Imatges de pàgina
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on the south side of Fleet-street, as thou approachest Bridge-street-the only Salopian house,-I have never yet adventured to dip my own particular lip in a basin of his commended ingredients—a cautious premonition to the olfactories constantly whispering to me, that my stomach must infallibly, with all due courtesy, decline it. Yet I have seen palates, other wise not uninstructed in dietetical elegances, sup it up with avidity.

I know not by what particular conformation of the organ it happens, but I have always found that this composition is surprisingly gratifying to the palate of a young chimneysweeper-whether the oily particles (sassafras is slightly oleaginous) do attenuate and soften the fuliginous concretions, which are sometimes found (in dissections) to adhere to the roof of the mouth in these unfledged practitioners; or whether Nature, sensible that she had mingled too much of bitter wood in the lot of these raw victims, caused to grow out of the earth her sassafras for a sweet lenitive-but so it is, that no possible taste or odour to the senses of a young chimney-sweeper can convey a delicate excitement comparable to this mixture. Being penniless, they will yet hang their black heads over the ascending steam, to gratify one sense if possible, seemingly no less pleased than those domestic animals-cats-when they purr over a new found sprig of valerian. There is something more in these sympathies than philosophy can explicate.

Now albeit Mr. Read boasteth, not without reason, that his is the only Salopian house; yet be it known to thee, reader-if thou art one who keepest what are called good hours, thou art haply ignorant of the facthe hath a race of industrious imitators, who from stalls, and under open sky, dispense the same savoury mess to humbler customers, at that dead time of the dawn, when (as extremes meet) the rake, reeling home from his midnight cups, and the hardhanded artisan leaving his bed to resume the premature labours of the day, jostle, not unfrequently to the manifest disconcerting of the former, for the honours of the pavement. It is the time when, in summer, between the expired and the not yet

relumined kitchen-fires, the kennels of our fair metropolis give forth their least satisfactory odours. The rake, who wisheth to dissipate his o'ernight vapours in more grateful coffee, curses the ungenial fume, as he passeth; but the artisan stops to taste, and blesses the fragrant breakfast.

This is Suloop-the precocious herbwoman's darling-the delight of the early gardener, who transports his smoking cabbages by break of day from Hammersmith to Covent-garden's famed piazzas-the delight, and, oh I fear, too often the envy, of the unpennied sweep. Him shouldest thou haply encounter, with his dim visage pendant over the grateful steam, regale him with a sumptuous basin (it will cost thee but three half-pennies) and a slice of delicate bread and butter (an added halfpenny)-so may thy culinary fires, eased of the o'er-charged secretions from thy worse-placed hospitalities, curl up a lighter volume to the welkin-so may the descending soot never taint thy costly well-ingredienced soups -nor the odious cry, quick-reaching from street to street, of the fired chimney, invite the rattling engines from ten adjacent parishes, to disturb for a casual scintillation thy peace and pocket!

I am by nature extremely susceptible of street affronts; the jeers and taunts of the populace; the low-bred triumph they display over the casual trip, or splashed stocking, of a gentleman. Yet I can endure the jocularity of a young sweep with something more than forgiveness.In the last winter but one, pacing along Cheapside with my accustomed precipitation when I walk westward, a treacherous slide brought me upon my back in an instant. I scrambled up with pain and shame enough-yet outwardly trying to face it down, as if nothing had happened-when the roguish grin of one of these young wits encountered me. There he stood, pointing me out with his dusky finger to the mob, and to a poor woman (I suppose his mother) in particular, till the tears for the exquisiteness of the fun (so he thought it) worked themselves out at the corners of his poor red eyes, red from many a previous weeping, and soot-inflamed, yet twinkling through all with such a joy, snatched out

of desolation, that Hogarth but Hogarth has got him already (how could he miss him?) in the March to Finchley, grinning at the pye-man-there he stood, as he stands in the picture, irremovable, as if the jest was to last for ever with such a maximum of glee, and minimum of mischief, in his mirthfor the grin of a genuine sweep hath absolutely no malice in it-that I could have been content, if the honour of a gentleman might endure it, to have remained his butt and his mockery till midnight.

I am by theory obdurate to the seductiveness of what are called a fine set of teeth. Every pair of rosy lips (the ladies must pardon me) is a casket, presumably holding such jewels; but, methinks, they should take leave to" air" them as frugally as possible. The fine lady, or fine gentleman, who show me their teeth, show me bones. Yet must I confess, that from the mouth of a true sweep a display (even to ostentation) of those white and shining ossifications, strikes me as an agreeable anomaly in manners, and an allowable piece of foppery. It is, as when

A sable cloud

Turns forth her silver lining on the night.

It is like some remnant of gentry not quite extinct; a badge of better days; a hint of nobility:-and, doubtless, under the obscuring darkness and double night of their forlorn disguisement, oftentimes lurketh good blood, and gentle conditions, derived from lost ancestry, and a lapsed pedigree.

The premature apprenticements of these tender victims give but too much encouragement, I fear, to clandestine, and almost infantile abductions; the seeds of civility and true courtesy, so often discernible in these young grafts (not otherwise to be accounted for) plainly hint at some forced adoptions; many noble Rachels mourning for their children, even in our days, countenance the fact; the tales of fairy-spiriting may shadow a lamentable verity, and the recovery of the young Montagu be but a solitary instance of good fortune, out of many irreparable and hopeless defiliations.

In one of the state-beds at Arundel Castle, a few years since-under a ducal canopy-(that seat of the

Howards is an object of curiosity to visitors, chiefly for its beds, in which the late Duke was especially a connoisseur)-encircled with curtains of delicatest crimson, with starry coronets inwoven-folded between a pair of sheets whiter and softer than the lap where Venus lulled Ascanius -was discovered by chance, after all methods of search had failed, at noon-day, fast asleep, a lost chimneysweeper. The little creature, having somehow confounded his passage among the intricacies of those lordly chimneys, by some unknown aperture had alighted upon this magnificent chamber; and, tired with his tedious explorations, was unable to resist the delicious invitement to repose, which he there saw exhibited; so, creeping between the sheets very quietly, laid his black head upon the pillow, and slept like a young Howard.

Such is the account given to the visitors at the Castle.-But I cannot help seeming to perceive a confirmation of what I have just hinted at in this story. A high instinct was at work in the case, or I am mistaken. Is it probable that a poor child of that description, with whatever weariness he might be visited, would have ventured, under such a penalty as he would be taught to expect, to uncover the sheets of a Duke's bed, and deliberately to lay himself down between them, when the rug, or the carpet, presented an obvious couch, still far above his pretensions-is this probable, I would ask, if the great power of nature, which I contend for, had not been manifested within him, prompting to the adventure? Doubtless this young nobleman (for such my mind misgives me that he must be) was allured by some memory, not amounting to full consciousness, of his condition in infancy, when he was used to be lapt by his mother, or his nurse, in just such sheets as he there found, into which he was now but creeping back as into his proper incunabula, and resting place. By no other theory, than by this sentiment of a pre-existent state (as I may call it), can I explain a deed so venturous, and, indeed, upon any other system, so indecorous, in this tender, but unseasonable, sleeper.

My pleasant friend JEM WHITE

was so impressed with a belief of metamorphoses like this frequently taking place, that in some sort to reverse the wrongs of fortune in these poor changelings, he instituted an annual feast of chimney-sweepers, at which it was his pleasure to officiate as host and waiter. It was a solemn supper held in Smithfield, upon the yearly return of the fair of St. Bartholomew. Cards were issued a week before to the master-sweeps in and about the metropolis, confining the invitation to their younger fry. Now and then an elderly stripling would get in among us, and be goodnaturedly winked at; but our main body were infantry. One unfortunate wight, indeed, who, relying upon his dusky suit, had intruded himself into our party, but by tokens was providentially discovered in time to be no chimney-sweeper (all is not soot which looks so), was quoited out of the presence with universal indignation, as not having on the wedding garment; but in general the greatest harmony prevailed. The place chosen was a convenient spot among the pens, at the north side of the fair, not so far distant as to be impervious to the agreeable hubbub of that vanity; but remote enough not to be obvious to the interruption of every gaping spectator in it. The guests assembled about seven. In those little temporary parlours three tables were spread with napery, not so fine as substantial, and at every board a comely hostess presided with her pan of hissing sausages. The nostrils of the young rogues dilated at the savour. JAMES WHITE, as head waiter, had charge of the first table; and myself, with our trusty companion BIGOD, ordinarily ministered to the other two. There was clambering and jostling, you may be sure, who should get at the first table-for Rochester in his maddest days could not have done the humours of the scene with more spirit than my friend. After some general expression of thanks for the honour the company had done him, his inaugural ceremony was to clasp the greasy waist of old dame Ursula (the fattest of the three), that stood frying and fretting, half-blessing, half-cursing "the gentleman," and imprint upon her chaste lips a tender salute, where

at the universal host would set up a shout that tore the concave, while hundreds of grinning teeth startled the night with their brightness. O it was a pleasure to see the sable younkers lick in the unctuous meat, with his more unctuous sayings-how he would fit the tit bits to the puny mouths, reserving the lengthier links for the seniors-how he would intercept a morsel even in the jaws of some young desperado, declaring it "must to the pan again to be browned, for it was not fit for a gentleman's eating"-how he would recommend this slice of white bread, or that piece of kissing-crust, to a tender juvenile, advising them all to have a care of cracking their teeth, which "were their best patrimony

how genteelly he would deal about the small ale, as if it were wine, naming the brewer, and protesting, if it were not good, he should lose their custom; with a special recommendation to "wipe the lip before drinking." Then we had our toasts

"The King,"-the "Cloth," which, whether they understood or not, was equally diverting and flattering;-and for a crowning sentiment, which never failed, "May the Brush supersede the Laurel." All these, and fifty other fancies, which were rather felt than comprehended by his guests, would he utter, standing upon tables, and prefacing every sentiment with a Gentlemen, give me leave to propose so and so," which was a prodigious comfort to those young orphans; every now and then stuffing into his mouth (for it did not do to be squeamish on these occasions) indiscriminate pieces of those reeking sausages, which pleased them mightily, and was the savouriest part, you may believe, of the entertainment.

Golden lads and lasses must, As chimney sweepers, come to dustJAMES WHITE is extinct, and with him these suppers have long ceased. He carried away with him half the fun of the world when he died-of my world at least. His old clients look for him among the pens ; and, missing him, reproach the altered feast of St. Bartholomew, and the glory of Smithfield departed for ever.

ELIA.

ADDITIONS TO LORD ORFORD'S ROYAL AND NOBLE AUTHORS.

No. III.

HENRY CLIFFORD, EARL OF CUMBERLAND.

He was the son of Francis, fourth Earl of Cumberland, by the widow of Nevill, Lord Bergavenny, and born in 1591. His education was received in Oxford, where he took his degree of bachelor of arts, as a nobleman of Christ Church, in 1608-9; and, in the following year, married the Lady Frances, daughter of Robert, Earl of Salisbury. After travelling into France and Italy, and spending some short time, at his return, in King James's court, he appears to have retired into the country, in order (as his cousin, the Lady Anne, Countess of Pembroke, records) to manage his father, and his father's property, then much dissipated by improvident expenditure; and he seems to have executed his púrpose with equal prudence and filial affection. Lord Clifford succeeded his father, as Fifth Earl of Cumberland, in 1640-1, and was a faithful adherent to King Charles, during the evil days that followed. Being, however, of an inactive, and not of a martial disposition, the Earl of Cumberland was ill-calculated to render any material assistance to the royal cause by his personal exertions, of which he was so fully aware, that when the chief command of York, with very extensive powers, conferred upon him, he willingly re

was

signed a trust, to which he felt him-
self incompetent, to the Earl of
Newcastle. "He was," says Cla-
rendon, " a man of honour, and po-
pular enough in peace, but not en-
dued with those parts which were
necessary for such a season." Lady
Pembroke draws the following por-
trait of him: "He was endued with
a good natural wit, was a tall and
proper man, a good courtier, a brave
horseman, an excellent huntsman,
had good skill in architecture and
mathematics, and was much favour-
ed by King James and King Charles,
and died of a burning fever, at one
of the prebend's houses in York,
Dec. 1643." He died on the 11th,
and was buried at Skipton, on the
31st of December; and that not
without bloodshed, for in the parish
register, after the record of his burial,
is noted, "
many soldiers slain at
this time;" the town and church
being then in possession of the re-
bels, it is probable that access to the
family vault could only be obtained
by force.

Neither Lord Orford nor Mr. Park
were aware that Henry, Fifth Earl
of Cumberland, claimed a place a-
mong the Noble Authors. In the
Bodleian library is a
thin quarto
MS. containing

Poeticall Translations of some Psalmes, and the Song of Solomon, with other Divine Poems, by that noble and religious Soule now sainted in Heaven, the Right Honourable Henry Earle of Cumberland, &c.

Of the Psalms, thus translated by our noble author, the thirty-fifth affords the best specimen, and of this a short extract shall suffice.

Righteous Judge of sacred lawes,
Fight my battells, pleade my cause;
Least my fierce and wrangling foe
Right, by power, overthrow.

May thy buckler, speare, and sheild

Make me master of the feild;

Bid my soule defye them all,

Since thou art my generall.

Strike with shame, and with despaire,

Those that would my soule ensuare,

Make them to confusion fly

That to ruine me doe lye.

410 Edward Somerset, Earl of Glamorgan and Marquis of Worcester. [May,

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Saul Christ pursues, Christ meets him in ye way
Not like a foe, but with a shineing light
Guides him to Heaven: Grace doth his rage allay,
And turne the edge of his vngouern'd spight:

So he, that nothing breath'd but sword and flame,
Went out a lyon, and return'd a lambe.

The Earl of Cumberland had four in Skipton Church.
children; Elizabeth, his daughter,
survived him, and married the Earl
of Corke. His three sons died young,
and are recorded by the following
very simple and pathetic inscription

Henricus pater deflet
Franciscum
Carolum
Henricum.

A. D. MDCXXXXI.

EDWARD SOMERSET, EARL OF GLAMORGAN AND MARQUIS OF WORCESTER.

Lord Worcester's little book of inventions, which contains the first hint of that most powerful machine the steam engine, had gone through several editions unknown to Lord Orford. The first was "A Century of the Names and Scantlings of such Inventions, as at present I can call to mind to have tried and perfected, which (my former notes being lost) I have, at the instance of a powerful Friend, endeavoured now, in the year 1655, to set these down in such a way as may sufficiently instruct me to put any of them in practice. Artis et Nature proles. London, Printed by J. Grismond, in the year 1663." 12mo. containing, altogether, 102 pages, and extremely rare. The second, was another 12mo. of 94 pages, beautifully printed, and "sold by T. Payne, in Round-court, in the Strand,

1746.

The third, was a Scotch edition, "Glasgow, by R. and A. Foulis, 1767, 12mo." Fourth, a reprint from the original edition, with a preface dated Kyo, near Lanchester, June 18, 1778, and an "Appendix, containing an Historical Account of the Fire Engine for Raising Water:" this was in large 8vo. pp. 64. Fifth, a reprint from the Glasgow copy, London" by W. Bailey, Proprietor of the Speaking Figure, now showing, by permission of the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor, at No. 42, within Bishopsgate," 1786, 12mo. Sixth, London, sold by R. Triphook, &c. 1813, 12no. of which 100 copies only were printed. And a seventh was announc

ed by Murray, of Albemarle-street, in 1820, which professed to be from the original MSS., with historical and explanatory notes, a biographical memoir, and an original portrait, 8vo.

Such are the editions of Lord Worcester's very singular production, in which, however strange and improbable many of the proposals may appear, it is certain that others, that at first were thought either abstruse or ridiculous, have been found by ingenious and practical mathematicians to answer the noble mechanic's fullest expectation. So sanguine was the projector in respect to the steam engine, which he terms, his "stupendous water-work," that he procured an act of parliament to secure to himself and heirs, the entire advantage for ninety-nine years, inflicting a penalty of 51. per hour on all who should counterfeit, or use, this "water-commanding engine.'

Lord Worcester, in the midst of these projects, was as needy as the poorest alchymist in search of the philosopher's stone. In the dedication to both houses of parliament of his Scantlings, he declares he has already sacrificed from six to seven hundred thousand pounds, and to how great extremity he was occasionally reduced, the following letter, which we have now transcribed from the original autograph, bears sufficient testimony. It was addressed to Colonel Copley, an officer in the army of General Fairfax, who thus endorses it :

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