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was a Greek, before that incarnation which placed him as lecturer in the col lege of Alexandria.

When any very well-known soul returns upon the earth, it is easy to foresee that it will shortly be surrounded by several of those souls who formerly cooperated with it: but the order of presentation is often inverted.

GASTROLOGY.

La Mothe de Vayer was the first who solemnly proposed to recognize cookery as one of the fine arts; and under the denomination of gastrology, to compile learned quartos on the science of enhancing the physical and moral pleasures of the palate.

The ear, he contends, if given to man for need, is employed for luxury; and we hold it honourable to listen to sweet music, or to fine oratory. The eye may have been intended only to guard us against a post; but who is content with its necessary offices? For a fine prospect we laboriously climb a hill: for the painter Schneider's inside view of a pantry we gladly exchange our gold.

And shall an organ no less exquisitely sensible than the ear and the eye, whose percipiency gives to all the pleasures of taste their generic name, be less regarded than they, less honoured, less philosophized about?

Some flavours are naturally pleasing, as of milk, honey, and grapes. Yet the highest relish of these foods evidently consists in the associated ideas which they happen to excite, in the accessory imaginary perceptions which accompany them. Who likes milk in the country? Who does not enjoy it in the heart of London, when he can obtain a draught fresh from the cow, foaming in the jug, scattering its musky fragrance, and calling up before the fancy rural ideas of green meadows, corn-clad hills, and smokeless air. Honey soon cloys; but let the honey be that of Hybla, famous in the classic page, and the Sicilian traveller will suck it up with delight. The grape, which hardly ripens on our gar. den-walls, is still a welcome dish at the dessert; because it awakens so many thoughts of mirth and grace derived from Bacchanalian songs.

Some flavours are naturally displeasing, as of an oyster, or an olive; yet from being tasted in the society of friendship, or rank, and mingled in our recollection with the joys of life, they often become exquisitely enticing.

Now if it be true that the moral power

of every mouthful exceeds its physical power, and that the accessory ideas have more influence on the likes and dislikes of the palate, than the direct sensations occasioned by the thing applied, eating (q. e. d.) must be as well entitled as language itself, to be studied. It is well that words should be individually eupho nical; but it chiefly imports that the excited ideas should delight and stimu late. It is well that food should be wholesome; but it chiefly signifies that it should beckon into the soul agreeable trains of thought, about its far fetched material, or its traditional preparation.

SHIP-MONEY.

Macrobius says (Saturnalia, lib.i. c. 7) that the oldest money known in Italy had, on one side, the head of Saturn, and on the other side, a ship: whence came the phrase used in tossing up, Heads or ships. Cum pueri denarios in sublime jactantes Capita aut navia lusu teste vetustatis exclamant. Surely it would become this nation to stamp some of its coin with so apt an emblem of its commercial prosperity as a ship.

It may however be suspected that these earliest coins known in Italy, were not made there, but in Egypt; and that the figure called Saturn was the Egyptian god Phthas, who was considered as the father of all other gods, (Jablonski, lib. i. c. 2,) though finally neglected for his children. On the altars of Phthas a splendid flame was kindled; and the original worshippers of Saturn are described by Macrobius, as employing a similar ritual. Aras Sa. turnius, non mactando viros, sed accensis. luminibus excolentes.

UTILITY OF NOVEL-READING.

In the Annual Review, vol. vi. p. 380, the utility of novel-reading is thus de fended:

"From the contemplation of fictitious distress, men most efficaciously learn to feel for real suffering. Where no cir cumstances of disgust intercept the pity, and no restraints of prudence the benificence, a tendency is easily generated to commiserate and to relieve. And this tendency, like the military exercises learnt on the parade, is the true basis of those practical efforts of philanthropy, which, in the real warfare with human misery, constitute the noblest triumphs of virtue."

EMBASSY TO CHINA.

Juan Gonzales de Mendoza, an Augustin friar of Castile, was appointed in, 1584 by the king of Spain, to be his am bassador in China. On his return, he

drew

drew up a History of the Chinese, and an account of his three visits to their country. After this, he was rewarded with the bishopric of Lipari, in Italy, by the pope, and with those of Chiapi and Popejan, by the king of Spain. This embas-y was rather a religious mission, protected by a civil character or titk, than a political delegation.

PRIESTLEY'S CONSIDERATIONS. One of your correspondents, vol. xxix. p 341, announces the intention of repinting Priestley's Considerations for the Use of Young Mei: in which case several notes metaphysical and medical will be reusite, to correct the tendency of advice so inconsiderate.

Priestley, as well as Kotzebue, assumes the principle, that both sexes have like rights, and like duties. Kotzebue infers from this principle, that women are to

practice a masculine morality, and to indulge in promiscuous intercourse. Priestley infers from this principle, that men are to practice a feminine morality, and to have no sexual intercourse before matrimony.

Observation shows, that, of the adult males between eighteen and twenty-five, about nine-tenths practice promiscuous intercourse: and that, of the adult females between eighteen and twenty-five, about one-tenth practice promÍSCHOUS intercourse: and this in all countries, whatever the climate or the religion.

Af, from the average conduct of the species, may most securely be inferred the law of nature and of God, that is the moral duty: it is exactly nine to one both that Kotzebue is wrong, and that Priestley is wrong, in the conduct which they teach.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

displaying the beautiful corpse to his friends and visitors. A second marriage, some years afterwards, is said to have occasioned some little family difference, on which occasion a reference being made to the deceased lady, it is supposed that it was found expediet to remove the preserved body, which otherwise might have been in existence in Mr. Van Butchell's parlour at this day. It is unnecessary to comment upon the elegance of the latinity; this will be duly appreciated by scholars of taste.]

IN RELIQUIAS

MARIE VAN BUTCHELL,
Novo miraculo conservatas

Et a marito suo superstite
Cultu quotidiano aderatas.
[IC exsors tumuli jacet

HIC

[It is now about thirty-five years since Mrs.
Van Butchell died; and the singular mode
employed for the preservation of her body
by her affectionate husband, occasioned the
following Epitaph to be written by the
Late sir George Baker. This gentleman's
classical attainments are so renowned, that
whatever has been written by him, the
public will be eager to possess; and we be-
lieve this is the first time the lines now
printed, have been offered from the press.
It will be perhaps interesting to most per-
sons, and necessary for many, to have stated
the account of the preservation of Mr. Van
Butchell's lady. On her death taking
place, he applied to Dr. Hunter to exert
his skill in preventing, if possible, the
charges of form usual after the cessation
of life. Accordingly the doctor, assisted
by the late Mr. Cruickshank, injected the
blood-vessels with a coloured fluid, so that
the minute red vessels of the cheeks and
lips were filled, and exhibited their native
hue; and the body, in general, having all
the cavities filled with antiseptic substances,
it remained perfectly free from curruption,
or any unpleasant smell, or as if merely in
a state of sleep. But to resemble the
appearance of life, glass eyes were also in-
serted. The corpse was then deposited in
a bed of thin paste of plaister of Paris, in
a box of sufficient dimensions, which sub-
sequently crystallised, and produced a plea-
sing effect. A curtain covered the glass
lid of the box, which could be withdrawn
at pleasure; and which box being kept in
the common pariour, Mr. Van Butchell
had the satisfaction of retaining his de.
parted wife for many years, fquently Sed, quod mirabilius,
MONTHLY MAG. No. 20%.

Uxor Martini Vanbutchell;
Integra omnino et incorrupta:
Viri sui amantissimi
Desiderium simul, et delicia;
Quam, gravi morbo vitiatam
Co sumptamque tandem longâ morte,
la hunc, quem cernis, nitorem,
In hanc speciem, et colorem, viventis,
Ab indecora putredine vindicavit,
Frustra repugnante Naturâ,
Viregregius Gulielmus Hunterus;
Artificii prius intentati
Inventor idem, ac perfector.

O fortunatum maritum!
Cui litet dies noctesque totas
Tenere assidere conjugi,
Non fatis modo superst.ti;

G

Itiam

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THE CONSECRATION OF THE ROSES.

WHEN first, as ancient bards have sung,

The queen of love from ocean sprung;
To grace her head, to deck her bow'rs,
The earth produc'd the queen of flow'rs;
Coëval, and congenial charms,

With the same living blush that warms
Her mantling cheek, thy petal glows;
Emblem of Venus, beauteous Rose.

The raptur'd gods her form survey'd,
Reclin'd beneath a myrtle's shade;
Whose boughs, of ever-during green,
Thy new-born blossoms smil'd between.
Mark! whilst thy prototype they greet,
And spread their chaplets at her feet;
Mix'd with the myrtle's polish'd leaves,
Flora a gayer garland weaves;
Cull'd from thy blooming buds most fair,
To decorate her silken hair;
It's glossy ringlets they entwine,
Yet humid from the sparkling brine;
And, as the lovely locks they meet,
To form a symbol more complete;
Lo! crisped curls their heads adorn,
Wet with the glitt'ring dews of morn;
O flow'r, with peerless gifts elate,
Like Venus form'd to captivate;
Her dazzling influence round thee flows:
Fav'rite of Flora! Mossy Rose !
Now Bacchus gathers from the ground,
The purple gems his brows that crown'd;
And now a roseate branch he crops,
Then bathes the sprigs with ruby drops,
Distilling from the nect'reous vine;
And bids them with its clusters twine:
Thus, thus we find the Damask Rose,
The ruddy flush of Bacchus shows.
To seize the trophies of the bush,
Next, see the god of battles rush!
As from the trembling tree he tears
His sternly-smiling forehead bears
Their tender stems. Oh, haste too fierce!
The vengeful thorns his temples pierce!
And with his blood, the flow'rs retain
Th' entwisting laurel's sanguine stain:
Sweet spoil of Mars, the Blood-red Rose,
Array'd in deep-dy'd crimson grows.
The festive deities convene,
While Phobus smiles upon the scene;

Who, till his sister rules the hours,
Loit'ring amid Love's rosy bow'rs,
Each flow'r with ardent gaze inspects;
And all admires, yet none selects:
But waits till she shall fix her choice,
And hails her with fraternal voice:
At length, withdrawn his piercing light,
Envelop'd in the shades of night,
Wit, and convivial Mirth dance round,
And Harmony's sweet songs resound;
Till 'whelm'd in bacchanalian roar,
Alas! her voice is heard no more:
See jealous Clamour! Uproar wild!
Where lately Peace, with Pleasure smil'd:
Th' affrighted nymph from earth is driv'n,
And flies, on trembling wings to Heav'n!
Pale Dian, peeping from the woods,
Eyes the bright goddess of the floids,
With half-averted looks askance ;
Asham'd to meet her wanton glance:
And shock'd, the plant of plants to see
Consign'd to War and Revelry;
An infant bud, with gentle hand
She plucks, and there its leaves expand:
Behold, it feels her snowy breast!
And like the spotless lily drest,
With chasten'd charms the flow'ret blows,
Her virgin-type, the White-clad Rose.
Anon, with sylvan foliage bound,
Its stems her brow encircle round;
Yet, on that modest brow serene,
A glance from beauty's am'rous queen,
Suffuses soft its pallid face,

From whence the Maiden's Blush we trace.
E'en, whilst her pearly buds absorb
The silv'ry streams of Luna's orb;
Oft Venus tempers from afar,
Its cold beams with her glowing star;
And thus, tho' seeming to contend,
Cynthia and Cytherea blend;
And purity and love unite,
In motley streaks of red and white:
Hence does the Variegated Rose,
Its parti-coloured garb disclose.

Thee, royal rose! all, all admire;
Yet still we love the humble brier;
Like her own simple wood-nymphs wild,
The huntress rears th' adopted child;
It ornaments their verdant haunts,
Amid the forest's tow'ring plants:
The cultur'd flow'r Diana chose,
Her Dryads wear the Rustic-Rose
Now, as the meek-eyed Moon retreats,
Her brother's kindling glance she meets;
And from her argent buds bestows
New honours for his heav'nly brows;
Who, a tiara as he wreathes,
On each celestial odours breathes;
And, in return, their fragrant sighs,
Like incense to the God arise!
The flow'ry constellation bright,
Spangling his diadem of light;
Reflects Apollo's glorious blaze,
And drinks the spirit of his rays;

Terrestrial

Terrestrial star! the Yellow Rose With Sol's own golden colour glows. Then, thus, the patron of the lyre: Blest Rose! thy charms the gods inspire! And, mingled with the living bays, Add lustre to their shining sprays! Sweet paragon of Flora's tribe, Whose leaves empyreal tints imbibe; Where'er my beams illume the clime, Still flourish thro' the bounds of Time; And honour'd by th' immortals be, But chief, by Love and Poësy! Phabus, whose liquid light divine, Has lav'd the yellow eglantine;* Bids in one splendid group combin'd, Thy varying offspring be entwin'd; O Rose! in all thy divers hues, Exhaustless subject of the Muse; Not less shall Painting, sister-art, Delight thy semblance to impart; While union's magic pow'r bestows New charms to grace each rival rose !' PSYCHE.

THE POET'S GRAVE.

NOW twilight draws her dark'ning veil,
The owls their dwellings quit ;

The pleasing, pensive hour, I hail,
For contemplation fit.

Forth from my humble cot I stray,
For well I love the time,

Or through the vale to take my way,
Or up the hill to climb.

Through trackless plains my steps to urge,
To penetrate the grove,

Or by the riv'let's rushy verge,
In thoughtful mood to rove.
Oft it's slow-winding course

I trace,

Which leads where all must go,
To the still church-yard, that sad place,
Where many a friend lies low.
There, where it laves the sacred sod
With gently murmuring noise,

Full oft the "margent green" I've trod,
And tasted tranquil joys.

Beheld the Moon on silver car

Slow riding thro' the night;

Have seen, with thought sublime, each star
That lent its twinkling light.

Or with some much-lov'd friend convers'd,
While swift the hours have fled,
Some friend who now is tuin'd to dust,

And on whose grave I tread.
But ah! by pale Diana's light,
Which now begins to beam;
His silent grave attracts my sight,
Whom I did most esteem.
Bright Virtue reign'd within his breast,
His heart was kind and warm;
And Nature too had done her best,
In fashioning his form.

Not the eglantine, commonly so called, that being the woodbine; but the rosa eglan tria of Linnæus,

Full oft in rural solitude,

We've studied Wisdom's ways; Full oft the Muse together woo'd,

In simple artless lays.

But now those happy hours are past,
No more to be enjoy'd ;

The bud of genius, Death's rough blast
Has wither'd and destroy'd.

Close at yon solemn yew-tree's root,
In peace the poet sleeps ;
Around his grave wild roses shoot,
And near, the willow weeps.
No sumptuous marble decks the green,
His praises to rehearse ;

But on a rude carv'd stone is seen,
This tributary verse:

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climb,

Where, on a cypress tree, my harp is laid; Say, that I droop beneath the touch of Time,

That much I long for it's accustom'd aid.

I should be happy were my harp but here, I'd hang with rapture o'er its simple frame;

O! leave for me the relick of a tear,

Or fix upon its front its owner's fame.

Speak to the winds, as o'er my harp they steal,

To leave a kiss upon each silent string; Tell (if thou canst) the weight of woe I feel;

How frowning winter follow'd smiling spring.

O tell my much-lov'd harp, with what delight,

With how much joy, I heard its simple

tone:

But now 'tis gone for ever from my sight, I soon shall die-I cannot live, alone.

CANZONIT.

SWEET Mary, on thy breast reclin', I sigh to every passing wind;

And in that sigh delight to prove -The sweets of pure, unspotted love. What, though no jewels deck thy hair, Thou'rt no less lovely, no less fair; Affection reigns within thy breast, And tells me, I alone am blest.

HENA

HENRY'S RETURN.

O! DRY, fair maiden, dry those tears, Which from affection flow;

Laura! suppress those rising fears,

Thy Henry waits below.

Borne safe the foaming surge along,

High swell'd his heart with glee;

To love's sweet name he rais'd that song
Which first he sung to thee.
Bristol.

J. R. J.

MONTHLY RETROSPECT OF THE FINE ARTS. The Use of all New Prines, Communication of Articles of Intelligence, &c. are requested under COVER to the Cure of the Publisher.

Exhibition of an extensive View of Hyde Park on a Sunday, and a Collection of other Pictures, painted by A. DUBOST, at No. 65, PallMall.

A1

TTRACTED to this exhibition by advertisements amply circulated, and which stated the principal picture (the View of Hyde Park) to be “ painted on a scale of 200 feet," we were led to visit it; although the admission (half-a. crown, and catalogue 6d.) appeared rather out of the bounds of modesty. Yet, judge of the surprise that affec.ed every one who were witnesses to the egregious and blushing imposition that was practised on the public by this Gallic adventurer. The picture of Hyde Park, reader, was only 5 feet and a half in length, and the whole-length portraits of the principal personages and their equipages little more than an inch in length. It is painful to dwell on such circumstances that serve to deter a generous public from patronizing arts and artists: but such an impudent shameless imposture never was before practised, and deserves to be placed on record. When the first burst of surprise was over at the imposition, the rest of the "other pictures painted by A. Dubost" were examined, hoping that their merit would compensate for the deficiency in size of the other. But, oh! Shame, where is thy blush? The collection was the most imbecile, trifling, and impudent drivellings of the pencil, that ever were imposed on the public eye; and verily, if Dubost had been summoned before a court of requests for obtaining money under false pretences by any of those who were thus imposed upon by this ungrateful Frenchman, he must have been driven with contempt from the court. A man in the room, who exhibited and explained the pictures, and who called himself the friend of Dubost, said in explanation, the base of the pic ture represented 200 feet, and that if the height of one of the figures were taken, as a scale of 6 feet, and tried along, it would prove it!!! At this rate, many a miDiature drawing at Spring-Gardens was

on "the scale of" half as many miles. But to the works :-No. 1, is Venus and Diana; ill-drawn, unnaturally coloured, and affected in the extreme. 2 The famous View of Hyde Park, above-meutioned, to say the best of it, is as perfect a piece of quackery as ever was imposed on the good-nature of John Bull. There are not only portraits and equipages, all named and to be found in the catalogue, but as many more to be introduced as any subscriber to a print from it may wish. 3. Beauty and the Beast. A vile caricature on a most amiable lady, whose family tooliberally encouraged the ungrateful caricaturist, and for which he deserved nothing so much as a kicking.

Really, to detail the rest of the miserable trash that hung round the room, but which shines in description in his catalogue, would be trifling with our readers' feelings and patience. Suffice it to say, that any one to view such drawing such composition, (pardon the prostitution of the term), and such-every thing that was there seen, must draw the conclusion that Dubost himself, in the preface to his catalogue, says has been ; that Damocles, and any thing here exhibited, could not have been the production of the same hand. And however moderate the abilities required in drawing, to be admitted a candidate for a student's ticket in our Royal Academy are, yet even this trifling honour would. be refused to any boy who drew no better than the works here shewn as the production of Dubost by himself.

In an introduction to his catalogue, Mr. Dubost has cast such aspersions on British artists, and their patrons, that it would be a reflection on the national character to suffer them to go unanswered. He says, that many arts have been used by envy and malignity to obstruct his progress, and depress his character as an artist." He again asserts, that when Mr. Dubost came first 10 this country from Paris, the praise which his picture of Damocles had obtained for him in that city, had travelled with him

across

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