Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

ladder. His debt is not of crushing amount; he could, in a little time, satisfy his creditor; but then the costs have doubled the sum, and how to appease the lawyer? Well, the attorney has relenting bowels: yes, for see with what a gladdened face, with what a lightened step, the debtor, after half-an-hour's delay, descends the stairs, having, as he for the time believes, comfortably settled every thing! Yes, he has signed a certain instrument, another wicked profit to the attorney, and he is graciously permitted to linger on to the exclusive profit of the compassionate lawyer. The debtor owed five pounds, and, with a benignity highly honourable to the professional philanthropist, he has been allowed a certain number of weeks to pay ten.

charming locale, but in this month of January, it felt most unseasonable. We all appeared to be playing at summer, in order that our entertainment might take place in the best apartment, of which the only furniture was a wide divan of blue silk with pink cushions, embroidered in gold with the richness of the Duke of ―n's best fulldressed coat. We as guests, were not presented with the silver ewer-nor was the rose water poured on our hands by a slave on her knee, till Sarame had first gone through the ceremony. Five of the women, I suppose of her sociétés intimes, sat, or rather squatted round the tray, which was supported by the Turkish table, or what we should describe as a stool, ornamented with mother of pearl. The dinner was really excellent, and in only too great profusion, for we could not have had less than forty dishes, handed one at a time. To avoid tasting all, our

DESCRIPTION OF THE INTERIOR OF A interpretess's experience made her assure our hostess that NOBLEMAN'S HAREM AT CAIRO.

[FROM MRS. DAMER'S "HOLY LAND."]

A VERY pretty little woman rose at our entrance and welcomed us with a more shy and diffident manner than we had yet met with, and seemed always to appeal to a gay looking amie de la maison for subjects of conversation. At one corner of the divan, squatted a perfect old crone, who was distinguished as the doctress, &c. of the harem, and who, I thought, did not look benignantly at all at us giaours. The pretty little pale woman, whose name was Sarame, was Shami Bey's daughter-in-law, and, to a certain degree, mistress of this large establishment. She wore yellow silk trousers, to which at the ancles, were attached draperies of the same material lined with some other colour, in this instance light blue, which gave the effect to the extremities of what a mermaid is represented to have in lieu of feet, so that the action of walking is constantly impeded, and a sort of shuffling pace substituted, which is far from dignified. Her caftan or jacket was blue cloth, embroidered with pearls, and trimmed with sable, which at this season is in general use. She wore a tight necklace of fine pearls, with a clasp of uncut precious stones. Her turban was a very slight one, of black gauze, on one side of which she had a very handsome diamond crescent, composed of the finest stones I had yet seen worn. Sarame's clear pale complexion, with a very mild expression of countenance, and beautiful form, conveyed the very personification of night. As these fair harem prisoners are very fond of seeing all they can of European novelties, we put on every possible ornament, few as we had, and showed them our album, which amused them very much, at least the portraits, for the landscapes they always held upside down. Minney asked Sarame to let her try to do her picture, and succeeded in making something of a likeness in pencil. On this they produced some red ink for her to add colour to the cheeks, and wanted very much to send off our interpretess for our box of colours, but we resisted parting with our mouth-piece. Minney was in the act of packing up her performance when there was a regular representation of the impossibility of such a proceeding, and the reasons given were, that should my father, husband, son, or brother see the portrait, it would be the same as if they had seen Sarame herself, and draw down upon her, her father and her husband's vengeance. This was more flattering to Minney's talent than was at all intended, but it was really amusing to see the state of excitement of the whole harem, at the prospect of such a contingency. We went down stairs into the summer apartment-a marble hall, with a beautiful fountain surrounded by a balustrade of different coloured marbles, and a chintz divan placed against it, which in June may be a most

our hakim (physician) had forbidden us eating such and such dishes, so that we permitted ourselves what we liked. The soup was very good; chicken powdered so finely, that it looked and was as light as a soufflet; but what we most approved was, a plát doux of starch, with a sort of conserve of rose-leaf sauce and some perfectly arranged salad, in which lemon or lime juice was the substitute for vinegar, and I think would be greatly preferred. At a table, below salt I suppose, sat about the same number as ourselves, who succeeded to our dishes, but no one at that table took the precedence as Sarame did at ours, in presenting a pinch of each plát with her very clean and very pretty rose-tipped little fingers.

I could not help being struck with the melancholy expression of her countenance, and I supposed the visible increase of this expression was the consequence of fatigue attending her first foreign dinner; but it was accounted for by bad health and the loss of her two children; and that consequently, her husband, thinking his first choice an unlucky one, had lately purchased a Greek slave, a pretty girl, but much less so than his present wife; and that in the event of this slave becoming mother to a son, her position in the family would be advanced.

But to return to our fête;-there was only one large candle on our dining-table, ensconced in an embossed piece of silver, hardly to be called a candlestick. The lighting this large room was effected in the prettiest way possible by the slaves, who collected in groups, each holding a thick candle like those used in a Catholic chapel. The shadows thrown from and by these animated candlesticks, will quite spoil my taste for those of or-moulu. As the bearers of these lights became tired, and occasionally supported themselves against a column or a balustrade, they would have afforded models to supersede those of the most approved modern workmanship. On a signal given by Sarame, the living candlesticks proceeded to what I suppose may be considered the drawing room.

AMERICAN VARIETIES.-No. XI. BAGGAGE RATED AS LUGGAGE.-In the mail coach

which runs from New Haven in Connecticut, to Bennington, in Vermont, the passengers pay according to weight: when a lady exceeds sixteen stone she is rated as luggage.

A gentleman accustomed to the signature of the firm in which he was a partner, having to sign a baptismal register of one of his children, ludicrously entered it as the son of Smith, Jones, and Co.

At Salem a house took fire the other day, and not a drop of water could be had to stop the conflagration, in consequence of the whole of it being required for the tee-totallers, who were then holding a festival.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

MOONLIGHT.

FROM THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO.

SOFT plays the placid moonbeam on the wave;
While at the casement, open to the breeze,
Sits the sultana, and the waters lave
With silver floods the dark isles of the seas.

See, her guitar drops quivering to the ground-
She listens-hush! what noise breaks echo's peace?
Is it from Cos some Turkish vessel bound,
Cleaving with foreign oar the sea of Greece?

Is it the noise of cormorants that play,
Scattering the water's pearl-drops o'er their wings?
Is it some evil sprite's ill-omened lay,
As in the sea yon turret's stones he flings?
What troubles thus the harem-guarding waves?
Not the black cormorant whom ocean pillows-
Not the foul spirit-not the bark that cleaves
With the oars' measured stroke the fretted billows-
It was a sack that splashed, whence screams arose—
Could the eye pierce beneath that watery grave,
"Twould see a faithless woman's dying throes-
Soft plays the placid moonbeam on the wave!

SONNETS. DEVOTION.

THERE is Devotion in the summer breeze

In the sweet murmur of the mountain rill"Tis heard when tempests sweep the lonely hill, And whirlwinds prostrate lay the aged trees. There is devotion in the lark's sweet song,

When morning rises from the lap of night; A thousand insects breathe it from among

The summer fields, and garden flow'rets bright. Tis heard when peace reigns o'er the tranquil sea, When the loud waves beat on the rugged shore,— When labour carols on the fertile lea,

G.

Or from the wood the blackbird's warblings pour; But oh! how pure when childhood bends the knee, And whispers praise to Him, whom heaven and earth adore!

MOONLIGHT.

Night is around me, and the voice of man

Unheard within this blessed solitude,And through the openings of the moaning wood The harvest moon peers softly, cold, and wan. Sadly she looks on earth like angel good,

Wooing our thoughts beyond this mortal span. Oh! who can gaze on thee and doubt the truth That an Almighty hand placed thee on high With all thy fair companions in the sky?

He who decks Nature in her annual youth Lending to earth in Spring the hues of heaven; Who hath bestowed a principle divine

On man-which even the grave shall not confineImmortal as the Power by whom 'twas given!

VARIETIES.

CLOTHING. The dress from birth should be loose, so as to admit of the free exercise of the limbs, and in point of warmth it should be carefully suited to the season. The whole surface, particularly the extremities, ought to be well protected during cold weather; the opinion that infants may be hardened by exposing them to the cold air in a half-covered state is erroneous in all cases, and in children of a delicate constitution leads to the most pernicious consequences.-Sir James Clark on Consumption.

EIDER DOWN.-The eider duck is double the size of the common duck, and is found in the Western Isles of Scotland, in Norway, Iceland, and Greenland, from whence a vast quantity of the down which these birds furnish, is annually imported. It is light, elastic, and warm. This down is produced from the breast of the birds in the breeding season. It lays its eggs among the stones or plants near the shore, and prepares a soft bed for them by plucking the down from its own breast: natives watch the opportunity, and take away both eggs and nests; the duck lays again and repeats the plucking of its breast; if she is robbed after that, she will still lay, but the drake must supply the down, as her stock is now exhausted: but if the eggs are taken a third time, she wholly deserts the place.

ORANGES.-The oranges of St. Michael's are celebrated for their fine and abundant sweet juice: when left to ripen on the trees, they are inferior to none in the world; but those brought to England are picked early, so that they partly ripen after they have been gathered. The lemons have less juice than those of some other countries, and the demand for them is inconsiderable. The orange and lemon-trees blossom in the months of February and March. At this time the glossy green of the old leaves, the light fresh tints of those just shooting forth, the brilliant yellow of the ripe fruit, the delicate white and purple of the flower, are finely contrasted with each other, forming one of the most beautiful sights imaginable. The trees generally attain the height of fifteen or twenty feet. The usual produce in common years is 6000 or 8000 oranges or lemons. But a few years since, 26,000 were obtained from one tree, and 29,000 from another.

FALCONRY.-Falconry, or hunting game by falcons and hawks, was a principal amusement of former times. A person of rank in England, three or four centuries ago, scarcely stirred out without his hawk on his hand, and in old paintings this is the mark of noble blood. The expense of this sport was very great. In the reign of James I. a thousand pounds was given for a cast of hawks; and their value was generally set at so high a rate, that in the reign of Edward III. it was made felony to steal a hawk. To take its eggs was punishable by a fine, and by imprisonment for a year and a day. In the court, the officer who presided over this department, was of high rank. The office remains even now that the sport has been discontinued. The Duke of St. Alban's is hereditary Grand Falconer of England.—Natural History of Hawks.

DISTILLATION OF BRANDY.-A large quantity of brandy is distilled in France during the time of the vintage; for all those poor grapes that are unfit for wine, are usually first gathered, pressed, their juice fermented, and directly distilled. This consumes their poor wines at once, and leaves their casks empty, for the reception of better. It is a general rule with them, not to distil what will fetch any price, as wine; for in this state, the profit is much greater than when reduced to brandy. This large stock of small wine, with which they are almost overrun in France, sufficiently accounts for their making such vast quantities of brandy in that country, more than in others which lie in warmer climates, and are better adapted to the production of grapes. Nor is this the only fund of their brandies; for all the wine that turns sour, is also condemned to the still: and, in short, all that they can neither export nor consume at home, which amounts to a large quantity; since much of the wine laid in for their family provision is so poor, as not to keep during the time necessary to consume it.

Vol. I. of the New and Pictorial Series of the LONDON SATURDAY JOURNAL, price 6s. 6d. handsomely bound in cloth, is now ready, and may be had of all Booksellers.

LONDON:

W. BRITTAIN, PATERNOSTER ROW. Edinburgh: JOHN MENZIES. Glasgow: D. BRYCE. Dublin: CURRY & CO.

Printed by J. Rider, 14, Bartholomew Close.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF HUMANITY.

No. XXXIX.-THE HAPPY HUSBAND.

inter

OUR last pictorial illustration was on a very esting subject, namely, that of marriage; and we now present our readers with an engraving on a subject which has a sort of necessary connexion with it, or rather bears the same relation to it that an effect does to its cause. The happiness of the parties ought always to follow the union of hands which takes place at the altar, though we are well aware that such is not uniformly the case. It is, however, we are convinced, much more frequently so than bachelors imagine. With the happy wife we have, strictly speaking, no present concern; our business is with the Happy Husband. We may be permitted, however, to remark by way of parenthesis, that, as we mentioned last week, wherever there is a Happy Husband, it follows as a sort of necessary consequence, that there must be a happy wife.

It is a common observation, and we dare say that like most of the apothegms in general circulation, it is in accordance with sound philosophy, that every wife wishes to be a mother. Some men's spouses, we know, profess to have no such wish; but these will invariably be found to be married ladies who not only are not, but have no reasonable prospect of becoming, mothers. And if we could only get at the bottom of the well in which truth is said to have taken up her residence, we have no doubt we should at once be in a condition to satisfy ourselves, that these childless ladies declaim against matrimonial "pledges," for precisely the same reason as the fox in the fable did against the grapes. Reynard discovered that the grapes were decidedly sour, the moment he became convinced of the hopelessness of the attempt to reach them. Married ladies who have no children, and see no probability of ever having any, display a corresponding alacrity in discovering that it is far better to be without them.

It is a reflection on the better feelings and holier aspirations of human nature to say, that any two persons can devotedly love each other and be legally united together, and yet not anxiously wish to have living and lovely illustrations of their mutual affection. If any such persons were really to be found, we would ask them to go and receive the language of silent but severe rebuke from the irrational creation. The birds of the air and the beasts of the field concur without an exception in furnishing us with the most conclusive proofs, that a love of offspring is one of the strongest instincts of their nature; one which grows with their growth, and strengthens with their strength, and only suffers extinction when the moment has arrived at which they themselves are destined to perish.

The love of children, though perhaps more intense in a woman's breast than in that of man, is nevertheless one of the most deeply implanted passions in his nature also. To be the father of one or more children is, in the infinite majority of cases, a sine quá non to

a husband's happiness. To see a smiling cherub, and be able to claim its parentage, is indeed to realize a bliss beyond compare; a happiness far more pure and perfect than ever entered into poet's imagination, unless, indeed, that poet was himself the papa of one or more "little dears," ushered into being within the hallowed bounds of wedlock. And depend upon it, that he only can faithfully or felicitously paint the pleasures of the matrimonial state, who can boast of possessing offspring of his own. No one, indeed, but such a person has a right to enter the sacred territory; to all others it is forbidden ground.

Inexpressible are the pleasures of an affectionate husband and tender father, when he gazes on his lovely infant (as in our pictorial illustration) reclining in the lap of its mother, and looking up to her in all the innocence of its smiling playful countenance. The intense expression of maternal affection which lights up the countenance of the wife and mother as she reciprocates the happy glances of her infant's eye, crowns the bliss of the husband and father. Compared with this pure and elevated felicity, the highest happiness of him who lives in single seclusion must be misery itself.

We have a theory to propound in which we ourselves have been potent believers ever since our social position qualified us to form an opinion on the subject. That theory is, that when Socrates pronounced his celebrated eulogium on the felicity of the married state, which made the married part of his audience run home in breathless haste to their wives, and the single men to rush headlong into matrimony, he must have painted with all the fascinations of his unrivalled eloquence, such a scene as that to which we have pointed attention, rather than vainly sought to portray. Mere abstract philosophizing on the blessedness of marriage, however able and ingenious, could never have wrought such wondrous results-could never have operated like a charm. Oh, no; the illustrious philosopher of antiquity must have recalled to the minds of the married men the supreme felicity which they had often enjoyed at their own hearths, as they saw their wives lavish their love and their kisses on their infant offspring, or as they themselves dandled the little cherubs on their knees. In the case of the bachelors, Socrates must have brought before their mental eye, with all the vividness and fidelity of a well-executed painting, the exquisitely delightful scene in the matrimonial panorama of every-day life, to which we have alluded. Barred, indeed, to all the better and holier feelings of human nature, must be the bachelor breast of him who could hesitate to enter the sanctorum of the married state after so faithful and powerful a picture of matrimonial bliss.

Not ourselves possessing even an infinitessimal portion of the talents or eloquence of Socrates, we can anticipate no such results from what we have said or could say in praise of matrimony; but as Miss Mary Cook has, in our artistical representation of the Happy Husband, thrown an atmosphere of pure and perfect bliss around him, we would ask our readers to transfer

their attention from what we have said to what she has done; and should the result be, to make any one of our wedded readers hurry home to their wives, or induce our bachelor patrons to form an immediate and fixed resolve to hasten with some lovely woman to the hymeneal altar, we shall feel that we are not without our reward.

REMARKABLE ITALIAN DUEL IN 1664. WITH the exception of the celebrated challenge of Barletta in 1503, which induced thirteen Italian knights to fight as many French for the honour of their country, no duel in the kingdom of Naples, or indeed in Italy, ever made so much noise as that between the Count of Conversano and the Duke of Martina, which took place in the following century. The Hon. Keppel Craven, in his amusing" Tour in the Kingdom of Naples," has given a history of this rencounter, which is here given with some additional particulars preserved in local tradition, or gathered from descendants of the two noble houses, who still flourish in the Neapolitan territories. The details are strongly indicative of the temper and manners of the times.

[ocr errors]

'The management of the sword," says Mr. Craven, as an offensive and defensive weapon, was at that period (1660) not only considered as the most fashionable and manly accomplishment which a nobleman could possess, but was generally practised by all ranks of persons; for it is noted that, even at a less remote era, the fishermen of Taranto, after their daily labours, were wont to meet in the evening, and resort to the recreation of fencing. The custom of duelling, maintained in its full force by false notions of honour and prerogative-the inefficiency of the laws, and the errors of feudal institutions-contributed, no doubt, to ennoble this sanguinary art, and extend the prevalence of its exercise throughout the realm."

It was in these turbulent times that the Italians, and in particular the Neapolitans, acquired the character of being the best swordsmen in Europe-a reputation they still, in some measure, retain; though in modern times their duels, though frequent enough, have very seldom been murderous. The first drawing of blood settles the business, and it is rare among gentlemen that any thing further happens. It was far different with their ancestors-the Acquavivas, the Imperiali, the Pignatelli, the Colonnas, the Visconti, the D'Estes, the Ursini, the Belmontes, the Medici, the Corsi, the Lavelli, the Frangapani, the Dorias, the Cafarelli, the Mataloni, the Barbarini, the Gonzagas, the Caraffas, and the Galestas of the olden times.

The Count of Conversano, Marquis of Le Noci, and Duke of Atri, of the most ancient and noble family of Acquaviva, and the Prince of Francavilla, of the family of Imperiali, were the two most powerful barons in Lower Apulia. The Count, who came of a haughty and fierce race, was proud of his ancient descent, his numerous titles, and royal connexions. One of our Norman princes, on his return from Palestine, on passing through Apulia, was entertained at the castle of Conversano, where he became enamoured of a daughter of that house, and married her. Besides their immense possessions in Apulia, as dukes of Atri, the Acquavivas were lords of nearly one-half of the Abruzzi; and in the sixteenth century, they could travel for days without passing the bounds of their own territory, on which they exercised all the rights and privileges of

feudal lords.

Some of their numerous castles were in extent and magnificence like royal residences. The stabling attached to the castle of Atri in the Abruzzi, had two hundred stalls;

and tradition reports that these used always to be filled, the old barons rever riding out without a band of dependent knights and retainers, who were all mounted on steeds sprung from the noble breed that belonged to the counts of Conversano. This breed was ancient, and almost entirely of pure Arab blood. The noble stud was one of the last things the falling family parted with; but it was broken up, dispersed and lost in the course of those disastrous revolutions in Italy, consequent on the French revolution, and which completed the ruin of the ancient Italian aristocracy. A late traveller says, "I have had the somewhat melancholy satisfaction of riding a mare of the pure Conversano breed-the only remains of the stud which the present Count-Duke, then living at Naples, had retained. She was old, but still a superb animal. The head, neck, eye, the long springy fetlock, the clean and slender legs, were all truly Arabian; and even age had not cooled her spirit, or slackened her speed."

Mr. Craven describes the old Acquavivas as being tyrannical and violent-a race dreaded by their inferiors, and hated by their equals. But, in truth, they were rather magnanimous tyrants, exceedingly courageous, entertaining high notions as to the point of honour, and never crafty or treacherous. In the course of the invasions, revolutions, and counter-revolutions, to which their unhappy country has been a prey in modern times, they shed their blood freely on the field for the party they espoused, which was generally the national and patriotic one. In several instances they conferred great and lasting benefits on their country.

The Count Girolamo, the unfortunate hero of the duel we are about to relate, took a distinguished part in the suppression of that extraordinary insurrection at Naples in 1647, when Massaniello entirely overthrew the constituted authorities, and seated himself for a few days upon the throne of Naples.

The Prince of Francavilla, of the Imperiali family, hated the Count of Conversano with a most cordial hatred; and as they were neighbours in Apulia, their territories adjoining, they had plenty of opportunities for quarrelling. The Imperiali, who were of Genoese extraction, had the quality, common to the natives of Genoa, of economy and money saving, and the Prince was enormously rich in specie. This command of ready money gave him several advantages over the Count, who, though his lands were five times the extent of his rival's, had seldom many ducats in his castle, where hospitality was exercised on a gigantic scale, without any regard to expense. The proud Acquaviva was stung to the soul; and he declared to his retainers, that it was too hard that a fellow of Genoese extraction, of no antiquity or nobility of family, and who had only come into the kingdom with Charles V., should be allowed to beard the Count of Conversano in Apulia, where he and his ancestors had been lords for centuries. Words like these stung the Prince, and quickened his hatred, for he was as proud as the Count, and very jealous of his family honours, though the Imperiali, as their name denotes, had only come into Italy during the preceding century, and attained rank and wealth by attaching themselves to the Emperor Charles V. Their territories joined those of the Count, and the constant litigations arising out of their inordinate but ill-defined jurisdictions, were all superadded to the long list of mutual injuries recorded by both families. After quarrelling all their lives, they came to blows when they were both old men. The crisis happened in the capital one day as each of the noble rivals was driving in his carriage. After a long contest of words, the Count of Conversano delivered a formal challenge to the Prince: but he, knowing his opponent to be one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, put forward his age and infirmities,

« ZurückWeiter »