THEATRE OF MAGIC, GOLDEN-LION, DALE-STREET. M ROOM, GOLDEN-LION, DALE-STREET, this pre munication to the Kaleidoscope; in reply to the introduc- | DEAR SIR,-In compliance with your request I shall tory observations, having, as he recommended, consulted attempt, as briefly and correctly as possible, to describe a Dictionary. I find, "Connoisseur-a judge, a critic; it the very strange manner in which I found myself affected, is sometimes used as a pretended critic," Johnson. I by inhaling the nitrous oxide which you administered to leave the application of this to the readers of your paper, me a few days since, in the presence of some friends. I and the judges of art. As he has recommended me to believe my dose, which did not exceed two quarts, may be TRILOQUISM; and by desire of several persons of distine consult one book, I should advise him to peruse another, "Richardson on the Science and Qualifications of a Connoisseur," which will, perhaps, enlighten his mind as to the propriety of the signature he has assumed. considered a very moderate potion; and I can readily I should consider "A Connoissieur's" expressions of Before the mouth-piece of the bag was removed from "envy," "able critics," "chicken-hearted gentlemen," my lips, I was affected with a slight oppression in the head &c. &c. of equal value with his splendid and correct criti- and temples, somewhat resembling the sensation felt in the cisms on the works of art, which he has connoisseured, and act of diving, immediately before emersion from the water, congratulate your readers on the talent he has evinced when the breath is completely exhausted; I say it someboth as a writer and a critic. If he had, in the early part what resembled this feeling; but I ought to add, that it of his correspondence, pleaded the want of time and in-was wholly divested of the inconvenience experienced by clination, I should not have thought it necessary or be- protracted immersion of the head under water. coming to notice his absurdities; such an excuse comes rather late, although, from his inaccuracies, it may be supposed he has less time than inclination, and less judgment than either; for instance, he quotes the miniatures in No. 92, as the production of G. Hargreaves, which, however, are from the able hand of that accomplished artist Mr. Thomas Hargreaves; for those of 95 he quotes S. Hargreaves. A reference to the catalogue would have shown him that these are the works of G. Hargreaves. He talks of a "face breathing from ivory," of "a bird's eye view of a portrait," makes lively remarks upon a dead hare, of "water colours eclipsing oil," states a picture to be "a repetition of one before exhibited,” which it is not, and various other similar proofs of his title to connoisseurship; amongst which, not the least conspicuous, stands his observations on the natural colouring of No. 143, and his palpable neglect of the excellent companion to that picture, No. 129, both of which surely merit the notice of so perfect a judge, critic, and connoisseur. I lament, Sir, that the subject is now past, and that nothing that I could say would lead the public properly to appreciate the remarks of either "A Connoisseur," or of Yours, &c. S. SINGULAR EFFECTS PRODUCED BY THE RESPIRA- This first symptom was soon succeeded by an indescribable feeling, of a more pleasurable description. I was seized with a succession of involuntary and irresistible fits of laughter, in all its gradation, from the titter to the chuckle and horse-laugh, with occasional sobs. These fits succeeded each other in rapid successior, although, in the intervals, I used every effort to shake off the propensity; not because the laughter was in in any degree unpleasant, on the contrary, it was rather an agreeable sensation ;-but, because I conceived that it was so very ridiculous to be thus laughing, when there was nothing to laugh at. Bythe-bye, it would be as well if certain dull jesters, whom I could name, would administer a portion of this gas to those who are doomed to listen to their endless and pointless jokes. I felt no disposition to rise from my seat, but rather to lie down on the bench, or the floor, and laugh it fairly out. During all the time I was under the influence of the gas, I plainly heard what you and my friends said on the occasion; and what greatly heightened the absurdity of the scene was, to perceive them look so excessively grave, and even alarmed, whilst I was almost "dying with laughter." When my delirium, which lasted about a minute and a half, had subsided, it seemed to me as if I had just awoke from a strange dream, and, for several minutes afterwards, the recollection of what had passed produced slight and convulsive laughs. The extraordinary effects produced by the respiration of this peculiar gas, are well known to the scientific part of our readers, who must have perused the descriptions of During the height of what may be termed the paroxysm, the phenomena in Sir Humphrey Davy's works, wherein my sensations somewhat resembled those I have occasionseveral individuals, well known to the public, have mi-ally experienced when it has been my good fortune to come nutely detailed the manner in which they found themselves in for a share of superfine wine. What particular species affected by the respiration of the nitrous oxide. Amongst of the juice of the grape, in its effects, the most resembles these were Mr. Southey, Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Wedgwood, Mr. Lovel Edgeworth, and many others. Whether it be that this gas has been found to possess no medical properties, or to what other cause it is to be attributed, we cannot determine; but the fact is, that it is now seldom heard of, and is very rarely introduced in our public lecture rooms. Mr. Charles, however, whose varied, pleasing, and instructive performances at the Golden Lion, have afforded us infinite amusement, has been induced to add the nitrous oxide to the other numerous attractions of his little theatre; and the effects it produces upon those of the audience who choose to inhale it, this laughing gas, I cannot just now determine ;-but if EGERTON SMITH. To Mr. Charles, Theatre of Magic. Advertisements. sent Evening, and every Evening this Week, Mr. CHARLES, To Correspondents. SUBSCRIPTION FOR MR. SADLER'S FAMILY.-Since that part of the Kaleidoscope containing the advertisement was put to press we have received the following additional subscrip tion:-Mr. Lindsay, Surgeon,....... ..₤1 18 Od MR. VANDENHOFF.-The Council of Ten, who, like their Athe nian namesakes, are petty tyrants in their sphere, hare CHURCH PSALMODY.-The few remarks we had to make up are too whimsical for description. Some clench their fists, THEATRE DU PETIT LAZARY DE PARIS, DE MESSRS THE LATE MR. SADLER.-We have received several tributs and make furious and ludicrous gestures; others strut MAFFEY, YORK HOTEL, TARLETON-STREET. about, throwing themselves into various attitudes, dancing, THIS EVENING (Monday) the 11th instant, and and sometimes whistling; and almost all are more or less given to laughter. The following letter on the subject is published at the request of Mr. Charles, and the writer's name is given at full length, because such facts as are therein related ought not to rest upon anonymous testimony; nor do we hesitate to say, that the cases which are recorded in Sir Humphrey Davy's work, to which we have alluded, would have gained little credit with us, had not the names of those who made trial of the nitrous oxide been given to the pub- lic at full length.—Edit. Kal. every Evening during the week, except Saturday, A comic Harliquinade, interspersed with Dances, Ballets, Doors to be opened at half-past Seven, and the performance to eommence at half-past Eight precisely. offerings to the memory of this ill-fated gentleman, but must decline their insertion. There is no task so diffic and delicate as to touch the lyre in plaintive elegiae strai It may be said of the sublime and the bathos, that “ If Adolescens will inform us where a note may find him, thin partitions do their bounds divide." will address a few lines to him together with his manuscr The following communications, with others already acr ledged, have been somewhat postponed by the recent det relative to Mr. Sadler's melancholy death:-W. on the of landlord and tenant-F. R-Anonymous, on the des watch-Percontator. Printed, published, and sold, EVERY TUESDAY, OR, Literary and Scientific Mirror. UTILE DULCI. Is familiar Miscellany, from which religious and political matters are excluded, contains a variety of original and selected Articles; comprehending Literature, Criticism, Men and Manners, Patmusement, Elegant Extracts, Poetry, Anecdotes, Biography, Meteorology, the Drama, Arts and Sciences, Wit and Satire, Fashions, Natural History, &c. &c. forming a handsome Annual folume, with an Index and Title-page.—Its circulationrenders it a most eligible medium for Literary and Fashionable Advertisements.—Regular supplies are forwarded weekly to the Agents. No. 225.-VOL. V. Men and Manners. NO. XXIX. LEGHORN.-CONTINUed. FROM L'HERMITE EN ITALIE, THE LATEST WORK OF M. JOUY. [Translated expressly for the Kaleidoscope.] TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19. 1824. Leghorn is called Ligurium by the modern Latins, and PRICE 34d Leghorn is the native town of the celebrated mathematician Donato Rosetti, born in the seventeenth century. We are indebted to the Tuscans for great discoveries in the sciences: Galileo was a Tuscan, and the invention of algebra is attributed to Leonard of Pisa. Liverpool. monks, who do the duty there. This virgin, according to the legends of the country, was found by a shepherd in the woods, who carried her to the convent, where she has since performed many miracles. Her chapels, vestry, and The town is only two miles in circumferance; it is a several ancient apartments, are ornamented with numberthird less than Pisa, and its population is two-thirds less ex voto suspended from the walls and roofs, above the greater: it acknowledges the spiritual jurisdiction of the altars, and round the doors, by invalids, and people esArchbishop of Pisa. The governess, Eliza, did not caped from great dangers. These consist of precious Leghorn, in the sixteenth century, was an insignificant abolish the bishoprick of Leghorn, notwithstanding the stones, emeralds, diamonds, and crosses, which are genewn, inhabited by a few fishermen, and rendered un-regulation that there was to be only one Bishop or Arch- rally accompanied by pictures explanatory of the miracle holesome by the pestilential marshes in its neighbour-bishop in every department; but she commanded the done in favour of the person who makes the offering. Aced. It first belonged to the inhabitants of Pisa, then salary, consisting of 70,000 francs, to be paid to the Bishop cording to them, the virgin has often supported in the air the Genoese, who proposed to exchange it with Cosmo by the Archbishop of Pisa, who was maintained in office people who have been unfortunate enough to fall from a e First for Sarzanna, a small town on the sea-shore. for the department of the Mediterranean, out of the salary teeple or high rock, until assistance could be brought to he Genoese thought they had made an advantageous of 200,000 francs received by the latter. Leghorn was them. She has cured many who have been thrown from again with the Grand Duke, who, on his part, hastened much enriched under the administration of its Grand their horses or carriages, and others she has saved from conclude it, well aware how excellently the situation Dukes, by its commercial intercourse with foreigners: it shipwreck. Montenero is situated on the top of a high this port was adapted for the purposes of commerce. was no unusual thing for a porter on the docks to get thirty mountain, which is ascended from Leghorn by a circuitle planned out the enclosure of the town, and built a or forty francs in a day. The sailors used to spend on ous path of more than three miles in length. The festi suble mole. The new town was constructed with regu- Sundays, in parties of pleasure at Pisa, Lucca, and other val of September is attended by a prodigious concourse of tity; its streets are straight and at right angles with neighbouring places, what they ought to have saved for people from Leghorn, Pisa, Lucca, and all the surroundach other; its pavement, like that of most of the towns the support of their families. They used to hire hand-ing country. Part of the clergy of Leghorn repair thither a Tuscany, is composed of flags; the houses are lofty, some carriages and calashes, and frequent the public in procession. The church is incrustated with superb nd their fronts painted in different colours. The prin- houses and rural festivals in the neighbourhood. When marbles; that which ornaments the sanctuary is particuipal square is of an oblong form, and very spacious; in I visited Leghorn, its commerce was no more; its inhabi- larly remarkable for its fineness and for the variety of its he centre of the extremity, on the left, as one enters it tants were wretched, its mariners and porters destitute of hues. The walk is rural and picturesque, and the sumthe gate of Pisa, is situated the metropolitan church, the means of obtaining a livelihood. The fear of the mit of the mountain commands a splendid view of the sea, proportioned in size to the population of the town, which French soldiers and of the gendarmerie kept the people in Leghorn, its port, and the neighbouring towns. ncloses more than fifty thousand inhabitants. The com- subjection, but it could not remove their discontent, and merce of Leghorn constitutes all its wealth. There are they were always prepared for an insurrection. few specimens of art, either in painting or sculpture, of nach excellence, except the gigantic marble statue of he Grand Duke Ferdinand the First, surrounded by four lossal slaves, representing an European, an Asiatic, an frican, and an American, in different attitudes, chained the feet of their supposed conqueror. The workmanip of this group is worthy the attention of connoisseurs. The new theatre is large and handsome. The principal reet is very wide, and composed of houses and palaces f great elegance. The coffee-houses possess little attracion; in summer it is the custom to take coffee, ices, It is a custom among the people of Leghorn, during the nd lemonade, seated at the door under a cloth tent or carnival, to drive through the streets, masked, in open wing. It is hotter at Leghorn than at Pisa, and lodg-carriages, and amuse themselves with throwing at one g and wood are, at least, four times dearer there than in another bonbons, or comfits, called confetti, composed of e latter town. Fresh water is extremely scarce, as it is sugar and plaster, which crumble upon the face and streak arveyed thither from a spring in the mountains of Colog-it with white. This is a distinction, however, conferred dia, by means of an aqueduct twelve miles long. Among the inhabitants of Leghorn, there are about ,000 Jews, who have one of the finest synagogues in Sampe. The Greeks have also a church there, which is auch visited by strangers. The cemetery of the English › called the Campo Santo. The quarter called New ice is cut up into canals, by means of which merchanare carried to the doors of the warehouses. ghorn is one of the best maritime towns in Europe, Near Leghorn, on the road which borders the Mediterone of the most frequented ports of the Miditerranean; ranean, and leads to Montenero, 'sea baths have been conpeared to me, however, not so large as that of Genoa.structed, which were used every year by the governess, defended by a citadel and good fortifications. The hthouse is at two miles' distance from the shore. This is not above twenty fathoms deep, and would soon e filled up if the greatest care were not taken in cleaning Vesels of war cannot enter it. Leghorn still contains several manufactures of coral and alabaster; one large handsome building is entirely devoted to the workmanship of coral, brought from Sardinia and Corsica. Formerly the coral used there was imported from the neighbourhood of Bizerta, in Africa, near Tunis. The public manufactory of olive oil, known by the name of Bottini, is always supplied with 24,000 barrels. Biographical Notices. A. W. Three lazarets are kept at some distance from shore for the performance of quarantine; the most considerable of SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE OF MR. WILthem is that of Saint Leopold. only upon people of rank. The wife of the French Con- Before the time of the French government, galley slaves Eliza. The hills surrounding Leghorn on the north and Among the festivals of the neighbouring villages, the LIAM EMERSON. The following memoir of this extraordinary and eccentric mathematician, was originally published in a pamphlet, which is now either out of print, or extremely scarce. We republish it at the request of a friend, who has favoured us with a manuscript copy.-Edit. Kal. The writer of the following memoirs judges it proper to premise from what sources he has derived his information. He had the good fortune to be personally acquainted with Mr. Emerson during the last three or four years of his life, and enjoyed frequent opportunities of learning, from his own mouth, accounts of circumstances which had taken place at former periods of his life. He has also had frequent conversation respecting him with several persons of veracity, who knew him many years before. He has not, however, accumulated an indiscriminate mass of anecdotes, as they were offered to him, but has rejected such as did not appear to him to be authentic, and adopted such only as, upon mature examination and inquiry, he had reason to think true. In short, he has endeavoured to form and exhibit as just a picture of Mr. Emerson's life as he could, under some peculiar difficulties; and his motive for publishing it was a desire to gratify, in some measure, that curiosity which mankind must always entertain to be informed of whatever has relation to those men who have drawn the attention of their fellow-creatures, by the superior splendour of their talents, and who have enlarged the boundaries of human knowledge. Mr. Dudley Emerson, of Hurworth, near Darlington, in the county of Durham, had two sons, William, the elder, and Dudley, who died whilst he was young. William, who afterwards lived to become so eminent a mathematician, was born at Hurworth, in the year 1701, and, as appears by the parish register, was baptized there on the 10th of June in that year. considerable fortune. Dr. Johnson had promised to give | further eulogium of their author as a man of science to In a vacant leaf of an old prayer-book, in which Dud-and sent them off to the Doctor, saying, that he would His father, Dudley, who was possessed of but a small estate, at that time taught a school, and seems to have thought himself of some consequence in the world, for I have seen a paper, written by himself, containing what he calls an account of the principal transactions or events of his life. Amongst these memorabilia, relating, I think, chiefly to his movements from one place to another, I observed nothing respecting the birth or education of his son William, which, he did not foresee, would be the only circumstances or events of any importance in his life, that might possibly rescue his name from oblivion. world, that he was not to be rated as an insignificant or work, he added another firm and durable support to the besides correcting his sheets for the press, he took lodging at a watchmaker's, near Smithfield, that he might in prove himself in that branch of knowledge during his say there. Besides the above regular works, published in Mr. Emerson's own name, he wrote several other fugitive pieces, in the Ladies' Diary, and other periodical and miscellaneous works. In the Ladies' Diary he proposed and answered several new questions under the signature M rones, an anagram of his own name, containing all the letters of it transposed. The questions resolved by him were as follows, viz. prize, 1736; quest. 193, 195, 19: prize, 1737; quest. 205, 206, 207, 209, 210, 215, 217, 221, 223; prize, 1741; quest. 226, 229; prize, 1742 quest. 238, 240: and he proposed the following new que tions; No. 193, 206, and 220. Mr. Emerson also took s part in the Miscellanea Curiosa Mathematica, a work published in quarterly numbers, by Mr. Francis Holliday, his friend and correspondent, from the year 1745 till 1755, in 4to. In this work he resolved many questions, as before in the Diaries, sometimes under the signature of Merones, and sometimes under the still more whimsical one o der several others. (To be continued.) LORD BYRON. He had received from nature a strong and vigorous mind, and had acquired a just relish for the beauties of mathematical science, and an ardent love of truth: he was at the same time stimulated with an eager desire of distinguishing himself from the illiterate crowd of mortals. William was taught, and principally by his father, The effects of his labour, influenced by such motives, reading, writing, and arithmetic, and a little Latin, per- and directed by such abilities, could not therefore but be haps as far as Cordey, or Beza's Latin Testament. It great. He made himself the perfect master of the whole does not appear, however, that he was much attached to circle of mathematics; and after having carefully planned his books whilst a boy, or exhibited any symptoms of and digested, revised and completed the work to his own those superior faculties which he afterwards exerted with satisfaction, he published, in the forty-second year of his so much energy. Indeed, so careless and inattentive to age, his book of Fluxions; and at his first appearance in learning was he, at this period, that I have heard him say, the world as an author, stepped forth like a giant in all till he was nearly twenty years of age, his principal and his might, and justly claimed a place amongst mathemafavourite employment, for one season of the year, was ticians of the very first rank. By the strictly scientific that of seeking bird's nests. But his attachment to child-manner in which he established the principles, and deish amusements was now to pass away; and his mind bemonstrated the truth of the method of Fluxions in this Philosfluentimechanalgegeomastrolongo; and probably un gan to be sensible of the charms and beauties of science. He went first to Newcastle, and afterwards to York, where he applied himself, with considerable attention and diligence, to the study of mathematics, under the direction of schoolmasters, whose names I do not remember, but of whom he used to speak, in the latter part of his life, with much respect. He used to say, too, that his father was a tolerable mathemetician; and without his books and instructions, perhaps his own genius (most eminently fitted for methematical disquisitious) would never have been unfolded. After his return from school at York, he resided principally at Hurworth, where he continued to pursue his studies and amusements, at intervals, until the time of his marriage. In what year of his life this happened, I do not exactly know, but I think it was about the thirty-second or thirty-third and from this period we must date the commencement of his mathematical labours; or, perhaps, rather the communication of them to the public. What he had done before in this line, was merely an occasional application, for his own amusement, or for the exercise and improvement of his leisure hours. But one of those accidents, which, as Dr. Johnson observes in the life of Cowley, produced that particular designation of mind and propensity for some certain science, commonly called genius, took place upon this occasion, and added a powerful stimulus to his native thirst for knowledge and for fame. His wife was the niece of a Dr. Johnson, Rector of Hurworth, Vicar of Manfield, in the county of York, and a Prebendary of Durham, a man eminent in his time for his skill in surgery, and who, by a very extensive and successful practice in this profession, together with the emoluments arising from his living, had accumulated a Having thus secured his mathematical fame upon a firm and solid basis, he continued, from time to time, to favour and instruct the public with other most valuable publications upon the several branches of mathematics. These appeared in the order in which they stand arranged below. I have added to each the date of the author's life. Year. Age. 1743-42, Fluxions, 8vo. (From the London Magazine, just published.) Lord Byron's address was the most affable and courte perhaps even seen; his manners, when in a good mour, and desirous of being well with his guest, winning-fascinating in the extreme, and though blan still spirited, and with an air of frankness and generos qualities in which he certainly was not deficient. was open to a fault-a characteristic probably the rest his fearlessness and independence of the world; open was he, that his friends were obliged to li 1749-58, Projections of the Square, and Elements of their guard with him. He was the worst person i Trigonometry, 8vo. 1754-53, Mechanics, 4to. Method of Increments, 4to. 1767-66, Arithmetic of Infinites and Conic Sections, 8vo world to confide a secret, to; and if any charge ag any body was mentioned to him, it was probably the communication he made to the person in question. hated scandal and tittle-tattle-loved the manly stri forward course; he would harbour no doubts, and ne live with another with suspicions in his bosom-out the accusation, and he called upon the individual to s clear, or be ashamed of biraself. He detested a thing enraged him so much as a lie; he was by temp ment and education extremely irritable, and a lie c 1770-69, Mathematical Principles of Geography, Na-pletely unchained him; his indignation knew no boun Tracts, 8vo. 1776-75, Miscellanies, 8vo. which was his last work. The above works, many of thent allowed to be the best extant upon the subjects of which they treat, will remain a lasting monument of Mr. Emerson's genius, penetration, and industry, to the latest times, and render any He had considerable tact in detecting untruth; he w smell it out almost instinctively: he avoided the ti driveller, and generally chose his companions among lovers and practisers of sincerity and candour. A that the declaration of the thing as it is, will hurt hi tells the false and conceals the true, because he is a Lord Byron was above all the fear of this sort; he finch from telling no one what he thought to his face; from infancy he had been afraid of no one; falsehood is not vice of the powerful; the Greek slave lies; the Turkish Errant is remarkable for his adherence to truth. Lord Byron was irritable (as I have said) irritable in the Extreme; and this is another fault of those who have been ccustomed to the unmurmuring obedience of obsequious attendants. If he had lived at home, and held undisputed way over hired servants, led captains, servile apothecaries, nd willing county magistrates, probably he might have assed through life with unruffled temper, or at least his scapades of temper would never have been heard of; but me spent his time in adventure and travel, amongst friends, ivals, and foreigners; and, doubtless, he had often reason to find that his early life had untitted him for dealing with men on an equal footing, or for submitting to untoward accidents with patience. in England genteel-that is to say, it is not just now a At times, too, he was excessively given to drinking; His vanity was excessive-unless it may with greater sion, indulgence, and satiety. He had tried, as most men This was, indeed, the spirit of his life-a round of paspropriety be called by a softer name-a milder term, and do weho have the power, every species of gratification, howpertats a juster, would be his love of fame. He was ex-ever sensual. Let no young man here, who is not living orbitantly desirous of being the sole object of interest: under the surveillance of his relations, or in fear of the whether in the circle in which he was living, or in the public-let no such person turn up his nose. No men are wider sphere of the world, he could bear no rival; he more given to ring the changes upon gratification of all 13, himself; he instantly became animated with a bitter on the Continent-the English who, in speech, are the most could not tolerate the person who attracted attention from the sensual kinds than the English, especially the English jealousy, and hated, for the time, every greater or more modest people in the universe, and who, if you might celebrated man than himself; he carried his jealousy up trust their shy and reserved manner, think of nothing but even to Bonaparte: and it was the secret of his contempt decorum. Lord Byron did no more in this respect than for Wellington. It was dangerous for his friends to rise almost any other Lord or Esquire of degree has done, and in the world; if they valued not his friendship more than is doing, if he dare, at this moment, whether in London, their own fame-he hated them. Paris, Naples, Vienna, or elsewhere, with this difference It cannot be said that he was vain of any talent, accom--Lord Byron was a man of strong powers of intellect and plishment, or other quality in particular; it was neither active imagination; he drew conclusions, and took lessons more nor less than a morbid and voracious appetite for from what he saw. Lord Byron, too, was a man capable fame, admiration, and public applause: proportionably he of intense passion, which every one who pursues the gradreaded the public censure; and though from irritation tification of his appetite is not; consequently he went to 2 and spite, and sometimes through design, he acted in some work with a headlong reckless spirit, probably derived exrespects as if he despised the opinion of the world, no quisite enjoyment, quickly exhausted himself, and was then left stranded in satiety. man was ever more alive to it. The English newspapers talked freely of him; and he thought the English public did the same; and for this reason he feared, or hated, or fancied that he hated Enggland: in fact, as far as this one cause went, he did hate England, but the balance of love in its favour was immense; all his views were directed to England; he never rode a mile, wrote a line, or held a conversation, in which England and the English public were not the goal to which he was looking, whatever scorn he might have on his tongue. Before he went to Greece, he imagined that he had grown very unpopular and even infamous in England; when he left Murray engaged in the Liberal, which was unsuccessful, published with the Hunts, he fancied, and doubtless was told so by some of his aristocratic friends, that he had become low, that the better English thought him out of fashion, and voted him vulgar; and that for the licentiousness of Don Juan, or for vices either prac Eised or suspected, the public had morally outlawed him. This was one of the determining causes which led him to Greece, that he might retrieve himself. He thought that bis name, coupled with the Greek cause, would sound Well at home. When he arrived at Cephalonia, and found that he was in good odour with the authorities that the regiment stationed there, and other English residents in the island received him with the highest consideration, he as gratified to a most extravagant pitch; he talked of it to the last with a perseverance, and in a manner which showed how anxious his fears had been that he was lost with the English people. There was scarcely a passion which he had not tried even that of avarice. Before he left Italy he alarmed all his friends by becoming penurious-absolutely miserly after the fashion of the Elwes and other great misers on record. The pleasures of avarice are dwelt on with evident satisfaction in one of the late Cantos of Don Juan-plea sures which were no fictions of the poet's brain, but which he had enjoyed and was revelling in at that moment; of course he indulged to excess, grew tired, and turned to something else. at the worst. Without being what I have called excited, his conversation was often very delightful, though almost always polluted by grossness-grossness of the very broadest and lowest description, like, I cannot help saying again, like almost all his class-all of them that do not live either in the fear of God, or of the public. His grossness, too, had the advantage of a fertile fancy, and such subjects were the ready source of a petty kind of excitement; the forbidden words, the forbidden topics, the concealed actions of our nature, and the secret vices of society, stimulated his imagination; and stimulants he loved, and may be said at times to have wanted. He certainly did permit his fancy to feed on this dunghill garbage; now and then, indeed, even here he scratched up a pearl, but so dirty a pearl, few would be at the pains of washing it for all its price. His letters are charming; he never wrote them with the idea of The Letters of the Right Honourable Lord Byron, in 6 vols. 12o." before his eyes, as unfortunately our great men must now almost necessarily do. The public are so fond of this kind of reading, and so justly what it feeds on. too, that there is great reason to fear that it will consume Lord Byron's letters are the models of a species of composition which should be written without an eye to any models. His fancy kindled on paper; he touches no subject in a common every-day way; the reader smiles all through, and loves the writer at the end; longs for his society, and admires his happy genius and his amiable disposition. Lord Byron's letters are like what his conversation was, but better-he had more undisturbed lei sure to let his fancies ripen in; he could point his wit with more security, and his irritable temper met with no opposition on paper. Lord Byron was not ill-tempered nor quarrelsome, but still he was very difficult to live with: he was capricious, full of humours, apt to be offended, and wilful. When Mr. Hobhouse and he travelled in Greece together, they were generally a mile asunder, and, though some of his friends lived with him off and on a long time (Trelawney, for instance) it was not without serious trials of temper, patience, and affection. He could make a great point often about the least and most trifling thing imaginable, and adhere to his purpose with a pertinacity truly remarkable, and almost unaccountable. A love of victory might sometimes account for little disputes and petty triumphs, otherwise inexplicable, and always unworthy The passion which last animated him was that which is of his great genius; but, as I have said, he was only a said to be the last infirmity of noble minds-ambition. great genius now and then, when excited; when not so, There can be little doubt that he had grown weary of he was sometimes little in his conduct, and in his writings being known only as a toriter: he determined to dis- dull, or totally destitute of all powers of production. He tinguish himself by action. Many other motives, how-was very good-natured; and when asked to write a song ever, went to make up the bundle which took him to the or a copy of verses in an album, or an inscription, for so succour of the Greeks. Italy was waning in favour, he poets are plagued, he would generally attempt to comply, was beginning to grow weary of the society of the lady to but he seldom succeeded in doing any thing; and when whom, after the manners of Italy, he had been attached, he did, he generally gave birth to such Grub-street dogand unfortunately her passion outlived his; even in Greece grel as his friends were ashamed of, and, it is to be hoped, she would have gladly joined him; but his Lordship had charitably put into the fire. When, on the contrary, in changed. Then, again, Greece was a land of adventure, a state of enthusiasm, he wrote with great facility, and bustle, struggle, sensation, and excitement, where the in-corrected very little. He used to boast of an indifference habitants have beautiful forms, and dress in romantic about his writings which he did not feel, and would rehabits, and dwell in the most picturesque country of the mark with pleasure that he never saw them in print; and world; and Lord Byron, as he said himself, had "an never met with any body that did not know more about oriental twist in his imagination." He knew that the them than himself. Greek looked up to him as, what he really was, one of their greatest regenerators; he was aware that his money and rank would give him unlimited power, influence, and Lord Byron cannot be said to have been personally vain respect; all of which he dearly loved. Then again, if iza any extraordinary degree-that is, not much more than any man ever sympathised deeply with bravery suffering The usually are. He knew the power of his countenance, in a generous cause, it was Lord Byron; and when he ad he took care that it should always be displayed to the was roused, in moments of excitement, this sympathy was reatest advantage. He never failed to appear remark- a violent propelling and a very virtuous motive. These ble; and no person, whether from the beauty of the ex- and other secondary considerations led him to Greece, to pression of his features, the magnificent height of his fore-sacrifice much of his personal comforts, much of his proad, or the singularity of his dress, could ever pass him perty, his health, and his life. in the street without feeling that he was passing no commen person. Lord Byron has been frequently recollected when his portraits have been shewn. Ah! (the spectater exclaimed, on either picture or engraving being seen) met that person in such or such a place, at such or such time." His lameness, a slight mal-formation of the foot, did t in the least impede his activity: it may, perhaps, acCount in some measure for his passion for riding, sailing, nd swimming. He nearly divided his time betwen these three exercises; he rode from four to eight hours every day when he was not engaged in boating or swimming, And in these exercises, so careful was he of his hands one of those little vanities which sometimes beset men) that he wore gloves even in swimming. He indulged in another practice which is not considered No two men were ever more unlike than Lord Byron excited, and Lord Byron in the ordinary state of calm. His friends about him used to call it inspiration; and when men of their stamp talk about inspiration, there must no common change take place. When excited, his sentiments were noble, his ideas grand or beautiful, his language rich and enthusiastic, his views elevated, and all his feelings of that disinterested and martyr-like cast which marks the great mind. When in the usual dull mood in which almost every body wearies their friends nine hours out of the ten, his ideas were gross, his language coarse, his sentiments not mean certainly, but of a low and sensual kind; his mood sneering and satirical, unless in a very good humour, which indeed he often, I may say, generally was. This is, however, the wrong side of the picture in Lord Byron; he may be said here to be taken He left very little behind him. Of late he had been too much occupied by the Greeks to write, and, indeed, had turned his attention very inuch to action, as has been observed. Don Juan he certainly intended to continue; and I believe that the real reason for his holding so many conferences with Dr. Kennedy in Cephalonia was, that he might master the slang of a religious sect, in order to hit off the character with more verisimilitude. His religious principles were by no means fixed; habitually, like most of his class, he was an unbeliever; at times, however, he relapsed into Christianity, and, in his interviews with Dr. Kennedy, maintained the part of a Unitarian. Like all men whose imaginations are much stronger than the reasoning power-the guiding and determining faculty-he was in danger of falling into fanaticism, and some of his friends who knew him well used to predict that he would die a Methodist--a consummation by no means impossible. From the same cause-the preponderance of the imagination-there might have been some ground for the fear which beset his latter moments that he should go mad. The immediate cause of this fear was, the deep impression which the fate of Swift had made upon him. He read the life of Swift during the whole of his voyage to Greece, and the melancholy termination of the Dean's life haunted his imagination. [To be continued.] Poetry. LOVE. THE RELIC. Fair rose, when last the summer sun, Caressing on thee smiled, A lovelier flower ne'er opened on This lower Eden wild. Now hide thee from the eye of day, Nor let its tell-tale glare Oh! hid within thy crystal hold, All bright with many a tear untold, For he thy tender branch who bore Ob, he was false !-the oaths he swore, And soon the sun was all withdrawn, And well might thou, sweet captive, mourn, Yet Helen must the flow'ret prize, And fann'd, alas! with mem'ry's sighs, And rest within thy polished hold, Nor e'er the saddest tale unfold No, rest beneath the casket's lid, Who prays, that, ere in coffin hid, Some gentle friend, inspired of heaven, Thy prison may unclose, And one sad tear, to Helen given, Why do'st thou fly the bower I made, My Stella, love, for thee; Oh! linger still beneath its shade, And listen, love, to me. For thee I deck'd this mossy seat, The world is wrapt in slumber's dreams, Then, fly not yet, but stay awhile, And listen to my tale; I cannot live without thy smile, DIABOLICAL MALEDICTION. TO THE EDITORS. GENTLEMEN,-A wretch, whose infamous character had rendered him so obnoxious to his fellow-townsmen, that, by common consent, his society was avoided, at length found himself compelled, by public opinion, to decamp from his native spot, to the great joy of his neighbours. He set out one morning, very early; and, when he had reached the summit of a hill, which afforded him the last glimpse of the spot he was about to quit for ever, he burst out into the following singular and demoniacal soliloquy. It is so unique in its character that I have endeavoured to versify it, as a specimen worthy of Cain, or of Milton's devils. Your's, &c. Liverpool Adieu, accurs'd land of my birth! I thus" shake your dust from my feet;"* In some remote corner of earth, I'll seek a less loathsome retreat. My hatred's so deadly, so deep! This curse, as my legacy, take, May those who're AWAKE-never SLEEP, And those who 're ASLEEP-never WAKE! "And whosoever will not receive you, when you go out of that city shake off even the dust of your feet, as a testimony against them."-Luke 9, verse 5. THE PLEASURES OF BRIGHTON. [From the New Monthly Magazine.] Here's fine Mrs. Hoggins from Aldgate, In the waters of Brighton are popping, (But he's always a playing his fun) That the camel that bathes with two humps, Very often comes out with but one. And it's O! &c. And here is my little boy Jacky, And it's O! &c. Your children torment you to jog 'em The more the cross creatures wont go: At Ireland's I just took a twirl in On the Downs you are like an old jacket, In the town you are all in a racket, Those bedaub'd on a tea-board or screen! We have pored on the sea till we're weary, And taking our pleasure a bore. There's nothing so charming as Brighton, We cry as we're scampering down, But we look with still greater delight on The day that we go back to town. For it's O! what will become of us, Dear the Vapours and BlueDevils will seize upon some of us If we have nothing to do. Gymnasia AND MISCELLANEOUS RECREATIONS. How often have I bless'd the coming day, TO THE EDITOR. SIR,-The feat here described is very simple. You must place the inside of the thumb against the edge of a table, and then move your feet backwards as far as you can from the table, so, however, as to be able to recover your upright position by the spring of the thumb, without moving your feet. Yours, &c. NO. XV. As a minor recreation, I am about to call your atte tion to a very simple, but, to me, novel experiment, 18 cently communicated by the ingenious Mr. Charles, the celebrated ventriloquist, and entertaining lecturer on gal vanism, electricity, and sleight of hand;-a gentleman from whom I anticipate some valuable accessions to the stock of recreations, which I purpose to collect togethe n this department of the Kaleidoscope. Take a piece of writing paper, one inch or somewh more in diameter (circular or square it is immaterial), it flat on the palm of the hand, which may previously ♪ slightly moistened by the breath; then pass a black-is pencil round, in a circular direction, on the pape from right to left-when the paper will be found to * round on your hand in the opposite direction, or from to right. This trick does not answer equally well w every one; a soft fleshy hand is the best adapted for r performance. If the paper, instead of being placed on th hand, be laid flat upon a book with a rough-calf binding the experiment succeeds very well; and although I hav mentioned a black-lead pencil to make the circles with there are many other things as well or better adapted the purpose the finger-nail, or the head of a pin, f instance. The paper used for this experiment ought n to be too smooth, or it will be apt to be carried round by the friction in the direction in which the pencil moves I should be glad to be favoured with a satisfactory expla nation of this singular phenomenon from any of you ingenious correspondents.-Yours, P.S. The paper used for the experiment ought not t be too thin. |