

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MADRID, the capital of the province of New Castile and of the whole Spanish monarchy, stands nearly in the centre of Spain, on the left bank of the little river, or rather rivulet, which bears the name of Manzanares. It is a place almost entirely of modern creation, and has enjoyed its present rank of metropolis scarcely beyond two centuries and a half. Till the accession of King Philip, Madrid was little more than a royal palace, or hunting-seat; but in the year 1563, it became the residence of the court, and has since continued to be so, with only a slight interruption in the reign of Philip the Third. Under these circumstances it soon became a large city; mansions, churches, and convents, were erected about it in considerable numbers. Philip the Fifth embellished it much; but the monarch to whom its magnificence is to be chiefly attributed, is Charles the Third. In his reign, too, it was very near losing its metropolitan honours, in consequence of the tuinult which arose upon an order for cleansing the streets, and for the prohibition of slouched hats and large cloaks. The populace stoutly resisted this innovation upon their ancient habits, and maintained a severe struggle against its enforcement; but the military finally quelled the tumults, and the king carried his point. The prohibition was then rigidly enforced, and round hats were pulled off the heads of people in the open streets. Every blackguard now," says Mr. Swinburne, in 1776, "loiters about with his hat pinned up triangularly, but the moment he gets out of town, and beyond the bounds of the proclamation, he indulges himself in flapping it down on all sides." A little manoeuvring on the part of the minister, Aranda, turned the popular feeling in favour of the order: "By cocked-hats," he proclaimed, 'the king will know his true Spaniards;"-and thenceforward, we are told, none but large Prussian cocked-hats were to be seen. Charles was, however, so annoyed on the occasion, that he seriously contemplated the removal of his court to Seville; and, in all probability, he would have carried his design into execution, but for the representations of the minister, who was unwilling that the large expenditure which had recently been made upon Madrid, should be thus rendered useless.

ORIGIN AND EARLY HISTORY.

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SCARCELY anything is known of Madrid as it existed before it became the royal residence and the seat of the court. The Spanish antiquaries labour hard to establish its antiquity; and their patriotism would fain assign it an origin more remote, as they proudly exclaim, than that of Rome itself. It is amusing to observe the efforts of national vanity, in their attempts to affix an early renown to the site of their country's metropolis-or as they style it -"the spot destined by the clemency of Heaven to be the head of the most powerful and extended empire possessed by earthly king, and the mother and protectress of all nations." The Greeks were its founders," says Davila, one of the chroniclers of King Philip the Fourth: "in this are agreed many of much credit, who say that the period of its foundation was 1560 years after the General Deluge. They gave it the name of Mantua, in memory of Manto, the mother of Ocnus, the son of King Tiberinus, who founded Mantua in Italy." Quintana, who wrote in 1629, or only six years after Davila, settles the matter with much more precision, devoting to it several chapters of very flowery Spanish, in his folio volume on the History of Madrid. He begins with the famous drought which is said to have afflicted Spain for six-and-twenty continuous years, in the eleventh century before the Christian era, and then takes the opportunity of introducing certain Greek captains," who were attracted to Spain, after their return from the Trojan War, by the fame of that extraordinary phenomenon, and by the general report of the riches of the country. A subsequent chapter fixes the exact period of the foundation: "It was," says Quintana, gravely, "4380 years after the Creation,-2078 after the Universal Deluge, -100 before the first Olympiad, and 897 before the birth of Christ." This vain affectation of exactitude comes, however, very fitly from the pen of a writer who, a few pages afterwards, treats "of the planet and sign which influence this most noble city," and gravely awards the honour to Leo and Sagittarius for signs, and to Sol and Jupiter for planets, whose benign influences he affirms to be exhibited in the opulence, riches, majesty, nobility,

greatness, and happy climate, of the fortunate capital. This author was a "Notary of the Holy Office of the Inquisition," and the book in which he wrote all this nonsense has pompously prefixed to it the solemn approval of several ecclesiastical dignitaries of the Catholic Church in Spain. We may safely believe, however, that if Madrid existed as a town more than four centuries ago, it was one of but very inconsiderable importance. Its history, to the beginning of the present century, is marked by scarcely any events of note; much interest, however, attaches to it at that period from its connexion with the fortunes of Napoleon. TUMULT OF THE 2ND OF MAY, 1808.

IN the year 1808, when Buonaparte was endeavouring to obtain possession of the kingdom of Spain, Madrid became the scene of events of considerable importance. About the middle of March, in that year, certain dissensions which had distracted the Royal Family of that country, and which had afforded Napoleon a pretext for interfering in its domestic policy, were brought to a crisis by insurrections at Aranjuez and Madrid; and the reigning monarch, Charles the Fourth, abdicated in favour of his son Ferdinand. On the 23rd, Buonaparte's brother-in-law, Murat, entered the capital with part of a French army, the remainder of which was quartered in the neighbourhood: and on the following day Ferdinand himself arrived. The new king did not, however, long remain in the capital; on the 10th of April he commenced a journey to meet Napoleon at Bayonne, which ended in his own detention as a prisoner in France. Soon afterwards, his father and mother (the late king and queen) repaired thither also; and at the same time, their minister, the infamous Godoy, who was particularly odious to the people of Spain, and who was then in the custody of the Spanish authorities at Madrid, obtained his liberty through Buonaparte, and was conducted under a strong escort into the French territory.

French troops from all parts towards Madrid, roused the These circumstances, together with the movement of indignation of the people. On the last day of April, Murat produced a letter from the old king, Charles, requiring his brother, the Infante Don Antonio, who had been intrusted by Ferdinand with the powers of Regency, to send off the Paula, Ferdinand's youngest brother, to meet him at queen of Etruria, with her children and Don Francisco de Bayonne. Carriages were prepared for their departure; but a rumour got abroad among the people that one of these was intended to convey Don Antonio himself to France, and they resolved not to permit this last of the Royal Family to be carried off. A crowd collected, the traces of the carriage were cut, and the vehicle was forced back into the yard."

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The tumult was now begun, and in an instant the whole city was in commotion; the swelling indignation of the Spaniards broke out, and all ran to attack their hated enemies. "There is no other instance," says Mr. Southey, "upon record, of an attempt so brave, and so utterly hopeless, when all the circumstances are considered. Spanish troops were locked up in their barracks, and prevented from assisting their countrymen. French were massacred before they could collect and bring Many of the their force to act; but what could the people effect against so great a military force?" The alarm soon spread to the it on all sides; their flying artillery was brought up, and camp outside the city, and the French began to pour into in some places, the streets were cleared by discharges of grape-shot, while in others, the cavalry charged the populace, and the soldiers fired volleys into every cross street as they passed, as well as at the windows and balconies. The people soon felt the superiority of the French, and fled for shelter into the houses; these were broken open, and all within who were found with arms were bayoneted. Parties of cavalry were also stationed at the different outlets of Madrid, to pursue and cut down all those who endeavoured to seek refuge by flying from the city. About two o'clock in the day the firing had ceased, and thus terminated the celebrated tumult of the 2nd of May or the Dos de Mayo as the Spaniards call it.

Above seven hundred of the French fell on this occasion; the loss of the Spaniards was not so great; but it was subsequently increased, by the number of those who were executed as having taken part in the rising. "In the first moment of irritation,' "Murat_ordered all the prisoners to be tried by a military says Colonel Napier,

commission; but the municipality interfered, and represented to that prince, the extreme cruelty of visiting this angry ebullition of an injured and insulted people with severity. Murat admitted the weight of their arguments, and forbade any executions on the sentence; but it is said, that General Grouchy, in whose immediate power the prisoners remained, exclaiming that his own life had been attempted! that the blood of the French soldiers was not to be spilt with impunity! and that the prisoners, having been condemned by a council of war, ought, and should be executed! proceeded to shoot them in the Prado; and forty were thus slain, before Murat could cause his orders to be effectually obeyed. The next day, some of the Spanish authorities having discovered that a colonel commanding the imperial guards still retained a number of prisoners in the barracks, applied to the Duke of Berg, (Murat) to have them released. Murat consented to have those prisoners also enlarged; but the colonel getting intelligence of what was passing, and enraged at the loss of so many choice soldiers, put forty-five of the captives to death before the order could arrive to stay his bloody proceedings."

CAPTURE OF MADRID BY NAPOLEON, IN 1808. AFTER the tumult of the 2nd of May, the city of Madrid remained in quiet submission to the French, until the close of July, when the surrender of General Dupont's army to the Spaniards, at the battle of Baylen, induced Joseph Buonaparte, who had been placed on the throne by his brother Napoleon, to withdraw from the capital, and take a more secure position in the north. But the release which the inhabitants enjoyed from the presence of their invaders was of short duration; Napoleon himself came from France to ensure the subjugation of Spain, and, at the close of November, appeared at the foot of the mountains which cover the approach to Madrid from the north. The pass of Somosierra, through which his route lay, being forced, the way to Madrid was open to the French; and certainly the state of the capital offered little that was likely to impede its capture. Before the pass had been forced, orders had been issued to arm and embody the inhabitants; other measures were also taken; but the preparations had been delayed too long to be now of any essential service. The people were ready, and willing to do their duty; but there was none to guide them in such an emergency. They demanded ammunition, and among the cartridges which they received, there happened to be some which contained sand instead of gunpowder. A cry of treason was instantly raised, and the mob began to look for victims on whom to wreak their fury. Some one accused the Marquis of Perales; the rabble at once rushed to his house, murdered him, and dragged his body through the streets, exulting in what they believed his deserved punishment. "Many others, of inferior note, fell victims to this fury," says Colonel Napier; "for no man was safe, none durst assume authority to control, none durst give honest advice; the houses were thrown open, the bells of the convents and churches rang incessantly, and a band of ferocious armed men traversed the streets in all the madness of popular insurrection."

On the 2nd of December, the French cavalry came within sight of Madrid, and took possession of the heights; Buonaparte arrived at noon, on the same day, and then gave orders for summoning the town to surrender. An aide-decamp of Marshal Bessières was sent on this duty; he was seized by the people, and was on the point of being mas sacred, when the Spanish soldiers, ashamed of such conduct, rescued him. The infantry came up the same night,

and in the following day an attack was made on the palace of the Buen Retiro, a weak irregular work, which was of importance as commanding the city. A thousand Spaniards fell in its defence, but the place was carried; other advantages were gained by the French; and on the 4th, the town was again summoned by Marshal Berthier, who used the most terrifying arguments to enforce the necessity of a surrender. "Immense batteries," he said, "are mounted; mines are prepared to blow up your principal buildings; columns of troops are at the entrances of the town, of which some companies of sharp-shooters have made themselves masters. But the emperor, always generous in the course of his victories, suspends the attack till two o'clock. To defend Madrid is contrary to the principles of war, and inhuman toward the inhabitants." The leaders of the people were not the men whose daring

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boldness might lead them to resist such arguments as these, even if they had been true to their trust; the treachery of one of them, that one in whom the people placed their highest confidence-Don Thomas Merla—is now undisputed.

This individual, accompanied by another Spaniard, went out to Berthier's tent, and assured him of the willingness of the chiefs to surrender the city, but represented that they were unable, at the moment, to persuade the people to agree to such a step; accordingly, they requested a suspension of arms for a short time. The "unworthy deputies," as Mr. Southey calls them, were then introduced to the presence of Buonaparte, who exhibited, on the occasion, one of those theatrical displays in which he delighted to indulge. "You use the name of the people to no purpose," he said; "if you cannot appease them and restore tranquillity, it is because you have inflamed them, and led them astray by propagating falsehoods. Call together the clergy, the heads of convents, the alcaldes, the men of property and influence, and let the city capitulate before six o'clock in the morning, or it shall cease to exist." He then reproached the Spaniards in bold language for their conduct towards himself, and read them a lecture on their bad faith, in not observing the treaty of Baylen-in suffering Frenchmen to be assassinated-and in seizing upon the French squadron at Cadiz. "This rebuke," says Sir Walter Scott," was gravely urged by the individual who had kidnapped the royal family of Spain while they courted his protection as his devoted vassals; who had seized the fortresses into which his troops had been received as friends and allies; who had floated the streets of Madrid with the blood of its population; and, finally, who had taken it upon him to assume the supreme authority, and dispose of the crown of Spain, under no better pretext than that he had the will and the power to do so. Had a Spaniard been at liberty to reply to the Lord of Legions, and reckon with him injury for injury, falsehood for falsehood, drop of blood for drop of blood, what an awful balance must have been struck against him!"

The conclusion of this harangue was decided. "Return to Madrid. I give you till six o'clock in the morning; come back at that hour, if you have to announce the submission of the people; otherwise, you and your troops shall be put to the sword."-"Had there been a Spaniard present," says Mr. Southey, "to have replied as became him on behalf of his country, Buonaparte would have trembled at the reply, like Felix before the Apostle." There was none such, however, to be found; and Napoleon's threats produced their full effect. On the morning of the 5th, Madrid surrendered; General Belliard marched in and took possession of the city, the regular Spanish troops having quitted it on the opposite side during the night.

The capital remained in the possession of the French until the middle of 1812; the decisive victory gained by Lord Wellington at Salamanca, in the month of July in that year, compelled Joseph Buonaparte to quit Madrid, leaving in it only a small garrison. The British army moved towards it in August; and for an account of their entry, we refer our readers to the seventh of our series of papers on the Wellington Shield*.

SITUATION.

IN the midst of a wide, arid, uneven plain, skirted on one side by a ridge of lofty mountains, and open on every other to the boundless horizon, stands the city of Madrid, at an elevation exceeding 2000 feet above the level of the sea. There are few capitals so badly situated; it is difficult, indeed, to conceive what could have induced King Philip to establish the metropolis of his dominions on such a spot. Its single advantage is its central situation; but there are other cities which equal it in that respect, and yet are not exposed to the same inconveniences to which it is subject. It has no large river flowing past it-no natural means of communication with other parts of Spain; its water is brought from a distance of seven leagues, for the Manzanares affords an uncertain supply during only a portion of the year. The neighbouring country is a dreary desert, consisting merely of low sterile hills; or, as it is written in a little French book, published at Cologne in the year 1665, under the title of an Account of Madrid, or Remarks on the Manners of its People," the earth hereabouts is nothing but sand and stone, and if it does * See Saturday Magazine, Vol. V., p. 5. 187-2

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