The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 554, June 30, 1832

Water from the Rock.

At the rock, in Horeb, called Meribah, Moses miraculously supplied the people with water. He smote the rock, and an abundant stream immediately issued: this extraordinary source of supply is now dried up, but there is still left sufficient evidence to confirm the fact. It will suffice for our purpose that we quote, in corroboration, the description of an eye-witness and recent traveller: "We came to the celebrated rock of Meribah. It still bears striking evidence of the miracle about it; and it is quite isolated in the midst of a narrow valley, which is here about two hundred yards broad. There are four or five fissures, one above the other, on the face of the rock, each of them about a foot and a half long, and a few inches deep. What is remarkable, they run along the breadth of the rock, and are not rent downwards; they are more than a foot asunder, and there is a channel worn between them by the gushing of the water. The Arabs still reverence this rock." Dr. Clarke only spoke the truth when he asserted that the BIBLE was the best itinerary that the traveller in Palestine could possess.

"Weighing in the Balance."

The sentence of the ALMIGHTY, emblazoned on the walls of the palace of Babylon, which registered the fate of Belshazzar, was deciphered by the skill of Daniel. Part of this sentence is thus interpreted: "TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting." The author gives an interesting illustration of the allusion. Here, it will be perceived, is the balance in which the actions of the individual have been weighed; and we have only further to remark, that the former Mogul kings were, on their ascending the throne, literally weighed. Thevenot gives an account of this curious affair in his time. The balance wherein this seems to have been performed, is described as being rich. The chains of suspension were of gold, and the two scales, studded with precious stones, also of gold, as well as the beam, &c. The king, richly attired and shining with jewels, goes into one of the scales of the balance, and sits on his heels. Into the other are put little bales, said to be full of gold, silver, and jewels, or of other costly materials. These little bales are described to be often changed.

We have marked many more extracts than we can insert, and find that we must content ourselves, and we hope the author, with again directing attention to his very interesting production.

NOTES OF A READER

PICTURE OF VENICE

(From Contarini Fleming, a Psychological Autobiography.)

An hour before sunset, I arrived at Fusina, and beheld, four or five miles out at sea, the towers and cupolas of Venice suffused with a rich golden light, and rising out of the bright blue waters. Not an exclamation escaped me. I felt like a man, who has achieved a great object. I was full of calm exultation, but the strange incident of the morning made me serious and pensive.

As our gondolas glided over the great Lagune, the excitement of the spectacle reanimated me. The buildings, that I had so fondly studied in books and pictures, rose up before me. I knew them all; I required no Cicerone. One by one, I caught the hooded Cupolas of St. Mark, the tall Campanile red in the sun, the Moresco Palace of the Doges, the deadly Bridge of Sighs, and the dark structure to which it leads. Here my gondola quitted the Lagune, and, turning up a small canal, and passing under a bridge which connected the quays, stopped at the steps of a palace.

I ascended a staircase of marble, I passed through a gallery crowded with statues, I was ushered into spacious apartments, the floors of which were marble, and the hangings satin. The ceilings were painted by Tintoretto and his scholars, and were full of Turkish trophies and triumphs over the Ottomite. The furniture was of the same rich material as the hangings, and the gilding, although of two hundred years' duration, as bright and burnished, as the costly equipment of a modern palace. From my balcony of blinds, I looked upon the great Lagune. It was one of those glorious sunsets which render Venice, in spite of her degradation, still famous. The sky and sea vied in the brilliant multiplicity of their blended tints. The tall shadows of her Palladian churches flung themselves over the glowing and transparent wave out of which they sprang. The quays were crowded with joyous groups, and the black gondolas flitted, like sea serpents, over the red and rippling waters.

I hastened to the Place of St. Mark. It was crowded and illuminated. Three gorgeous flags waved on the mighty staffs, which are opposite the church in all the old drawings, and which once bore the standards of Candia and Cyprus, and the Morea. The coffee-houses were full, and gay parties, seated on chairs in the open air, listened to the music of military bands, while they refreshed themselves with confectionary so rich and fanciful, that it excites the admiration, and the wonder of all travellers, but which I have since discovered in Turkey to be Oriental. The variety of costume was also great. The dress of the lower orders in Venice is still unchanged: many of the middle classes yet wear the cap and cloak. The Hungarian and the German military, and the bearded Jew, with his black velvet cap and flowing robes, are observed with curiosity. A few days also before my arrival, the Austrian squadron had carried into Venice a Turkish ship and two Greek vessels which had violated the neutrality. Their crews now mingled with the crowd. I beheld, for the first time, the haughty and turbaned Ottoman, sitting cross-legged on his carpet under a colonnade, sipping his coffee and smoking a long chiboque, and the Greeks, with their small red caps, their high foreheads, and arched eyebrows.

Can this be modern Venice, I thought? Can this be the silent, and gloomy, and decaying city, over whose dishonourable misery I have so often wept? Could it ever have been more enchanting? Are not these indeed still subjects of a Doge, and still the bridegroom of the ocean? Alas! the brilliant scene was as unusual as unexpected, and was accounted for by its being the feast day of a favourite saint. Nevertheless, I rejoiced at the unaccustomed appearance of the city at my entrance, and still I recall with pleasure the delusive moments, when strolling about the place of St. Mark the first evening that I was in Venice, I for a moment mingled in a scene that reminded me of her lost light-heartedness, and of that unrivalled gaiety that so long captivated polished Europe.

SWISS LEGEND OF WILLIAM TELL

The famous episode of William Tell, was momentous to the main plot of the emancipation of Switzerland in its issue. This man, who was one of the sworn at Rutli, and noted for his high and daring spirit, exposed himself to arrest by Gessler's myrmidons, for passing the hut without making obeisance. Whispers of conspiracy had already reached the vogt, and he expected to extract some farther evidence from Tell on the subject. Offended by the man's obstinate silence, he gave loose to his tyrannical humour, and knowing that Tell was a good archer, commanded him to shoot from a great distance at an apple on the head of his child. God, says an old chronicler, was with him; and the vogt, who had not expected such a specimen of skill and fortune, now cast about for new ways to entrap the object of his malice; and, seeing a second arrow in his quiver, asked him what that was for? Tell replied, evasively, that such was the usual practice of archers. Not content with this reply, the vogt pressed him on farther, and assured him of his life, whatever the arrow might have been meant for. "Vogt," said Tell, "had I shot my child, the second shaft was for THEE; and be sure I should not have missed my mark a second time!" Transported with rage not unmixed with terror, Gessler exclaimed, "Tell! I have promised thee life, but thou shalt pass it in a dungeon." Accordingly, he took boat with his captive, intending to transport him across the lake to Kussnacht in Schwytz, in defiance of the common right of the district, which provided that its natives should not be kept in confinement beyond its borders. A sudden storm on the lake overtook the party; and Gessler was obliged to give orders to loose Tell from his fetters, and commit the helm to his hands, as he was known for a skilful steersman. Tell guided the vessel to the foot of the great Axenberg, where a ledge of rock distinguished to the present day as Tell's platform, presented itself as the only possible landing-place for leagues around. Here he seized his cross-bow, and escaped by a daring leap, leaving the skiff to wrestle its way in the billows. The vogt also escaped the storm, but only to meet a fate more signal from Tell's bow in the narrow pass near Kussnacht. The tidings of his death enhanced the courage of the people, but also alarmed the vigilance of their rulers, and greatly increased the dangers of the conspirators, who kept quiet. These occurrences marked the close of 1307.—Cabinet Cyclopaedia. History of Switzerland.

GREAT PLAGUE IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY

The early triumphs of Swiss valour were saddened by the breaking out of that great plague, which visited with its ravages the greater part of Europe and Asia, and of which the most vivid delineation ever written (except that of a similar pest by Thucydides) has been preserved in the Decameron of Boccacio. Whole towns were depopulated. Estates were left without claimants or occupiers. Priests, physicians, grave-diggers, could not be found in adequate numbers; and the consecrated earth of the churchyards no longer sufficed for the reception of its destined tenants. In the order of Franciscans alone, 120,430 monks are said to have perished. This plague had been preceded by tremendous earthquakes, which laid in ruins towns, castles, and villages. Dearth and famine, clouds of locusts, and even an innocent comet, had been long before regarded as fore-runners of the pestilence; and when it came it was viewed as an unequivocal sign of the wrath of God. At the outset, the Jews became, as usual, objects of umbrage, as having occasioned this calamity by poisoning the wells. A persecution was commenced against them, and numberless innocent persons were consigned, by heated fanaticism, to a dreadful death by fire, and their children were baptized over the corpses of their parents, according to the religion of their murderers. These atrocities were in all probability perpetrated by many, in order to possess themselves of the wealth acquired by the Jews in traffic, to take revenge for their usurious extortions, or, finally, to pay their debts in the most expeditious and easy manner. When it was found that the plague was nowise diminished by massacring the Jews, but, on the contrary, seemed to acquire additional virulence, it was inferred that God, in his righteous wrath, intended nothing less than to extirpate the whole sinful race of man. Many now endeavoured by self-chastisement to avert the divine vengeance from themselves. Fraternities of hundreds and thousands collected under the name of Flagellants, strolled through the land in strange garbs, scourged themselves in the public streets, in penance for the sins of the world, and read a letter which was said to have fallen from heaven, admonishing all to repentance and amendment. They were joined of course, by a crowd of idle vagabonds, who, under the mask of extraordinary sanctity and humble penitence, indulged in every species of disorder and debauchery. At last the affair assumed so grave an aspect, that the pope and many secular princes declared themselves against the Flagellants, and speedily put an end to their extravagancies. Various ways were still, however, resorted to by various tempers to snatch the full enjoyment of that life which they were so soon to lose, at the expense of every possible violation of the laws of morality. Only a few lived on in a quiet and orderly manner, in reliance on the saving help of God, without running into any excess of anxiety or indulgence. After this desolating scourge had raged during four years, its violence seemed at length to be exhausted.—Ibid.

WATERING PLACES IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY

Baden, the well-known and much-frequented watering-place, has been long celebrated. The following account of it in the fifteenth century is interesting. Those warriors who would wile away the interval between one campaign and another agreeably, betook themselves to Baden in Aargau. Here in a narrow valley, where the Limmat flows through its rocky bed, are hot springs of highly medicinal properties. Hither, to the numerous houses of public entertainment, resorted prelates, abbots, monks, nuns, soldiers, statesmen, and all sorts of artificers. As in our fashionable watering-places, most of the visitors merely sought to dissipate ennui, enjoy life, and pursue pleasure. The baths were most crowded at an early hour in the morning, and those who did not bathe resorted thither to see acquaintances, with whom they could hold conversation from the galleries round the bath-rooms, while the bathers played at various games, or ate from floating tables. Lovely females did not disdain to sue for alms from the gallery-loungers, who threw down coins of small amount, to enjoy the ensuing scramble. Flowers were strewn on the surface of the water, and the vaulted roof rang with music, vocal, and instrumental. Towards noon the company sallied forth to the meadows in the neighbourhood, acquaintances were easily made, and strangers soon became familiar. The pleasures of the table were followed by jovial pledges in swift succession, till fife and drum summoned to the dance. Now fell the last barriers of reserve and decorum; and it is time to drop a veil over the scene. Ibid.

THE GATHERER

Morland.—George Morland's brother was telling me the other day, that he well remembered going with his brother in a hack to Smithfield, buying a young donkey there, and bringing it home with them in the coach; his brother laughing almost all the time. M.L.E.

The Three Death's Heads.—The following words (much altered) are from a poem entitled, "The Thre' Deid Powis", (The Three Death's Heads, by Patrick Johnstoun.)

"O, lady gay, in glittering garments drest,Enrich'd with pearl, and many a costly stone,Thy slender throat, and soft and snowy breastCircled with gold and sapphires many a one.Thy fingers small, white as the ivory bone,Arrayed with rings, and many a ruby red;Soon shall thy fresh and rose-like bloom be gone,And naught of thee remain, but grim and hollow head.O, woeful pride! dark root of all distress!With contrite heart, our fleshless scalps behold!O wretched man, to God, meek prayers address.Thy lusty strength, thy wit, thy daring bold,All shall lie low with us in charnel cold:Proud king, 'tis thus thy pamper'd corpse shall rot;Thus, in the dust thy purple pomp be roll'd,Mark then, in peeled skull, thy miserable lot."

Bushy.—Bushy, a small village, near Watford, seems to have been very unfortunate in its ancient owners. Its first Norman possessor, Geoffrey de Mandeville, having incurred the Pope's displeasure, was obliged to be suspended in lead, on a tree, in the precinct of the Temple, London, because Christian burial was not allowed to persons under such circumstances. Edmond of Woodstock, was beheaded through the vile machinations of Queen Isabella, and her paramour, Mortimer, on a suspicion of intending to restore his brother, Edward II. to the throne; and so much was he beloved by the people, and his persecutors detested, that he stood from one to five in the afternoon before an executioner could be procured, and then an outlaw from the Marshalsea performed the detested duty. Thomas, Duke of Surrey, was beheaded at Cirencester, in rebellion against Henry IV. Thomas de Montacute, Earl of Salisbury, after obtaining the highest honour in the campaigns in France with Henry V. was killed by the splinter of a window-frame, driven into his face by a cannon ball, at the siege of Orleans. Richard, the stout Earl of Warwick, another possessor, was killed at Barnet. George, Duke of Clarence, was drowned in a butt of Malmsey. Richard III. was the next possessor. Lady Margaret de la Pole, was beheaded at the age of seventy-two, by the cruel policy of Henry VIII., in revenge for a supposed affront by her son the Cardinal. In this parish also lived the infamous Colonel Titus, who advised Cromwell to deliver the nation from its yoke, in a pamphlet, entitled Killing no Murder.

West.—A New York paper states that the old sign of the Bull's Head, which has hung at a house in Strawberry-street, for nearly seventy years, is ascertained to be one of the first productions of Benjamin West, and is said to be the first painting of the kind ever executed in America. The wood on which it is painted is much decayed, but the paint and figures are visible.

Congreve is said to have written his comedy of the Old Bachelor and part of the Mourning Bride, in a grotto formed in a steep rocky hill in the grounds of Ham Hall, in Dove Dale, Derbyshire. This romantic retreat was furnished with a stone seat and table, and herein the poet and dramatist was accustomed to seek refuge from the license of a London life.

Rousseau appears to have been one of the unhappiest as well as the most unamiable of men. He imagined himself the persecuted of all persecutors, and sought an asylum in England from his supposed enemies. In April, 1766, having just settled in Derbyshire, he wrote "Here I have just arrived at last at an agreeable and sequestered asylum, where I hope to breathe freely, and at peace." He lived chiefly at Wootton Hall, and delighted to pass his leisure in the romantic Dove Dale. He did not, however, long remain "at peace," for in April following, he returned to the continent, heaping reproaches on his best friends. The rent of the house in which he lived had been greatly reduced, to allure him into the country; his spirit revolted at this; and as soon as he heard of it he indignantly left the place. Whilst at Wootton Hall, he received a present of some bottles of choice foreign wine; this was a gift, and his pride would not permit him to taste it; he therefore left it in the house untouched for the next comer. For some reason or other, or more probably for none, he had determined not to see Dr. Darwin. The Doctor, aware of his objections, placed himself on a terrace, which Rousseau had to pass, and was examining a plant. "Rousseau," said he, "are you a botanist?" They entered into conversation, and were intimate at once; but Rousseau, on reflection, imagined that this meeting was the result of contrivance, and the intimacy proceeded no further.

1

Polwhele's Devon. II. p. 281.

2

The bishop's motto was, Quod verum tutum.

3

Chamber's Dict v. ANTONY.

4

Yes—if confined to Anecdotes.—ED. M.

5

II. xi. v. 28.

6

Also the oak, ilex, chestnut, &c. though less abundant and more rare than on the leaves of the manna-ash. The ordinary manna collected in Sicily, comes from districts in the Val Demone and the Val di Mazzara, at some distance from the localities where this aerial manna fell.