Read Ebook: The Mirror of Literature Amusement and Instruction. Volume 17 No. 470 January 8 1831 by Various

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GREEK BALLOT.--VOTING AMONG THE ANCIENT GREEKS.

The manner of giving their suffrages was by holding up their hands. This was the common method of voting among the citizens in the civil government; but in some cases, particularly when they deprived magistrates of their offices for mal-administration, they gave their votes in private, lest the power and greatness of the persons accused should lay a restraint upon them, and cause them to act contrary to their judgments and inclinations.

The manner of voting privately was by casting pebbles into vessels or urns. Before the use of pebbles, they voted with beans: the beans were of two sorts, black and white. In the Senate of Five Hundred, when all had done speaking, the business designed to be passed into a decree was drawn up in writing by any of the prytanes, or other senators, and repeated openly in the house; after which, leave being given by the epistata, or prytanes, the senators proceeded to vote, which they did privately, by casting beans in a vessel placed there for that purpose. If the number of black beans was found to be the greatest, the proposal was rejected; if white, it was enacted into a decree, then agreed upon in the senate, and afterwards propounded to an assembly of the people, that it might receive from them a farther ratification, without which it could not be passed into a law, nor have any force or obligatory power, after the end of that year, which was the time that the senators, and almost all the other magistrates, laid down their commissions.

In the reign of Cecrops, women were said to have been allowed voices in the popular assembly; where Minerva contending with Neptune which of the two should be declared Protector of Athens, and gaining the women to her party, was reported by their voices, which were more numerous than those of the men, to have obtained the victory.

P.T.W.

CLARENCE AND ITS ROYAL DUKES.

Seated on the banks of Stour river is a priory of the Benedictine order, translated thither from the castle, by Richard De Tonebridge, Earl of Clare, about the year 1315. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, converted it into a collegiate church. Elizabeth, the wife of Lionell, Duke of Clarence, was buried in the chancel of this priory, 1363; as was also the duke.

CARACTACUS.

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

It would be superfluous to continue the list of his prose works: they are numerous; but they are in all people's hands, and censure or praise would come equally late. He has triumphed over every difficulty of subject, place, or time--exhibited characters humble and high, cowardly and brave, selfish and generous, vulgar and polished, and is at home in them all. I was present one evening, when Coleridge, in a long and eloquent harangue, accused the author of Waverley of treason against Nature, in not drawing his characters after the fashion of Shakspeare, but in a manner of his own. This, without being meant, was the highest praise Scott could well receive. Perhaps the finest compliment ever paid him, was at the time of the late coronation, I think. The streets were crowded so densely, that he could not make his way from Charing Cross down to Rose's, in Abingdon-street, though he elbowed ever so stoutly. He applied for help to a sergeant of the Scotch Greys, whose regiment lined the streets. "Countryman," said the soldier, "I am sorry I cannot help you," and made no exertion. Scott whispered his name--the blood rushed to the soldier's brow--he raised his bridle-hand, and exclaimed, "Then, by G-d, sir, you shall go down--Corporal Gordon, here--see this gentleman safely to Abingdon-street, come what will!" It is needless to say how well the order was obeyed.

The mystery which hung so long over the authorship of the Waverley Novels, was cleared up by a misfortune which all the world deplores, and which would have crushed any other spirit save that of Scott. This stroke of evil fortune did not, perhaps, come quite unexpected; it was, however, unavoidable, and it arose from no mismanagement or miscalculation of his own, unless I may consider--which I do not--his embarking in the hazards of a printing-house, a piece of miscalculation. It is said, that he received warnings: the paper of Constable, the bookseller, or, to speak plainer, long money-bills were much in circulation: one of them, for a large sum, made its appearance in the Bank of Scotland, with Scott's name upon it, and a secretary sent for Sir Walter. "Do you know," said he, "that Constable has many such bills abroad--Sir Walter, I warn you."--"Well," answered Sir Walter, "it is, perhaps, as you say, and I thank you; but," raising his voice, "Archie Constable was a good friend to me when friends were rarer than now, and I will not see him balked for the sake of a few thousand pounds." The amount of the sum for which Scott, on the failure of Constable, became responsible, I have heard various accounts of--varying from fifty to seventy thousand pounds. Some generous and wealthy person sent him a blank check, properly signed, upon the bank, desiring him to fill in the sum, and relieve himself; but he returned it, with proper acknowledgments. He took, as it were, the debt upon himself, as a loan, the whole payable, with interest, in ten years; and to work he went, with head, and heart, and hand, to amend his broken fortunes. I had several letters from him during these disastrous days: the language was cheerful, and there were no allusions to what had happened. It is true, there was no occasion for him to mention these occurrences to me: all that he said about them was--"I miss my daughter, Mrs. Lockhart, who used to sing to me; I have some need of her now." No general, after a bloody and disastrous battle, ever set about preparing himself for a more successful contest than did this distinguished man. Work succeeded work with unheard of rapidity; the chief of which was, "The Life of Napoleon Bonaparte," in nine volumes--a production of singular power, and an almost perfect work, with the exception of the parts which treat of the French Revolution, and the captivity of the great prisoner. I had the curiosity, on seeing one of the reviews praising Hazlitt's description of the Battle of the Pyramid's, to turn to the account of Scott. I need not say which was best: Scott's was like the sounding of a trumpet. The present cheap and truly elegant edition of the works of the author of "Waverley" has, with its deservedly unrivalled sale, relieved the poet from his difficulties, and the cloud which hung so long over the towers of Abbotsford has given place to sunshine.

Of Abbotsford itself, the best description ever given, at least the briefest, was "A Romance in stone and lime." It would require a volume to describe all the curiosities, ancient and modern, living and dead, which are here gathered together;--I say living, because a menagerie might be formed out of birds and beasts, sent as presents from distant lands. A friend told me he was at Abbotsford one evening, when a servant announced, "A present from"--I forget what chieftain in the North.--"Bring it in," said the poet. The sound of strange feet were soon heard, and in came two beautiful Shetland ponies, with long manes and uncut tails, and so small that they might have been sent to Elfland, to the Queen of the Fairies herself. One poor Scotsman, to show his gratitude for some kindness Scott, as sheriff, had shown him, sent two kangaroos from New Holland; and Washington Irving lately told me, that some Spaniard or other, having caught two young wild Andalusian boars, consulted him how he might have them sent to the author of "The Vision of Don Roderick."

This distinguished poet and novelist is now some sixty years old--hale, fresh, and vigorous, with his imagination as bright, and his conceptions as clear and graphic, as ever. I have now before me a dozen or fifteen volumes of his poetry, including his latest--"Halidon Hill"--one of the most heroically-touching poems of modern times--and somewhere about eighty volumes of his prose: his letters, were they collected, would amount to fifty volumes more. Some authors, though not in this land, have been even more prolific; but their progeny were ill-formed at their birth, and could never walk alone; whereas the mental offspring of our illustrious countryman came healthy and vigorous into the world, and promise long to continue. To vary the metaphor--the tree of some other men's fancy bears fruit at the rate of a pint of apples to a peck of crabs; whereas the tree of the great magician bears the sweetest fruit--large and red-cheeked--fair to look upon, and right pleasant to the taste. I shall conclude with the words of Sir Walter, which no man can contradict, and which many can attest: "I never refused a literary person of merit such services in smoothing his way to the public as were in my power; and I had the advantage--rather an uncommon one with our irritable race--to enjoy general favour, without incurring permanent ill-will, so far as is known to me, among any of my contemporaries."

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.--IN HONOUR OF MAGA.

SUNG BY THE CONTRIBUTORS.

Noo--hearken till me--and I'll beat Matthews or Yates a' to sticks wi' my impersonations.

TICKLER.

When Kit North is dead, What will Maga do, sir? She must go to bed, And like him die too, sir! Fal de ral, de ral, Iram coram dago; Fal de ral, de ral, Here's success to Maga.

SHEPHERD.

When death has them flat, I'll stitch on my weepers, Put crape around my bat, And a napkin to my peepers! Fal de ral, de ral, &c.

NORTH.

COLONEL O'SHAUGHNESSY.

See him, how he lies Flat as any flounder! Blow me! smoke his eyes-- Death ne'er closed eyes sounder! Fal de ral, de ral, &c.

DELTA.

Yet he can't be dead, For he is immortal, And to receive his head Earth would not ope its portal! Fal de ral, de ral, &c.

O'DOHERTY.

MODERN PYTHAGOREAN.

Suppose we feel his arm-- Zounds' I never felt a Human pulse more firm: What's your opinion, Delta? Fal de ral, de ral, &c

CHARLES LAMB.

Kit, I hope you're well, Up, and join our ditty; To lose such a fine old fel- Low would be a pity! Fal de ral, de ral, &c.

NORTH.

Let's resume our booze, And tipple while we're able; I've had a bit of a snooze, And feel quite comfortable! Fal de ral, de ral, &c.

MULLION.

Be he who he may, Sultan, Czar, or Aga, Let him soak his clay To the health of Kit and Maga! Fal de ral, de ral, &c.

OPIUM-EATER.

Search all the world around, From Greenland to Malaga, And nowhere will be found A magazine like Maga! Fal de ral, de ral, Iram coram dago; Fal de ral, de ral, Here's success to Maga!

NOTES OF A READER.

KNOWLEDGE FOR THE PEOPLE; OR, THE PLAIN WHY AND BECAUSE.

Why was throwing at cocks formerly customary on Shrove Tuesday?

Because the crowing of a cock once prevented our Saxon ancestors from massacreing their conquerors, another part of our ancestors, the Danes, on the morning of a Shrove Tuesday, while asleep in their beds.

This is the account generally received, although two lines in an epigram "On a Cock at Rochester," by the witty Sir Charles Sedley, imply that the cock suffered this annual barbarity by way of punishment for St. Peter's crime, in denying his Lord and Master--

"Mayst thou be punish'd for St. Peter's crime, And on Shove Tuesday perish in thy prime."

Why was cock-fighting a popular sport in Greece?

Because of its origin from the Athenians, on the following occasion: When Themistocles was marching his army against the Persians, he, by the way, espying two cocks fighting, caused his army to halt, and addressed them as follows--"Behold! these do not fight for their household gods, for the monuments of their ancestors, nor for glory, nor for liberty, nor for the safety of their children, but only because the one will not give way to the other."--This so encouraged the Grecians, that they fought strenuously, and obtained the victory over the Persians; upon which, cock-fighting was, by a particular law, ordered to be annually celebrated by the Athenians.

Caesar mentions the English cocks in his Commentaries; but the earliest notice of cock-fighting in England, is by Fitzstephen the monk, who died in 1191.

Why is St. George the patron saint of England?

Why is St. George usually painted on horseback, and tilting at a dragon under his feet?

Why was the Order of the Garter instituted?

Because of the victory obtained over the French at the battle of Cressy, when Edward ordered his garter to be displayed as a signal of battle; to commemorate which, he made a garter the principal ornament of an order, and a symbol of the indissoluble union of the knights. The order is under the patronage or protection of St. George, whence he figures in its insignia. Such is the account of Camden, Fern, and others. The common story of the order being instituted in honour of a garter of the Countess of Salisbury, which she dropped in dancing, and which was picked up by King Edward, has been denounced as fabulous by our best antiquaries.

Why was it formerly supposed that cocks crowed all Christmas-eve?

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