CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

 CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF 'CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE, ' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE, ' &c. 

 No. 434. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

PUFF AND PUSH. 

It is said that everything is to be had in London. There is truthenough in the observation; indeed, rather too much. The convictionthat everything is to be had, whether you are in want of it or not, isforced upon you with a persistence that becomes oppressive; and youfind that, owing to everything being so abundantly plentiful, there isone thing which is _not_ to be had, do what you will, though you wouldlike it, have it if you could--and that one thing is just one day'sexemption from the persecutions of Puff in its myriad shapes anddisguises. But it is not to be allowed; all the agencies that willwork at all are pressed into the service of pushing and puffingtraffic; and we are fast becoming, from a nation of shopkeepers, anation in a shop. If you walk abroad, it is between walls swathed inpuffs; if you are lucky enough to drive your gig, you have to 'cut inand out' between square vans of crawling puffs; if, alighting, youcast your eyes upon the ground, the pavement is stencilled with puffs;if in an evening stroll you turn your eye towards the sky, from apaper balloon the clouds drop puffs. You get into an omnibus, out ofthe shower, and find yourself among half a score of others, buriedalive in puffs; you give the conductor sixpence, and he gives youthree pennies in change, and you are forced to pocket a puff, orperhaps two, stamped indelibly on the copper coin of the realm. Youwander out into the country, but the puffs have gone thither beforeyou, turn in what direction you may; and the green covert, the shadylane, the barks of columned beeches and speckled birches, of gnarledoaks and rugged elms--no longer the mysterious haunts of nymphs anddryads, who have been driven far away by the omnivorous demon of theshop--are all invaded by Puff, and subdued to the office of hisministering spirits. Puff, in short, is the monster megatherium ofmodern society, who runs rampaging about the world, his broad back inthe air, and his nose on the ground, playing all sorts of ludicrousantics, doing very little good, beyond filling his own insatiable maw, and nobody knows how much mischief in accomplishing that. 

Push is an animal of a different breed, naturally a thorough-going, steady, and fast-trotting hack, who mostly keeps in the Queen'shighway, and knows where he is going. Unfortunately, he is given tobreak into a gallop now and then; and whenever in this vicious mood, is pretty sure to take up with Puff, and the two are apt to make wildwork of it when they scamper abroad together. The worst of it is, thatnobody knows which is which of these two termagant tramplers: both arethoroughly protean creatures, changing shapes and characters, andassuming a thousand different forms every day; so that it is a taskall but impossible to distinguish one from the other. Hence a man maygot upon the back of either without well knowing whither he will becarried, or what will be the upshot of his journey. 

Dropping our parable, and leaving the supposed animals to run theirindefinite career, let us take a brief glance at some of thecuriosities of the science of Puffing and Pushing--for both are soblended, that it is impossible to disentangle one from the other--asit is carried on at the present hour in the metropolis. 

The business of the shopkeeper, as well as of all others who havegoods to sell, is of course to dispose of his wares as rapidly aspossible, and in the dearest market. This market he has to create, andhe must do it in one of two ways: either he must succeed in persuadingthe public, by some means or other, that it is to their advantage todeal with him, or he must wait patiently and perseveringly until theyhave found that out, which they will inevitably do if it is a fact. Noshop ever pays its expenses, as a general rule, for the first ten ortwenty months, unless it be literally crammed down the public throatby the instrumentality of the press and the boarding; and it istherefore a question, whether it is cheaper to wait for a business togrow up, like a young plant, or to force it into sudden expansion byartificial means. When a business is manageable by one or two hands, the former expedient is the better one, and as such is generallyfollowed, after a little preliminary advertising, to apprise theneighbourhood of its whereabouts. But when the proprietor has an armyof assistants to maintain and to salarise, the case is altogetherdifferent: the expense of waiting, perhaps for a couple of years, would swallow up a large capital. On this account, he finds it morepolitic to arrest the general attention by a grand stir in allquarters, and some obtrusive demonstration palpable to all eyes, whichshall blazon his name and pretensions through every street and lane ofmighty London. Sometimes it is a regiment of foot, with placardedbanners; sometimes one of cavalry, with bill-plastered vehicles andbands of music; sometimes it is a phalanx of bottled humanity, crawling about in labelled triangular phials of wood, corked withwoful faces; and sometimes it is all these together, and a great dealmore besides. By this means, he conquers reputation, as a despotsometimes carries a throne, by a _coup d'état_, and becomes acelebrity at once to the million, among whom his name is infinitelybetter known than those of the greatest benefactors of mankind. Allthis might be tolerable enough if it ended here; but, unhappily, itdoes not. Experiment has shewn that, just as gudgeons will bite atanything when the mud is stirred up at the bottom of their holes, sothe ingenuous public will lay out their money with anybody who makes aprodigious noise and clatter about the bargains he has to give. Theresult of this discovery is, the wholesale daily publication of liesof most enormous calibre, and their circulation, by means which weshall briefly notice, in localities where they are likely to provemost productive. 

The advertisement in the daily or weekly papers, the placard on thewalls or boardings, the perambulating vans and banner-men, and thedoomed hosts of bottle-imps and extinguishers, however successful eachmay be in attracting the gaze and securing the patronage of themultitude, fail, for the most part, of enlisting the confidence of acertain order of customers, who, having plenty of money to spend, anda considerable share of vanity to work upon, are among the mosthopeful fish that fall into the shopkeeper's net. These are the femalemembers of a certain order of families--the amiable and genteel wivesand daughters of the commercial aristocracy, and their agents, of thisgreat city. They reside throughout the year in the suburbs: theyrarely read the newspapers; it would not be genteel to stand in thestreets spelling over the bills on the walls; and the walking andriding equipages of puffing are things decidedly low in theirestimation. They must, therefore, be reached by some other means; andthese other means are before us as we write, in the shape of a pile ofcircular-letters in envelopes of all sorts--plain, hot-pressed, andembossed; with addresses--some in manuscript, and others inprint--some in a gracefully genteel running-hand, and others decidedlyand rather obtrusively official in character, as though emanating fromgovernment authorities--each and all, however, containing the baitwhich the lady-gudgeon is expected to swallow. Before proceeding toopen a few of them for the benefit of the reader, we must apprise himof a curious peculiarity which marks their delivery. Whether they comeby post, as the major part of them do, not a few of them requiring adouble stamp, or whether they are delivered by hand, one thing isremarkable--_they always come in the middle of the day_, between thehours of eleven in the forenoon and five in the afternoon, when, as amatter of course, the master of the house is not in the way. Never, byany accident, does the morning-post, delivered in the suburbs betweennine and ten, produce an epistle of this kind. Let us now open a fewof them, and learn from their contents what is the shopkeeper'sestimate of the gullibility of the merchant's wife, or his daughter, or of the wife or daughter of his managing clerk. 

The first that comes to hand is addressed thus: 'No. 2795. --DECLARATIVE NOTICE. --_From the Times, August 15, 1851. _' Thecontents are a circular, handsomely printed on three crowded sides ofroyal quarto glazed post, and containing a list of articles forperemptory disposal, under unheard-of advantages, on the premises ofMr Gobblemadam, at No. 541 New Ruin Street. Without disguisinganything more than the addresses of these puffing worthies, we shallquote _verbatim_ a few paragraphs from their productions. Thecatalogue of bargains in the one before us comprises almost everyspecies of textile manufacture, as well native as foreign--among whichsilks, shawls, dresses, furs, and mantles are the most prominent; andamazing bargains they are--witness the following extracts:

 'A marvellous variety of fancy silks, cost from 4 to 5 guineas each, will be sold for L. 1, 19s. 6d. Each. 

 Robes of damas and broche (foreign), cost 6 guineas, to be sold for 2-1/2 guineas. 

 Embroidered muslin robes, newest fashion, cost 18s. 9d. , to be sold for 9s. 6d. 

 Worked lace dresses, cost 35s. , to be sold at 14s. 9d. 

 Do. Do. Cost 28s. 6d. , to be sold at 7s. 6d. 

 Newest dresses, of fashionable materials, worth 35s. , to be sold for 9s. 9d. 

 Splendid Paisley shawls, worth 2-1/2 guineas, for 16s. 

 Cashmere shawls (perfect gems), cost 4 guineas, to be sold for 35s. '

A long list of similar bargains closes with a declaration that, although these prices are mentioned, a clearance of the premises, rather than a compensation for the value of the goods, is the greatobject in view; that the articles will be got rid of regardless ofprice; and that '_the disposal will assume the character of agratuitous distribution, rather than of an actual sale_. ' This ispretty well for the first hap-hazard plunge into the half-bushel piledupon our table. Mr Gobblemadam may go down. Let us see what the nextwill produce. 

The second is addressed thus: '_To be opened within two hours afterdelivery. _--SPECIAL COMMISSION. --_Final Audit, 30th October 1851. _'The contents are a closely-printed extra-royal folio broadside, issuedby the firm of Messrs Shavelass and Swallowher, of Tottering TerraceWest. It contains a voluminous list of useful domestic goods, presenting the most enormous bargains, in the way of sheetings, shirtings, flannels, diapers, damasks, dimities, table-cloths, &c. &c. The economical housewife is cautioned by this generous firm, that todisregard the present opportunity would be the utmost excess of folly, as the whole stock is to be peremptorily sold considerably _under halfthe cost price_. The following are a few of the items:

 'Irish lines, warranted genuine, 9-1/2d. Per yard. 

 Fine cambric handkerchiefs, 2s. 6d. Per dozen. 

 Curtain damask, in all colours, 6-1/2d. Per yard. 

 Swiss curtains, elegantly embroidered, four yards long, for 6s. 9d. A pair--cost 17s. 6d. 

 Drawing-room curtains, elaborately wrought, at 8s. 6d. A pair--cost 21s. '

The bargains, in short, as Messrs Shavelass and Swallowher observe, are of such an astounding description, as 'to strike all who witnessthem with wonder, amazement, and surprise;' and 'demand inspectionfrom every lady who desires to unite superiority of taste with genuinequality and economy. '

The next is a remarkably neat envelope, with a handsomely embossedborder, bearing the words, 'ON ESPECIAL SERVICE' under the address, and winged with a two-penny stamp. The enclosure is a specimen of fineprinting on smooth, thin vellum, in the form of a quarto catalogue, with a deep, black-bordered title-page, emanating from the drearyestablishment of Messrs Moan and Groan, of Cypress Row. Here commercecondescends to sympathy, and measures forth to bereaved and afflictedhumanity the outward and visible symbols of their hidden griefs. Here, when you enter his gloomy penetralia, and invoke his services, thesable-clad and cadaverous-featured shopman asks you, in a sepulchralvoice--we are not writing romance, but simple fact--whether you are tobe suited for inextinguishable sorrow, or for mere passing grief; andif you are at all in doubt upon the subject, he can solve the problemfor you, if you lend him your confidence for the occasion. He knowsfrom long and melancholy experience the agonising intensity of woexpressed by bombazine, crape, and Paramatta; can tell to a sigh theprecise amount of regret that resides in a black bonnet; and can matchany degree of internal anguish with its corresponding shade of colour, from the utter desolation and inconsolable wretchedness of dead anddismal black, to the transient sentiment of sorrowful remembrance soappropriately symbolised by the faintest shade of lavender or Frenchgray. Messrs Moan and Groan know well enough, that when the heart isburdened with sorrow, considerations of economy are likely to bebanished from the mind as out of place, and disrespectful to thememory of the departed; and, therefore, they do not affront theirsorrowing patrons with the sublunary details of pounds, shillings, andpence. They speed on the wings of the post to the house of mourning, with the benevolent purpose of comforting the afflicted household. They are the first, after the stroke of calamity has fallen, to minglethe business of life with its regrets; and to cover the woes of thepast with the allowable vanities of the present. Step by step, theylead their melancholy patrons along the meandering margin of theirflowing pages--from the very borders of the tomb, through all theintermediate changes by which sorrow publishes to the world itsgradual subsidence, and land them at last in the sixteenth page, restored to themselves and to society, in the frontbox of the Opera, glittering in 'splendid head-dresses in pearl, ' in 'fashionablyelegant turbans, ' and in 'dress-caps trimmed with blonde and Brusselslace. ' For such benefactors to womankind--the dears--of course noreward can be too great; and, therefore, Messrs Moan and Groan, strongin their modest sense of merit, make no parade of prices. They offeryou all that in circumstances of mourning you can possibly want; theyscorn to do you the disgrace of imagining that you would drive abargain on the very brink of the grave; and you are of course obligedto them for the delicacy of their reserve on so commonplace a subject, and you pay their bill in decorous disregard of the amount. It istrue, that certain envious rivals have compared them to birds of prey, scenting mortality from afar, and hovering like vultures on the trailof death, in order to profit by his dart; but such 'caparisons, ' asMrs Malaprop says, 'are odorous, ' and we will have nothing to do withthem. 

The next, and the last we shall examine ere Betty claims the wholemass to kindle her fires, is a somewhat bulky envelope, addressed in aneat hand: _To the Lady of the House_. It contains a couple of veryvoluminous papers, almost as large as the broad page of _The Times_, one of which adverts mysteriously to some appalling calamity, whichhas resulted in a 'most DISASTROUS FAILURE, productive of the most_intense excitement_ in the commercial world. ' We learn further on, that from various conflicting circumstances, which the writer does notcondescend to explain, above L. 150, 000 worth of property has come intothe hands of Messrs Grabble and Grab, of Smash Place, 'which they areresolute in summarily disposing of _on principles commensurate withthe honourable position they hold in the metropolis_. ' Then follows alist of tempting bargains, completely filling both the broad sheets. Here are a few samples:

 'Costly magnificent long shawls, manufactured at L. 6, to be sold for 18s. 6d. 

 Fur victorines, usually charged 18s. 6d. , to sell at 1s. 3d. 

 2500 shawls (Barège), worth 21s. Each, to sell at 5s. 

 Embroidered satin shawls (magnificent), value 20 guineas each, to be sold for 3 guineas. '

The reader is probably satisfied by this time of the extraordinarycheapness of these inexhaustible wares, which thus go begging forpurchasers in the bosoms of families. It is hardly necessary to informhim, that all these enormous pretensions are so many lying delusions, intended only to bring people in crowds to the shop, where they areeffectually fleeced by the jackals in attendance. If the lady readerdoubt the truth of our assertion, let her go for once to theestablishment of Messrs Grabble and Grab last named. An omnibus fromany part of the city or suburbs will, as the circular informs you, setyou down at the door. Upon entering the shop, you are received by apolite inquiry from the 'walker' as to the purpose of your visit. Youmust say something in answer to his torrent of civility, and youprobably name the thing you want, or at least which you are willing tohave at the price named in the sheet transmitted to you through thepost. Suppose you utter the word 'shawl. ' 'This way, madam, ' says he;and forthwith leads you a long dance to the end of the counter, wherehe consigns you over to the management of a plausible genius investedwith the control of the shawl department. You have perhaps the list ofprices in your hand, and you point out the article you wish to see. The fellow shews you fifty things for which you have no occasion, inspite of your reiterated request for the article in the list. Hestates his conviction, in a flattering tone, that _that_ article wouldnot become you, and recommends those he offers as incomparablysuperior. If you insist, which you rarely can, he is at length sorryto inform you that the article is unfortunately just now out of stock, depreciating it at the same time as altogether beneath _your_ notice;and in the end succeeds in cramming you with something which you don'twant, and for which you pay from 15 to 20 per cent. More than your owndraper would have charged you for it. 

The above extracts are given in illustration of the last new discoveryin the science of puffing--a discovery by which, through the agency ofthe press, the penny-post, and the last new London Directory, thegreatest rogues are enabled to practise upon the simplicity of ourbetter-halves, while we think them secure in the guardianship of home. We imagine that, practically, this science must be now pretty nearcompletion. Earth, air, fire, and water, are all pressed into theservice. It has its painters, and poets, and literary staff, from thebard who tunes his harp to the praise of the pantaloons of the greatpublic benefactor Noses, to the immortal professoress of crochet andcross-stitch, who contracts for L. 120 a year to puff in 'The FamilyFudge' the superexcellent knitting and boar's-head cotton of MessrsSteel and Goldseye. It may be that something more is yet within thereach of human ingenuity. It remains to be seen whether we shall atsome future time find puffs in the hearts of lettuces andsummer-cabbages, or shell them from our green-peas and Windsor beans. It might be brought about, perhaps, were the market-gardeners enlistedin the cause; the only question is, whether it could be made to pay. 

RECOLLECTIONS OF A POLICE-OFFICER. 

THE MONOMANIAC. 

The following narrative relates more to medical than to criminalhistory; but as the affair came in some degree under my notice as apublic officer, I have thought it might not be altogether out of placein these slight outlines of police experience. Strange andunaccountable as it may at first appear, its general truth will hardlybe questioned by those who have had opportunities of observing thefantastic delusions which haunt and dominate the human brain incertain phases of mental aberration. 

On arriving in London, in 1831, I took lodgings at a Mr Renshawe's, inMile-End Road, not far from the turnpike-gate. My inducement to do so, was partly the cheapness and neatness of the accommodation, partlythat the landlord's maternal uncle, a Mr Oxley, was slightly known tome. Henry Renshawe I knew by reputation only, he having left Yorkshireten or eleven years before, and even that knowledge was slight andvague. I had heard that a tragical event had cast a deep shadow overhis after-life; that he had been for some months the inmate of aprivate lunatic asylum; and that some persons believed his brain hadnever thoroughly recovered its originally healthy action. In thisopinion, both my wife and myself very soon concurred; and yet I am notsure that we could have given a satisfactory reason for such belief. He was, it is true, usually kind and gentle, even to the verge ofsimplicity, but his general mode of expressing himself and conductingbusiness was quite coherent and sensible; although, in spite of hisresigned cheerfulness of tone and manner, it was at times quiteevident, that whatever the mental hurt he had received, it had left arankling, perhaps remorseful, sting behind. A small, well-executedportrait in his sitting-room suggested a conjecture of the nature ofthe calamity which had befallen him. It was that of a fair, mild-eyed, very young woman, but of a pensive, almost mournful, cast of features, as if the coming event, briefly recorded in the lower right-handcorner of the painting, had already, during life and health, cast itsprojecting shadow over her. That brief record was this:--'LauraHargreaves, born 1804; drowned 1821. ' No direct allusion to thepicture ever passed his lips, in my hearing, although, from being ableto chat together of Yorkshire scenes and times, we speedily becameexcellent friends. Still, there were not wanting, from time to time, significant indications, though difficult to place in evidence, thatthe fire of insanity had not been wholly quenched, but stillsmouldered and glowed beneath the habit-hardened crust which concealedit from the careless or casual observer. Exciting circumstances, notvery long after my arrival in the metropolis, unfortunately kindledthose brief wild sparkles into a furious and consuming flame. 

Mr Renshawe was in fair circumstances--that is, his income, derivedfrom funded property alone, was nearly L. 300 a year; but his habitswere close, thrifty, almost miserly. His personal appearance was neatand gentlemanly, but he kept no servant. A charwoman came once a dayto arrange his chamber, and perform other household work, and heusually dined, very simply, at a coffee-house or tavern. His house, with the exception of a sitting and bed room, was occupied by lodgers;amongst these, was a pale, weakly-looking young man, of the name ofIrwin. He was suffering from pulmonary consumption--a disease induced, I was informed, by his careless folly in remaining in his wet clothesafter having assisted, during the greater part of the night, at alarge fire at a coach-factory. His trade was in gold and silverlace-work--bullion for epaulettes, and so on; and as he had a goodconnection with several West-end establishments, his business appearedto be a thriving one; so much so, that he usually employed severalassistants of both sexes. He occupied the first floor, and a workshopat the end of the garden. His wife, a pretty-featured, well-formed, graceful young woman, of not more than two or three-and-twenty, was, they told me, the daughter of a schoolmaster, and certainly had beengently and carefully nurtured. They had one child, a sprightly, curly-haired, bright-eyed boy, nearly four years old. The wife, EllenIrwin, was reputed to be a first-rate hand at some of the lighterparts of her husband's business; and her efforts to lighten his toil, and compensate by increased exertion for his daily diminishingcapacity for labour, were unwearying and incessant. Never have I seena more gentle, thoughtful tenderness, than was displayed by that youngwife towards her suffering, and sometimes not quite evenly-temperedpartner, who, however, let me add, appeared to reciprocate truthfullyher affection; all the more so, perhaps, that he knew their timetogether upon earth was already shrunk to a brief span. In my opinion, Ellen Irwin was a handsome, even an elegant young person: this, however, is in some degree a matter of taste. But no one could denythat the gentle kindness, the beaming compassion, that irradiated herfeatures as she tended the fast-sinking invalid, rendered her at suchtimes absolutely beautiful--_angelised_ her, to use an expression ofmy wife's, with whom she was a prime favourite. I was self-debatingfor about the twentieth time one evening, where it was I had formerlyseen her, with that sad, mournful look of hers; for seen her I wassure I had, and not long since either. It was late; I had justreturned home; my wife was in the sick-room, and I had entered it withtwo or three oranges:--'Oh, now I remember, ' I suddenly exclaimed, just above my breath; 'the picture in Mr Renshawe's room! What aremarkable coincidence!'

A low, chuckling laugh, close at my elbow, caused me to turn quicklytowards the door. Just within the threshold stood Mr Renshawe, lookinglike a white stone-image rather than a living man, but for the fiercesparkling of his strangely gleaming eyes, and the mocking, triumphantcurl of his lips. 'You, too, have at last observed it, then?' hemuttered, faintly echoing the under-tone in which I spoke: 'I haveknown the truth for many weeks. ' The manner, the expression, not thewords, quite startled me. At the same moment, a cry of women rangthrough the room, and I immediately seized Mr Renshawe by the arm, anddrew him forcibly away, for there was that in his countenance whichshould not meet the eyes of a dying man. 

'What were you saying? What truth have you known for weeks?' I asked, as soon as we had reached his sitting-room. 

Before he could answer, another wailing sound ascended from thesick-room. Lightning leaped from Renshawe's lustrous, dilated eyes, and the exulting laugh again, but louder, burst from his lips: 'Ha!ha!' he fiercely exclaimed. 'I know that cry! It is Death's!--Death's!Thrice-blessed Death, whom I have so often ignorantly cursed! Butthat, ' he added quickly, and peering sharply in my face, 'was when, asyou know, people said'--and he ground his teeth with rage--'peoplesaid I was crazed--mad!'

'What can you mean by this wild talk, my friend?' I replied in asunconcerned and quieting a tone as I could immediately assume. 'Come, sit down: I was asking the meaning of your strange words below, justnow. '

'The meaning of my words? You know as well as I do. Look there!'

'At the painting? Well?'

'You have seen the original, ' he went on with the same excited toneand gestures. 'It crossed me like a flash of lightning. Still, it isstrange she does not know me. It is sure she does not! But I amchanged, no doubt--sadly changed!' he added, dejectedly, as he lookedin a mirror. 

'Can you mean that I have seen Laura Hargreaves here?' I stammered, thoroughly bewildered. 'She who was drowned ten or eleven years ago?'

'To be sure--to be sure! It was so believed, I admit, by everybody--bymyself, and the belief drove me mad! And yet, I now remember, when attimes I was calm--when the pale face, blind staring eyes, and drippinghair, ceased for awhile to pursue and haunt me, the low, sweet voiceand gentle face came back, and I knew she lived, though all denied it. But look, it is her very image!' he added fiercely, his glaring eyesflashing from the portrait to my face alternately. 

'Whose image?'

'Whose image!--Why, Mrs Irwin's, to be sure. You yourself admitted itjust now. ' I was so confounded, that for several minutes I remainedstupidly and silently staring at the man. At length I said: 'Well, there _is_ a likeness, though not so great as I imagined'----

'It is false!' he broke in furiously. 'It is her very self. '

'We'll talk of that to-morrow. You are ill, overexcited, and must goto bed. I hear Dr Garland's voice below: he shall come to you. '

'No--no--no!' he almost screamed. 'Send me no doctors; I hate doctors!But I'll go to bed--since--since _you_ wish it; but no doctors! Notfor the world!' As he spoke, he shrank coweringly backwards, out ofthe room; his wavering, unquiet eyes fixed upon mine as long as weremained within view of each other: a moment afterwards, I heard himdart into his chamber, and bolt and double-lock the door. 

It was plain that lunacy, but partially subdued, had resumed itsformer mastery over the unfortunate gentleman. But what anextraordinary delusion! I took a candle, and examined the picture withrenewed curiosity. It certainly bore a strong resemblance to MrsIrwin: the brown, curling hair, the pensive eyes, the pale fairness ofcomplexion, were the same; but it was scarcely more girlish, moreyouthful, than the young matron was now, and the original, had shelived, would have been by this time approaching to thirty years ofage! I went softly down stairs and found, as I feared, that GeorgeIrwin was gone. My wife came weeping out of the death-chamber, accompanied by Dr Garland, to whom I forthwith related what had justtaken place. He listened with attention and interest; and after somesage observations upon the strange fancies which now and then takepossession of the minds of monomaniacs, agreed to see Mr Renshawe atten the next morning. I was not required upon duty till eleven; and ifit were in the physician's opinion desirable, I was to write at onceto the patient's uncle, Mr Oxley. 

Mr Renshawe was, I heard, stirring before seven o'clock, and thecharwoman informed me, that he had taken his breakfast as usual, andappeared to be in cheerful, almost high spirits. The physician waspunctual: I tapped at the sitting-room door, and was desired to comein. Mr Renshawe was seated at a table with some papers before him, evidently determined to appear cool and indifferent. He could not, however, repress a start of surprise, almost of terror, at the sightof the physician, and a paleness, followed by a hectic flush, passedquickly over his countenance. I observed, too, that the portrait wasturned with its face towards the wall. 

By a strong effort, Mr Renshawe regained his simulated composure, andin reply to Dr Garland's professional inquiry, as to the state of hishealth, said with a forced laugh: 'My friend, Waters, has, I suppose, been amusing you with the absurd story that made him stare so lastnight. It is exceedingly droll, I must say, although many persons, otherwise acute enough, cannot, except upon reflection, comprehend ajest. There was John Kemble, the tragedian, for instance, who'----

'Never mind John Kemble, my dear sir, ' interrupted Dr Garland. 'Do, pray, tell us the story over again. I love an amusing jest. '

Mr Renshawe hesitated for an instant, and then said with reserve, almost dignity of manner: 'I do not know, sir'--his face, by the way, was determinedly averted from the cool, searching gaze of thephysician--'I do not know, sir, that I am obliged to find you inamusement; and as your presence here was not invited, I shall beobliged by your leaving the room as quickly as maybe. '

'Certainly--certainly, sir. I am exceedingly sorry to have intruded, but I am sure you will permit me to have a peep at this wonderfulportrait. '

Renshawe sprang impulsively forward to prevent the doctor reaching it. He was too late; and Dr Garland, turning sharply round with thepainting in his hand, literally transfixed him in an attitude ofsurprise and consternation. Like the Ancient Mariner, he held him byhis glittering eye, but the spell was not an enduring one. 'Truly, 'remarked Dr Garland, as he found the kind of mesmeric influence he hadexerted beginning to fail, 'not so _very_ bad a chance resemblance;especially about the eyes and mouth'----

'This is very extraordinary conduct, ' broke in Mr Renshawe; 'and Imust again request that you will both leave the room. '

It was useless to persist, and we almost immediately went away. 'Yourimpression, Mr Waters, ' said the physician as he was leaving thehouse, 'is, I daresay, the true one; but he is on his guard now, andit will be prudent to wait for a fresh outbreak before actingdecisively; more especially as the hallucination appears to be quite aharmless one. '

This was not, I thought, quite so sure, but of course I acquiesced, asin duty bound; and matters went on pretty much as usual for seven oreight weeks, except that Mr Renshawe manifested much aversion towardsmyself personally, and at last served me with a written notice to quitat the end of the term previously stipulated for. There was still sometime to that; and in the meanwhile, I caused a strict watch to be set, as far as was practicable, without exciting observation, upon ourlandlord's words and acts. 

Ellen Irwin's first tumult of grief subsided, the next and pressingquestion related to her own and infant son's subsistence. An elderlyman of the name of Tomlins was engaged as foreman; and it was hopedthe business might still be carried on with sufficient profit. MrRenshawe's manner, though at times indicative of considerable nervousirritability, was kind and respectful to the young widow; and I beganto hope that the delusion he had for awhile laboured under had finallypassed away. 

The hope was a fallacious one. We were sitting at tea on a Sundayevening, when Mrs Irwin, pale and trembling with fright and nervousagitation, came hastily in with her little boy in her hand. Icorrectly divined what had occurred. In reply to my hurriedquestioning, the astounded young matron told me in substance, thatwithin the last two or three days Mr Renshawe's strange behaviour anddisjointed talk had both bewildered and alarmed her. He vaguelyintimated that she, Ellen Irwin, was really Laura somebody else--thatshe had kept company with him, Mr Renshawe, in Yorkshire, before sheknew poor George--with many other strange things he muttered ratherthan spoke out; and especially that it was owing to her son remindingher continually of his father, that she pretended not to have known MrRenshawe twelve or thirteen years ago. 'In short, ' added the youngwoman with tears and blushes, 'he is utterly crazed; for he asked mejust now to marry him--which I would not do for the Indies--and isgone away in a passion to find a paper that will prove, he says, I amthat other Laura something. '

There was something so ludicrous in all this, however vexatious andinsulting under the circumstances--the recent death of the husband, and the young widow's unprotected state--that neither of us couldforbear laughing at the conclusion of Mrs Irwin's story. It struck me, too, that Renshawe had conceived a real and ardent passion for thevery comely and interesting person before us--first prompted, nodoubt, by her accidental likeness to the portrait; and that somemental flaw or other caused him to confound her with the Laura who hadin early life excited the same emotion in his mind. 

Laughable as the matter was in one sense, there was--and the fairwidow had noticed as well as myself--a serious, menacing expression inthe man's eye not to be trifled with; and at her earnest request, weaccompanied her to her own apartment, to which Renshawe had threatenedsoon to return. We had not been a minute in the room, when his hurriedstep was heard approaching, and Mrs Waters and I stepped hastily intoan adjoining closet, where we could hear and partly see all thatpassed. Renshawe's speech trembled with fervency and anger as hebroke at once into the subject with which his disordered brain wasreeling. 

'You will not dare to say, will you, that you do not remember thissong--that these pencil-marks in the margin were not made by youthirteen years ago?' he menacingly ejaculated. 

'I know nothing about the song, Mr Renshawe, ' rejoined the young womanwith more spirit than she might have exhibited but for my nearpresence. 'It is really such nonsense. Thirteen years ago, I was onlyabout nine years of age. '

'You persist, then, unfeeling woman, in this cruel deception! Afterall, too, that I have suffered: the days of gloom, the nights ofhorror, since that fearful moment when I beheld you dragged, alifeless corpse, from the water, and they told me you were dead!'

'Dead! Gracious goodness, Mr Renshawe, don't go on in this shockingway! I was never dragged out of a pond, nor supposed to bedead--never! You quite frighten one. '

'Then you and I, your sister, and that thrice-accursed Bedford, didnot, on the 7th of August 1821, go for a sail on the piece of water atLowfield, and the skiff was not, in the deadly, sudden, jealous strifebetween him and me, accidentally upset? But I know how it is: it isthis brat, and the memories he recalls, that'----

Mrs Irwin screamed, and I stepped sharply into the room. The grasp ofthe lunatic was on the child's throat. I loosed it somewhat roughly, throwing him off with a force that brought him to the ground. He rosequickly, glared at me with tiger-like ferocity, and then darted out ofthe room. The affair had become serious, and the same night I posted aletter to Yorkshire, informing Mr Oxley of what had occurred, andsuggesting the propriety of his immediately coming to London. Measureswere also taken for securing Mrs Irwin and her son from molestation. 

But the cunning of lunacy is not easily baffled. On returning home thefourth evening after the dispatch of my letter, I found the house andimmediate neighbourhood in the wildest confusion. My own wife was inhysterics; Mrs Irwin, I was told by half-a-dozen tongues at once, wasdying; and the frightful cause of all was, that little George Irwin, afavourite with everybody, had in some unaccountable manner fallen intothe river Lea, and been drowned. This, at least, was the generalconviction, although the river had been dragged to no purpose--thepoor child's black beaver-hat and feather having been discoveredfloated to the bank, a considerable way down the stream. The body, itwas thought, had been carried out into the Thames by the force of thecurrent. 

A terrible suspicion glanced across my mind. 'Where is Mr Renshawe?' Iasked. Nobody knew. He had not been seen since five o'clock--about thetime, I soon ascertained, that the child was missed. I had the housecleared, as quickly as possible, of the numerous gossips that crowdedit, and then sought a conference with Dr Garland, who was with MrsIrwin. The distracted mother had, I found, been profusely bled andcupped, and it was hoped that brain-fever, which had been apprehended, would not ensue. The physician's suspicions pointed the same way asmine; but he declined committing himself to any advice, and I was leftto act according to my own discretion. I was new to such matters atthat time--unfortunately so, as it proved, or the affair might havehad a less painful issue. 

Tomlins and I remained up, waiting for the return of Mr Renshawe; andas the long, slow hours limped past, the night-silence only broken bythe dull moaning, and occasional spasmodic screams of poor Mrs Irwin, I grew very much excited. The prolonged absence of Mr Renshaweconfirmed my impressions of his guilt, and I determined to tax himwith it, and take him into custody the instant he appeared. It was twoin the morning before he did so; and the nervous fumbling, for fullten minutes, with his latch-key, before he could open the door, quiteprepared me for the spectral-like aspect he presented on entering. Hehad met somebody, it afterwards appeared, outside, who had assured himthat the mother of the drowned child was either dead or dying. Henever drank, I knew, but he staggered as if intoxicated; and after hehad with difficulty reached the head of the stairs, in reply to myquestion as to where he had been, he could only stutter with whitetrembling lips: 'It--it--cannot be--be true--that Lau--that Mrs Irwinis--dying?'

'Quite true, Mr Renshawe, ' I very imprudently replied, and in much tooloud a tone, for we were but a few paces from Mrs Irwin's bedroomdoor. 'And if, as I suspect, the child has been drowned by you, youwill have before long two murders on your head. '

A choking, bubbling noise came from the wretched man's throat, and hisshaking fingers vainly strove to loosen his neck-tie. At the samemoment, I heard a noise, as of struggling, in the bedroom, and thenurse's voice in eager remonstrance. I instantly made a movementtowards Mr Renshawe, with a view to loosen his cravat--his featuresbeing frightfully convulsed, and to get him out of the way as quicklyas possible, for I guessed what was about to happen--when he, mistaking my intention, started back, turned half round, and foundhimself confronted by Mrs Irwin, her pale features and whitenight-dress dabbled with blood, in consequence of a partialdisturbance of the bandages in struggling with the nurse--aterrifying, ghastly sight even to me; to him utterly overwhelming, andscarcely needing her frenzied execrations on the murderer of her childto deprive him utterly of all remaining sense and strength. Hesuddenly reeled, threw his arms wildly into the air, and before Icould stretch forth my hand to save him, fell heavily backwards fromthe edge of the steep stairs, where he was standing, to the bottom. Tomlins and I hastened to his assistance, lifted him up, and as we didso, a jet of blood gushed from his mouth; he had likewise received aterrible wound near the right temple, from which the life-streamissued copiously. 

We got him to bed: Dr Garland and a neighbouring surgeon were soonwith us, and prompt remedies were applied. It was a fruitless labour. Day had scarcely dawned before he heard from the physician's lips thatlife with him was swiftly ebbing to its close. He was perfectlyconscious and collected. Happily there was no stain of murder on hissoul: he had merely enticed the child away, and placed him, under aningenious pretence, with an acquaintance at Camden-Town; and by thistime both he and his mother were standing, awe-struck and weeping, byHenry Renshawe's deathbed. He had thrown the child's hat into theriver, and his motive in thus acting appeared to have been a doubleone. In the first place, because he thought the boy's likeness to hisfather was the chief obstacle to Mrs Irwin's toleration of hisaddresses; and next, to bribe her into compliance by a promise torestore her son. But he could not be deemed accountable for hisactions. 'I think, ' he murmured brokenly, 'that the delusion waspartly self-cherished, or of the Evil One. I observed the likenesslong before, but it was not till the--the husband was dying, that theidea fastened itself upon my aching brain, and grew there. But theworld is passing: forgive me--Ellen--Laura'----He was dead!

The inquest on the cause of death returned, of course, that it was'accidental;' but I long regretted that I had not been lessprecipitate, though perhaps all was for the best--for the sufferer aswell as others. Mr Oxley had died some five weeks previously. This Ifound from Renshawe's will, where it was recited as a reason that, having no relative alive for whom he cared, his property wasbequeathed to Guy's Hospital, charged with L. 100 a year to EllenIrwin, as long as she lived unmarried. The document was perfectlycoherent; and although written during the height of his monomania, contained not a word respecting the identity of the youthful widow andthe Laura whose sad fate had first unsettled the testator's reason. 

THE VINCEJO'S PRIZE. 

 [This somewhat curious incident in the under-current of history, is given on the authority of Mr H. G. Austen, of New Square, Lincoln's Inn, to whom the facts were communicated by his father, Sir F. W. Austen, who commanded one of the ships under the orders of Sir George Cockburn on the occasion referred to in the narrative. ]

It is well known that when the French republican armies wereoverrunning the north of Italy, and commencing that wholesale systemof plunder which was afterwards carried out to such perfection byNapoleon's marshals, the then reigning Duke of Florence offered themagnificent collection of pictures which adorned the Pitti Palace, tothe English nation for the comparatively small sum of L. 100, 000--a sumwhich, as the late George Robins might have said, with less than hiscustomary exaggeration, was 'hardly the price of the frames, gentlemen. ' Mr Pitt seems, unfortunately, to have been less sensibleof the value of the collection than scrupulous of asking parliamentfor the money; and the opportunity was lost of redeeming the nationalcharacter, by such a set-off against the republican dispersion of thenoble collection of Charles I. This circumstance is well known; but itwill probably be new to most of our readers to learn, that many of thebest pictures which had thus failed to become British property 'bypurchase, ' narrowly missed becoming such 'by conquest;' and that, infact, they were for some hours in British custody. Such, however, wasthe fact, and the following narrative of the circumstance alluded tomay perhaps not be considered devoid of interest. 

It was in the latter part of the year 1799, that a squadron of Britishmen-of-war was cruising in the Gulf of Genoa. It was known that theFrench were on the point of evacuating Italy, and these ships had beendetached from Lord Keith's fleet, to watch that part of the coast, andto intercept, as far as possible, all communication between the portsof Italy and France. The squadron consisted of four vessels, under theorders of the present admiral of the fleet, Sir George Cockburn, thenCaptain Cockburn, whose pendant was flying in the _Minerve_ frigate. Whilst some of the vessels kept pretty close in, so as to cut off allcommunications alongshore, others kept a look-out more to seaward, forany vessels that might attempt to make a straight run across the bay. One afternoon, four sails were discovered to seaward running towardsthe coast of France. The signal to chase was immediately made, andeach of the British cruisers started off in pursuit of one of thestrangers. Our concern is with the _Vincejo_, a brig of eighteen guns, commanded by Captain Long, which happened, from her position, to bethe most advanced in the chase. She was standing off-shore on thelarboard tack, with her head to the south-west, when the chase wasdiscovered somewhat to leeward, standing nearly due west, with thewind on her starboard-quarter. The latter was a smart-looking ship of600 or 700 tons, displaying no colours; though from the course she wassteering, and her evident intention to avoid being overhauled, nodoubt was entertained that she was an enemy. 

Both vessels sailed well; and as the stranger gradually edged away, the _Vincejo_ got more and more into her wake. A stern chase isproverbially a long chase; and though it was apparent from the firstthat the British, though much smaller, was the faster vessel, it wasmany hours before she was enabled to get within range. About dusk, however, this was effected, and the first shot from the _Vincejo_produced an instantaneous effect on the chase: her head was throwninto the wind, and she appeared at once resigned to her fate. Great, of course, was the anxiety of the captors to learn her character, andcomparatively keen the mortification which followed, when, in reply totheir hail, the words 'the _Hercules_ of Boston, in the UnitedStates, ' were twanged across the water in unmistakable Yankee tones. Here was 'a lame and impotent conclusion. ' England was at peace withthe United States; and if the character of the stranger correspondedwith her hail, she would prove after all no prize. The captors, however, were of course not to be put off without examination; and aboat was immediately despatched from the _Vincejo_ to board, and seewhat could be made of her. The officer who was sent on board wasreceived by the captain with a good deal of bluster and swagger: heloudly asserted his rights as a neutral, and threatened the vengeanceof Congress if they should be infringed. His account of himself was, that he had come out from Boston with a cargo of 'notions, ' which hehad traded away at Leghorn; and finding some difficulty in getting areturn cargo, he had agreed with some invalid French officers to takethem home, and he was now bound for the first port in France he couldmake. This account appeared to be confirmed by his papers, and by thepresence on board of several gaunt, sickly-looking figures, who hadall the appearance of being military invalids. There were no visiblesigns of any cargo; and after a somewhat cursory examination, thelieutenant returned to his ship, after telling the skipper, more forthe sake of annoyance than from any expectation of its being realised, 'that Captain Long would certainly detain him. '

This threat had the effect of determining the Yankee skipper toproceed on board the _Vincejo_, and try his eloquence on the captain;and in this expedition he was accompanied by some of his passengers. After their several natures they assailed Captain Long: the Yankeeblustered and bullied; the Frenchmen were all suavity and politeness:'They were quite sure M. Le Capitaine was much too generous to takeadvantage of the chance which had thrown them into his hands--a fewpoor wounded and disabled invalids on their way home! The English werea brave people, who do not make war on invalids. What object could begained by making them prisoners? Assuredly, M. Le Capitaine would notthink of detaining them. ' Captain Long was sorely puzzled how to act. It must be owned, that the circumstances were suspicious. Here was avessel just come from a port in possession of the enemy--for theFrench still occupied Leghorn--bound avowedly for the enemy's country, and with enemies on board. Were not these grounds enough to detainher? On the other hand, the captain's story might be true: noappearance of any cargo had been discovered; Captain Long doubtedwhether the presence of the Frenchmen on board would be sufficient tocondemn the vessel; and there seemed something pitiful in making themprisoners under such circumstances, even if the laws of war would havesanctioned it. After some deliberation, he took a middle course, andannounced that he should keep the American ship by him till daylight, when, if his senior officer should be in sight, he should take herdown to him, to be dealt with as Captain Cockburn might decide: if, onthe other hand, the _Minerve_ should not be in sight, he would, on hisown responsibility, allow the _Hercules_ to proceed on her voyage. Inthe meantime, both vessels should return towards the point fixed on byCaptain Cockburn as a rendezvous. 'And this, ' he observed, 'ought tosatisfy all parties, as the _Hercules_ would be thereby brought nearerto her destination, which was more than her captain deserved, afterthe needless chase he had led the _Vincejo_. ' This announcementseemed extremely unpalatable to the Yankee captain; and from a veryenergetic discussion which took place in under-tones between him andhis passengers, it was evident they were dissuading him earnestly fromsome course which he was bent on taking. This was pointed out toCaptain Long as an additional circumstance of suspicion, that therewas something wrong about the American; and he was strongly urged todetain her, at all events, till he could get the opinion of CaptainCockburn: but he adhered to his decision. 'Ay, ay, ' said he to therepresentations of his first-lieutenant; 'it's all very well for you, gentlemen. You share in the prize-money, but not in the responsibilityof our captures; _that_ rests upon me. And as I really think there isno ground for detaining the fellow, I'll not do more than I havesaid. '

Morning came; and with its first dawn many anxious eyes on board bothvessels were scanning the horizon in hope or fear. The vessels hadmade good much of the distance they had run in the chase, and the boldcliffs of the coast between Genoa and Nice were distinctly visiblefrom the mast-head to the north and west, but no _Minerve_ greeted thesearching gaze of the _Vincejo's_ look-out. The frigate was nowhere tobe seen. The first-lieutenant of the _Vincejo_ having communicatedthis fact to Captain Long, and made one more effort to prevail on himto detain the _Hercules_, till they could rejoin their senior officer, was most reluctantly compelled to give the order for communicating tothe captain of that ship that she was free. The American did not waitfor a second permission. Sail was made with all speed; and long beforethe _Vincejo_ had reached her rendezvous, her late prize was safe inthe harbour at Nice. When Captain Long had reported to CaptainCockburn what had taken place, the latter was by no means disposed toapprove of his junior's decision. He thought the circumstanceextremely suspicious, and quite sufficient to have justified thedetention of the American; and not being under the influence of thegaunt aspects and energetic pleadings of the Frenchmen, he was notinclined to admit the weight of their arguments. 'I think, ' said he, 'you might as well have brought her to me: I daresay I could have madesomething of her. ' From the other captains of the squadron, too, Captain Long had to undergo much good-humoured raillery for histender-heartedness and gullibility; raillery which certainly lostnothing in force, when in a few days the real nature of the adventurebecame known. 

The French having soon afterwards abandoned Leghorn, Captain Cockburnsent one of his squadron into that port for supplies. The intelligenceshe brought back was truly mortifying. On the arrival of the _Theresa_at Leghorn, it appeared that the _Hercules_ was the object of muchinterest there, and great eagerness had been displayed to learnwhether anything was known of her fate. When the facts werecommunicated, they were received with absolute incredulity. 'Captured, examined, and let go! It was impossible. Nothing to condemn her! Why, she was loaded with booty. The plunder of Italy was on board her. Pictures, church-plate, statues, the _élite_ of the spoilers'collections, had been sent off in her. She was actually ballasted withbrass guns!' It was too true. Upon further inquiry, it appeared, beyond a doubt, that the vessel which had been so unfortunatelydismissed as not worth detaining, had French plunder on board, which, on a moderate estimate, was valued at a million and a half sterling;and what made it still more vexatious was the discovery, that adetention of the vessel even for a few hours longer, would have led tothe disclosure by the captain of the real nature of his venture. Hehad with difficulty been prevailed on to undertake the transport ofthe articles in question, and had only at last consented to do so, onan express agreement, that if he should be detained twenty-four hoursby a British cruiser, he should be at liberty to make terms for savinghis vessel by denouncing the contents of his cargo. No doubt it washis intention to do this at once, against which the Frenchmen had beenso earnestly remonstrating; and had Captain Long persevered indetaining him, nothing could have prevented the discovery, even if theAmerican himself had not made the disclosure. A little ebullition oftemper was to be expected when the news of what they had missed wascirculated among the squadron. The captains' shares might beconsidered as worth L. 40, 000 or L. 50, 000, a sum which it would requireconsiderable philosophy to resign with equanimity. Whether the countrycould properly have benefited by the capture, may be a question forjurists. It might have been argued, that the captor of stolen goodscould not be entitled to retain them against the original owner. It isprobable, however, that no very nice inquiry would have been made intothe title of the French possessors, and that it would have beenconsidered a case in which, to use the language of Roderick Dhu, itwas perfectly justifiable--

 'To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend his prey. '

PAINTERS' MONOGRAMS. 

One of the most curious among the studies of a professed connoisseur, is that of the signatures or marks, technically called 'monograms, ' bywhich painters, sculptors, engravers, and other artists, areaccustomed to distinguish their works. The dishonesty of the modernpicture-market, however, has made it now little more than a curiousstudy. As a practical guide in determining the genuineness of a work, the monogram, from the skill and precision with which fraudulentdealers have learned to counterfeit it in almost all its varieties, has long been far worse than equivocal, and the authorship of apicture must, now-a-days, often be decided on entirely independentgrounds. But the history of the subject is, in many respects, extremely curious and interesting, although few have ever thought ofbestowing attention upon it, except those whose actual experience asamateurs or collectors has brought it directly under their notice. 

The practice of artists signing their works with their name appears tobe as old as art itself. The odium excited against Phidias for hisalleged impiety in inscribing his name upon the shield of hiscelebrated statue of Minerva, is a familiar example, which will occurto every reader; and there can be no doubt that the usage was alsoknown to the painters of the classic times. But if we may judge fromthe Grecian and Roman remains, whether of sculpture, of fresco, ofcameo, or of mosaic, which have come down to our times, the precautionof affixing the name was by no means universally, or even commonlyadopted; and the monogram, properly so called, appears to have beenentirely unknown among them. 

It was so also at the first revival of art in the fourteenth andfifteenth centuries. The practice of using a single letter, or asingle combination of letters or arbitrary characters, seems to haveoriginated with the mediæval architects and other artists in stone. Neither the painters, nor the engravers, nor the metal-founders, northe medalists of those ages, availed themselves of this device, nor dowe find it at all general among such artists, till the very close ofthe fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century. But, onceintroduced, it became universal. Every artist of the sixteenth, andof the greater part of the seventeenth century, has his monogram, moreor less simple according to the taste or caprice of the designer; andto such a length was the practice carried, that the very excessproduced a reaction, and led, for a time, to the abandonment ofmonograms altogether. With the painters of the eighteenth century, they fell into complete disfavour; and although, in the presentcentury, the revival of ancient forms has led to their re-adoption inthe German school, and among the cultivators of Christian artgenerally, yet many of the first painters of the present day seem toeschew the use of monograms, as savouring of transcendentalism, or ofsome other of the various affectations, by which modern art is accusedof having been disfigured. 

Independently altogether of its bearing upon art, the study ofmonograms has a certain amount of interest. There is a class ofadventurers at the present day who make a livelihood from thecuriosity or credulity of the public, by professing to decipher thepeculiarities of an individual's character, and to read his probabledestiny, in any specimen of his handwriting which may be submitted fortheir inspection. Without carrying the theory to these absurd lengths, it is impossible not to feel some interest about the autograph of anycelebrated individual, and some tendency to compare its leadingcharacteristics with our preconceived notions regarding him. A stillwider field for speculation than that which grows out of thehandwriting, is afforded by a device like the monogram, which, beingin a great measure arbitrary, may naturally be expected to exhibitmore decidedly the workings of the judgment, the fancy, or perhaps thecaprice, of the artist. 

The monogram, as we have seen, is a substitute for the full-lengthsignature of the artist--the mode of marking their works originallyadopted by the ancients. It is found in an almost infinite number ofvarieties. 

The earliest, as well as the most natural and easy substitute, was asimple contraction of the name--as, 'augs ca. , ' for AugustinusCaraccius; or JVL. ROM. , for Julius Romanus. This contraction, however, cannot properly be called a monogram at all; and the same isto be said of the form of signature adopted by many of the mosteminent painters--the simple, unconnected initials of the name. Theidea of a monogram supposes that the characters, whatever may be theirnumber considered separately, shall be all connected so as to form onesingle device. 

The first such form which will occur to one's mind is the merecombination of the initial letters of the name--as, for example, AB, or AK, which are the actual monograms of Andrew Both, the celebratedFlemish landscape painter, and of Antony Kölbel, a distinguishedAustrian artist of more modern times. In some instances, the monogramis found appended to the full signature of the artist, as in AlbertDürer's beautiful engraving of Adam and Eve, and in other lesscelebrated works, especially those of the early engravers. It is to beobserved, however, that some artists were by no means uniform in thestyle of monogram which they employed. The device of the same artistoften varies, not only in the size and figure of the letters whichform it, but sometimes even in the letters themselves. Many artistshave employed two, three, four, and even a greater number of devices;and of the celebrated engraver just named, Albert Dürer, we ourselveshave seen not less than thirty different modifications of the lettersA D, the initials of his name. 

 [Transcriber's Note: In the first sentence of the previous paragraph, the letters AB and AK are joined together, with the letter A tilted slightly to the right. ]

These combinations are seldom so simple and intelligible as in thesignature of Andrew Both, referred to above. In most of the earliermonograms, the initial of the family name is smaller than that of theChristian name. It is so in that of Albert Dürer; and it is remarkablethat, through all the modifications of his signature which we havebeen able to discover, this characteristic is maintained--the D beinginvariably the smaller, and, as it were, the subordinate letter. Veryoften, one of the letters--generally the initial of the surname--isenclosed within the lines of the other. This peculiarity is alsoobservable in Albert Dürer's signature; and we only know one singleinstance, among the numberless ones that occur, in which he has notmaintained it. 

In progress of time, it became fashionable to combine, not theinitials merely of the name, but sometimes the most important letters, sometimes even all the letters, of the full name. Many of themonograms thus constructed would prove a puzzle even to the mostaccomplished decipherer, especially those in which the whole of theletters are not given, but only the most striking of them, and these, as very frequently occurs, not in their natural order. Sometimes theartist combined with the initials of his name that also of his placeof birth or residence. It need scarcely be said that, especially inthe earlier period, when the place of birth formed almost aninvariable adjunct of the name, this practice also existed, even whenthe signature was given at full length. 

A difficulty is sometimes created by the discovery of the letterV--very frequently smaller than the other letters of themonogram--between the initials of the artist's name. It occurs in thesignatures of Flemish or German artists, and represents the _van_ or_von_, which, in the usage of these countries, was the characteristicof nobility. It is seen in the monogram of Esaias van de Velde, and isintroduced rather curiously in that of Adrian van der Venne, who livedthrough the greater part of the seventeenth century. In thisinteresting monogram, the small v is inserted in the head of the largeone, so as to form a figure not unlike one of the masonic emblems. 

Sometimes the identity of the initial letter of the surname with thatof the Christian name gives rise to a curious device in theircombination. Thus, the signature of Francis Floris, a German engraver, who died about the middle of the seventeenth century, reverses theformer of the two FFs, placing them back to back, with the down strokecommon to both letters; while that of Francis Frederic Frank, in whichthe same letter is three times repeated, drove the ingenuity of theartist to a still more curious combination--the three letters beingkept perfectly independent, yet interlaced, or rather overlapped, sothat their lines exhibit a figure which has the curious property, likethe cabalistic Abracadabra, of presenting the same appearance fromwhatever point it may be viewed. 

Another, and often more puzzling uncertainty, may arise out of thepractice of adding to the ordinary letters of the name, the initialsF, P, D, or I--representing _fecit_, _pinxit_, _delineavit_, or_invenit_. Without adverting to this circumstance, few would recognisethe distinguished name of Anthony van Dyck, in the monogram which hehabitually employed, and of which the F seems to form a principalpart; or that of our dear old friend, Hans Hemling, in the still moreperplexing symbol by which his very best works may be distinguished. But besides the variations of which the letters are susceptible whengrouped in this manner, many of the artists have indulged in a varietyof strange and puzzling accompaniments. 

A more interesting class of monograms are those which employ symbolsinstead of letters; or, what is not uncommon, use both letters andsymbols in combination. Many of these resemble the illustrated enigmaswhich have become fashionable in the pictorial journals both ofEngland and of foreign countries, and of which Mr Knight, in the lastissue of his _Penny Magazine_, set so beautiful an example in thepoetical enigmas of Mr Mackworth Praed. The general character of thisclass will be sufficiently indicated by the example of the Italianpainter, Palma, whose name is translated _palm_, and who used theemblem of a _palm_ as well as the initial of his family name; or thestill more characteristic one of a painter of Tübingen, Jacob_Züberlein_ (_little tub_), who appended to his literal monogram thesimple and striking, though not very graceful, emblem of _a tub_. 

The several classes which are here slightly indicated, contain underthem many subordinate varieties, which it would be tedious toenumerate, and which, indeed, it would be almost impossible toclassify. It is a remarkable circumstance, however, in the history ofart, that the signatures of the most distinguished painters areprecisely those which, for themselves, and for their forms, possessthe least interest. With few exceptions, it may be said of the greatpainters, that they appear to have avoided the affectation of the useof monograms; and certainly that those who did employ them, selectedthe very simplest and least fantastic forms. The greatest masters ofthe art--Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, Guido, Domenichino, PaulVeronese, Rubens, Guercino, Agostino Caracci, and many hardly lessdistinguished artists--either omitted to sign their pictures at all, or signed their name at full length, sometimes with the addition oftheir local surname, or employed the initial syllables or letters oftheir name in the ordinary Roman form, without any attempt at groupingthem into a monogram. Even Salvator Rosa, with all the wildness andextravagance of his manner, used an exceedingly simple combination ofthe initials of his name. The monogram of the great Spanish painter, Bartholomew Esteban [Stephen] Murillo, consists simply of the threeinitial letters of the name, signed in the common Roman character, andcombined with perfect simplicity, except that there is a curiousinversion of their order. That of his countryman, JosephRibera--better known as _Espagnoletto_--is merely the combination ofthe same letters, written in a cursive hand; and his signature is evenoccasionally found at full length, or very slightly abridged. 

There is one curious exception to this general preference forsimplicity among the masters of the first class--that of thecelebrated Anthony Allegri, more commonly known under his surname, Correggio. This eminent painter did not think a pun beneath thedignity of his art, and, accordingly, the device by which hedistinguishes his pictures consists of a punning symbol, representinghis name. We need hardly explain to our readers that _Correggio_ maybe read _Cor_ (_cuore_) _Reggio_ (_Royal Heart_. ) The painter hasexpressed this pun in two different ways: by the figure of a heart, with the word _Reggio_ inscribed upon it in Roman letters; and againby the still more punning emblem of a heart surmounted by a crown, or, it should rather be said, of a crowned, and therefore royal, heart. Inconfirmation, however, of the general tendency to simplicity which wehave observed as prevailing among his great contemporaries, we shouldadd that some of Correggio's pictures are signed with the initialsyllables of his name, printed in the ordinary Roman character. 

It is perhaps more remarkable, that even among the humorists the samesimplicity should have prevailed. Our own Hogarth, both the Tenierses, Hans Holbein, Ostade, even Callot himself, with all his extravagantand capricious fantasies, fall into the general rule; and the ladyartists, Diana Chisi, Angelica Kaufmann, and Anna Maria Schurman, maybe cited as equally exhibiting the same simplicity. There are some, indeed, in whom this affectation of simplicity goes almost to thelength of rudeness. A charming cabinet picture, in the possession ofthe writer of these pages, by the celebrated Philip Wouvermans, wellknown for the familiar 'gray horse' which characterises all hispictures, is scratched with a P. W. Which would disgrace the lowestform in a charity school. And, with every allowance for haste andindifference, it is impossible not to suspect something likeaffectation in the rude and sprawling signatures which we sometimesfind, not only in ancient, but even in comparatively modern artists. 

It would carry us far beyond our allotted limits to pursue further theexamination of individual monograms. But there are some in the classof symbolical monograms, already referred to, which we must noticemore in detail. Most of the monograms of this class, like that ofCorreggio, given above, involve a pun, sometimes, indeed, not a veryrecondite one. Thus the French artist, Jacob _Stella_, who died in1647, invariably signs his pictures with _a star_--a device which themodern artist, Frederic _Morgenstern_, has applied to himself, representing his own name by the letter M, prefixed to the samesymbol. 

In the same way, an ancient artist, Lauber (leaf-gatherer), adopted aleaf (in German, _Laub_), as his symbol. Haus Weiner, in allusion tothe genial beverage from which his name is derived, marked his workswith the sign of a bunch of grapes. David Vinkenbooms (Anglice, tree-finch), a Dutch painter of the sixteenth century, took a 'finchperched upon a branch of a tree' as his pictorial emblem. Birnbaum(pear-tree) employed a similar emblem; while the monogram of BernardGraat, a Dutch painter, who lived in the end of the seventeenthcentury, though utterly without significance to an English eye, wouldat once suggest the name of the painter to his own countrymen: Graat, in Dutch, signifying the spine of a fish, represented in this curiousmonogram. 

The history of another emblem is perhaps still more remarkable. By asingular and perhaps humorously intended coincidence, three Germanpainters, George Hufnagel, Sebastian Scharnagel, and John Nothnagel, have all employed the same homely emblem--a nail; the German name ofwhich, _Nagel_, enters into the composition of all three surnames. Hufnagel (hoof-nail) has signed his pictures with a horse-shoe nail, sometimes crossed, sometimes curiously intertwined with the letters ofhis Christian name. Scharnagel has combined with a nail the figure ofa spade or shovel (_schar_); while Nothnagel distinguishes himselffrom both by prefixing the letter N to their common emblem. 

There is more of delicacy and ingenuity in the device employed by afemale wood-engraver in the beginning of the sixteenth century, Isabella Quatrepomme (four-apple. ) She was accustomed to sign herworks with a neat and spirited sketch of an apple, marked with thenumeral IV. This mark is found upon some old French woodcuts still inexistence. There was some similar allusion, we have no doubt, concealed in the device of John Maria Pomedello, an Italian engraverof the time of Leo X. And Clement VII. ; it has occasioned muchspeculation to the learned in these matters, but we must confess ourinability to decipher all its significance. Nor was the use of thesepunning emblems confined to masters of the fine arts. Printers, too, frequently introduced them. The symbols of the olive, the sword, thedolphin, &c. So familiar to all bibliographers, had their origin inthis fanciful taste; and a more direct example than any--the leadingfeature of which is a rude image of a spur--is to be found in theimprint of the curious old German books published by Hans Sporer(spur-maker) during the very first years after the introduction ofprinting into Germany. Editions of books, with this characteristicimprint, still reckon among the choicest gems in a Germanbook-collector's library, of what the amateurs in this department havechosen to call _Incunabeln_. 

To those who have given any attention to the deciphering ofillustrated enigmas, many of the early monograms might furnishconsiderable amusement. That of the rather obscure artist, Colioloro, is a perfect counterpart of the most elaborate and fanciful of themodern enigmas. The curious combination, not alone of words, but ofsingle letters, with the pictorial emblems, is fully as fanciful asany which we remember to have seen, even among those of the Leipsic_Illustrirte Zeitung_, which seems to bestow more attention on thesubject than any of its contemporaries. 

It must be remembered, that the artist's full name is Artigli CosciaColioloro. The device begins with a confused heap of birds' claws, paws of animals, &c. ; next appears a thigh, cut short above the knee;this is followed by the letter C. Next in order is seen a flaskpouring out a stream of oil; the letter l, with a comma above theline, comes next; and the whole is closed by a goodly heap of goldpieces. To an Italian scholar, it is hardly necessary to offer anexplanation. The group of emblems at the left hand represents Artigli(limbs); the rude image which succeeds it stands for Coscia (a thigh);the C, followed by the little flask of oil (_olio_), forms Colio; andthe l, with the comma, or rather the mark of apostrophe, followed bythe heap of gold pieces (_oro_)--making together l'oro, completes thecharacters of the name--Artigli Coscia Colioloro. 

It will not, however, be a matter of surprise, that the key to many ofthese emblems has, in the course of time, been lost; and that atpresent a considerable number of this class of monograms are a mysteryeven to the most learned in the art. Notwithstanding every appliance, the monogrammatists have occasionally been forced to confessthemselves in doubt, and sometimes altogether at fault, as to theidentification, or even the interpretation, of some of the emblems. 

During the latter part of the seventeenth century, and the whole ofthe eighteenth, the monogram went almost entirely out of fashion. InEngland, even still, its use is far from being general; andengravings, especially, are now-a-days almost invariably signed withthe full name. But foreign artists, and particularly those of the_renaissance_, have revived the old usage. Frederic Overbeck, thegreat father of the Christian school of art: Cornelius, to whosemagnificent conceptions Munich and Berlin owe their most gloriousworks, both historical and imaginative--as the fresco illustrations ofthe _Nibelungen Lied_, in the Royal Palace; the 'Last Judgment, ' inthe Ludwig-Kirche; and the 'History of St Boniface, ' in theBonifaz-Kloster--Storr, the great Austrian master, whose conception of'Faust, ' in the Royal Gallery at Vienna, is in itself a great poem;and the whole Düsseldorf school--have conformed to the ancient type. Even the humorists have made it, in some instances, a vehicle of theirhumour. Few of those who were wont to enjoy Richard Doyle's inimitablesketches in _Punch_, whose guiding-spirit he used to be, can forgetthe funny little figure, surmounted by his well-known initials; andthe lovers of political caricature must often have smiled over thequizzical-looking gentleman who used to figure at the right-handcorner of HH. 's admirable sketches. But we doubt whether the fashionis destined to be ever fully restored, or whether the monogram is notrather doomed to remain a thing of the past--a subject of speculationfor that laborious, though not very practical class, 'Who delve 'mid nooks and sinuosities, For literary curiosities. '

CLARET AND OLIVES. [1]

'Wine and Walnuts' was a good title for a gossipping book; 'Claret andOlives' is a better. It has a more decided flavour, a more elegantbouquet, a more gem-like colour. The other might refer to anydenomination of that multitudinous stuff the English drink under thename of wine; or, if it has individuality at all, it relishescuriously of the coarse and heavy produce of Portugal, so beloved ofDr Johnson, and many other grave doctors, down to the last generation. This breathes all over of the sweet South; it babbles of green fields;it is full of gaiety and frolic, of song and laughter, and the sparkleof wit and crystal. The title, we say, is a good title; and the bookhas an unmistakable claret flavour--the best English claret, that isto say--which unites the strength of Burgundy with the bouquet ofChâteau Margaux. Mr Reach despises a weak thin wine, and, by anidiosyncratical necessity, he has produced a sparkling, racy book. Hetraces the falling-off in our literature to a change in wine. 'TheElizabethans quaffed sack, or "Gascoyne, or Rochel wyn, "' quoth he;'and we had the giants of those days. The Charles II. Comedy writersworked on claret. Port came into fashion--port sapped our brains--and, instead of Wycherly's _Country Wife_, and Vanbrugh's _Relapse_, we hadMr Morton's _Wild Oats_, and Mr Cherry's _Soldier's Daughter_. It isreally much to the credit of Scotland, that she stood stanchly by herold ally, France, and would have nothing to do with that dirty littleslice of the worst part of Spain--Portugal, or her brandifiedpotations. In the old Scotch houses, a cask of claret stood in thecellar, on the tap. In the humblest Scotch country tavern, the pewter_tappit hen_, holding some three quarts, "reamed, " _Anglicé_, mantled, with claret just drawn from the cask. At length, in an evil hour, Scotland fell--

 "Bold and erect the Caledonian stood, Firm was his mutton, and his claret good; 'Let him drink port!' the English statesman cried; He drank the poison, and his spirit died!"

This will look like treason to a good many of our readers; but we begthem to reflect, that in preferring claret to port, Mr Reach is, afterall, an advocate of temperance; and they may therefore hope, that bydegrees his potations will become thinner and thinner, till they atlast come down--like Mike Lambourne's intentions--to water, 'nothingsave fair water. ' Our belief, indeed, is, that the excessive dutyplaced on French wines is a main cause of intemperance in its modernforms; for the dearth of the article drives people to spirits, andother intoxicating agents. Let the light claret (_vin ordinaire_) ofFrance become a cheap and accessible drink, and we say advisedly thatthere would soon be a marked improvement in the matter of generalsobriety. 

As our author proceeds towards the claret district--for the book is inthe form of a tour--he chats away very agreeably about everything hesees on the road. We shall not meddle, however, with this part of thevolume, otherwise than to notice a peculiarity we have ourselves beenfrequently struck with--the countryness of small towns in France. There is no aristocracy to be met with there, no higher classes to setthe fashion, no professional functionaries to look up to. 'You hardlysee an individual who does not appear to have been born and bred uponthe spot, and to have no ideas and no desires beyond it. Leftentirely to themselves, the people have vegetated in these dullstreets from generation to generation, and, though clustered togetherin a quasi town--perhaps with octroi and mairie, a withered tree ofliberty, and billiard-tables by the half-dozen--the population is asessentially rural as though scattered in lone farms, unvisited, excepton rent-day, by either landlord or agent. '

After reaching Bordeaux, the tourist proceeded to the village ofMargaux, in the true claret country--a general idea of which he givesby describing it as a debatable ground, stretching between the sterileLandes and the fat, black loam of the banks of the Garonne. The soilis sand, gravel, and shingle, scorched by the sun, and would beincapable of yielding as much nourishment to a patch of oats as isfound on 'the bare hillside of some cold, bleak, Highland croft. ' Onthis unpromising ground, grow those grapes which produce the finestwine in the world. As for the vines themselves, they have about asmuch of the picturesque as our drills of potatoes at home. 'Fancy openand unfenced expanses of stunted-looking, scrubby bushes, seldomrising two feet above the surface, planted in rows upon the summit ofdeep furrow-ridges, and fastened with great care to low, fence-likelines of espaliers, which run in unbroken ranks from one end of thehuge fields to the other. These espaliers or lathes are cuttings ofthe walnut-trees around; and the tendrils of the vine are attached tothe horizontally running stakes with withes, or thongs of bark. It iscurious to observe the vigilant pains and attention with which everytwig has been supported without being strained, and how things arearranged so as to give every cluster as fair a chance as possible of agoodly allowance of sun. ' There are some exceptions to this; but thelow regular dwarfs are the great wine-givers. 'Walk and gaze, untilyou come to the most shabby, stunted, weazened, scrubby, dwarfish, expanse of snobbish bushes, ignominiously bound neck and crop to theespaliers like a man on the rack--these utterly poor, starved, andmeagre-looking growths, allowing as they do the gravelly soil to shewin bald patches of gray shingle through the straggling branches--thesecontemptible-looking shrubs, like paralysed and withered raspberries, it is which produce the most priceless, and the most inimitablyflavoured wines. ' The grapes are such mean and pitiful grapes as youwould look at with contempt in Covent-Garden Market; and the veryvalue of the soil contributes to its appearance of destitution--arudely-carved stake marking the division of properties where a hedgeor ditch would take up too much of the precious ground. The vineyardsextend to the roadside, without any protection; and yet every livingcreature, whether man or animal, eats grapes habitually, morning, noon, and night, and to an excess that is perfectly wonderful. 

When the fruit is ripe, the fact is announced to the community 'byauthority;' and until the proclamation appears, no man must gather hisgrapes if they should be dropping from the bushes. The signal, however, is at length given, and the work begins. 'The scene is atonce full of beauty, and of tender and even sacred associations. Thesongs of the vintagers, frequently chorussed from one part of thefield to the other, ring blithely into the bright summer air, pealingout above the rough jokes and hearty peals of laughter shouted hitherand thither. All the green jungle is alive with the moving figures ofmen and women, stooping among the vines, or bearing pails andbasketfuls of grapes out to the grass-grown cross-roads, along whichthe labouring oxen drag the rough vintage-carts, groaning and crackingas they stagger along beneath their weight of purple tubs, heaped highwith the tumbling masses of luscious fruit. The congregation of everyage and both sexes, and the careless variety of costume, addadditional features of picturesqueness to the scene. The white-hairedold man labours with shaking hands to fill the basket which hisblack-eyed imp of a grandchild carries rejoicingly away. Quaint, broad-brimmed straw and felt hats; handkerchiefs twisted like turbansover straggling elf-locks; swarthy skins tanned to an olive-brown;black flashing eyes; and hands and feet stained in the aboundingjuices of the precious fruit--all these southern peculiarities ofcostume and appearance supply the vintage with its pleasantcharacteristics. The clatter of tongues is incessant. A fire of jokesand jeers, of saucy questions and more saucy retorts--of what, infact, in the humble and unpoetic, but expressive vernacular, is called"chaff"--is kept up with a vigour which seldom flags, except now andthen, when the but-end of a song, or the twanging close of a chorus, strikes the general fancy, and procures for the _morceau_ a lusty_encore_. Meantime, the master wine-grower moves observingly from rankto rank. No neglected bunch of fruit escapes his watchful eye; nocareless vintager shakes the precious berries rudely upon the soil, but he is promptly reminded of his slovenly work. Sometimes the tubsattract the careful superintendent: he turns up the clusters, toascertain that no leaves nor useless length of tendril are entombed inthe juicy masses, and anon directs his steps to the pressing-trough, anxious to find that the lusty treaders are persevering manfully intheir long-continued dance. '

The pressure of the grapes is a curious part of the process in an ageof mechanical improvement like the present. It is performed by mentreading among the fruit with their naked feet. 'The wine-press, or_cuvier de pressoir_, consists, in the majority of cases, of a massiveshallow tub, varying in size from four square feet to as many squareyards. It is placed either upon wooden trestles, or on a regularlybuilt platform of mason-work, under the huge rafters of a substantialouthouse. Close to it stands a range of great butts, their number moreor less, according to the size of the vineyard. The grapes are flungby tub and caskfuls into the cuvier. The treaders stamp diligentlyamid the masses, and the expressed juice pours plentifully out of ahole level with the bottom of the trough into a sieve of iron orwicker-work, which stops the passage of the skins, and from thencedrains into tubs below. Suppose, at the moment of our arrival, thecuvier for a brief space empty. The treaders--big, perspiring men, inshirts and tucked-up trousers--spattered to the eyes with splatches ofpurple juice, lean upon their wooden spades, and wipe their foreheads. But their respite is short. The creak of another cart-load of tubs isheard, and immediately the wagon is backed up to the broad openwindow, or rather hole in the wall, above the trough. A minutesuffices to wrench out tub after tub, and to tilt their alreadyhalf-mashed clusters splash into the reeking _pressoir_. Then to workagain. Jumping with a sort of spiteful eagerness into the mountain ofyielding, quivering fruit, the treaders sink almost to the knees, stamping, and jumping, and rioting in the masses of grapes, asfountains of juice spurt about their feet, and rush bubbling andgurgling away. Presently, having, as it were, drawn the first sweetblood of the new cargo, the eager trampling subsides into a sort ofquiet, measured dance, which the treaders continue, while, with theirwooden spades, they turn the pulpy remnants of the fruit hither andthither, so as to expose the half-squeezed berries in every possibleway to the muscular action of the incessantly moving feet. All thistime, the juice is flowing in a continuous stream into the tubsbeneath. When the jet begins to slacken, the heap is well tumbled withthe wooden spades, and, as though a new force had been applied, thejuice-jet immediately breaks out afresh. It takes, perhaps, half orthree quarters of an hour thoroughly to squeeze the contents of agood-sized cuvier, sufficiently manned. ' In defence of this primitiveprocess, it is alleged that no mechanical wine-press could perform thework with the same perfection as the human foot; and as for theimpurities the juice may acquire from any want of cleanliness in theoperations, these, and every other atom of foreign matter, are thrownto the surface in the act of fermentation. 

The expressed juice is now carried away in tubs, and flung into thefermenting vats. Our author saw the vats in the Château Margauxcellars the day after they had been filled, and heard, deep down, 'perhaps eight feet down in the juice, a seething, gushing sound, asif currents and eddies were beginning to flow, in obedience to theinfluence of the working spirit; and now and then a hiss and a lowbubbling throb, as though of a pot about to boil. ' In a little while, it would have been impossible to breathe an atmosphere thus saturatedwith carbonic acid gas; and the superintendents can only watch theprocess of nature by listening outside the door to 'the inarticulateaccents and indistinct rumblings' which proclaim a greatmetempsychosis. 'Is there not something fanciful and poetic in thenotion of this change taking place mysteriously in the darkness, whenall the doors are locked and barred--for the atmosphere about the vatsis death--as if nature would suffer no idle prying into her mysticoperations, and as if the grand transmutation and projection fromjuice to wine had in it something of a secret and solemn and awfulnature--fenced round, as it were, and protected from vulgar curiosityby the invisible halo of stifling gas?'

The vintagers naturally claim our attention next. A portion of themare, of course, the peasantry of the village and neighbourhood; but acountry like France, swarming with poor who are not mendicants, has ofcourse a floating population, that surges almost instinctively uponevery spot where there is pleasant work to do. The vintage not merelyaffords this work, but being attended with all sorts of jollity, thecrowds it collects have a peculiarly vagabond character. You see at aglance that they are there upon a spree, and submit to the labour, notas anything they like, or are accustomed to, but as a mere passport tothe fun. They are in France what the Irish harvesters and the Kenthop-pickers are in England, although always preserving thepeculiarities, that distinguish the former country, giving even hervagabondage a melodramatic look, just as if they were 'made up' forthe occasion. 'The gendarmerie, ' says our author, 'have a busy time ofit when these gentry are collected in numbers in the district. Poultrydisappear with the most miraculous promptitude; small linen articleshung out to dry have no more chance than if Falstaff's regiment weremarching by; and garden fruit and vegetables, of course, share theresults produced by a rigid application of the maxim, that _lapropriété c'est la vol_. Where these people come from is a puzzle. There will be vagrants and strollers among them from all parts ofFrance--from the Pyrenees and the Alps--from the pine-woods of theLandes and the moors of Brittany. They unite in bands of a dozen or ascore men and women, appointing a chief, who bargains with thevine-proprietor for the services of the company, and keeps up somedegree of order and subordination, principally by means of theunconstitutional application of a good thick stick. I frequentlyencountered these bands, making their way from one district toanother; and better samples of 'the dangerous classes' were nevercollected. They looked vicious and abandoned, as well as miserablypoor. The women, in particular, were as brazen-faced a set ofslatterns as could be conceived; and the majority of themen--tattered, strapping-looking fellows, with torn slouched hats andtremendous cudgels--were exactly the sort of persons a nervousgentleman would have scruples about meeting at dusk in a long lane. Itis when thus on the tramp that the petty pilfering, and picking andstealing, to which I have alluded to, goes on. When actually at work, they have no time for picking up unconsidered trifles. Sometimes thesepeople pass the night--all together, of course--in outhouses or barns, when the _chef_ can strike a good bargain; at other times, theybivouac on the lee-side of a wood or wall, in genuine gipsy fashion. You may often see their watchfires glimmering in the night; and besure that where you do, there are twisted necks and vacant nests inmany a neighbouring henroost. ' Mr Reach witnessed an altercation, respecting passage-money, between a party of these wanderers and aferryman of the Garonne; and it ended in the vintagers refusing tocross the river, rather than submit to the overcharge, as theycontended it was, of a sou. 'A bivouac was soon formed. Creeping underthe lee of a row of casks, on the shingle of the bare beach, the womenwere placed leaning against the somewhat hard and large pillows inquestion; the children were nestled at their feet and in their laps;and the men formed the outermost ranks. A supply of loaves was sentfor and obtained. The chief tore the bread up into huge hunks, whichhe distributed to his dependents; and upon this supper the whole partywent coolly to sleep--more coolly, indeed, than agreeably--for a keennorth wind was whistling along the sedgy banks of the river, and thered blaze of high-piled fagots was streaming from the houses acrossthe black, cold, turbid waters. '

If our author's picture of the vine is not _couleur de rose_, he isstill less complimentary to the olive. Languedoc is the country of thelatter luxury; and Languedoc is in the south of France--aptly termed'the austere south. ' 'It _is_ austere, grim, sombre. It never smiles:it is scathed and parched. There is no freshness or rurality in it. Itdoes not seem the country, but a vast yard--shadeless, glaring, drear, and dry. Let us glance from our elevated perch over the district weare traversing. A vast, rolling wilderness of clodded earth, brownedand baked by the sun; here and there masses of red rock heavingthemselves above the soil like protruding ribs of the earth, and avast coating of drowthy dust, lying like snow upon the ground. To theleft, a long ridge of iron-like mountains--on all sides rolling hills, stern and kneaded, looking as though frozen. On the slopes and in theplains, endless rows of scrubby, ugly trees, powdered with theuniversal dust, and looking exactly like mop-sticks. Sprawling andstraggling over the soil beneath them, jungles of burnt-up, leaflessbushes, tangled, and apparently neglected. The trees are olives andmulberries--the bushes, vines. ' This is a picture that will notimpress an Englishman with the due sensation of dreariness, unless herecollects that in France there are no enclosures--that the countrylies spread out before him, in some parts and seasons, like a richlyvariegated carpet; in others, like an Arabian desert. The romantic, Eastern, Biblical olive!--what is it? 'The trunk, a weazened, sapless-looking piece of timber, the branches spreading out from itlike the top of a mushroom; and the colour, when you can see it fordust, a cold, sombre, grayish green. One olive is as like another asone mop-stick is like another. The tree has no picturesqueness, novariety. It is not high enough to be grand, and not irregular enoughto be graceful. Put it beside the birch, the beech, the elm, or theoak, and you will see the poetry of the forest, and its poorest andmost meagre prose. '

The mop-stick appearance of the olive is an artificial beauty; to makeit look like an umbrella is the _ne plus ultra_ of arboriculture. Butthe present race of olives, twist and torment them as we will, areinferior to those of the times of our grandfather. 'Towards the closeof the last century, there was a winter night of intense frost; andwhen the morning broke, the trees were nearly smitten to the core. That year, there was not an olive gathered in Provence or Languedoc. The next season, some of the stronger and younger trees partiallyrevived, and slips were planted from those to which the axe had beenapplied; but the entire species of the tree had fallen off--haddwindled, and pined, and become stunted; and the profits of olivecultivation had faded with it. ' Olive-gathering, it will be felt, is aslow affair. The getting in this harvest is 'as business-like andunexciting as weeding onions, or digging potatoes. A set of raggedpeasants--the country people hereabouts are poorly dressed--wereclambering barefoot in the trees, each man with a basket tied beforehim, and lazily plucking the dull oily fruit. Occasionally, theolive-gatherers had spread a white cloth beneath the tree, and wereshaking the very ripe fruit down; but there was neither jollity norromance about the process. The olive is a tree of association, butthat is all. Its culture, its manuring and clipping, and trimming andgrafting--the gathering of its fruits, and their squeezing in themill, when the ponderous stone goes round and round in the glutinoustrough, crushing the very essence out of the oily pulps, while the fatoleaginous stream pours lazily into the greasy vessels set to receiveit; all this is as prosaic and uninteresting, as if the whole RoyalAgricultural Society were presiding in spirit over the operations. '

Our readers will now see that this is a racy, vigorous book, full ofnew remark and clever painting; and we recommend them to test thecorrectness of our opinions, therefore, by having recourse to thevolume itself, which is neither large nor expensive. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Claret and Olives, from the Garonne to the Rhone; or, Notes, Social, Picturesque, and Legendary, by the Way. _ By Angus B. Reach. London: David Bogue. 1852. 

THINGS TALKED OF IN LONDON. 

 _April 1852. _

A good many comments and congratulations have passed of late touchingthe change of system introduced into one of our official strongholds, which dates from the days of the Plantagenets, perhaps earlier; forSir J. Herschel, as Master of the Mint, has made his first Report tothe Lords of the Treasury concerning the money-coining establishmentover which he presides, with little ostentation, but much benefit. According to the Order in Council, issued in March of last year, theMint-Board, the contract with the melter, and the moneyers'privileges, were all abolished, and a new system of businessintroduced. The melter's arguments in favour of retaining his portionof the establishment were not successful, as it has been found thatthe melting and refining can be done much cheaper at private works;and the melting department is now separated from the Mint, and leased, it is said, to one of the Rothschilds. Of course, the dispossessedfunctionaries get compensation and pensions, as also the moneyers'apprentices, who had paid L. 1000 to learn the 'art and mystery, ' withthe prospect of one day becoming members of the fraternity. Thecoining is still to be carried on on the premises, as the contractsoffered for doing the work out of doors were too high or tooincompetent; the 'engraver or die-sinker' is no longer to be permittedto work on his own private account; and, what is still better, when anew medal or new model is wanted, the best artists of the country areto have the opportunity of shewing their skill in the requisitedesigns; and, last, dealers in bullion will no longer be allowed torefine their gold at the public cost, for all the metal sent in infuture 'must not exceed the standard weight. ' Thus, a most importantreform is accomplished--one that will give general satisfaction, stimulate talent, and save L. 11, 000 a year to the country, when theL. 8000 now paid as pensions reverts to the Treasury. 

The Post-office is helping on the work of intercommunication withpraiseworthy diligence. Think of now being able to send a pound of'books, maps, or prints, and any quantity of paper, vellum, orparchment, either printed, written, or plain, or any mixture of thethree'--for sixpence, to any part of the United Kingdom! There aremany branches of business that will be materially improved by thisregulation; and we may hope to see it followed by others not less inaccordance with the advancing requirements of the age. 

The Nineveh sculptures are now being arranged in the British Museum;one of them weighs fifteen tons, and is an extraordinary specimen ofAssyrian art. When in their places, they will be much studied; and, fortunately, more time is to be allowed for this purpose, for theauthorities of the Museum have announced, that they will open thedoors at nine in the morning, and keep them open till six in theevening, during the best part of the summer. The fate of the CrystalPalace is for the moment a pressing subject of talk. Perhaps theFrench would buy it, if it be really condemned, for they are alreadytalking of a Great Exposition to be held in 1854, and have come to theconclusion, that twenty-seven months will not be too long to make thepreparations: it is expected that all nations will be invited to join. There is to be an exhibition this year also at Breslau, in a buildingcomposed in good part of glass, at which Prussia will make a displayof her handiwork, and try to get customers for the articles carriedhome unsold from our spectacle. In more ways than one, the beneficialconsequences of the Exhibition of 1851 are shewing themselves. To takebut one particular--it has produced a vast amount of literature, andwill yet produce more. 

Before this appears in print, the new arctic expedition will probablyhave sailed, to make what we must consider as the final search for SirJohn Franklin. This time, Sir Edward Belcher is commander, who, thougha rigid disciplinarian, and something beyond, is well known as a mostenergetic and persevering officer. He is to explore that portion ofWellington Channel discovered by Captain Penny, and to get as far tothe north-west as possible--to Behring's Strait, if he can. Whateverelse may happen, there are few who will not hope that the mysteryrespecting the missing explorers, who sailed on their fatal voyage in1845, may now be cleared up. In order to facilitate Captain Beatson'soperations, the Emperor Nicholas has sent instructions to thegovernors of the Russian trading-ports on the arctic coast, to lendsuch aid as may be in their power. Thus, good-will is not lacking;indeed, if that could have found the lost adventurers, they would havebeen discovered long ago. 

Some of our engineers and naval men are greatly interested in asubject which has, from time to time, during many years, met with apassing notice--namely, the gradual growth of the banks and shoals inthe North Sea from the solid matters carried into it by the rivers ofEngland and Holland. Although slow, the increase is said to be such asto lead to the inference, that this sea will be filled up at somefuture day. A large chart has just been published, with contour linesof the various banks, to illustrate a treatise on the subject. Ifthese be correct, we have at once valuable data by which to test thequestion of increase of magnitude. The matter will shortly bediscussed by one of our scientific societies. Meantime, thereclamation of a new county from the sea is going on on theLincolnshire coast; and there appears to be a prospect of a similarwork being undertaken on the western shore--at Liverpool. Mr G. Renniehas prepared a plan for a breakwater five miles long, to beconstructed at the mouth of the Mersey, stretching out from Black RockPoint. If carried into execution, it will reclaim a vast extent ofsandbanks lying within it, and greatly improve the navigable channelof the river. A proposal has been made to apply sewage manure to thereclaimed land, in such ways as will constitute a satisfactory trialof this means of fertilisation; and also to reserve suitable portionsas sites for building societies. Such a project as this would beworthy of the enterprise of Liverpool; but it would be well for thepromoters to bear in mind a fact which has lately been urged, that byencroaching on the space of an estuary, you prevent the inflow of thetide, and consequently diminish or weaken the outflow, whereby thewhole harbour becomes shallower, and the bar at the mouth augments inbulk. 

Although there is nothing extraordinary to talk about in the way ofscientific discovery at present, workers in science are not idle, andare steadily pursuing their investigations. Faraday has added anotherchapter to his 'Experimental Researches in Electricity;' Mr Grove hascontributed somewhat to our knowledge of the 'Polarity of Gases;' apaper by Mr Wharton Jones, entitled 'Discovery that the Veins of theBat's Wing (which are furnished with Valves) are endowed withRythmical Contractility, and that the Onward Flow of Blood isaccelerated by each Contraction, ' is considered to be decisive of aquestion of some importance in physiology--namely, that thecirculation of the blood in the wings is independent of the motion ofthe heart. Mr Huxley's paper in the Philosophical Transactions is alsoa remarkable one--one of those which really constitute progress. Although it is not easy to give a popular exposition of it, I may tellyou that it discusses the subject of 'alternate generation;' afavourite one, as you will remember, with several naturalists, according to whom, certain of the _Medusæ_ are of one sex at oneperiod of their lives, and of the other sex at another. But Mr Huxleyshews, by observation and experiment on _Salpa_ and _Pyrosoma_, thateach has independent powers of reproduction, and his facts areconclusive against the theory of 'alternation of generations. ' The twogenerations, as now appears, are not of distinct individuals, but areboth required to make a complete individual. This paper will be sureto provoke criticism, and perhaps excite further research. Mr Hopkinshas been enlightening the Geological Society 'On the Causes of theChanges of Climate at Different Geological Periods;' and assigns asone of the causes, the flowing of the gulf-stream in a differentdirection formerly to that which it follows at present, whereby thenorthern ice was brought down in great masses to form our glacialperiod. 

Some of our _savans_ are interested in Professor Simpson'scommunication to your Edinburgh Botanical Society, concerning hisexperiments on Alpine plants kept covered with snow by artificialmeans in an ice-house for several months. He finds that plants andseeds so treated sprout and germinate rapidly when exposed to the warmair of spring and summer. It appears also that chrysales similarlytreated become moths in about one-tenth of the time required underordinary circumstances; from which facts, and the celerity ofvegetation in Canada and the arctic regions, Professor Simpson infersthat, if we in this country were to keep our grain in ice-housesduring the winter, we should get quicker and better crops, and avoidthe ill consequences which sometimes attend sowing in autumn, or tooearly in spring. The subject is novel as well as interesting, to saynothing of its bearing on agriculture, and we shall be glad to see thepromised results of further inquiry. 

There are one or two other Scottish matters which may be mentioned. One is the discovery by Dr Penny of Glasgow, of potash salts inconsiderable quantity in the soot from blast-furnaces. In our irondistricts, and among our iron merchants, it is undergoing that sort ofdiscussion which savours of profit. Potash salts are so valuable, thatif the discovery can be reduced to economical practice, there is nodoubt that the hitherto wasted and unrecognised substance will beturned to good account. The other is the 'Platometer, ' invented by MrSang of Kirkcaldy, described as a 'self-acting calculator of surface;'in other words, by using this contrivance, you may get the 'squaremeasure included within any boundary-line around which a pen attachedto the instrument may be carried'--in the plan of an estate, or a map, for example, where the plots of ground are often extremely irregularin form, and difficult to measure, without much complicatedcalculation. When Arthur Young wished to ascertain the relativeproportions of cultivated and uncultivated land in France, he cut up amap of the country, and weighed them one against the other; but theplatometer would have helped him to a more satisfactory conclusion. The mode by which it effects its purpose is very simple, 'theessential parts being merely two axles, one of them carrying a cone, by which the computations are silently performed as the pen proceedson its journey; and the other a small wheel, having numbers on itwhich tell the result in square measure. ' The contents are given withconsiderable rapidity, and, it is said, with more exactitude than byany other process: the instrument, therefore, is practically useful aswell as curious. 

Among matters connected with the Académie, Prince Demidoff has askedfor instructions as to how he may best serve the cause of scienceduring a journey which he proposes to undertake into Siberia, accompanied by a scientific staff. The prince, who is proprietor ofthe richest malachite mines in Russia, has already made similarexplorations in other parts of Europe, and published the results athis own cost, superbly illustrated, and has presented copies of theworks to most of the scientific societies. He could not have betteradvisers for the purpose contemplated, than he will find among thoseto whom he has applied. Then a M. Rochas informs the Académie, that aphotographic image on a metal-plate, transferred immediately toalbumenised glass, may be reproduced and multiplied on paper in anynumber. Daguerreotypes of waves beating on the sea-shore have beenexhibited, which were taken on glass thus prepared in a very minutefraction of a second. Add to this, a plan for a double line ofsubmarine railway from Calais to Dover; a statement from M. Gaietta, that the aurora borealis is nothing more than spontaneously inflamedcarburet of hydrogen; and a report from a learned anatomist, on theuse, instead of the knife in amputation, of a platinum wire heatedred-hot by a battery--and you may form a notion of the variety ofcommunications that comes before the French _savans_. M. Peligotfurnishes some details respecting silk-worms. He shews that in every100 parts of mulberry leaves, as supplied, the result is from 8 to 9of worms, 36 to 40 of egested matters, and 45 to 46 of dry litter andwaste. That the sixth part only of what the worms consume tends totheir nourishment, the remainder goes in respiration and dejection;and that, with the data now obtained, it is possible to calculate themaximum weight of cocoons from a given weight of leaves--it being from60 to 70 in 1000. He shews further, that in years when leaves arescarce, the loss to the proprietors need not be total, for it ispossible to keep the worms on short allowance, and collect theirproduce, though not so largely as when no privation exists. And whatis singular, that the weight of silk is not in proportion to theweight of the worm or moth; heavy and light cocoons contain the samequantity of silk, the difference arises only from the different weightof the worms. Hence M. Peligot considers, that it would be well todestroy the females when first hatched--of course with a reserve forbreeding--and keep only the males, which eat less, and give an equalquantity of silk. But as yet the sexes cannot be distinguished, whilein the worm state. 

You are aware that one of the most interesting geological problems ofour day is, that of the rise and fall of the land in Sweden: a gooddeal has been said on both sides. The Academy of Sciences at Stockholmhas, however, taken measures to settle the question. It has chosensixteen stations, chiefly between Haparanda and Strömstad, where dailyobservations are made and recorded on the height of the sea. This isthe great point to be determined; hitherto, it has been left too muchto chance, or to the attention of casual travellers. In connectionwith it, the rate of elevation would be ascertained, whether it iseverywhere the same, and continuous or intermittent. It has beenstated, that at Stockholm the rise was four feet in 100 years, andgreater still in the Gulf of Bothnia; but Mr Erdmann of Stockholm, ina memoir on the subject, shews reason to doubt the fact. The house inwhich he resides, standing near the port, was built at the beginningof the seventeenth century; when the water of the adjacent sea israised two feet above the ordinary level, which happens but rarely, his cellar is always flooded. Therefore, assuming the rise of the landat four feet in the century, it follows, with only half that height, that when the house was built, the floor of the cellar was constantlyunder water, which is hardly likely to have been the case. He mentionsalso the observations made at the sluices of the Mælar Lake, fromwhich a rise of one foot in a century had been inferred, but statesthat a defect in the measuring-scale completely invalidates theresults. In addition to what the Academy are doing, he has had areference-mark cut on the face of the steep rock of the citadel, sothat, in the course of a few years, we shall be in a position to judgein how far the theory of elevation and subsidence of land in Sweden isborne out by the facts. 

This reminds one that coral-reefs have been much talked about of late:the opinion is, that they grow in height about an inch and a quarteryearly. Means have also been taken to decide this question. When theAmerican Exploring Expedition lay at Tahiti, Captain Wilkes had astone-slab fixed on Point Venus, and the distance from it to theDolphin Shoal below carefully ascertained, so that future measurementswill test the theory. 

Mr Wells, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, shews that there are causes, besides those usually assigned, which will produce stratification, orthose interruptions which occur in deposits. He was engaged inexamination of soils; and washed earth through a filter, at times soslowly as to occupy fourteen days in the process, and dried thesediment at a temperature of 250 degrees. This, when dry, he found tobe perfectly stratified in divisional planes; sometimes accordant, atothers irregular, and shewing difference of material--namely, silicaand alumina:

'The strata so produced, ' he says, 'were in some instances exceedinglyperfect and beautiful, not altogether horizontal, but slightly curved, and in some degree conforming to the shape of the funnel. Theproduction of laminæ was also noticed, especially by the cleavage ofthe strata produced into thin, delicate, parallel plates, whenmoistened with water. These arrangements, it is evident, were notcaused by any interruption or renewal of the matter deposited, or byany change in the quality of the particles deposited, but from twoother causes entirely distinct, and which I conceive to bethese--first, from a tendency in earthy matter, subjected to thefiltering, soaking, and washing of water for a considerable period, toarrange itself according to its degree of fineness, or, perhaps, according to the specific gravity of the particles, and thus formstrata; and, secondly, from a tendency in earthy matter, consolidatedboth by water and subsequent exsiccation, to divide, independently ofthe fineness or quality of its component particles, into strata orlaminæ. '

Whether Mr Wells be right in his conclusions, remains to be proved;geologists will not fail to examine into his proofs. They may, however, remember, that Agassiz has remarked, that saw-dust throughwhich water has been filtered, will 'assume a regular stratifiedappearance;' and that, in beds of clay and clay-slate, the depositsare such as to justify these conclusions. 

The _Felix Meritis_ Society at Amsterdam propose to give their goldmedal, or twenty gold ducats (L. 10), for the best answer to thequestions--'What are the re-agents the most proper to demonstrate, ina sure and easy way, the presence of ozone, and to determine itsquantity? Does ozone always exist in the atmosphere, and under whatcircumstances, regard being had to the seasons and hour of the day, isit found to increase or diminish? From what properties can it beinferred that ozone is favourable or hurtful to the animal economy, and what has experiment made known in this respect, particularly inthe appearance or disappearance of epidemic diseases?'

The treatises are to be distinguished by a device, not by the author'ssignature: they may be written in English, French, Dutch, or German, and are to be sent addressed--_Felix Meritis_, Amsterdam, before May1, 1853. The Society reserve to themselves the right of publishing thesuccessful paper at their own cost. 

SONNET:

 ON OVERHEARING A LITTLE CHILD (A VISITOR) SAYING 'MAMMA' IN THE NEXT ROOM. 

 Hark! through the wall it comes! and to my ear It sounds the sweetest of all silvery tones, So soft, yet syllabled distinct and clear, 'Mamma!'--and happy she the name who owns! Nor would I all suppress this starting tear, Which blinds me, while, that infant's voice I hear! Say it again, fair child; I like it well, Although I sit alone, within my room, Like hermit-hearted man within his cell. It wakens Reminiscence, like a bell; And summons up a vanished Form most dear, Which, long years since, I laid within the tomb! Strange, that a simple sound should reach so deep, And flood my heart with thoughts, and make me weep!

 P. 

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