ever be understood, that in choosing Lausanne for his home, he was insensible to the value of a residence in England; he was not in possession of an income which corresponded with his notions of ease and comfort in his own country. In Switzerland his fortune was ample." Gibbon appears to have taken some delight in embellishing his retreat at Lausanne; for, in a letter dated 1792, he says, "Instead of the monsters which Lord Hercules Sheffield extirpated, the terrace is already shaded with the new acacias and plantains; and although the uncertainty of possession restrains me from building, I have myself placed a bouquet at the bottom of the garden, with such admirable skill, that it affords shade without intercepting prospect." At Lausanne, Gibbon finished his "Decline and Fall;" and the event, for such its completion deserves to be called, is thus noted in his Memoirs : From recent tourists we learn that Gibbon's house is one of the main sights of Lausanne, and that the occupants are rather annoyed with the increasing multitude of curious travellers. "The principal rooms are now used as a countinghouse; the few trees on the terrace have been cut down, and the grounds below are very littery, and planted with shabby fruit-trees, but were doubtless better in Gibbon's time. You descend to this terrace by a long flight of narrow stone stairs, inside the house, as if to a cellar : the terrace itself is a mere slip, seventy "I have presumed to mark the moment or eighty yards long, by ten in width, of conception; I shall now commemo- with a low parapet wall towards the rate the hour of my final deliverance. prospect an old-fashioned arbour of It was on the day, or rather night, of cut dwarf birch at the end of the terrace the 27th of June, 1787, between the encloses the cabinet where the historian hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote dated his celebrated work. But the the last lines of the last page, in a sum, place is fast falling into ruin, and the mer-house in my garden. After laying people of the house are much diverted down my pen, I took several turns in a at many of the visiters picking up a little berceau, or covered walk of acacias, of the earth to carry away.' "" One of which commands a prospect of the counthe tourists (we think Simond) saystry, the lake, and the mountains. The "Gibbon has not left here a pleasing reair was temperate, the sky was serene, membrance of himself: whimsically parthe silver orb of the moon was reflected ticular about his hours, very selfish, disfrom the waters, and all nature was gusting in his appearance. An English silent. I will not dissemble the first traveller published an account of him emotions of joy on recovery of my free- and his mode of life (absurd and rather dom, and perhaps the establishment of offensive); yet a gross mistake he had my fame. But my pride was soon hum- committed was so gratifying to Gibbon, bled, and a sober melancholy was spread that he forgave all the rest-he said that over my mind, by the idea that I had the historian rode on horseback every taken an everlasting leave of an old and morning." agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future date of my history, the life of the historian must be short and precarious. I will add two facts which have seldom occurred in the composition of six, or at least of five, quartos. 1. My first rough manuscript, without any intermediate copy, has been sent to the press. 2. Not a sheet has been seen by any human eyes excepting those of the author and the printer; the faults and the merits are exclusively my own." Extract from Mr. Gibbon's Commonplace Book. "The IVth Volume of the History of the begun March 1, 1782-ended Decline and Fall of June 1784. the Roman Empire Gibbon's own description of the villa at Lausanne differs from that of the tourists. In one of his letters, he says, "My library commands a boundless prospect of vale, mountain, and water." "A terrace one hundred yards long, extends beyond the front of the house, and leads to a close impenetrable shrubbery; and from thence the circuit of a long and various walk carries me round a meadow and vineyard." * He also "few says, persons, either princes or philosophers, enjoy a more desirable residence." * The portrait, we think, must have been taken during Gibbon's last abode at Lausanne, between the age of fortysix and fifty-six. said Lord Wylliam, kneelyng, in a doc Retrospective Gleanings. tor's habite, unto the kyng, with his ANCIENT CITY FEASTS, &c. (For the Mirror.) THE first time (says Pennant) that Guildhall was used on festive occasions was by Sir John Shaw, goldsmith, knighted in the field of Bosworth.After building the essentials of good kitchens and other offices, in the year 1500, this gentleman gave here the mayor's feast, which before had been The usually done in Grocer's Hall. bills of fare at length grew to such excess, that, in the time of Philip and Mary, a sumptuary law was made, to restrain the expense both of provisions and liveries; but the city did not long observe it, for in 1544 they thought proper to renew the order of council, by way of reminding their fellow-citizens of their relapse into luxury. Among the great feasts given here on public occasions, may be reckoned that given in 1612, on occasion of the unhappy_marriage of the prince Palatine with Elizabeth, daughter of James I., who, in defiance of the remonstrances of his betterjudging father-in-law, rushed on the usurpation of the dominion of another, and brought great misery on himself and his amiable spouse. The next was in 1641, when Charles I. returned from his imprudent, inefficacious journey into Scotland. In the midst of the most factious and turbulent times, when every engine was set to work to annihilate the regal power, the city, under its Lord Mayor, Sir William Acton, made a feast unparalleled in history for its magnificence. All external respect was paid to his majesty, the last he ever expeOf the rienced in the inflamed city. entertainment we know no more than that it consisted of five hundred dishes. The sotelties, or the subtilities, as they were called, were the ornamental part of the dessert, and were extremely different from those in present use. In the enthronization feast of Archbishop Wareham, on March 9, 1504, the first course was preceded by "a warner, conveyed upon a rounde boorde of viii. panes, with viii. toures embattled and made with flowres, standynge on every towre a bedil in his habite, with his 'staffe; and in the same boorde, first the kyng syttinge in his parliament, with his lordes about hym, in their robes; and Saint Wylliam, like an archbishop, sytting on the ryght hand of the kyng; then the Chaunceller of Oxforde, with other doctors about hym, presented the commend of vertue and cunnynge, &c. And on the third boorde of the same warner, the Holy Ghoste appeared with bright beames, proceeding from hym of the gyftes of grace towarde the sayde lorde of the feaste."-This is a specimen (says Pennant) of the ancient sotelties. This was a Lenten feast of the most luxurious kind. Many of the sotelties were suited to the occasion, and of the legendary nature; others historical; but all, without doubt, contrived "with great cunnynge." To these scenes of luxury and gluttony, let me oppose (says he) the simple fare at a feast of the wax-chandlers, on October the 28th, 1478. These were a flourishing company in the days of old, when gratitude to saints called so fre quently for lights. How many thousands of wax-candles were consumed on these occasions, and what quantities the expiatory offerings of private persons, none can enumerate. Candle-mass day wasted its thousands, and these all blessed by the priests, and adjured in solemn terms. "I adjure thee, O waxen creature, that thou repel the devil and his sprights," &c. &c.-(See Rev. Mr. Brand's edition of Bourne's Antiquitates Vulgares, page 222). Certainly this company, which was incorporated in 1484, might have afforded a more delicate feast than "Two loins of mutton, two loins of veal, a loin of beef, a leg of mutton, a pig, a capon, a coney, one dozen of pigeons, a hundred of eggs, a goose, a gallon of red wine, and a kilderkin of ale, which cost seven shillings! The The whole of the entertainment given to their majesties in 1761, cost the city. 6,8981. 5s. 4d. The feast consisted of 414 dishes, besides the dessert. king and queen viewed the inaugural procession from the windows of Mr. Barclay, a linendraper, in Cheapside. Adjacent to Guildhall was, formerly, Guildhall chapel, or college, a Gothic building, founded by Peter Fanlove, Adam Francis, and Henry Frowick, citizens, about the year 1299. The establishment was a warden, seven priests, three clerks, and four choristers. Edward VI. granted it to the mayor and commonalty of the city of London.Here used to be service once a week, and also at the election of the mayor, and before the mayor's feast, to deprecate indigestions, and all plethoric evils. P. T. W. "THERE must be a fine prospect from the top," I exclaimed, cheering myself with the thought, as I was toiling up one of the highest and steepest mountains of Germany. The way was narrow and rugged, but I was fresh and strong, and I soon arrived at the point which I had imagined to be the summit. I was deceived: it was still far, far above me; this is a common illusion in ascending hills, so I thought little of it, but sprang forward with increased activity, especially as I saw the shadows lengthening round me, and feared I should be too late to see the sun set on the opposite side. But my difficulties increased as I proceeded; again and again did I reach (as I thought) the mountain's brow, and as often was I disappointed, it was strange, passing strange, and I took note of it, to insert in my journal among the natural phenomena of the country. Now, however, I was certain of gaining my point, for I could see at some distance an old withered tree, drooping mournfully over the extreme edge of the mountain; thus refreshed with hope, I pressed on more eagerly than before, till I gained the spot where I had thought the tree stood; but to my astonishment and perplexity, my new landmark had passed away like the others, and at the end of another hour's fatiguing walk, I was as far from the summit as ever. I sunk down to rest for a few moments, muttering in a tone of vexation, "how provoking to lose so fine a prospect.' "It is a great pity, Sir, will you take my arm, I am used to travelling here, and we shall be up directly." Startled by such an answer when I thought my self far from any human being, I turned hastily round, and saw standing by my side, a little old man curiously dressed, with a pale face, and bright fiery eyes; he had a stick in his hand with a carved serpent twining round it, the eyes of which seemed to be made of some brilliant gem, for they sparkled on the slightest motion. There was something in the appearance of my new companion which I did not much like, and in spite of his civility, I declined his assistance, and walked on, saying, that "I should get up very well now." Notwithstanding all my efforts to hide them, I began now to show some symptoms of weariness, and very soon my follower again came forward and offered his arm, adding, "that I should not reach the top unless I took it." I again refused and hurried on to get before him, but he walked at a pace quite inconsistent with his aged appearance, keeping constantly by my side, and repeating his offer till I grew wearied and impatient of his obstinate politeness. What could I do? to descend was impossible, with such a companion; I raised my cudgel several times when he approached, and truly I believe I should have knocked him down, (or tried to do so) but ever as I turned to him, the serpent looked as if it were curling round on his stick, and rolling its fiery eyes at me. I was now wearied to exhaustion, the road became more intricate, and at every obstacle I met with, the fellow stood grinning in my face, and poking his abominable arm before me. Enraged and terrified at his perseverance, I repeated my refusals with such violence that they seemed to have some effect on him; he slunk behind, and I thought myself freed from his company. Just at this moment, in scrambling up with hurried steps, I slipped, and was falling down a deep gap, when I caught what I thought was the branch of a tree, to support me. What was my amazement to find myself in a moment linked arm in arm with the mysterious stranger, travelling up the mountain with wonderful velocity, "We shall be there soon enough now," said he with a sneering laugh. All my recollections of the spirits of Germany, and the demons of the Hartz, burst upon me with appalling force, and my blood chilled at the thoughts of being in their power. But there was short time for thought; never was there flight like ours; away we went up the steep mountain faster than the wind in a storm. Precipices frowned before us, deep ravines crossed our path, but we sprung over them light as air; rocks rose to a fearful height above our heads, but he raised his stick, and the serpent uncoiled from it, caught the highest trees, and drew us up. It seemed but a moment since we commenced our flight, and now we stood beside the withered tree, I had seen at such a dis tance. seemed as if the huge mountain had been rent asunder by some convulsion of nature, and the chaos of unknown ages was now bursting from the prison which closed on it at the Creation. Faint and shuddering, I turned from the scene before me, and would have rushed back, but the arm of the stranger still held me with an iron grasp. "You like not the prospect," said he, "but you have seen little yet; you must descend." I hung half senseless by his side, while he dragged me furiously along the edge of the mountain for an immense distance, till we came to a rocky peak branching out into air, and overhanging the deep gulf; here we paused for a moment, the figure grew to a gigantic size, bent his fiery eyes on me, and smiled with satisfaction to see me in his power. Never can I describe the emotion I felt when he seized and held me at arm's length over the precipice. I clung with a death-grasp to his Howing garments, but it was in vain; the serpent writhed itself in a murky air, darted its sting full at my breast, and I sunk into the abyss; but one wild cry burst from me before my voice was quenched by the suffocating rush of air as I descended. What a descent it was! clouds were rolling round me, fire flashing in my face, and ghastly forms sweeping the air by my side. I fell with the speed of lightning, yet it seemed long ere I reached the bottom of the gulf, where I had scarcely recovered my breath, when I perceived a dusky figure standing over me, crying loudly, "Bringt Lichter, Bringt Lichter." Summoned by the voice, a number of frightful spirits of different forms gathered round me, flashing their torches in my eyes, and bursting into furious exclamations: at first all was unintelligible, but the figures soon became more distinct, the voices more clear, and I could distinguish the words, "Vas giebts-Vas can dies alles heiken," and other unknown sounds. Convinced that the spirits were performing their incantations over me, I bent down in agony, covering my eyes lest I should see the horrid objects; but one voice louder than the others roused me to all the horrors of my situation, by growling out in my own language, "If he did tumble out of bed he need not have made such a noise about it as to bring all the hotel into his room." I sprang to my feet in an instant, the horrors of my vision left me, my scattered senses returned, but the lights vanished, and I was left to grope my way to bed in the dark, well pleased that there was no time for another long dream before daylight. B. R. S. Fine Arts. ORIGIN OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB. (For the Mirror.) THIS club derived its name from a person called Christopher Cat, who was either a pastry-cook or a tavern-keeper, mutton pies at the original place of their and supplied the members with delicious meeting in London. Tonson, the bookseller, while secretary to the club of Kit-Cats, caused the meetings to be transferred to a house belonging to himself at Barnes' Elms, and built a handsome room for the accommodation of the members. The portrait of each member was painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller; but the apartment not being sufficiently large to receive half-length pictures, a shorter canvass technical term of Kit-Cat size. Garth was adopted; and hence proceeded the this club, which as they are preserved wrote the verses for the toasting glass of in his works, have immortalized four of the principal beauties at the commenceLady Essex, Lady Hyde, and Lady ment of the last century: Lady Carlisle, Wharton. (See Manning and Bray's Surrey.) P. T. W. It may not be uninteresting to append to our indefatigable correspondent's note a further account of the Kit-Cat Club, from the graphic pen of Sir Richard Phillips, in his Morning's Walk from London to Kew, 1817: "On leaving the poor-house, I crossed Barnes Common in a north-eastern direction, with a view to visit at Barnes' Elms the former residence of Jacob Tonson, the bookseller, and once the place of meeting of the famous KitCat Club. "A lane, in the north-west corner of the Common, brought me to Barnes Elms, where now resides a Mr. Hoare, a banker of London. The family were not at home; but, on asking the servants if that was the house of Mr. Tonson, they assured me, with great simplicity, that no such gentleman lived there. I named the Kit-Cat Club, as accustomed to assemble here; but the oddity of the name excited their ridicule; and I was told that no such club was held there; but, perhaps, said one to the other, the gentleman means the club that assembles at the public-house on the cominon. Knowing, however, that I was at the right place, I could not avoid expressing my vexation, that the periodical assemblage of the first men of their age, should be so entirely forgotten by those who now reside on the spot-when one of them exclaimed, 'I should not wonder if the gentleman means the philosopher's room.'-'Ay,' rejoined his comrade, I remember somebody coming once before to see something of this sort, and my master sent him there.' I requested then to be shown to this room; when I was conducted across a detached garden, and brought to a handsome structure in the architectural style of the early part of the last century-evidently the establishment of the Kit-Cat Club! "A walk covered with docks, thistles, nettles, and high grass, led from the remains of a gateway in the garden wall, to the door which opened into the building. Ah! thought I, along this desolate avenue the finest geniuses in England gaily proceeded to meet their friends -yet within a century, how changed how deserted-how revolting! A cold chill seized me, as the man unfastened the decayed door of the building, and as I beheld the once elegant hall, filled with cobwebs, a fallen ceiling, and accumulating rubbish. On the right, the present proprietor had erected a copper, and converted one of the parlours into a wash-house! The door on the left led to a spacious and once superb staircase, now in ruins, filled with dense cobwebs, which hung from the lofty ceiling, and seemed to be deserted even by the spiders! The entire building, for want of ventilation, having become food for the fungus, called dry-rot, the timber had lost its cohesive powers. I ascended the staircase, therefore, with a feeling of danger, to which the man would not expose himself;-but I was well requited for my pains. Here I found the Kit-Cat Club-room, nearly as it existed in the days of its glory. It is eighteen feet high, and forty feet long, by twenty wide. The mouldings and ornaments were in the most superb fashion of its age; but the whole was falling to pieces, from the effects of the dry-rot. "My attention was chiefly attracted by the faded cloth-hanging of the room, whose red colour once set off the famous portraits of the club, that hung around it. Their marks and sizes were still visible, and the numbers and names remained as written in chalk for the guidance of the hanger! Thus was I, as it were, by these still legible names, brought into personal contact with Addison, and Steele, and Congreve, and Garth, and Dryden, and with many hereditary nobles, remembered, only be cause they were patrons of those natural nobles! I read their names aloud! -I invoked their departed spirits !—I was appalled by the echo of my own voice! The holes in the floor, the forests of cobwebs in the windows, and a swallow's nest in the corner of the ceiling, proclaimed that I was viewing a vision of the dreamers of a past age,that I saw realized before me the speaking vanities of the anxious career of The blood of the reader of sensibility will thrill as mine thrilled! It was feeling without volition, and therefore incapable of analysis! man ! "On rejoining Mr. Hoare's man in the hall below, and expressing my grief that so interesting a building should be suffered to go to decay for want of attention, he told me that his master intended to pull it down and unite it to an adjoining barn, so as to form of the two a riding-house; and I learn that this design has since been executed! The Kit-Cat pictures were painted early in the eighteenth century, and, about the year 1710, were brought to this spot; but the room I have been describing was not built till ten or fifteen years afterwards. They were forty-two in number, and were presented by the members to the elder Tonson, who died in 1736. He left them to his great nephew, also an eminent bookseller, who died in 1767. They were then removed from this building to the house of his brother, at Water-Oakley, near Windsor; and, on his death, to the house of Mr. Baker, of Hertingfordbury, where they now remain, and where I lately saw them splendidly lodged and in fine preservation. It may be proper to observe, that the house of Mr. Hoare was not the house of Mr. Tonson, and that Mr. Tonson's house stood nearer to the Kit-Cat Club-rooms, having a few years since been taken down. The situation is certainly not a happy one, being on a level with the Thames, and the adjacent grounds being deeply flooded at high tides. It is, however, completely sequestered from vulgar approach, and on that account was, perhaps, preferred as the retreat of a man of business. SPIRIT OF THE |